Nopes I am not talking about the Romance by Ralph Lauren or the Alfred Sung creations she wears. I am talking about the true essence of being a woman. Has any man truly deeply inhaled the scent of a woman?
A true essence of a woman is her ability to dispense the perfume of love. I won’t go into the clichéd saying that to be a true woman you have to be a mother. No being a mother is the final burst of her gorgeous perfume.
Prior to that, a woman dispenses her scent in being just a woman. It’s her capability to be an independent thinker, her expertise in being a good daughter, a sister and most important being a very good friend.
Friends it’s very sad that when you inhale the scent of woman, you only inhale the perfume. Delve deep into her heart and take a deep breath. I promise you will inhale the most intoxicating aphrodisiac of this world.
This year I had made great plans for your birthday. Parties all night, loads of gifts and lots of wishes your way. I had wanted to send you a beautiful diamond set, big bouquet of flowers, gigantic box of chocolates and a whole franchise of Sephora. Alas!! Wall Street collapsed. Along with it I saw my investments shrinking. Just like the much washed micro mini denim skirt of mine.
Instead here are my birthday wishes to you.
I wish to be your push up bra whenever your spirits sag
I wish to be the last drop of rum to get you intoxicated with life
I wish to be that zero watt light bulb in your bedroom that chases away nights of your sadness
I wish to be the cloud of laughter enveloping you during the scorching heat of despair
I wish to be your worn out blankie that hugs and loves you during the winters of your loneliness
I wish to be your favorite shade of lipstick that enhances the pout of your luscious lips and drives men wild
I wish to be the balance of your high heels that give you the confidence to strut through life
I wish us to do all the wackiest impossible feats in life. To remind us that anything is possible
Above all I wish you to grow younger at heart each and every day. Remember old age is no place for sissies', am sure everyone knows we're no sissies
A week has gone by since I have come back from Toronto. Yet I have been unable to solve the greatest mystery of our trip. The mystery of the missing condom. Oops before I give you any details allow me to give you a background on my trip.
I had gone to Toronto to meet Khatti_Meethi. She had already promised me a memorable memorial day weekend. With great hopes in my heart I landed up in Toronto. After the initial confusion between a B and a D (not cups, but gate), I was picked up by a beautiful white lexus driven by an equally beautiful woman, who than took me to her home. Now I have been working myself to the bones and was very tired. My body simply craved sleep, yet Khatti informed me that sleep was the last thing she would allow me.
Together we drove towards downtown Toronto to see the sights. What a majestic sight it was, the CN tower regally standing in front of us. We climbed on top of it and I felt like the queen of the world. The view from top of the CN tower is simply mind blowing. Over a cool glass of mojito, a warm crème brulee, great shopping and a constantly giggling girlfriend by my side. I already felt my trip was complete. Little did I know what fate awaited me.
The next day we spend some time with Khatti's kids and in the evening we set off for the city of lovers called Niagara. We reached Niagara around 9 pm and after checking into the hotel, we set off for a little evening stroll. The stroll lead us to a giant ferris wheel, a plastic frog (that I tried to kiss and turn into a prince), a trip to the Ripley's museum and finally landed us in a bar. After a few round of drinks (the exact count is now lost to my temporary amnesia induced by alcohol), I felt the urge to play mini-golf. By this time it was already past 1 am in the morning. My shots at the mini-golf was such that Tiger Woods himself would have been proud of. Only if he were playing in mars and the golf holes were craters of the moon. Feeling very pleased with our feats at the mini-golf, we finally decided to return back to the hotel. A footnote here, we returned only because every other attraction had closed their doors on us.
At our room Khatti picked up the complimentary sundries basket and started inspecting it's contents. I felt it was my duty to warn her, that any consumption of the contents would lead to a enormous hotel bill. Khatti in all innocence started reading off the names of the contents, and I present a list here.
She than looked at me with wide eyes and said with great seriousness, “Oye they haven't provided any condoms here. Why are the condoms missing?. If there are no condoms how will we go ahead with our plans?”
To this moment I feel, we missed our great opportunity with the handsome Italian hunk from Cleveland because of the mystery of the missing condoms. The rest of the trip was passe. It included a visit to the beautiful falls, a ride on the helicopter, trip to an aviary and some more great shopping.
If any of you have been able to solve the mystery of the missing condoms, do let us know. So that next time we may not loose out on anymore Italian hunks from Cleveland
He took a step away from me. I wanted to stop him. My hands outstretched. Pleading him not to go. A cry stifled in my throat. Please don't go , don't take another step away from me. Stay with me, by my side. You are all I want right now beside me. You are the only one for me. Together we are one, body and soul. Separate we die a thousand deaths each day.
