Tag Archives: Oz

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 🙂

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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.

Every so often, you awake to Magic …

… At least, I did on Friday.

Winter magic. There’s something so special about waking up to everything being bathed in white.

The kids were up all through the night skiing on the roads and building snowmen (and some snowgirls by the way. We don’t discriminate on gender)

I live in a town of golf courses so you can just imagine the fun we had. People were outside from around about 10pm on Thursday up till Friday afternoon. It only goes to prove, you rarely need money to create your enjoyable memories.

Hope all of you are creating your stories wherever you are! 🙂 🙂 🙂

It’s a beautiful world …

I went to the city over the weekend, taking my grandparents around Circular Quay and the gorgeous coat-hanger (Harbour Bridge), the famous Opera House and the Rocks.

Isn’t it funny how you often overlook what people spend thousands of dollars and travel across the world to see when it’s in your backyard?

There are so many gems Mother Nature has tucked away for us to enjoy but we’re too obsessed about taking that perfect selfie -_-

Remember to enjoy what’s around you guys because contrary to popular belief, that is a lot more precious than those pair of Louis Vuitton’s you’ve been saving up for!

An Eye for an Eye makes the Whole World Blind …

Too bad we still haven’t heeded Mahatma Gandhi’s warning from all those years ago.

The great Father of the Nation (as many of us Indians refer to him as) was most likely not the first to share this sentiment and will no doubt definitely not be the last.

Though I don’t condone what Myuran Sukumaran & Andrew Chan did to get them into jail, I certainly don’t support their enforced demise either. The last time I checked, killing absolutely never, ever solved any problems.

As someone who could see the few pros of the death penalty earlier (I am ashamed to admit) for hard core criminals, the Australian case of Van Tuong Nguyen set me straight causing me to do a complete 180. Why? Because the people who suffer are not the perpetrators but their innocent families and friends who are condemned to a lifetime of desolation and misery that they are definitely not deserving of.

Rest In Peace Myuran Sukumaran & Andrew Chan. All I can hope for is that as a species, we soon learn that ending one another’s lives should definitely not be in our hands, just because we can. #IStandForMercy.

Remembering the ANZAC’s …

As some of you may know, it was 100 years on Saturday here in Australia for the Anzacs.

Commemorating those who died before us so we could live is always taken very seriously here in Australia and for good reason.

I’d like to think their humungous sacrifice (probably the biggest one I could think of for any human being) has taught us about the lasting severe devastation war has on generations of families and how really, nothing ever good comes from fighting and killing one another.

My Granduncle was an Air Marshall for the Indian Air Force and this gem brought tears of pride to my eyes when my sister sent it my way late Saturday night.

The honourable Gian Dev Sharma can be seen from 1:56 to 2:16 in this video broadcasted by the Australian War Memorial that has only recently recognised the sacrifices Indian Army personnel made towards the global military causes.

My earliest memory of my granduncle? As a six or seven year old, I slit my knee outside my grandfather’s house on the pebbled driveway and was balling my eyes out at the gross injustice Mother Nature had just hurled my way. My uncle bent down and cleaned my wound while blowing on it considerately the whole way.

“Wow, Mituri” he said. “You are so brave, I have never seen a wound this dire in my life before. Any other normal person would have to get stiches for this one but not a brave grown up girl like you”.

I still have the scar and the precious story to go with it to remind me of him every time I brush my fingers against the irregularity on my knee cap.

Lest we forget.