Desi Baba, Pardesi Degree

Hi!

I was going through my Facebook and Orkut profiles recently, and I noticed that my friends list consists of folks who have mostly completed their education abroad. We all grew up together in the same school, college or geographical location. And now, they have a phoren-return tag to their names. Whatta feel-good factor!

It’s amazing the number of peers I know who have all gone out of India to get their degree. Makes me wonder whether India is capable of good academic education. Apart from the IIMs, what do we have to retain and coach students within the country?

I know those that are pursuing special and technical subjects may benefit more from going abroad, as they have more developed sciences and institutes. Moreover, their training is more practical and handy. Besides, the experience enriches an individual as a person and professional. A win-win every way.

Indeed, going abroad to study is a wonderful experience. I, myself, wished to do the same, but I was too sissy as far as the loan part was concerned. Money has always been a sensitive issue with me. Why? Some other time...

What irks me, is that unlike the past when only brilliant and meticulous individuals could aspire to enter into foreign universities, today there is no such restriction. Foreign universities are inducting students in thousands, and all they ask for is a 60% or equivalent grade and the ability to pay enormous tuition fees. Mind you, this is not a sweeping statement, I know of students who have won amazing scholarships and made their country and family proud with their achievements.

However, the fact remains. More than half the bunch go abroad without even being able to speak proficient English. Is that a necessary parameter? I don’t know. But it sure sounds weird when my acquaintances and friends return from the US and Europe and struggle to express their feelings in words.

Anyway, let me not give you the impression that I hold something against the foreign-educated folks. I sure appreciate their effort. And I wish them well now that the recession is taking its toll on job placements and handsome pay packets.

Talking about jobs, mine is going pretty well. We had a student interaction at a management institute on the outskirts of the city, and though the session went very well, I doubt whether they would be requiring our services. Looks like they were primarily interested in English language training, and we were offering them an entire bouquet of soft skills like assertiveness, teamwork and the like. While we were looking at preparing them as a complete and efficient professional, they were focusing more on language needs. Fair enough. As MBAs without domain expertise, they would have greater need of talking and convincing in English rather than showing their innovative and collaborative streak.

Apart from that we’re doing very well; we have about 10 clients in the kitty. Impressive, eh?! What could perhaps be rated as or more impressive is the rising number of posts on my blog!! From 16 in 2007 to 103 in 2008, and 6 already... Jolly good, what say?!!

However, I must confess, I don’t know what I’m writing these days. I think I need a long, huge break. From what I’m not sure, but I need to do something different. I need to start living differently... Any ideas??
(Ya, I know I mentioned I want to learn Spanish and the salsa, but what's the use unless I have a full-time partner who can showcase the results with me? Can't talk or dance alone, right?!!)Good day!
Lonely Princess

Vidya Nishnaat speaking

(Naah, that's not some new friend I've met. It's the Marathi translation of Master of Arts. Cool, eh?!!)

Ye galiya ye chaubara, yaha aana na dubara... Ab hum toh bhaye pardesi... Ke tera yahaan koi nahiiii....

This old parting song comes to my lips as I begin this post, coz I am now formally out of the University! Done with education, and there's no going back... At least not to the PUNE Univ...

Time for some news...

The dusky babe who made the dark-wheatish skin color fashionable, none other than the sultry Bipasha Basu, has turned 30. I am not too fond of her, (her lips look weird) but I certainly find her much better than the fair-brigade that have acting skills of a hippopotamus.

You all sure have heard/read about Satyam by now. After the World Bank barred them for 8 years, (and a host of other events in between like Directors renouncing their posts) Ramalingama Raju has resigned and confessed his role in the terrific fraud that underlies the IT company. It's share price has fallen from 140 bucks to 40, (Sensex is affected, too) and their auditor PWC (PricewaterhouseCoopers) is facing enquiry. A massive 7000 crores! Whew... I know how many zeroes that has, but I wish I knew just how people carry off these enormous scams!

Our Muslim bhai-log are celebrating Moharram today. It's a bank holiday, so a lot more others are cheering, too. (Including my Dad, as the Stock Exchange abides by all the bank holidays.) Lucky, lucky!

I read about this disease called De Quervain (also called washerwoman's sprain or mother’s wrist, Wiki tells me) in yesterday’s Pune Mirror. Apparently, this condition “is an inflammation of the sheath that surrounds two tendons that control movement of the thumb.” In simple terms, your thumb starts paining due to extreme use. And it appears that this syndrome is more common in women... (We poor souls! What with having to run around and do all those chores you men disregard! Sniff...)

