Insecure Maggi bowl

Update: Just had a WWE fight/debate with the person who said “I didn’t liked Maggi in the first place.”
How to win? I won by UN-friending! The person has no choice since s/he can’t win against ‘twice’ debate winner. (bragging? Oh truly yes it is!)
Also, you won’t believe what happened next! Got to know this human does not exist anymore.
Does anybody know where can I hide a dead body? 😉

Well now, we live in the country where Maggi might be ban in month of May. Why FSSAI why? Aren’t you love this humanity. Or should I give you more reason to love it. What and why not you can’t secure a bowl of maggi anymore? FSSAI, why your eyes on poor man’s plate? You’re the only reason that it is not my bowl of maggi anymore. Can’t you see other harming objects?

In all sincerity, “the Maggi ban” just seems like another impulsive roar. Yes, a roar from soul. From children to youngsters to grand people to which not generation. In my all contacts (lets find out your too!), there is no single person who hated this object.

No I’m not trying to tiny teenager over this topic. I’ve seen some grand uncles and aunties who used to love this food like anything. Still. No exception, I’m too. And there is no harm writing about this yummy topic in this stupid blog to make it more stupider. Besides its quick preparation time, the instant noodles permeated into our minds as an object of emotional attachment. This is the stuff that ruins and builds friendships. Came to know its negative part but it is all right even I found cyanide in it. I don’t know why I’m taking side but I never ate Maggi as an healthy food. Ever.

My Maggi, your Maggi, Our Maggi. My reputation in kitchen depends on this only food. What a struggle! I do remember the day I tried to make Maggi noodles by watching youtube video to surprise family. And I succeed. Trust me, this is the very second object who made me believe that I can cook (very well!) first is making my favourite (in any season and without any reason) cold coffee. I’m no big fan of junk food. I’m little choosy when it comes to junk food or any ‘outsider’ food. I can give whole extra points to mumma when it comes to fabulous ‘homely heavenly’ food. Yes, I prefer home food over junk. The only reason I liked Maggi for it’s not called junk. Since I started to know eat! If it is called, then keep it that way.

But hey FSSAI, what has this small packet done to you that you cruelly banning it? Why they’re banning these things. Banning is not an particular problem’s solution. We need perfect sources with approved solutions. But not the BAN. What about those Pan Pasand, Rajnigandha and cigarettes ads? They’re about men proud of being Indian. For having 50 paise packet in pocket and proud Indian. LOL, ROFL, LMAO… on your marketing. Are we suppose to live through a Pan masala age? Aren’t they deserve that ban word first. Can’t we learn something from other countries on this and many other subjects. It is not about to copy their system but we have well observed their system. Can’t we make a change NOW (then when?) in this “system”. One thing hurts hardly is, they’re not (even trying to) ban tobacco and cigarettes. Aren’t these are the real objects who harm us more than single packet of a maggi. As i’m in India and being live in Gujarat where there is no alcohol allowed, non-veg I don’t prefer, junk food I don’t like. Man, this is just time to survive on different ancient food since they’re about to ban on Maggi. By banning Maggi, this government is noodles-sly interfering in food. Questionable food-lead-ership. And while I’m writing this maybe our PM enjoys their last noodles in china 😉 But hey Mr. PM, come back to your country and have a look what your own country is up to. Others can wait.

The problem is some know what they want among a lot of people who haven’t figured out that for themselves yet. Oh wait, did I disturbed your taste buds right now? My Mission accomplished. Now what are you waiting for? Go… Go… Go… get your priorities straight my friend. Listen to your taste buds first.

This blog statement itself is so right that I can’t explain how stupid this sounds. Still reading? Thank you for reading this 5 minutes blog! Not at all apologize for waste of your time. This is the issue which I have to write on. Because it has an impact on me. On you. On us.

Cli-mate Change and Childhood Cold

It’s that time of the weather when ice cream and popsicles mean a lot to our throat. The life savers in Summers! Just observing these kids in neighbourhood from a week now. The little kids are enjoying their childhood as those days when the icecreamwallas meant much more than anything.

The icecreamwallas arrive in neighbourhood with his box of ice cream rolling on small wheels accompanied by a ringing bell. His entry wasn’t as ordinary as it seemed to adult eyes. He was the star of the summer afternoon as kids would encircle him. His tiny customers didn’t know how to maintain decorum because some things were much more important than discipline. It is a matter of taste and (almost) crisis: Kids squabbling about one flavour over another was routine for a reason. Just like grown-ups silently wonder what to order at a restaurants, hotels, cafes.

