Tag Archives: Family

Happy Birthday to my Best Friend

Even though today isn’t my birthday, whenever this day comes around, I feel like I’m the one who is receiving the best gift there is anywhere and everywhere!

My sister was born today and there isn’t one moment where I’m not grateful to my parents for giving me her. There is no one else on the world who I would rather spend time with, talk to, hug, laugh with, fight with … basically love, then Mayunka.

I believe we have a different variety of soul mates, and my adorable sister is definitely my main one. We’re both such inseparable anomalies as we couldn’t be more different, but more similar at the same time. Our personalities are like chalk and cheese – I’m a thinker, she’s the yapper, I’m the quiet one, she’s the one that rocks a party, I blend into the background, she’s a head turner, I’m the shy one, she’s the flamboyant one, I write my thoughts, she is outspoken … the list goes on really. In the end however, we agree on all the things that matter, the politics, what humanity is about, morality, the importance of loyalty and so much more.

Mayunka is my rock. The reason for my sanity, why I don’t slit my wrists half the time – the one that makes me see the rainbow on the horizon when darkness threatens to overpower me, my light at the end of the dark tunnel when I am about to succumb to all the nonsensical turmoil, my lifeline when I need one most.

My confidant, my secret keeper, my inspiration, most importantly one of the three reasons I house for continuing to live and exist.

People will often tell you money, food, shelter, clothing, the latest fashion accessories make life liveable but my sister makes life enjoyably worth it.

So this is to my best friend ever. I pray you’re my sister in every life time and I love you so much more than words or anything but raw emotion could express.

Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear MAYUNKA!!! Happy Birthday to you!!! xoxo

I’m baaacccckkkk!

Hello my lovely fellow blog enthusiasts!

Hope you are all wonderful and well. I just got back from our amazingly spectacular interstate escapade with my gorgeous sis Mayunka and we had the time of our lives!

20140815_185302We went to see the great night show of the Italian Masterpieces Art Exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria which was awe-inspiringly jaw dropping, being the lucky few to have ever witnessed these great masterpieces in the World only made the entire event that more tantalising!

Then we had the shopping adventures that were naturally, a focal point of our whole trip, but by far, the best time we had together was jogging along Melbourne’s famous Yarra River, we definitely looked like locals then :p

20140815_214509Shared some great food at restaurants that were open till 3am the next morning and walked till our feet screamed in agony at being tortured as unfairly as they were. Had some fresh, hot donuts & crepes at one of the many popular street food stalls and generally laughed and frolicked like there was no tomorrow – exactly the way a holiday should be, wouldn’t you agree?

Anyway, it’s good to be home, as always! Looking forward to reading some of your wonderful posts I have missed over the last couple of days, See you around 🙂

Could we be any more screwed?

A lot has happened in the World this week, as it does every week.

We’ve had a Soccer World Cup finish, Australian Swim Legend Ian Thorpe has come out as being gay, a few choice celebrities (no names being mentioned) have gone around doing what they do best, being social misfits and poor examples of role models for those who tinker on their seats edges wondering what their next moves are going to be, and something else I quite can’t recall. It’s on the tip of my tongue, so I’m guessing it’s semi important?

Oh that’s right, that little pesky thing the World is snappily entitling The Gaza Strip. Maybe not as catchy as Brangelina, but then again, it isn’t quite as important either, is it?

I mean how could an entire nation of people in devastating upheaval and pain, a clear brazen example of genocide occurring under our very noses in the twenty first century, a blatant demolishing of the very concept of human rights, truly compare to whether Germany actually deserved to take home the inanimate Gold Cup, the gender Ian Thorpe chooses to spend his private life and nights with, and whether Justin Bieber’s crotch shot was a misguided PR stunt? The answer is simple, it can’t.

It’s not bedazzling enough for all of us, sitting here comfortably in our arm chairs in our own little private havens with our fingers securely brushing our remote controls ready to tap the buttons lightly to change the channel every time a haunting image of what’s occurring in the Middle East has the audacity to interrupt our lives and assault our screens. I mean, how dare they? It’s happening a world away, why should I care?

I’m not here to make a statement on who’s right or wrong in this war occurring on the same planet we all share, but what I am incensed about is our extreme powers of “de-sensitsation”.

Who’s right or wrong is hardly significant really, what does matter though is the mammoth loss of life that the rest of us couldn’t care less about. I am met with a lot of anger and opposing comments every time I dare to broach this subject, you know the kind – scathing hate like “Why should we interfere?”, “They don’t want us to get involved”, “It’s their problem, not mine”, “If they’re too stupid to understand, that’s their fault”, and the undulating list rolls on.

Hailing from a nation that prides itself on never having invaded another’s home, I couldn’t agree more. The rest of us shouldn’t interfere, because the message that gives is that we don’t think you’re civilised enough to deal with this problem on your own, but how does that justify turning a blind eye to the pain and misery of our fellow brothers and sisters?

How does understanding, making our children aware of what seething animosity results in so that they learn that war and inflicting torture on one another is not the solution, not make this world and our conjoined futures better? How does not teaching one another that no matter what our creed, caste, and colour, that we share our basic human emotions of grief, agony and turmoil at losing a father, a mother, a brother, or sister and our children, not be an absolutely imperative lesson to study for all of us?