Wiki further says that symptoms include pain, tenderness, and swelling over the thumb side of the wrist, and difficulty gripping. (Fear not, coz pain can occur in the normal individual, but if severe, DeQuervain's is likely.) Pain will be located on the thumb side of the forearm about an in inch below the wrist. How this happens is all you young fellows type and text too much, be it the comp/lappie or your cell-phone. You’re merry while the tick-tick-tap-tap occurs, and at the end of the day, you are left nursing your wrist and thumb that have suffered the onslaught of your vigorous acts. So beware! And keep taking regular breaks to loosen up and exercise your limbs. Nahi maanoge toh pacchtaoge bacchu!!
Now that you’re educated and my social duty is done, I can commence upon my favorite topic – ME!!! I am now officially a Master of Arts as declared by the University of Pune, the Chancellor and his coterie. Though my aggravation at not being honored was titanic, (further fuelled by my batch-mate who asked if I had won the gold medal as I was the department topper) I managed to sport a smile as me and some friends took some pictures in the customary black gown and cap, holding our degree certificates.

How I wish our convocation was as grand and ostentatious as the Symbiosis event. Saw hordes of students walking past Hanuman tekdi, clad in their regal black robe and ribbons in blue, red or yellow. All smiling and cheerful. (Obviously, they didn’t have to wear smelly, used clothing with shared headgear that reeked of oil and dandruff.) But well, it’s all for the best. Leme see if I can share the pictures with you when I get them next week.

The pleasing bit of news this week, is that a wonderful lady at my ICICI bank home branch said I have a sweet voice! Can you believe that?!! Some things I shall never believe. One is that I am beautiful (Sibi has broken his head a million times trying to convince me), and the other is this.

I wonder how so many people mistake my voice for my mum’s on the telephone. She has the most melodious voice on earth, and while I’m not too hoarse and raucous myself, I sure cannot be compared with her in a hundred years. Can’t even dream to. I know I’m attractive, and I know I can sing decently well. Say anything beyond that, and I’ll laugh on your face. Period.

This is weird, but I'm missing my Jaipur trip the last few days. Out of the blue. Naah, not the HSBC program one for work, but the other tour I made with family in Dec '07.

When and where will I go next, Travel devta?!!

You guys stay right here, and come back for more tomorrow!

Cheerio!
Anuja

Jhola Clutter

What do you carry with you when you go out?

Probably your cell-phone, keys and wallet. And perhaps a jacket, coz it’s cold these days. And if you’re a woman, then add other paraphernalia like lipstick, moisturizer, compact, and so on and so forth.

I carry my jhola. What’s a jhola, you ask?

Ahem...

Leme try.

It’s a sling bag kinda thing that you wear on your shoulder. Something that initially journalists used to carry, and then it started coming in a variety of colors and artwork so it became a huge hit with the teenagers as well. While khadi dominated the scene then, now jholas are mostly found in exquisite Rajasthani prints with chamki (=glitter).

That was the easy part. Now comes the challenge. Describing what it means to me, and unfolding its contents and uses.

My jhola’s an extension of my personality. (Ya, I know I said this blog is also one of those. But you see, everything I do is very ME...) So, my jhola - I can’t live without it. Anywhere I go, my jhola goes with me. For the last 4+ years. Be it Optimos where my colleagues identified me with the chhan-chhan of my anklet and the sparkle of my glittering jhola, or college where I carried a bunch of sheets with a pen to take lengthy Psych notes.

The market’s full of shops and boutiques that sell trendy ladies bags in all colors and sizes. I’m amazed at my Bhabi who recently returned from a shopping spree with a Dalmatian-shaded purse and huge black and gold handbag! Eww... Not my type by a long shot...

Come to think of it, I cannot remember ever having been an out-and-out feminine creature at any point in my life. I have those few recollections when I have enjoyed getting decked up in finery for some occasions and celebrations (like my brother’s wedding for instance, when jeans and tops were forsaken for heavy brocades and expensive silks). But otherwise, ask my friends and colleagues, and they’ll scratch their heads when asked to recall the last time I wore a Punjabi dress.

