Every Woman Is A Hero...

With the International Women's Day upon us, here's some gyaan from karlegyaan

    75% of the word ‘hero’ is ‘her’!!!

       Need I say more?!?              

But as you know I love saying more....

Here's What the Animal Kingdom Teaches Us!!

  Ever wondered why a honeycomb functions so efficiently?!?

              It’s helmed by a ‘Queen-Bee’!!!

              Every woman is a Queen. Every woman is a Hero.

              Step It Up For Gender Equality

              #pledgeforparity #endgenderbias #womenheroes

                 Ever wondered why an elephant herd is so organized?!?

              Female elephants rule the pack!

              Every woman is a Ruler. Every woman is a Hero.

              Step It Up For Gender Equality

              #pledgeforparity #endgenderbias #womenheroes

                  Ever wondered why the lion cubs look so well-fed?!?

             The lionesses do all the hunting!

              Every woman is a Lioness. Every woman is a hero.

              Step It Up For Gender Equality

              #pledgeforparity #womenheroes #endgenderbias

                 Ever wondered why the word ‘Gender’ has an ‘end’ in it?!?

               End Gender Inequality!

              #pledgeforparity #endgenderbias #womenheroes

                  Ever wondered why the Earth, Nature, Country, Language referred to as ‘Mother’?!?

              Woman, Nurturer, Protector

              Every woman is a hero. Step It Up For Gender Equality

              #pledgeforparity #womenheroes

       Here are some stupid biases!!

                     BIAS 1- ‘Women can’t drive. ‘

               Women lovingly drive families.

               Women caringly drive their children’s growth.

               Women productively drive organizations.

              Women efficiently drive countries.

              Wipe out the stereotypes 

              #zipitup #endgenderbias #pledgeforparity

                    BIAS 2- ‘Women are not strong.’

              Nothing strong about delivering 7 pound babies!

              Nothing strong about balancing homes and careers..

              Nothing strong about fighting wars, helming governments

              Nothing strong about winning Olympics, flying rockets

              Wipe out the stereotypes

              #zipitup #endgenderbias #pledgeforparity

                 BIAS 3- ‘Women are emotional.’

              Women are strong parental figures

              Women are communicative about their feelings

              Women don’t hide real emotions

              Women are flexibly practical and emotional

              Wipe out the stereotypes

             #zipitup #endgenderbias #pledgeforparity

                 ‘WO’ stands for ‘Strength’, ‘Nurturer’, ‘Protector’,

              That’s how the word ‘WO’MAN originated.  

              Every woman is a hero. Step It Up For Gender Equality

              #pledgeforparity #womenheroes

                    There’s Nothing Wrong With Your Brawny Boy Playing With His Dollie Or Your           

                  Princess Wanting To Fly Around Like Superman!

            This Women’s Day, Let’s Vow To Break Gender Stereotypes….

             #pledgeforparity #endgenderbias

       HAPPY WOMEN'S DAY...

MERRY MORYA!!

                                      SANTA CLAUS BHETATO BAPPALA!!

SANTA - HO HO HO!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS

 

BAPPA- Kay re khokla zala ka?? Sitofaladi churna ghe, pan Ramdev Baba cha nako han naitar dokyavar ubha rahun ghyava lagel.

 

SANTA (puneri santa aslya mule marathit boltoy, chaat padu naka)- Arre khokla kay, style ahe ti apli!!

 

BAPPA- Style maraychi tar hai kay lamb daadhi, safed kes, mansane kasa takatak rahava.

 

SANTA- Tuji sond kay fashion statment mhanavi ka mag?

 

BAPPA- Unique ahe boss!! Barr hya pattyacha kay prakaran?

 

SANTA- Zara pot aat java mhanun yaar.

 

BAPPA- Hahaha, asa patta bandhun kahi nahi vhaycha, pahate uthun kapalbhati kar roz! Me bagh kasa fit and fine ahe.

 

SANTA- Ho ka, shwas sod ata!

 

BAPPA- Pakadlas rao! Apan kharach pot kami karuya doghani, full Sallu sarkha six pack abs.

 

SANTA- Hai chukicha ahe rao, tuje modak hadadun zale ata maza gaud-dhod khaycha season ahe tar tang nako ghalus madhe!

 

BAPPA- Barr rahila tar mag! Speaking of Sallu, tyala kay yanda bhet??