One mini-sized heroine happened to be of the silent type so the noise wouldn’t make much of a difference to her choice. She knew what she wanted… for the most part, that is. She wasn’t fond of milk so white was out of question. She had tried orange a few days ago so it was not going to be orange again. She liked the plumy coloured one but she wasn’t really sure whether it’d be worth the bet. What if it disappointed her the way pomegranate disappointed her as a fruit? She couldn’t go back and demand another one, what a universal dilemma in small mind? The parental quota was restricted to just one. So chocolate flavour it’d be usually followed by her cute young triangular smug-face. Chocolate flavour has always a class in childhood. Isn’t it?!
Things you want to do, not just observe!

Memories

You know it’s time to write a blog post when you start typing random things and keep on deleting them. Today was one of those days. So, here I am. Okay nothing just stupidity here. If you don’t have occupied your time somewhere. Yeah then, you’re welcome to join me and my not-at-all-writing skills.

I was in this extremely boring wedding today so I was doing all sorts of shit to keep myself occupied. And entertained. Seriously hat’s off for the women who wears saaris and handle themselves smoothly. Of course I’ve received some good compliments for it. But it just not my cup of coffee. Handled myself very I was eating paneer tikka with noodles and I was mixing orange juice with tomato soup and seeing how kids are maintaining this social occasion with their parents’ never ending warnings and I was talking to the waiters and I was observing (yeah. As usual). I saw 14 years old were dancing, 18 years old were thinking about dancing and 35 years olds were breaking the stage with their devastating moves.

Also, I saw everyone clicking pictures with their fancy cameras while all this was happening. 70 year old grandparents were asked to put the tilak once again because somehow the photographers couldn’t capture the moment well enough the first time. And the grandparents were doing it too, with smiles, big fake ones. Kids were clicking pictures with the mobile of their parents’ mobile phones. Their parents had professional cameras. The professional photographers had the more professional ones. It was a circus. A complete circus. It seemed like the wedding was happening only for the photographs. They were capturing memories so that they could relive it. Relive, ah! To relive, you got to live first. Two blacks make white, two wrongs make right.

It’s funny how most of the memories of our lives depend upon a small piece of plastic and techie technology. If there were no cameras, I bet it would’ve been difficult recognizing ourselves in our childhood pictures because there wouldn’t have been any childhood pictures. If we think about it, we have invented things so that our minds don’t have to remember shit. No memories of your past? Invent a camera. Can’t remember data?
Invent a computer. Can’t remember meetings? Invent reminders. Can’t calculate?
Well don’t worry dear mind, calculators are there. And thus, our minds started getting less occupied.

And what do you do when you don’t have anything in your mind? You invent. You invent more useless shit to comfort your lives. For a fact, my family never had a camera. We never bothered to buy one. I don’t have a reason to get embarrassed. There are no pictures of my parents having fun with me. Because we’re actually enjoying it without the worry one should capture them instead we’ve had enjoy for real. And what’s the point anyway? You aren’t going to forget who you are or who your brother was or who your parents are! I never understood this whole thing but I’m no one to claim that it’s bullshit. Until today, I never gave cameras much of a thought.

I always knew, I got to buy one someday. I always wanted to. But now, I don’t think we really need a camera. I mean we do remember stuff. If we can’t, then the stuff was probably not worth remembering. The whole thing of smiling and crying and smiling again after seeing the old photographs looks somewhat odd and ridiculous. I might never buy a camera. I don’t want to capture my kids’ childhood. I don’t want to cry looking at the photographs when they would go away to earn or to study. I don’t want that shit. I don’t give a shit about what toys my girl played with when she was small. And I bet on my life, she wouldn’t give a shit either when she would be twenty. Capturing a picture of your girl playing with those toys and reminding her twenty years later about how you cared about her says a lot about you.

Well, I certainly won’t need validation from my kids. Also, I’m not saying that people do these things for validation. They might not. It might just be their thing to look at the old photographs and cry. Anyway, so when the wedding got over, we handed the envelope to the groom and got ourselves clicked, for one last time. We were getting ready to go back home.

One strange thing happened I think it waited for a long to happen. My parents saw this one woman trying to have a conversation with her little girl. The girl was around 10 and she was probably going back home from her school. It probably wasn’t a good day in the school as she looked upset. The sight was beautiful as her mom and dad was making faces, playing with her and what not, just to make their girl smile. Seeing this, my mom started crying. Some memories flashed in her mind, maybe. Memories. I wish there were a device to delete the memories instead of capturing them.