I’ve always been a tomboy. No nakhras-jhatkas for me. Right from my no-nonsense hairstyle to my clothes to my mannerisms. (That was the case until fairly recently. Then, God knows how and when and why, I changed my ways and started buying more lady-like dresses and acting more womanish. Grew my hair, started wearing earrings. Some crazy hormonal change, I guess... Anyway, I’m not complaining. And from what I can see, no one else is, either!)

But hey, weren’t we talking about my jhola?

Right, so my jhola is my inseparable possession. What’s in it? Well, not much. It holds my purse and keys, my Vaseline lip-balm and comb (leme peep in and check what else...) Uhh... ya, a pen at times, and that’s about it.

Oh! My cell-phone (how can I forget that?!) and maybe a lip-gloss depending on where am headed. And as I ride a bike, it is also big enough to accommodate my jacket and scarf. That’s all.

(That IS all, I said...)

The best part about carrying a jhola is that it’s trendy and practical at the same time. I can wear it diagonally as I walk fast to get someplace, and I can hold it fashionably by the side as I hang out at a coffee bar. When you’re lost among strangers, a jhola gives you the perfect excuse to dive in and search fervidly for nothing at all for a precious 5 minutes. And when you’re trying to act cool, you can finger the strap and just look around...

A jhola NEVER lets you down. Trust me.

The moment I put my hand in my jhola (just about 15 times an hour), you know I’m spinning in the abyss of mystery. On no account can I find what I want. If I’m looking for my cell, out comes my comb, and if I’m searching for my keys, out peeps the Vaseline. It’s basically something like Ali Baba’s potli (did he have one? Or was it someone else? Whatever... I can dimly vision “Potli baba ki” flashing on DD = Doordarshan every Sunday morning. And remember “Gucche” and “Chitrahaar”? Good ol’ days!)

Uh huh... Ranting and digressing again... But the point is, that jhola’s the way to go. You can carry it to work and parties, and you can wear it on jeans and salwars. Jholas look good in pink and yellow, and they also fit into your two-wheeler dickeys with ease. Girls at 10 and women at 40, jholas aren't a burden on the pocket, and neither on your shoulder. In short, I’ve thought it out, and I’ve given it the ISI mark, so go ahead and get one (if you don’t have one already). I think they look better on women, but you guys can get it for your girls and try them in fronta the mirror, just to see if they suit you... (Dunno much about metrosexual and other preferences. No offence.)

Having said that, I must say I need a new jhola, too. My first one from Sarojini Nagar – Delhi gave way to Bhabi’s gift (again from the capital), and now it’s tearing at the seams. Can’t part with it just yet... Washed it the day before coz a stupid attendant at the petrol pump doused it with fuel while filling the tank. Silly bugger...

Have a good week, buddies!
Princess

Fatafat Updates

Busy times are on, fellas! Its been ages since I checked out the blogs that I follow, inspite of seeing new posts on my dashboard everyday. Soon, soon...

So much to say, and not enough time to say it all. So let me sum it up this time.

Slumdog Millionaire is a brilliant movie as proclaimed by public reviews and personal friends. The movie, based on Vikas Swarup’s Q & A, is being dubbed in Hindi as Slumdog Karodpati, a trusted source has informed me. Cheeky, but true. I hope it's not all hype-no substance like his Six Suspects novel.

My convocation is tomorrow. And I’m not very enthused. Why? Because Pune University has not acknowledged my excellent grades, nor has the Department of Psychology appreciated me officially. While the teachers and staff have congratulated me heartily, my efforts shall not receive the reward that they yearned for... My mum’s a gold-medalist in Psychology. The daughter will not receive the same distinction despite the best grades in the history of the dept... Life, oh life...

A friend has been enlightening me about the intricacies of birthday bumps and ragging. (Being a girl, and an Arts/Psychology student, I have not personally experienced how ragging works except in books and movies.) I was told all kinds of outrageous stuff juniors need to do on the bidding of their senior students. (I can’t put it all down here for fear of being flagged, but trust me it’s shocking. Guys are made to do everything right from stripping in public to doing weird things to genitals – their own as well as others’.) Eekss....

And birthday bumps are equally bad. Kicking a guy till he cries hoarse and whimpers over his pains is not my idea of an ideal celebration. The excuse apparently is, “to let him know what a burden he is on earth.” And who decides that? Humphh...

Here’s some delightful news – I’ve stumbled upon the perfect solution to all my dressing concerns. A brown, extra large top that works well as a T-shirt in itself, or a sweater worn over a smaller top. It looks fantastic, and it feels fabulous. Way to go!! How I wish other difficulties in life had such simple answers as well...