 

SANTA- Teh sodun kay pan bol bhava! tya vatela me jat nahi, ek tar maji gadi zaliy zuni tyat maja deer chya jivala dhoka!!

 

BAPPA- Lolz, tula choice tari ahe re mala tar murti basavtat tithe java lagta, tyat halli pratyek nakyavar char mandala, dumchak hote re maji!

 

SANTA- Kharay, barr mala zara madat kar re hya mulanchya changlya vaet vagnyacha hishob karaychay.

 

BAPPA- Chimurdyanchya vagnyache kasle re hishob kartos, mulach ti deun tak saglyana kay teh gifts.

 

SANTA- Tehi barobarach, tu pudya re kaslya bandhat basla ahes?

 

BAPPA- Arre tulach dyayla, buddhichya pudya bandhtoy aplya mothya mulan sathi, je swatala 'adult' mhanavtat!! Me khup prayatna kela re vataycha pan shantabai cha dhinganya samor maza awazach nahi pochla tyancha paryant! Tu jatos sumdit ratricha, tu vatun ye.

 

SANTA- Kahi upyog nahi tyana pudya vatun; zoplelyana uthavu shaku re, pan zopecha saung karnaryana kasa kay uthvaycha?!?!

 

BAPPA- Yogya bollas, chal jaude toh paha samorun Hanmya yetoy, apan jaun six packs chya tips gheu!

 

 

PUNERI PATI- Fakt hassu naka, bodh ghya!

 

© Sneha Karle, 24th December, 2015

 

 

 

The Copywriter Woes!

KEY-  CW- copywriter,  FB- feedback

CW-
"A fantabulous sentence which she thinks encapsulates the world's best idea ever."

FB-
Too complex!

CW-
"A superb sentence which she thinks conveys the world's best idea ever."

FB-
Too long!

CW-
"A really good sentence and idea."

FB-
Feel nahi aa raha..still too complex...make it crisp

CW-
"Good sentence"

FB-
Crisper pls

CW-
"."

FB-
Dot is too big

<<<face palm>>>>

----Strictly to be taken in jest (ooppss! it means to be laughed at :p)

LONG LIVE SARCASM!!

THE NAQABS OF PUNE- TO VEIL OR NOT TO VEIL- THE JOURNEY

Oooo lal duppete wali tera naam toh bataaa…..nopes I am not suddenly nostalgic about Chunkey Pandey :p but recently I got called out in a Marathi version of this! “Ooo lal odhniwali madam tumche paise paddle” alas(or Thank God) it was no Chunkey Pandey who was singing after me but just a do gooder calling me out to pick up my change.

 It was then that I realized that I have become a Puneri  in yet another aspect- using  the ubiquitous, the omnipresent, the all pervasive, the one and only, the Puneri hijaab, the naqabs of the Peshwains, (drumrolls please)- the scarf/dupatta/odhni.  This piece of cloth covers the entire face of the Puneri lady only leaving out the eyes. And no you can’t just tie it anyway you want, there is a specific style of tying it up which you can master only after undergoing a sunstroke in mid May. Be it in the buses, the parks, the roads, or the other ubiquitous Pune factor the two wheelers, it is naqab ladies everywhere. There is even the specific manner in which you just untie one knot to drink your coffee on the go, without the whole thing coming off, and you tie it right back. It seems like they all have superpowers and a superhero identity they are trying to hide behind the veil. (Batman will easily blend in here).

When I shifted to Pune about 1.5 years back, I was still the pure Mumbaikar looking down upon this neighboring city and its many typical norms. With that attitude I scoffed at all the lady Alqaedas as I called them then. But a month of marital bliss later stared the routine entailing the arduous PMT bus journeys (anyone who has experienced one would agree ‘arduous’ is too small a word for it, but more on that later); and I realized for some odd reason all eyes were on me! For a fleeting moment I was flattered off course, wow I must be really pretty looking and all but then I started realizing it was not just the male eyes but even the eye windows popping out of the naqabs. Two days later (ya I am slow that way) realization further dawned upon me that I was the only lady in the whole bus whose face could be seen. The Mumbaikar inside refused to give up though, big deal so what they all cover up, I won’t adhere to any such sociocultural norm. 

