Tag Archives: Australia

Nim-Veda-Channel-Ten

When the Fruits of your Labour …

… Finally show up, it’s a great feeling isn’t it?

Our team at work have been working tirelessly for the past month or so trying to get our 30 second stint on Australia’s national Channel Ten channel’s Studio 10 (Morning News show) for the launch of our latest Organic Food Products just perfect.

The result?

Short but oh so very sweet.

We’ve hit replay about a gazillion times (and there are no signs of our trigger finger slowing) and we’re proud and satisfied.

Don’t you just love that feeling when all your blood, sweat and tears behind your hard work finally has something to show for it?

We certainly do.

Here’s the clip if you’re interested.

See you guys soon 🙂

Advertisements
The Casual Racist

Know a Casual Racist?

You know who and what I’m talking about.

I think we’ve all probably had the misfortune of coming across one or two (if you’re lucky).
That person who isn’t racist but thinks that adding a smile at the end of a thinly veiled racially motivated comment makes it alright to just chuck one at you anyway.

I have spent the past five weeks traveling across India through Shimla, Delhi and Mumbai, completing my superb trip at Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia. In one word – amazing (sing that while you read it for added emphasis).

I must admit to spending some of my time dispelling stereotypes about the land down-under vehemently because you know, ignorance is never an excuse for sweeping generalisations that can come across as rude because they are, people, they are. Simple as that. No, no matter what ever angle or perspective you look at it.

What I didn’t expect was Pauline Hanson’s vigorously and scarily increasing popularity. As a side bar, what exactly is happening to the world and it’s dangerously increasing xenophobia? It takes two to tango in life for everything and the Trumps, Hanson’s and every other right wing party leader in Europe is where they are because of all of us (those of us who vote for them and those of us who can’t be bothered getting off our arses to put a stop to potential future genocide for the gazillion-th time).

I also managed to meet every racist Aussie I strongly believe exists in my vicinity in the week I got back. I know this is highly unlikely but like everything negative, the numbers seem to exponentially build inconceivably, like something out of a J.K. Rowling novel.
Comments like, “ugh Dehli, way too many people in your country” (adding a smile at the end of that sentence still pisses me off by the way), “must have been sweaty and hot in your country” (that’s rich coming from someone who is currently battling 42 degree Celsius weather), “did you take any photos of elephants and tigers while you were there?” (the next time you take a photo of a kangaroo jumping over the Harbour Bridge in Sydney city, please-let-me-know).

I could go on but why?

Why should I waste my time trying to educate casual racists on not so common etiquette and courtesy? If they haven’t learnt yet, they never will.

Just note please …

Sticking a flag in countries that were never yours and never will be was never and will never be right.

Full stop.

Just like adding a smile to the end of a sentence you may think is manipulatively cloaked but glaringly obvious to the people you have been attempting to “civilise” for centuries is not and will never be acceptable.

This may be offensive to some and I get it.

Because this entire piece has been written with a clear and complete absence of a smile.

For the rest of you who have managed to find this writing somewhat palatable, I’ll be posting pics of my amazing journey soon hopefully. I trust your open-mindedness will allow you to see through the stereotypes and generalisations towards the glorious similarities we all share against the backdrop of exciting cultural nuances.

See you soon xoxo

Gandhi & Indian Flag

Be the Change You want to See – Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi

I tried this the entire day today; I lay on my back looking up at the heavens and saw, in my mind’s eye, that it was Saturday instead of Monday. I was being the change that I wanted to see.

My boss came to me and needless to say, he was not impressed. Turned out he couldn’t see the change I was being.

I think we need a mandate to make quotes come with guidelines and disclaimers attached.

Let’s just have a referendum, it’s not like Australia needs much convincing for one of those, right Turnball?

Can't tell you from a Bar of Soap

Beetroot Beatrice can’t tell you from a Bar of Soap …

Just another saying I do not get.

Isn’t this stating the obvious?

Pray tell what angle I should be looking at you from to ascertain the resemblance between your noggin and a bar of soap?

What was the person who came up with this metaphor on?

Clearly he/she was high … from all the soap fumes they had been exposed to in their obsessive compulsive bathing phase.

Seriously?

So, though you can find the very unimaginative (in fact this one was so bland even the author hash-tagged it #boring. Kudos to self-critiquing acceptance, I’ll join you one day. In the next life … perhaps) origins of this ridiculous saying here, I thought I’d give you the true, real version. The one everyone is too scared to tell you about because it’s made up of the stuff that inspires Horror Stories.

This saying was developed by Beetroot Beatrice; she was a friend of an ancestor. No scratch that. She was the ancestor of a friend of a friend. No one in my family came up with this one.

Beetroot Beatrice hailed from the great Aussie outback, somewhere near Uluru because I like rocks. But this is Beetroot’s story. Beatrice was nicknamed Beetroot Beatrice because she was purple. Hellllooooo!

And the kids weren’t quite as cruel yet to call her anything else. The anti-bullying programs were better those days. Plus Tellytubbies hadn’t been developed yet either.

Anyway I digress.