He turned, facing me, looked deep into my eyes. Trying to read all the emotions portrayed in my anxious eyes. Yet he kept walking. He walked backwards, till he dropped away from my sight.
Coming to my senses I started to run. I ran faster than a gazelle. Faster than the wind whispering in my ears and flying my hair. I ran till my legs could not take another step. Till there was no breath left in body. I ran after him. Than I came across him, lying face down in a pit full of deep shit.
Men they never listen to you even if their next step lands them in a pile of shit So who wants to love them anyways
Recently I was subjected to an hour long discussion with a so called friend, whose prime objective was to lead me to the righteous path shown by the one and only Son of God. This friend of mine wanted me to convert to Christianity and find peace within myself.
At the beginning let me clarify that I have nothing against Christianity. In fact nowadays I am allergic to any religion, including the one in which I was born into. Obviously I asked my friend as to why does he think I need saving? What crimes have I committed or more precisely what sins have I committed, for which I need to repent and have to be salvaged?
He said that personally I may not have committed any sin, but I was born in sin. Every human being in this earth is born in sin. The very act of procreation is sinful in the eyes of God.
Now I wonder, who made humans procreate the way we do? Who put in us the feelings of desire and lust that result in amorous or sexual acts? Would God have preferred that all of us practiced abstinence and never propagated our species?
More importantly who and what defines sin? Did God define sin or did humans decide at one point that so and so act is sinful? Was the concept of sin created for our own salvation or was it created so that religious institutions could rule over us using fear psychosis?
The way I see it, neither my parents nor I have committed any sin. They simply followed the laws of nature for me to be born. If anyone has committed any sin than it is God. He/she is responsible for creating nature and for humans to procreate the way we do. He/she is also responsible for declaring the said act as sin. So in a way he committed the sin of treachery and lies.
Now lies the most important question, how shall God absolve himself/herself from this sin and attain salvation?
PS: This Post of mine was denied. Reason given is Banned Topics: Hate/Weapons/Underage. I fail to understand how this post suffices any of the above mentioned categories.
I do not hate religion or god and neither am I saying that anyone should.
I am not advocating the sale or use of weapons.
I haven't written anything that would deem unreadable for readers under 18. Of course this also means that IFF being a dating site has members under 18. According to IFF's own admission that we cannot have any material as blog post that is unsuitable for underage reading.
I am merely asking questions about God and Religion. By denying my post, is IFF trying to say that I have no right to ask questions ?
I always believed that I belong to a generation of women who have lived through very exciting and dramatic times. My generation might have missed the struggle for independence and the world wars. But we were witnesses to the passing of the Haley's comet, fall of the Berlin wall and Soviet Union, but most importantly we were a generation that was born when India and many parts of the world had a taste of leadership under some very strong women. Margaret Thatcher in Uk, Indira Gandhi in India and Sirimavo Bandernaikey in Sri Lanka.
So what did it mean for us? Primarily it told our parents that even when you are blessed with only a girl child, it's not a bane but a boon. Nurture the child, guide her properly and sky's the limit for her. Keeping this in mind my father always encouraged me to be an achiever overcoming the constraints put forward by the society. He would say you are not my daughter but my son. He always gave more importance to my education and outdoor activities. He always was insistent that women become financially independent.
My mother on the other hand gave importance to singing, dancing and other household activities that any good Indian girl is supposed to know. Yes just like any other Bengali girl, I was trained in music and dance. Something due to my immaturity at that time I did not pursue all that much. Somewhere deep down I do regret it at times.
Why this disparity in mindset between my parents? It's not that my mother did not understand the importance of education, she did. In fact when it came to dividing my time between my studies and other extra-curricular activities she put emphasis on my studies. Yet deep down she knew I had to master other things as well.
As a teenager I rebelled against all that was set for me to do. I was more interested in hanging out with friends and hated going to my music lessons. I would rather sleep the extra forty winks than get up early in the morning to practice my singing.
Now I have the maturity to see what my mother did. Deep down she knew, no matter how financially independent I get. Ultimately I will be married off to another household. Where my father and mother wouldn't be there to take care of me or to save me from the emotional barbs that would come my way. They knew that society was not yet ready for a fully independent woman, a woman who could live without the umbrella of male security. They knew they had to get me married off or else they would have to listen to taunts like "Oh your daughter is earning hence you show no interest in her marriage".
So we became a generation of confused women. Women who were taught to be themselves and have opinions, yet who were expected to behave like our grandmothers did. Our grandmothers who were married off at a very young age, knew that her husband, her children were everything for her. All they did was cook, clean, keep a household and raise children. Learning to ignore their own desires and aspirations. I never asked any of my grandmothers if they ever had any ambition other than to see their children succeed in life. I shall do so this time.