I did start observing the naqabs though. There is so much variation to it, the bandanis, the crepes, the uber cool colors, the vibrant ones, the florals, it was almost like making a fashion statement with the humble odhni. The eye window also gets detailed special attention I guess as that is the only visible part, I observed varied styles of applying liner and kajal and eyeshadows which  I had never seen in Mumbai. Then there were the variations as to what to do with the extra cloth hanging in front, it was draped in oh so many different ways. The scarves on FC road called out to me; come on see we are so silky and we are pink and turquoise come on just get wrapped in us. But the Mumbaikar refused to give up!

 It was almost a month after travelling in the hot May that I realized (slow again) that my once I assume pretty face was full of zits and burnt, I wasn’t just tanned I felt burnt! The bloody SPF factor of my sunscreen didn’t live upto its claim. My hair was falling out and visibly thinner.  The change was tough, the Mumbaikar inside didn’t go without a fight, but the mirror reflection won at the end and I picked up (drumrolls please) ‘the naqab’. Then came the struggle of tying it and Mr. Betterhalf who had started the Mumbaikar to Punekar journey before me actually knew how to tie it. (saw his cousin do it he says not that I believe him).

 Once the draping was mastered came the next step, how does one breath through this horrid thing! I felt as suffocated as I would in a room full of smoke. I even contemplated on cutting out two holes for the nostrils!  But Mr. Smarty Pants had a logical reasoning as always saying if that is what the weather and pollution has done to your face imagine what it would do to your lungs, you must have the cloth filter. Well, then came the endurance phases- I had to built up the naqaab time slowly from umm ten seconds to a minute then five and so on. 

Another issue I had earlier on was, how do you express yourself with 95% of your face covered! When you meet someone you know, or just want to give that casual friendly smile to a regular co traveler, how do you do that. I also thought this would hamper any interpersonal bonds or simple recognitions which could be formed. But the naqab has its own ways. I learnt like the others to convey myself only using my eyes, a head nod of recognition, the casual friendly smile reaching the other through your eyes, and despite the naqabs I made great friends on my bus rides (maybe my Jassi specs helped in identification). 

 I never realized when I mastered the art of breathing through the naqab, tying it to perfection, looking through and forming bonds through the narrow eye window. I felt protected then physically and mentally, no more stares, no more sun burns. The humble piece of cloth helped me to blend in, to feel protected like all naqabs do, some of cloth some of character. 

©Sneha Karle , July 2015

Dodaddlydo

Fathers’ day went by recently (ya I know I am kinda late have been up to some new and weird stuff as always and Pune rains are so soporific) so FD happened and off course with it happened the onslaught of wishes on Watsapp, Fb, Instagram , Twitter and our other SN buddies. (SN- Social networking- I have been told by a teen in my complex to use short forms like this- the exact words been “Aunty (aaarrrgghhh) short forms will make you sound cool”). Ooohh I just used brackets within my brackets, guess the good old drafting patents and agreements habit just won’t go. Straying eons away from the point to be made is another remnant habit from my drafting days, hope you guys are still reading.


So the onslaught ya, there are three kinds of people vis-à-vis these ‘days’, the PDA (‘Public Display of Affection’ for the uninitiated amongst you) ones who take to SNs for declaring their paternal/maternal/romantic/feline/equine/canine/otherals/otherines love, the ‘Lets Keep It Personal’ (LKIP) types who pick up the phone and call up to wish, the ‘Naysayers’ the kind who don’t believe in such days. There may be other intermediary types as well. Well the more the types the better that’s what keeps our society interesting! Anthropology would get so boring if we all start thinking the same way or having the same opinions.  What my issue is, is that we are not satisfied just belonging to these types, we have these eternal and unquenchable need to judge and criticize the people from other types. This is not just restricted to the topic at hand regarding celebrating days but for every topic under the sun, be it national, international issues, society issues, shoe issues, gutter issues, dog issues, potty issues, every personal choice; we as mankind just don’t get the concept of ‘Agreeing To Disagree’.