Beetroot Beatrice was very self-conscious about her purplish tinge and decided, against her … and her friends … and her parents’ better judgment to wash the purple “off” of her.

When a day and a half of incessant scrubbing didn’t work (in fact, it kind of had the opposite effect and made her more purple), she decided that the colour infliction must evolve from the inside of her so she decided to clean her intestines with soap and proceeded to eat it bit by bit. As a sidebar, if I had been born, I could have told Beatrice that this didn’t work and instead resulted in preposterous and mind numbing continuous hiccupping but I wasn’t. So tough luck but whatever.

Legend has it that Beatrice’s parents came back from a Fly Fishing expedition only to find a semi-conscious Beatrice maddeningly repeating the phrase, “can’t tell you from a bar of soap” continuously. Apparently, Beetroot Beatrice was confined to her bed in the Mental asylum for the next forty five years torturously repeating the words, “can’t tell you from a bar of soap”, “can’t tell you from a bar of soap”, “can’t tell you from a bar of soap”.

You get the picture.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, Beatrice died on the “can’t tell you …” section and never got to finish the sentence according to her psychiatrist Mr. Bath (I know – an unfortunate coincidence).

Poor Beetroot Beatrice. Apparently she still haunts the sand dunes of which ever place is closest to you so next time you take a bath, make sure you check your soap hasn’t had a bite taken out of it.

I know. Scary stuff.

You’ll never take a bath the same way again, will you?

Those are the power of words. And soap.

But pretty much, mostly words.

India - Busy Street

Are you from Slumdog Millionaire?

Honestly?

Seriously?

Um, no.

If I have to hear one more “innocent” remark on whether Slumdog Millionaire brings back bitter sweet memories, well let’s just say I cannot be held responsible for any ensuing actions.

It still baffles me why certain “developing nations” are only recalled for certain mundane, overly stereotyped versions of malnutrition, flies (every country has flies people, every country), painfully demonised diseases and generally poor human conditions when we have other stuff to offer, really we do.

When I say Africa, people conjure up skinny children. When I say India, people conjure up Slumdog Millionaire, when I say Middle East, people conjure up terrorism.

On the other side of the coin when I say Australia, people conjure up Blond bombshells on Bondi Beach. I say America, people conjure up glamorous Hollywood. I say England; people conjure up grand historical monuments.

My point? Every country has the good and the bad, it’s easy to forget that Africa has an amazing intricate royal system, India has wonderful examples of people from different parts of the world not just living, but rejoicing in one another (Taj Mahal people, Taj Mahal) and Middle East is breathtakingly beautiful in all its natural wonder.

Oh, and guess what? Poverty sux and it’s not just restricted to the “third world region” but I’m not here to air other people’s dirty laundry in public. So the next time you come to India and choose to take a photo of the beggar outside the Taj Mahal and forget about the amazing monument my country has to offer, just remember others could do the same and take a photo of the homeless dude in front of the Harbour Bridge too. Show the respect you expect please and if you’re having trouble coming up with what India has to offer, check this link out for some inspiration.

Rant officially over.

Thank you.

When did Knowledge Become Uncool?

Or did I just miss the memo or something?

I mean, I get it, I’m well versed with nerd-dom, I think I could probably successfully argue (in an international debate no doubt) that I even conjured up the whole kingdom but really, when did being aware of basic general information become an illness?

For those of you who have been blessed by being spared the entire campaigning activities and have managed to save yourself (quick run and do NOT look back no matter how much I scream for a saviour) from being aware of our approaching July 2nd Federal Election, this story will probably mean little to you though I do sincerely believe you will understand my gobsmacked utter confusion.

Australians were asked to name our current, yes, you heard me right, as in living in 2016, current Prime Minister and some had absolutely no idea.

Granted, we do change our PMs more than a Hippie would change his underwear but seriously? How are you even alive?

I’d ask if you lived under a rock but I’m sure your humble abode even knows the current PM! And unless you’re not on talking terms, I will never believe your excuse.

It’s Malcolm Turnball people, good ol'(well maybe not because he is really unrecognisable from the time before power went to his narcissistic head) but It’s Malcolm Turnball.

If this type of knowledge is uncool, someone just kill me now before I forget where I need to stick a carrot. In my mouth. Most of the time unless you give me a smart-aleck comment, then use your imagination.

Happy Holidays Everyone!

It’s that wonderful time of year again.

My favourite month is just around the corner, summer holidays for us Aussies! Yay!!!

I know I probably say this every year, but man am I ready for a break. I go on unofficial leave in about 2 1/2 weeks time and official leave in 3 1/2 which means that there’s a lot to do before I officially hang my socks up for the year.

It also means you lucky Bloggers get a much needed break from moi till about February, 2016 unless I sporadically post in between now till then because I absolutely have to.  Just to check up on all of you mischievous followers. But, you’re my mischievous lot so I love you 🙂

Anyway, have a wonderful, magnificently marvellous festive season with the people you care for and who love you back (because that’s important, just saying) and I will see you all in 2016.

Thanks for the laughs this year, you helped me get through many a dreary day. See you soon xoxo