My memories... of pimples...

There are good memories, and there are bad ones. And then there are those which feel like mishap averted.

It is something to smile over now, when I look at my engagement pics. But back then it had caused quite a bit of tension... There is a small black mole / black dot, or more delicately put, a beauty spot on my cheek. A fake one. It was actually a pimple camouflaged.

I have oily skin, and pimples come and go. My way of dealing with them is to simply use face wash and face cream meant for my oil-soaked dermis.

Usually, it keeps the pimples in check. An odd one does pop up once in a while, and I don't let it matter.

With my own engagement celebrations coming up though, this one lone eruption became a major issue. My beautician tried a few treatments in her effort to make it disappear. She claimed that it her expertise that made the pimple rather inconspicuous. Inconspicuous, yes. But it would still be there one my face on the day, when I'd be the centre of attention and tons (at least, it feels like tons) of my pictures will be clicked.

That is where the 'cheeky' beauty spot came to the rescue.

It was clearly not something that was new to the beautician. As she decked me with various products, she told me the many stories of how she had transformed many a nasty pimple to a beauty spot, which also wards of the evil eye on the special day.

The presence of that one pimple has made a place for itself as an important event in the story of my life.

As I said before, pimples off and on, are a way of life for me. It doesn't usually affect me.

Another such time was rather recently when I got a facial done from a new beauty parlour. Despite my telling her otherwise, she used an oil-based cream. For over a month after that, my face was home to a cluster of pimples... painful ones too.

I tried to let them be, hoping they would disappear soon. Ended up going to a dermatologist and the whole shebang to get rid of them.

By hit and trial, I have come to the conclusion that the use of prevention is better than cure, even where pimples are concerned. Cures come after pain, emotional and otherwise. Prevention is so much better.

© Nimi Arora

5 reasons to read 'The Great Iron War - Book Two'

Hopebreaker (The Great Iron War - Book One) by 'Dean F. Wilson' is an engaging book.

And here are some of the reasons why I am waiting for the second one -







(Warning - Spoilers ahead)

• Call me a Hopeless Romantic if you will. I have just finished reading a Science-Fiction Fantasy, which I enjoyed. And yet, one of the main reasons I look forward to reading the second part of the series is because I want to know where Jacob's and Taberah's relationship lead. Their bantering, their chemistry, and their future.
• Whistler is a 'good kid', who chooses to the path of trust, despite the negativity of the world he's living in. I want to see him grow and mature but not be a cynic.
• Rommond's presence made me uneasy when he was introduced in the story. It no longer does. But I want to see his 'human' side. I want to know what made him the way he is.
• What is Brooklyn... a mystery!
• '...some have greatness thrust upon them'. As the story progresses, Jacob's path seems to become clearer. Despite his light humour, he is headed for greatness. How great is the 'greatness'? Will he lead the Resistance one day?

P.S.: Will the Book Two be titled 'The Lifemaker', or is it too obvious? I wonder.

Click for Book Review of 'Hopebreaker'

© Nimi Arora

Luggage Talks #1

Luggage Talks...

The Wall of Feelings...

What all I have seen

How do I say

Days of horses and wagons

Always hurrying away

Handsome riders, cunning ministers

And their power play

Forces returning victorious

From battles savage

Shy eyes glancing

From behind the blinds

Midnight strolls

As the stars shined

Romance emanating

Among fragrant grounds

Music echoing

Such beautiful sounds

The grandeur gone, glory faded

How should I explain

Here, there, everywhere I see

Crowds, I am pained

They are here to appreciate history

Or so they claim

They are so indifferent

Towards their own domain

I am modern

I console myself

After all I have tattoos

More than anyone else

They come and brand me

Then bid farewell

I stand testimony, they say

Their bond is eternal

The red blots

Are here to stay

The red splashes

Are here to stay

They spit on me

And then rush away

I remember days

Of pamper and care

The blots on my history

Forever on display
I so miss

My glorious days

My rear has seen

Even Worse sights

Of pees and poos

Its difficult to apprise

Fragrant strolls have

Given way to stinky nights

The moonlight strolls

Forgotten times

I see the empty bin

From afar

I try to smile at

Stuff littered at my feet

They come from miles away

To see my ‘beauty’