Point to be noted: I never accepted the fact that I was depressed until I met my psych.
so if you think you are in depression, go to a psych, start your medication, take them until you realize it’s a big trap and then come here and read this blog post again and blame your so-called mind for not taking this post seriously before. And get depressed again.
If you aren’t happy, don’t worry, no one is.

Randomness

You know you’ve grown up when you start laughing at the random absurdities of life instead of frowning upon them. When you start anticipating weirdest of the shit to happen with you at the weirdest of the times, you realize how life has been messing up your plans since forever. Sometimes it’s suffocating, sometimes it’s hysterical and the rest of the times it’s just plain nothing. Nothing at all.

An abyss in which your choices echo till you scream your lungs out. An infinite in which you are falling relentlessly, opposing every force of this universe. A life which is a rock bottom in itself, and it keeps hitting you, till you feel numb. And sort of dumb. And then one fine morning, when you wake up from your slumber, you realize you’ve never actually slept. The years have gone by in front of your eyes, and you’ve let them pass. You have seen them passing and you remember every year, every month, every day, every minute and every second, every micro second, passing in front of your eyes; eyes which were wide open, dreaming about something which never existed in the first place.

You keep telling yourself lies until they become an integral part of you. You become the part of the world which you’ve created for yourself, and the strange thing is, you feel suffocated. In your own god-damn world. The reality acts as an oxygen mask, you’re in his ICU and no matter how much you hate it, you can never dare to remove it. You actually start seeing the pattern, you start predicting things, you predict them correctly nine out of ten times. And you know why you fail the tenth time? Because a small part of you still expect things to be how you want them to be. And when this tenth time gets repeated a thousand times, you realize the randomness.

You start being one of them. You stop being you, you become them. You become a particle. You become the randomness.

Dear Facebook and your Users,

Awesome, Facebook is growing yearly. More boring status updates than ever. Yes, today is the start of a new year, but there are some things that still haven’t changed since last year. Your best new year resolution would be (only) “I’m not posting this on Facebook”.
For instance, I still don’t care that you’re watching the news. Why post that? I mean, seriously, that’s all it says. “Blah Blah Blah… is watching the news.”
Nothing about the news or what’s on the news. Just that you’re watching it. Listening it. Doesn’t need to inform whole world.

So I have a New Year’s resolution for you. It might be a challenge for some of you, but here goes. Say something actually interesting. You know what? That’s not fair. That’s asking too much. New Year’s resolution for me. Get more interesting friends. I should probably get on that.
Facebook you’re getting bored.
Sincerely,
Sneha

P.S.: Still not a user of Facebook.

Dear Subconscious,

How Hermione of me, right? Anyways, I was just hoping you had a little time to discuss some stuff? Who am I kidding, of course, you’ve got time. I’ve got nothing but time, and you’re stuck with me…(my bad or your good?) or, you are me… or whatever. Anyways, let’s get to the topic at hand. Dreams. Thoughts. I’ve had some weird ones. Correction, I’ve had a lot of weird ones, but last night’s?

Allow me to explain, dear readers. Last night, I dreamt that I was seeing that new Ryan Gosling movie he did with the director of Blue Valentine. I can’t remember the any name. So I get to the theater and settle in. Lights go down, movie starts up… it was two hours of Ryan Gosling eating babies. Now, I don’t think that’s actually what the movie is, but can someone please explain to me, why the hell I’m dreaming about eating babies? Like, that’s weird, right? Great, and now I’m hungry… not for babies. I’m, like, normal hungry. Definitely not baby hungry. I cannot emphasize how much I do not eat babies, contrary to what my subconscious would like me to believe. Thanks mind do mind your own businesses.

Hey subconscious same advice for you too! Ugh, I’m going to go pour a bowl of food.
Well played Subconscious.

Dear New Neighbor,

Hey, how’s it going? Settling in and everything? Look, I just wanted to talk to you about something from yesterday and few days before of them. Here’s the points… take them (very) seriously!

Point 1 – I know when we first meet people it can be rough. First impressions can be nerve-wracking. Specially with me. And I guess you too. I mean, you want to come off as cool, but still establish your boundaries. I mean, you do you, dude but if we could keep the total randoms maybe, like, in your room? Yeah, that’d be cool too.

Point 2 – Seriously, when all I could hear was, like, the squeak of what sounded like a rusty swing-set, despite having no swings in a one-mile radius, all I could think was, “well, shit, here’s…” While I appreciate a good pop culture reference as much as the next person, it’s 6:30 in the morning. Well, that and, apparently, new street dog didn’t like The Warriors too much because he keeps growling at you. Me? I can just tune you out.
But a growling dog, standing at full attention on your abdomen? It’s a little more difficult. So take your creepy ambient noise and peddle it somewhere else because I’d really like to get this dog off of me.