As far as celebrating days is concerned, the SN followers would say we like PDA what is wrong with it? It’s the age of SN so if we weren’t meant to voice our emotions on it why was it even created. The LKIP kinds on the other end would mock at this lot and say such things should be personal and if you wanna wish your special ones do it personally or over the phone why do you need to display your emotions on a public forum. The naysayers would be like why the heck are such days celebrated! We should not have days to declare our love and each day should be celebrated, such defined days are nothing but a marketing gimmick and its just herd mentality to wish on such days. Now I am not sitting on the judge’s chair here to analyze which of these groups is right or wrong. These are opinions, individual opinions which as a human being everyone has a right to have. It’s a different thing to voice your opinion even have a healthy debate about contrary views.  But noooo aren’t we a flawed lot we just can’t have our opinion and shut up there is this incessant need to shove our opinions in others faces and down their throats, God forbid if they don’t agree with us we just end up alienating them. Again pppssstt ever heard of AGREEING TO DISAGREE!


My opinion (off course I would give one and it is the most correct opinion and you have to have to agree or with me or wild bats will chew off your nose!), vis a vis celebrating such days is yes one should shower love on ones parents, mates, partners, teachers, cats, dogs, bats…..on a daily basis, its obviously not right to beat the shit out of your wife daily and send her roses on valentine’s day, or been the nagging wife taunting your husband daily and putting up a loveydovey post on the anniversary, or forgetting your parents even exist and sending ecards on fathers and mothers day. However that doesn’t mean celebrating such days is wrong in itself. I see such days as reasons for reconnecting, for expressing yourself, for well celebrating. It would surely irritate the hell out of my parents if I call them up every day and repeat how grateful I am to them and all….I mean c’mon its not a sooraj barjatiya film…we have tons to deal with everyday there is the daily wear and tear and it is just plain artificial to keep on voicing one’s feelings regarding anyone every single day. So yes you keep the love alive call up your parents, keep in touch with your mates, respect and love your partners, share responsibilities regularly, feed your cats and dogs and bats but when such predefined days come up one can go out of their way and put up that fb post or send that ecard or the red rose and white lilies bouquet or write up a poem or simply call or meet the persons concerned. What is so wrong in having reasons to celebrate right? And how one decides to celebrate and express oneself is purely a personal matter which maybe shaped by that person’s upbringing, social context, schedules or his/her base personality.


As far as the claim of all these been westernized concepts is concerned well even jeans are westernized so are we all gonna switch to salwars and dhotis?!?! As far as the parties involved get some joy out of it, some notion of connectivity out of it, I don’t see it as an evil western concept come down to kill our sanskaars. (Aloknath may disagree, but let’s declare a national kanyadaan day for him). Then off course are the amchi bhumi amcha bana people who will go around thrashing like an angry Hulk on these days again reasoning it out to be sanskaron ka katal. We can have a National Thrashing Day for them, you know where we can built up a toy city for them maybe inside Filmcity and where they can merrily go and thrash stuff, beat up mannequins, throw stones at set up cafes, you know just a positive vent to all their angst.


So the point is, ‘To Do The Day or Not To Do The Day’ is as personal a choice as to use an Indian toilet or a commode, none of these choices need to be interfered with!

Happy Doodads Day Baba!(P.S.- Doodad is the Urban dictionary word for Dad, you know just to sound cool :p)

-Sneha Karle          

 

Rammed

I used to be so pretty, I was his pride, his friend's envy,

I remember the day he came to see me;

He couldn't take his eyes off me,

He let out a low whistle and walked towards  me, a spring in his step, a shine in his eyes

I used to be so pretty, I was his pride, his friends' envy,

He used to look at me so admiringly every morning as he softly grazed his fingers on me,

I obeyed all his commands dutifully, never did I act on  my own accord.

Why would he do this to me then?

 I am all beaten up and burnt. I used to be so pretty, I was his pride, his friends' envy

That fateful night, as he came near me  I could smell the alcohol and smoke on his Armani.

He touched me with his shaky hands, I lay there paralyzed.

He even swore at me in his polished accent,

I was punched and scratched at with the Rolexxed hand and the Guccied kicks were thrown in for added effect. I used to be so pretty, I was his pride, but not that night

He was unstoppable laughing boisterously he handled me rough

 I could see my end nearing, my vision soon blurred, all of me was giving away.

Just about to lose consciousness all I could focus on was the two year old, innocent as he was why was he dragged into this?

My master kicked me hard but I was beyond it all.

It was all over with a scream and crash.

I used to be so pretty, I was his pride, his friends' envy....