News you can use – Size 0 is actually waist 23. Now did you know that? I didn’t. But I sure know that Kareena Kapoor looks anorexic and ill. I have NO clue why people find her hot. To me, she is nothing but supercilious and conceited. I will go as far as to say that she did not merit the acting award in Jab We Met; Shahid was way better than her, and probably more deserving as well.

The first volume of Menon’s Mahabharata is approaching the closing stage. I am currently reading the Virata Parva, which is less than a 100 pages, and tells about the Pandavas’ hidden year in exile - Ajnatavasa. If discovered in this period, they would have to spend another 12 years in banishment.

The previous section had some amazing tales revolving around Yudhishtira, the son of Dharma. How he answers the riddles of Nahusha and the yaksha, how he yearns to seek revenge even as he treads the path of dharma. Equally interesting was the story of Duryodhana, who decided to kill himself as he was shamed by a gandharva, and the Pandavas who rescued him. I was not aware that Uma and Siva created Duryodhana, and I was further flabbergasted by this statement spoken to Dury – “Above the waist, your body was made by Mahadeva out of impenetrable vajras, and below the waist, the devi herself made your form from flowers of heaven to please the women of earth”. Ahem... Did people REALLY talk like that in the bygone days?!!

I’m eager to watch Ghajini again. Haven’t had my fill of movies just yet!

Say, anybody know how’s Twilight and/or Breaking Dawn? I’m planning to read Stephanie Meyer, but can’t decide which book would be better. Any other recommendations are also most welcome. You ARE reading, right??

And hey, here are a few other questions that I’ve been ruminating upon:
Why do guys shake their legs when seated?
Why do footballers wear socks till their knees?

All men-centric queries... So men, please oblige! But I sure would like to hear what the women have to say to this!! ;-)

Take care!
Anuja

When Jumbo got Outsourced

Weird title, eh? Not if you are heedful of the movie brigade.

It has been a “theatrical” weekend after ages. (I spent both evenings at the cinema being serenaded first by Jumbo and then by Outsourced.)

Took me back to the times when I was in Fergusson College (urf Fergi aka FC), when our attendance was taken not at the college gates, but at the counters of E-Square (and of course Hotel Savera and Vaishali). Our timetable for Friday mornings read movie-time, as we enjoyed new releases at 50 bucks week after week after week. Those were the times!!

This time round, it was first the ladies of my family who insisted on the animated flick Jumbo, and then my usual movie-mate who was keen on watching the Ayesha Dharker-starrer Outsourced. My rating for both : 6/10.

A six, coz they were both good entertainment. Not a 7 or 8 because they did not quite do justice to the splendid opportunity they had as movies of a different genre. They could have done much much better...

Here’s the lowdown – Jumbo is the story of an elephant, separated from his parents during the war of two kingdoms. He grows up under the care of his aged mahout and the company of his cute girlfriend. The only ambitions of his life are to get reunited with his family and become the king’s royal vehicle. Needless to say, the movie ends well (though the end could have been less violent and more kid-watch-worthy).

The 90-minute tale is narrated by Akki (Akshay Kumar), who is the voice of Jumbo aka Jayveer Singh. The other voices are that of Lara Dutta (Jumbo’s gf, hardly recognizable), Dimple Kapadia (J’s mum), Rajpal Yadav (this is a treat! J’s bird-y friend), Asrani (the king’s senapati, with his usual ha-ha!) and how can I forget the majestic and terrifying Gulshan “bad man” Grover as Bakhtavar, the enemy’s chief elephant.

My fav childhood cartoon-movie was Dumbo, and I was expecting this one to be as fabulous, but I was let down in a way. The movie could have been funnier and longer. The interval happens before you can have your fill of Jumbo as a kid, and war and tragedy dominates the rest of the movie. Of course, Jumbo’s king is a fine and handsome chap, so no-one’s complaining. The best parts of the movie undoubtedly are the “maha-ddher-dhakal pratiyogita” and the peals of laughter from the kids during the first half of the movie, when Jumbo escapes trouble (otherwise known as humans). Remarkable marketing and talent gone waste.

The other flick, Outsourced, was better in a few ways. One, the witty observations and dialogues. Two, we as Indians can relate to the anecdotes and behaviors. And three, I could munch on some popcorn. (The bill said caramel popcorn, but I beg to differ as it tasted bland and soggy.)