Is the media to blame? I think this is far too simplistic and just another brazen example of ‘passing the buck’, shifting responsibility onto someone else humans so easily partake in to feel better. As hungry devourers of news, why do the people so often forget that the real power lies firmly enclosed in our palms? The fact that you chose to click on the photograph brazenly displaying one of the Kardashian sister’s blaring bikini clad behind more than the one that excruciatingly portrays a mother’s incomparable desperate desolation at the loss of a child as she clutches her daughter or son’s lifeless, dismembered body to her bosom, begging for it all to stop while she cradles them both into oblivion, dictates what the media gives you.

It’s time we take a little bit of time out of our busy reality television watching schedules and participate in a little reality check of our own. Try and think about how it would feel to be in the middle of that tumultuous turbulence and what you’d experience if you truly believed you were all alone and that no one else cared enough to think, even in fleeting, about how your life was worthless.

This world is never going to improve if we don’t stop for a moment and think “what am I doing to make this better?” Make your voices heard people, the powerful in our society don’t own half as much as you believe they do and they know it. They’re just waiting for you to fight for your basic human right to tell them that.

How grandparents are often better than parents

Amma Dehradun Teasing Retouched

Today marks the one year anniversary of the passing of my paternal grandmother.

If I had to explain my grandmother in three words, I would find it difficult to imprison all the woman she was (and who she continues to be for me in my life) but I would have to settle (after much deliberation) for infectious, feisty & determined.

Infectious in her laughter, her wit and her mischievousness, feisty in her ability to overcome all the obstacles and curve balls her life threw at her while she walked the planet, and determined to make the best of whatever she was faced with no matter what the drawbacks. My grandmother lived and loved with vigour and stubbornness. I’m lucky in that on her passing, I didn’t have any painful lingering doubts on whether she knew I loved her, because in my soul, I know she did and continues to do so, wherever she may be.

Amma, the Hindi word for mother (as her three children, six grandchildren, two great grandchildren and countless more extended family called her) was the second youngest of five spirited sisters. She was the favourite of her doting and docile mother (or so I am told), and the proud child of the Headmaster of a local school, located somewhere in the Himachal Pradesh district of Una, a common boundary shared with Hoshiarpur in Punjab.

Revered for their exquisiteness (Amma’s oldest sister was actually stolen from her neighbourhood by a group of bandits due to her mesmerising beauty!), my grandmother was one of those women who took compliments and the entire notion of attractiveness in her stride. Though my grandfather fell in love with her the moment he laid eyes on her at a mutual friend’s party, Amma was never one for making a fuss about the way she looked, always partaking with me on the importance of having a good “inside” over what she vehemently believed was fleeting and subjective on the “outside”.

Amma is unfortunately not the first grandparent I have lost, my first was my paternal Grandfather, or as we all affectionately called him, Papaji, a little over ten years ago and I can honestly say that it isn’t any easier the second time round. I perhaps naively believed that I would know what to expect when the undeniable time of passing would happen for my Amma, but knowing what’s coming doesn’t make the ensuing pit in your gut any easier to tolerate or facilitate any sort of preparation in advance for that matter.

I feel extremely blessed for having spent a considerable chunk of time with my paternal grandparents as I was growing up in Australia, which leads me to why I really believe that grandparents are often better than parents.

My grandfather fostered my immense love for writing, and most importantly, storytelling. Recounting a traditional, family heirloom of sorts, I know for a fact that every child connected to the Sharma household has been told, retold, and blasted with the disastrous Indian “kuja” story on how parents of children were nearly ripped apart before they could marry by the infamous, evil kuja (a conventional Indian clay pot)! I remember all of us children listening with barely concealed gleeful excitement at our parents having escaped the maddening clutches of the menacing clay pot to have gone on to have us, I mean what could possibly be worse than us not existing? No matter how hard we wracked our brains, nothing we could ever muster up by way of our imagination could suffice the disastrous results had the kuja had its wicked way!

Grandparents are great storytellers. In fact most children, no matter where we come from or the cultures we belong to, will have at least one story of a great tale revealed to us through our grandparents. Why? I believe that the simple reason is because they have the time to repeat, repeat and yes, repeat the same story to us after our many pleas, without ever losing their patience. Amma taught me lifelong lessons through the age old wise modes of sharing knowledge and morals via her storytelling and the best thing is I didn’t even realise that she may have been lecturing me (only slightly of course!) until it was over and the point had finally hit home!

Grandparents are fortunate (or as is the case sometimes, a little unlucky!) to be able to spend time with their grandchildren and actually enjoy it. They get to spoil you without having to deal with the consequences and best of all, at least in my case; they are always way cooler than your parents! They also have the wisdom to understand that life goes on no matter what happens, that it is rarely the end of the world (even if you are absolutely positive it is. I mean that guy found out I liked him!), that there is ALWAYS a solution to a problem (you just have to think outside your immediate box sometimes), that it is most likely not as bad as it seems (yes, yes, even when the guy I liked found out I did in the worst possible way), and that you are only ever going to be truly happy being and rejoicing in who and what you are without giving a damn about what anyone else thinks! And best of all, you’re perfect, didn’t you know that?

This year has not eased the pain of losing Amma anymore than when the wound was fresh, but I do laugh when I remember the happy times a lot more easily now than I did possibly 11 months ago. My religion advocates reincarnation, so losing someone is never quite final however, regardless of what Hinduism dictates, I truly believe in my soul that our paths will cross again and I look forward to many more lifetimes as the proud granddaughter of both Papaji & Amma.

Thank you for the memories & I love you … xoxo.