The same cannot be said for my younger cousin sisters. They are fiercely independent, one of them has been earning and putting herself through school ever since she was a teenager. Not because her father cannot afford it, because her father is supporting her decision to be independent. She has been taught that marriage is not the ultimate goal in a woman's life. She has been taught to fulfill her every ambition and then if she feels she wants to, she can get married.
Don't you wonder what brought forth this change? Well my family has become wiser. They know anything half-baked and half hearted doesn’t pay much. My education in independence was half-baked, the rest of it I learned through the harsh lessons in life. A lesson my family has learned as well.
One thing is for sure; I may not have got the right support when I needed it. But my cousins from now on shall have the backing of one fiercely independent and a battle heartened elder sister. Nothing from now on shall be done half-heartedly. No more experimentation, no more being a guinea pig.
In this garden of life friends are the flowers. They brighten up your day with their laughter and warmth and fill your heart with their love.
It has been a very eventful journey, sometimes bumpy, sometimes smooth. Lots of friends to love and support and others who abused.
I learned a lot from IFF. I learned I am not alone in this world; I am not the only one with problems. I learned together we could overcome any hindrances in life.
I have also been blessed with many good friends because of IFF, who are there all over the world. Friends, who were by my side in the blink of an eye when I needed them. Friends, who stayed awake with me because I couldn’t sleep, who dried my tears when I would weep. Friends, who called me up when they heard a plane crashed into a building in Manhattan a few weeks back, although I was miles away from it. Friends, whom I can trust with my life.
I had taken a small sabbatical from IFF, because of certain reasons. However I came back as these same friends asked me to. Now I feel its time to move on. I will miss everything about it. I will miss the lobby chats, the good blogs and the blog wars. I will miss all the lovely divas of IFF and my favorite flirts. I will even miss the lobby fights.
I enjoyed my stay in IFF thoroughly. My very close friends who are on my messenger I am never far from you. To the others I bid adieu.
Aati hai teri bahut yaad diwali Woh puja, diya ghar angan rangoli Bhool kar dieting khatey hum mithai Patakhey, phooljhari aur dher si hawaai
Aati hai teri bahut yaad diwali On this eve of Diwali, I couldn’t help but remember my past celebrations of Diwali. I would always be very excited about celebrating Diwali. The preparations would start from days before. When my dad and I would conspire against my Ma. Ma never approved of buying fireworks, especially the ones I preferred. My preference were for the bombs that would have the greatest bang, for spiraling chakris that would be larger than my palm, for Anars that would go a mile high and of course my favorite the rockets. Ma’s idea of lighting fireworks was one tiny phuljhari and one diddlu piddlu rang mashaal. Being daddy’s girl I always got my way, he would buy fireworks for me by the bulk. Hide most of it and show only a small set to my Ma.
I would get up very early on the day of Diwali. My tasks of the day was to see that the part of room where Lord Ganesh and Goddess Lakshmi were to be worshiped was neat and clean and well decorated with rangoli and flowers. I would then later decorate the front of the doorway with intricate designs of rangoli as well. Once all the work was over, I would go for my rounds of inspecting other rangoli’s in the building. Sometimes I would give suggestions to other aunties of the building, in creating their designs. My suggestions would always include something off beat, like mixing traditional designs with contemporary ones, or decorating the rangoli with flower petals. The aunties of the building would very patiently listen to me and sometimes act on my suggestions as well.
The real drama would take place as the sun went down. All the little kids of the building, whose gang leader I was, would come to our apartment one by one and very timidly ask Ma, “Auntie, where is Romi Didi, we need her downstairs. We’re not gonna start lighting the fireworks unless she is there”. At first Ma would patiently answer them but after dealing with the 10th kid, her patience would blow. She would finally go after my dad and pester him to finish the puja as fast as he could. People trust me, Ganesh and Lakshmi never got worshipped faster anywhere else in the world. After the puja my job was to see to it that all 20 families in the building were given their platters of sweets. Then it was SHOWTIME.
It was a sight to see, I would quietly take out my stash of fireworks and go downstairs, with a trail of kids following me. Almost like the Pied Piper of Hamlin. We would all pool our fireworks together. I used to have a competition with two boys in the neighboring building. They once covered a whole strip of road with fireworks and lit them up. The fireworks kept on bursting for almost 30 mins. I was hopping mad, no one, and I mean no one messes with Romita and her Diwali. I asked my little army to get as many tin cans they could. Placed those tiny green bombs very ingeniously called atom bombs and lit them up. The bombs would make the loudest of noise and blow the tin cans mile high. Still unsatisfied I happened to chance upon a crack in one of the columns of our building gate. Looking around to see no one was watching, I placed a few of those green buggers in the crack and lit them up. Well needless to say, there was a big bang and half of the column was gone. Realizing what we had done, we had no choice but to return to our respective homes, with the most innocent of look on our faces.