The movie is an account of how US operations shift to India to cut costs, and a firang is sent to the country to train his replacement. When another amrikan suggests he stop resisting the nation and give in, Todd (lovingly and popularly called Mr. Toad) discovers the marvelous country that is India. Be it the fun and merriment of Holi, or the exuberant Indian spirit that offers a room to any and every couple that visits tourist places.

Todd (Josh Hamilton) plays his role to the T (if only his smile was as good!). His dilemmas and actions are as adorable as a baby’s bottom. He makes the movie engaging and amusing. Asha (Ayesha) makes it look ugly and oversmart. She needs serious help with her repulsive nose, hideous eyes and revolting lips. (I know some folks might find her charming, but each one to his own!)

What I did not comprehend was why Asha needs to sleep with Todd (her “Holiday in Goa”) when she is engaged to be married within a few months. And does she expect sympathy for her act? What is noteworthy and commendable is the confidence she exudes at her job and her sincere attempt at playing the sabhya Hindustani stree who dreads unflattering public comments about her reputation. All in all, a good watch on the TV or innernet.

My experience was suitably marred by the stink of alcohol courtesy one fellow in the audience, unfortunately seated right next to us. Why do people visit the cinema when they are drunk? Got nothing better to do?!

And hey, have you heard THIS?? Parking charges at E-Sq for four-wheelers is now a prodigious 40 bucks! Appalling, what say? Reminds me of Abba’s woeful tale : He went to Camp and had his car very neatly parked by this sincere fellow who handed him a parking ticket. When he returned after his jaunt, he found a pretty jammer stuck on his car tyre. Outraged and lighter by 300 Rupees, he warned another driver not to park in the same space, but his pleas went unheard. What’s the world coming to? You can’t rely upon anyone, not even for parking your vehicle.

Time for some good news - Sales on everywhere. Woodland, Westside, Bia, Parx. My shopping list at the moment reads a mixer-juicer-grinder for mum who celebrates her 30th wedding anniversary in 2 weeks time. Shhh. Don’t tell her. This is a surprise!

Beat the Monday Blues!

Love,
Princess

Naye Saal Ki Nayee Bakwas

I walk a lonely road, The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes, But it's home to me and I walk alone
I walk this empty street, On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps and I'm the only one and I walk alone
I walk alone, I walk alone...

Hiya pretty people!

Am I sounding too morose in this new year? Yesterday I spoke about the world ending, and today I start off with this amazing but melancholy track by Green Day...

Fear not, ye mighty readers. I shall soon get back to my cheery, old self. It’s just the hangover of the Mabi trip and the necessity of coming back to work and routine that’s kinda pulling me down.

What wasn’t so bad was returning to my reading of the Mahabharata. But well, I’m not going to start off on that note now. Let’s keep that for next week. Right now, I’m in the mood for some Ghajini and a big bucket of caramel popcorn.

Hey, I noticed something very peculiar the other day when I was leaving at dawn for Mabi. I was watching the road and a few passer-bys (passers-by? passer-bys? certainly not bypassers!) I saw a man crossing the road – as he walked across, climbed the divider, got down and walked to the other end – all a definite, smooth way. And then a girl, covered in her scarf and woolens, conducted the same process. Same? Uh huh.

She crossed the first half of the road looking left and right in a duck-like fashion. On reaching the divider, she did a hop and skip and jerked her body up the stone partition. The getting down was an equivalent jig. And she ambled on to the other side.

Some things need to be observed once to be continuously spotted and perceived. For example, I happened to witness a few woman hanging down their leg when they sit facing one-side on a bike. After that, wherever I looked, I saw the ladies following the same action. Similarly, I discerned that this divider-dance-walk was a universal phenomenon. Me included.

Another lesson – the world can do without its scientists and software engineers (as demonstrated by the recent global meltdown and downsizing endeavors). However, life would be unimaginable if rag-pickers went on strike even for a day. Envisage having to wake up everyday to go out on the street and empty garbage cans, pick up all kinds of filthy rubbish and dispose it off. Ughhh... We screw our noses at the hint of the odor, and these individuals wade through it as they create a clean and hygienic city for us to live and breathe in. Thanks to you all, though I know you’re not reading this, friends. Thanks so much...