Point 3 – I’ve put up with a lot. Honestly, I don’t mind. You’re usually pretty good folks. But seriously? I mean, stomping around at, like 4 in the morning? I’m not even exaggerating. I was literally awoken at 4 AM by what sounded like the wildebeest stampede from The Lion King. I mean, yeah, a part of me is pissed about the whole “being woken up at 4 AM” thing, but what is there even to do at 4 AM on a Monday in Ahmedabad? There is literally nothing open. It’s just wake me up at 4 AM on a Saturday morning with your old songs and we’re fine. No, I’m not happy, but eh, I’ll deal. But it’s damn Monday; well, technically Tuesday. It’s just – it’s not my problem you’re raging alcoholics, but it becomes my problem when you wake me up.

Point 4 – Your girl and your family. I know you’re new here, but allow me to explain something. I can hear everything you do up there. A certain part of it is, well, because this is not your apartment building, but the other factor? Yeah, you’re just that too loud. I mean, for God’s sake, cowgirl boots? Not even just cowgirl boots, but evidently, cowgirl boots that you’ve fitted with some sort of tapping apparatus or maybe lead soles? I only assume it’s one of those two because there is no way a human should actually be able to make that much noise with just two feet. So maybe we can try taking off our boots, just when we’re inside? Think about it? And when I say “think about it”, I really mean “do it”.

You think I need to give you more points?

Maintained my neighborly discipline,
hope you does, too.
Sneha

Dear Dad,

Firstly, I’m going to start with “I Love you”. And when I say that I really mean that. Now, look, I know it’s been awhile, but I have a kind of personal question to ask you. Last night, I had a dream that you and my teacher from middle school – well, you guys ate me. Not, like, “zombie style” or “ghost style” ate me, but “baked me at 360 degrees until golden brown” ate me. Weird? Isn’t it? It is. But since i dreamt it. I’m scared now. We’ve to make this clear now.
I just wanted to check… that was – that was, like, a dream, right? Not a premonition? because I know we’ve had disagreements before, but I don’t think anybody has solved their problems by eating their offspring before. I mean, just look at how it worked out for ruler of heaven and earth – Zeus.
Your only daughter, please look into my matter,
Sneha

Dear cousins,

It had been awhile. You know how it is, with a family like ours. It’s hard to get everyone together at once. That’s probably my biggest regret, how long it’d been since we saw each other last. Since we met each other last. Honestly, it’s hard for me to write a letter like this. I remember after a friend of mine said, the grief counsellor recommended you write a letter to the person. Well, you guessed it, I’m not that religious girl so the exercise seemed kind of pointless to me, but I gave it a shot then and it doesn’t hurt to try again, right?

I guess the main thing I wanted to say was thank you. It’s always disheartening that such terrible things happen to bring out the good in people, but it’s always amazing to me when they do. My mom? When she called to tell me the news, I knew it wasn’t good because I could hear her sniffling. The number of years old and I’d never seen or even heard my mother cry. We were always one of those ordinary people emotionally repressed kind of families and it worked for us. Later that night, I saw my brother was calling. Again, not close, but mainly because we don’t know how to talk to each other, not some childhood resentment, memories or anything. When I picked up the phone, he simply told me, “I just heard the news about you all and I wanted to tell you while I still can that I love and care about you.” I was taken aback. This is the same guy who used to pin me down with his knees and twist my hands till I was almost in tears.

Honestly, I didn’t really know what to say, so I tried saying it back. Like I said, not a big fan of feelings or talking about them, so the word “love” kind of caught in my throat, but eventually, I got it. I’m so sorry that your father no longer with us, but what you were able to accomplish for those you left behind in your father’s death? It’s nothing short of a miracle, so thank you for that. I will be going to that brave to meet you and I have no idea what I will say when I’ll meet you. I mean, I don’t know if I should crack jokes to lighten up the mood or if i should show my sympathy-cum-empathy to make him feel awkward. I don’t know how I’d feel about it. Hoping that it wouldn’t be more awkward than this write up.
Sorry we’re not that close but my condolences with you,
Sneha

Dear Self,

Stop thinking at this hour. It hurts the next day.
I love you. You know I love you. Still, even love has its limits.

…well,
ME

P.S.: When our kids ask about how You/I proposed, this is going to make such a cute story!
P.P.S.: Yeah, I’ve pretty much embraced the crazy ME now… please don’t tell anyone I posted this on blog.