Did you do YOUR bit?

Why do you mourn her death now, when it’s too late? Can you bring her back? What did YOU do to prevent this from happening? What did you do to prevent any other woman from being a victim?

The other day when you were in a rush to meet your friends, didn’t you hear your neighbour abuse his wife, and kids?

Did you ring the bell and stop him?

Did you seek out the kids later and give them any courage?

Did you inform the cops when you saw the broken jaw, the black and blue scars she was trying to hide?

Did you protect your own mother when she was being abused? Cussed? Beaten up?

Didn’t you ignore the black eye of the domestic maid servant?

Did you call up an NGO?

Did you make an effort to at least find out NGOs that can help?

Did you help create awareness about domestic violence and take steps to prevent it?  

Did you DO something other than ‘sharing’ posts and RTing?

Did you do ANYTHING, except helplessly exclaiming ‘Tch, tch, what is the world coming to?’

-A victim

Goodbye, Sandpaper man!

“Let’s go on a movie date”, said he,

I’ll pick you up at eight.”

He shot me a meaningful glance.

My heart skipped a beat,

And did the lambada dance

“Finally” I thought, “we move to second base”,

And coyfully, lowered my gaze

Recoiled at what I saw

Violently I dropped my jaw

 “I’m a woman of today,” I said,

“I prefer smooth to uncouth,

Manscape over a barbarian ape!

So if you think you can seduce me

with your day-long stubble,

I’m afraid your dreams will join

that sky-high rubble.

You really want that date?

I’ll give you until eight,

Mow down your abrasive sod,

And prepare yourself 

to meet my well-spa’ed hot bod”

Later that evening:

Manscaped man showed up at the door

Manicured fingers and eyes ran a scan

Over the groomed chin I so adore

“Goodbye Sandpaper man,”

 I moved closer and whis-purred,

“Second is just a number,

Let’s just skip to the third.”

Movie tickets and the lingerie,

Lost no time in joining the floor.

This post is a part of the 'Shave or Crave' movement in association with BlogAdda.com

A Short-lived Adventure!

This entry is a part of BlogAdda contests in association with Zapstore.com

I spotted a man

Hovering suspiciously beside a van,

I said, "Here's my once in a lifetime shot at adventure."

So I followed him around

Until I found,

That the poor old guy was only 

looking for his dentures!!

............................

A muted sigh,

An unshed tear,

Somebody...

Send me a cold beer

Summer 2010

56 days, 10 movies, 8 blog posts, 7 1/2 books, 3 reunions, 1 Tuesday Pick, 1 play, 1 blog meet, countless love, homecooked food, endless hours on Facebook and Twitter, a long impending end, and a new beginning...
Does my vacation have to really really end?

Headlines 2020- Facebook kills the reunions

So thanks to Facebook, Orkut and other social networking communities, I had a blast with the past. Nice to catch up with people, squeal  in excitement and at times in shock to see how your friends have turned out. And yeah, catch up with them finally after so many years.

I sometimes wonder how people managed to stay in touch before the advent of social networking sites. How effective really were alumni associations?

With all and sundry now being connected on social networking sites, you KNOW what's happening with your friends, on a daily basis. You know where they've been, you know how they look like, you know what they do, what they do for a living, relationship status, employment history, et al. How will reunions look like, 10 years from now? Will there be reunions at all? Won't social networking take the whole fun out of reunions?

Teacher's Day

Who is/was your favourite teacher, and why? Post your tweets @mumbaiteacher or email your entries to mumbaiteacher@gmail.com Sub line- My favourite teacher. 

All your entries will be posted on mumbaiteacher.blogspot.com on 5th September, Teachers' Day. Hurry!! Send in your entries before 2nd September, 2010.

Toeragz on BlogAdda

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!! My blog post Once upon a time has been selected by BlogAdda @ http://adda.at/Tangy11 as one of the top posts for 'Tangy Tuesday Picks'.

Toeragz on BlogAdda Tangy Tuesday

Once upon a time

A not-so little bird, happy and gay

Once looked up in the sky,

Saw birds flying high above,

Twittering and chirping away.

She wanted to be with them,

Know new birds and trees,

She went and met their Chief,

He welcomed her,

And put her at ease.

So she left her lovely nest,

In search of a new one,

But when she reached there,

She saw the birds,

Who once she thought, were so much fun,

Had not kept up in the race of evolution.

She remembered her lovely nest,

And sang a beautiful song,

But all the birds looked at her

And said her song was wrong

She felt terribly sad,

In her grief,

She went to the Chief,

And asked him to help fix things,

He said all would be OK,

The bird found her wings.

As we read the poem,

She still waits and wonders,

Will she lose her voice?

Or will she rejoice?

Memories

I remember waking up to the sounds of the whistle of the pressure cooker in our small and modest one room cum kitchen every morning. I must have been around 4 years old then, and unlike most kids my age I wouldn't ever complain about being whisked away for a bath, coz I would eagerly await the routine that followed next. Watching my mom getting lunch ready was a visual treat every morning. Sometimes, mom would get annoyed with me for getting in her way (it was a small place after all) but more often than not, I would be allowed to stick my fingers in the dough and play with it till mom was ready to roll out perfectly rounded yummy chapatis. Mom would then pack dad's lunch box with chapati and the subji of the day and then drop me off at the babysitter's.

One day, it got into me to make a chapati for my dear pappa, to earn a proud look from him. As mom wouldn't let me anywhere near the stove, I waited patiently for her to place the hot tawa under the cooking platform. As soon as she got busy, I pressed the tiny bit of dough that I had stolen, on the tawa making sure that it was brown on both the sides. Voila! I had a mini chapati prepared by me. I ran to mom and showed her my creation. It didn't earn the appreciation that I had expected. : ( Not knowing what to do next, I slipped the tiny chapati into my dad's tiffin box and told her to tell dad that I had made it for him.

All day long, through school day and later, I waited for my dad to come home, sweep me in his arms and tell me how he loved eating the chapati that I had made for him. Finally, it was time for him to come home, time for my sterling moment. Alas...no such thing happened...he hadn't noticed the tiny chapati I had made for him. It was as if it had never existed, it remained in my memories...the immortal chapati....