- an account of that fateful night by the Rammed up SUV of a drunk affluent man

THOU SHALT COOK

THOU SHALT COOK

As me and my mom were sitting across the table, a dozen or so lists strewn in between us; the enormity of the situation was dawning on her- it was less than a month to go for my wedding! There I was mud pack on my face, painting my nails, dreaming of my island honeymoon when she gives me a nice kick on my shin bringing me back on Planet Earth. In the loud and urgent tone characteristic of an Indian mom she says; “I won’t even ask you what you are planning to feed your husband but won’t you yourself be hungry? What the heck are you planning to eat for the rest of your lives?” “Maggi” pat came my reply! Well this was a year ago when maggi was still the staple food of half the nation, what hostelites swore by and what summed up the culinary skills of most girls of my generation. But much before the government realized that maggi could actually be used to make weapons most Indian moms were always up against arms of our dear maggi. So obviously there came another kick across the table as I answered maggi. “Are u crazy?” she said, listing all the ill effects of our pyaare noodles. But I was and am blessed with the modern woman’s kavachkundala aka ‘shamelessness’. I just said, “Mamma relax Pune is known for its restaurants and street food and overall khavayyagiri, I am sure it can fill two more hungry mouths.”

I remembered this conversation exactly two months after my wedding as me and my better half stood in our kitchen staring at the muddy mess of atta and water we had created. Yes we loved Pune’s cuisine and like any newly married couple we were sailing on rainbows and all in all acting like pixie dust is shed on us 24*7 but two months of outside food, the taste, the calories and two episodes of gastroenteritis later the pixies and rainbows vanished. Our dreams were filled with ‘ghar ka khana’. Also as the house got filled with furniture and kitchen accessories and a dozen or so completely useless décor items, one fine day Mr. Buy Whatever You Want glanced at the bank balance and well we finally realized for our tummies, tongues and pockets sake we had to somehow conjure up ‘ghar ka khana’.

Thus started the phone calls to the respective mothers, knife in one hand, kaddu in the other, phone tucked between neck and shoulder following step wise instructions. Oh it was a mess and what a lovely mess, bumping onto each other in the kitchen, maneuvering around, Mr. Better Half trying to adhere to the wedding vows so creating more mess in the quest of been helpful. Then off course the culture clashes with my 96k Maratha mom advising garam masala and lal tikhat in everything and my Chittapavan Kokanastha Brahmin MIL advising goda masala and jaggery in everything. The first few days after trying to cook with these opposing phone instructions, we took a meeting and a resolution was passed to shut off both moms and pray to the one and only, everyone’s mother and father, brother and sister, friend and mentor, the all pervading, the omnipotent ‘Google Devta’. So websites were bookmarked, the laptop found a place of pride in the kitchen and was soon adorned with haldi and mirch and some unidentified substances. So began the ‘Google-It-Up’ phase of cooking after the ‘Phone-A-Mom’ phase of cooking. There were quite a few edible dishes, and as long as our pockets and intestines were not emptied, Mr. Better Half gladly gulped down everything.

A few months passed and the recipes were nailed good enough to even do the daring feat of calling the sasural ka family over. Some criticisms (MILs won’t survive without that) and loads of compliments later, came the ‘You Bettcha I Can Cook My Ass Off- Lets Experiment’ phase of cooking. So were bought all the fancy items off the supermarket shelf the exotic sauces, the dips and herbs, pasta packs and odd looking veggies; poor old white colored cauliflower and green cabbage were shunned for the exotic green broccoli and purple cabbage. Odd named cheese were purchased, wine was added to food (cos come on that’s what they do on Masterchef Australia and the love of my life Georgie gorges it up, doesn’t he?) chilli was put in desserts, masala and cheese combined in main courses, feeling like a masterchef the rich food was devoured. But all good things must end and so did this phase with the weighing scale creaking under our weight, the skirts refusing to be zipped up and the doctors sounding the cholesterol bells!

Hence came the ‘We Are On A Diet’ phase of cooking. Once again the supermarket was raided but this time the inner sections picking up oats, muesli, olive oil, mushrooms, tofu, oats biscuits, oats noodles, oats chivda, oats this and oats that basically we became Mr. and Mrs. Oats. And as expected within a month we couldn’t stand the sight of oats! Hence we went back to phase one calling the moms phase and so it continues our food journey now a mixture of all its first year phases, the occasional dining out, the phone recipes, the Google recipes, the experimental recipes, and the healthy ones; once in a while when the weighing scale creaks again.

-          BY SNEHA KARLE