Supposedly they

Appreciate their past

Can’t walk a few steps

To bin the trash

The bin is good-natured kid

He smiles at surrounding litter

My exasperation makes him smile too

Comments, I am too old, too bitter

It is the way of these times

No one cares what it looks like

Over the years

The clothes have transformed

The way they talk

The behavior has evolved

Over the years

The style has waned

From holding hands,

Intimacy has changed

Why didn’t they learn

To care some more

They'll be responsible

For future's doom 

Their ancestors left

Such beautiful sights

Can’t they strive to

Make tomorrow bright

I reminisce the days

When regard was there

The times have changed

Is not a passing phrase

These cruel beings

Why don’t they stay away

Or is it possible that

They would change their ways

I have stood here

For centuries tall

Seeing things change

And tolerating a lot

The good and bad

I bore it all

Waiting that things will improve

After all

The lost legacy will

Be gained again

I will again

Smile and grin

What hurts me more

Is the indifference though

I have withstood centuries

Wish I could pass on too

I was a Palace Wall

I was a Monument

I am a Heritage Structure

I am Carved and Stained

And Dirty and Ashamed

I am a Fort… Am I defeated now?

May be not... Things may change

© Nimi Arora

The Web of Dance?

© Nimi Arora

Sunset...

Sunset - Lavasa

Shared with -
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© Nimi Arora

Light - Far And Close

Light - Far and Close

Share the load... Laundry - a woman's job?

An exasperated wife asked this question –

“My husband is a great guy – caring and sensitive. He loves me.

When both of us return home from the office at the end of the day, he relaxes and watches TV. I do all the household chores.

If there’s dinner to be made, he may help a little in the actual cooking. But no help in cleaning the table and kitchen later.

Other than that, the rest of the work is my responsibility, whether I do it myself or get it done from the maid servant.

That is insensitive. Where does my sensitive husband disappear where domestic chores are concerned?”

I remember reading this, don’t remember where. But the answer (not the exact words obviously) have stayed with me.

The answer was something like –

“If we see something every day, we end up not noticing it. More often than not, we are not consciously aware of its presence.
So the wife rushing around the house getting everything done, while the husband relaxes, can be explained the same way.

He just takes that routine for granted.”

Am I convinced with the answer? I am not sure.

Another explanation is that, because the men have seen their mothers doing all the household chores, this notion is ingrained in them.

An argument to that is that most of these men wouldn’t have seen their mothers going out of the home to work, hold responsible jobs and earn well.

Even as I write this, it feels wrong to paint the whole of the male gender with the same brush. But then the statistics speak for themselves.

I know men who do help in household chores, including doing laundry. They do help, but it is primarily the females’ job to ensure the work is done.

In the movie, She-Devil the husband is having an affair with a glamorous, rich, successful author (played by Meryl Streep). The husband moves out and goes to stay with his girlfriend. To get back at the two of them, the wife sends her two children to stay with their father at the author’s home.

What follows is the hilarious events, where the author's girlfriend takes care of the kids.

She ends up writing a whole chapter on doing laundry in her new romance novel.

Hilarious? Seen from the point of view of this blog's topic, not really...

A new ad campaign comes to my mind – ‘Start with the boys’. The ad is in a very different context.

But wouldn’t it work here too?

Teach the sons that household chores are as much their responsibility as their sisters’.

As simple as that… may be not, but I can hope for it to be!

© Nimi Arora

Things that define me...

I read ‘Things that define me’ and I am instantly in a classroom learning definitions… Define pseudonyms… Define ecosystem…

English and Science clearly were my two favourite subjects.

Second thought is that thanks to writing this, I’ll have a good write-up for the ‘About me’ section of my blog. Carrying on with the same thought, I procrastinate and I work better with deadlines. Do these two constitute what defines me? I hope not, because I am working on changing both these traits of mine.

For the last fifteen years, I have been primarily a homemaker. I use the word ‘primarily’ because I could never see myself fitting into the mould of one.

My love for books has survived all the changes in my life over the years.

Just today, a friends of my 9-year-old daughter commented, “Aunty, you always gift us books for our birthday”.

I told her that I couldn’t think of a better gift.

I don’t read as much as I used to when I didn’t have all the responsibilities. I read more than I used to five years back… work in progress.

What defines me today is my blogging. I used to write. Then I didn’t use to write. Then I started writing again.

I am more confident in my writing than I ever was.

Even today when I get a positive comment, my first instinctive thought is – ‘Is what I wrote good, or did they just say it’… that’s insecurity, but that’s something I want to hold on to.

Can there be anything that defines me?
I am happy with myself the way I am. That defines my acceptance of me.

I am and always have been a very private person. I would never have felt comfortable writing about myself and sharing it. Today I am.

The definitions change. And I am happy that they do.

© Nimi Arora

Welcome the New Year - image

Gurudwara Rakab Ganj Sahib, New Delhi

Gurudwara Rakab Ganj Sahib, New Delhi
December 31, 2014

© Nimi Arora


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