Right now (for the last couple of months actually), my mum’s grappling with maid trouble. Just like in the US and Europe, looks like Indians too will have to start doing their own chores soon. Our ever-cheerful Nagu bunks work 3 days out of 7, and mum’s routine now consists of washing clothes and utensils among other activities. Poor her. (Not that we don’t try to talk her out of it, but she can’t stand dirt and she’s extremely stubborn. Like daughter, like mother.)

Well, have a good weekend. Will be back with actual content next week. Recuperating from the lazy vacation, you see...

Here are some pictures for you to feast your eyes!! ;-)

Chow!
Princess

Future Management

Hellllooooo readers!

Welcome to the new year, and welcome to the same old me here...

Is it really the new year? Nothing seems to have changed much (except the date of course!) As far as I can see the rest looks still the same. I’m back at work doing the same stuff I did before, riders are still honking madly like they did last year, and more or less everything else looks unchanged.

New Year’s Eve seemed subdued this year. Pune was agog with rumors of terror attacks during the last couple of weeks, but thankfully nothing went wrong. I escaped the party scene to ring in 2009 at Mahabaleshwar (Mabi, as it’s popularly known) - my favorite favorite holiday destination close to Pune... Thanks to the pretty marketplace and Aseem’s hospitality at the Savoy.

2008 has been bad. Real bad. For most of us. Personally, professionally and in a lot many ways. Let’s hope 2009’s better. Can’t get any worse anyway!

My jyotish (=astrologer) says the stars are ripe for my wedding anytime between 2009-2011. I’m not too sure when, but I sure hope tying the knot loosens my connection with strife and sorrow.

Met an old friend 2 days ago. With him came this immensely irritating chap who refused to shut up and to make matters worse, he refused to speak in anything but English (atrocious English at that, which completely drives me bonkers!) To complicate things further, he was describing another chap as boring... I really think that people who call others a bore should first jhaank in their girebaan and see how pakau they themselves are... Whew. Thank god I had to get home early!

Any resolutions this year, mates? I’m chewing over silence and forgiveness, but only time will tell how successful I will be at these endeavors. Right now, I’m on the hunt for something exciting and interesting. Naah, not professionally. Work-wise I’m still with Alchemy, and the going seems mighty challenging, what with my colleagues being relieved and a lot more business in the offing. It’ll sure get lonely and difficult at times, but I’m sure it’s all for the best!

I told ya sometime back why some folks suffer and why some don’t. I’ve acquired some more info... this time about what’s drawing near in the coming years and decades...

Anybody in here wants to know the future?

(Don’t teme I didn’t warn ya...)

Kalyug (or kali yuga) is a bad, bad time as all of us know. Fathers are raping their daughters, servants are stealing from their masters, people who should protect others are exploiting the weak... And things will only get worse from here...

It’s ordained by Fate. It’s written in the scriptures and passed on since forsaken times. When Markandeya rishi related ancient tales to the Pandavas in exile, he told them about this last yuga in dreadful terms. How money will become the yardstick for power, and how leaders will become selfish and corrupt. People will flee to the forests and mountains as the cities will burn with malevolence and conflict. Just like the bygone days, fruits and roots will become staple diet, until they last.

And then there will be a drought. Not a single drop of water for 100 long years. All living things will perish. What use will our zillion comforts be when the throat is parched and dry?

Shiva will then appear in his Rudra roop and create 7 massive suns that will scorch the earth. Everything will burn, it will all be over.

Over? Not yet. Now is the time for water to kiss the globe again. And kiss it will. With torrential rains that will drown the surface.

And even as this occurs, all will be silent again. Floating on a leaf, God will appear in the form of a baby sucking his blue toe, and with him will be Bramha, who shall create it all again...

This fable had me petrified, and I found myself praying to pass away years before this disaster occurred. My mother, ever the devil’s advocate, tactfully reminded me that I would only be reborn again... Hmm... Maybe... Unless my prayers don’t make me one with the Paramatma Himself! (Big words, eh?! I’m hoping... Ain’t a crime!) And even if I’m reborn, I’m wondering if a camel’s life would be a good one...

Other stories by Markandeya that sounded fascinating were that the Fire God loved Svaha. This explains why during yagnas, when the pandit chants the matras, you are urged to say “Swaha” while making your offering to Agni deva! And ever questioned why the moon and stars are so close? Coz Soma Deva (the moon god) fell in love with Tara, the wife of Brihaspati... Cool, eh?!!

Time to go. Happy new year again, people.
Hope all your (decent) dreams get fulfilled soon!

Cheerio!
Princess