Next day the adults were wondering who could have done it. No one suspected me to be the culprit. My little band of terrors decided to point the blame on someone else, and yes we did have a readymade scapegoat. Those two boys from the neighboring building were made out to be the mischief-maker.
That was one awesome Diwali, and now I can only reminisce about my good old days. One consolation is still there. Five years back when I was in India during Diwali, my dad still went out and got me a sack full of fireworks, even then my Ma grumbled. But I had a great time lighting every single one of them.
In terms of playing games physically, men and women were always mismatched. Even now in this age and times, certain clubs and games are out of bounds for the fairer \bsexo?\b. Did you guys know that GOLF is actually an acronym for Gentlemen Only Ladies Forbidden. Yes its true and the tradition continues even now in some very high profile golf clubs like the one in Augusta, Georgia.
However when it comes to playing mind games, I believe both sexes are at a disadvantage. In vain they both play this sport, trying to outwit and out win each other and both end up hurting each other in the process and themselves as well.
We tend to play mind games during courtship, relationship and even in friendship. We give each other tests to see if the other passes it or not. Tests sometimes devised by ourselves, sometimes devised by the umpteen relationships and fashion magazines like Cosmopolitan, and most of the times devised by fake relationship gurus like Dr. Phil (god I hate that man). I have a terminology for these mind games I call them mind fu[kcq]k. Personally have been at the receiving end of many such mind fu[kcq]k, and none of the real kind.
Why do we have to play mind fu[kcq]k, instead why can’t we perform the actual act. Why is it that a small three-letter word called EGO plays such a large role in our lives? Why do we need to outwit and out win our peers, friends and better halves? Don’t we all know the simple truth? It’s lonely at the top when you’re a winner. Why do we have to treat life and relationships as a game of GOLF, why can’t we treat it as soccer? What happened to playing a team sport? May be we should introduce mixed \bsexo?\b soccer matches in the forthcoming world cup or Olympic games.
Once upon a time there lived a young girl. She had big bright innocent eyes that were always filled with wonder. She used to see beauty in all forms of life. Beauty was her passion. She saw beauty in the first rays of sunshine, the dewdrops falling on the petals of a rose. She smelled beauty in the perfume emanating from the earth when the raindrops splashed it, in the smell of freshly cut grass. She tasted beauty when the first flakes of snow hit her outstretched tongue. She felt beautiful when her finger in the socket hair would be blown away by the wind, and her face would be turned up towards the sun. In all she found everything about life beautiful and wonderful.
Beauty was a happy go lucky person. She would always go with the flow and never fight back. She never knew how to fight back. She had an insatiable hunger for knowledge and adventure. On one of her adventures in a distant land, she met another fellow traveler. They shared some memorable moments of joy and companionship. Till her fellow traveler decided that the road they were traveling on was too small for two people.
Beauty felt herself being pushed little by little off the road. Till there came a moment when she was standing on the edge of it. One false step and she would fall down to the valley below. One step was all that was left between her life and death. One step and she would be forgotten into oblivion.
Standing on the edge of the road, she decided to fight for her share of the way. She decided it was time she claimed back the road, and her life. Her beautiful eyes were now filled with anger and distrust. She pushed her fellow traveler with all her might and gained a small foothold. With that foothold she decided to journey all alone.
In that one moment when she turned from an adventurer to a survivor, Beauty changed. Her bright eyes now no longer held the love and wonder for life. They were forever replaced by distrust. In that one moment Beauty became a cold hearted bitch.
Recently I have added a new status message on my Yahoo messenger, which says, “Sometimes total destruction is necessary to create something more beautiful “. Many people have asked me why I have put such a message? I guess they got worried at the word destruction. No, I am not in self-destruct mode. In fact that is the last thing on my mind.
Throughout history we have examples where total devastation occurred, yet people re-built their lives. Not only did they re-build it, they made it more beautiful. After the destruction of twin towers, to commemorate its first anniversary, two parallel beams of light were lit upwards towards the sky. These beams portray the twin towers that now lie in ruins. When I look at the light I have a sad though serene feeling inside me. I feel sad for all the innocent lives lost and I feel serene, as I know that those souls are in a much better place. I also feel empowered, that we shall never give up. Some day another two towers that would rise majestically will replace these beams of light. That day my friend is not very far away.
Similar principles apply in our own lives too. Today if life or someone else tries to tell me, “Romita you shall never find true life and happiness”, my response would be. “Please wait and watch. I will find my happiness and then I shall slap it back at your face. Allow me to completely burn to ashes, and then see me arise from it like the mythical phoenix. I shall then dazzle you with the beautiful plumage of happiness within me. “
they never listen to you even if their next step lands them in a pile of shit 
