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Saturday, January 31, 2015

Peach, Not Strawberry

I had beautiful skin while growing up - no pimples, just clear white ‘Himachali’ face. I never understood why my friends created a fuss about pimples in school. During those TV commercials in which girls screamed on spotting a zit, I simply gawked at their pretty dresses. I never paid attention to the problem, product or pimples. Good old days! But sadly, my skin went a drastic change in my early 20s. Hormonal change and constant travelling took a toll on my skin. It started with pimples around the chin, and it was then I understood how much trouble a tiny zit can cause. It pricks like a thorn and punctures your confidence, to say the least. I was the same girl who was lovingly called ‘Peach’ by one of my mother’s friends, but then, with so much pimples and marks, I resembled a strawberry. Damn, I hated it! 

The problem started with pimples around the chin during the rainy season. I thought it was the humid weather which was causing the trouble, but to my dismay, it aggravated with time. I couldn’t comprehend what was wrong and I started following all the random advices thrown at me. I applied weird face packs without checking my skin type. I even bought all the 'pimple cure' products available in the market. I was desperate to get my old look back, but I never bothered to dwell on the basics. I drank many bottles of Safi to kill the so-called germs in my blood. But, nothing worked!

It was not only pimples that led to the anxiety. Sometimes, when out of frustration I pricked them, the marks stayed longer than the pimples. I felt totally helpless. In fact, it put a dent on my self confidence. I avoided social functions and slipped out of the frame when someone tried to click a picture. Even when I tried to apply cream in winters, it was painful. And who doesn’t know the feeling when just a day before an important event pimples shout - I am back, I am back! This feeling became my constant companion. Then, it was in 2006 when I became friends which a boy who was studying Dermatology, that I understood my problem. He told me all about the ‘whys’ and ‘whats’ of pimples and the importance to know all of it before attempting the pimple-rescue-mission.

Whys - 
Why I had pimples?
Why it started at a later age?

Whats -
What is my skin type?
What I need to do to get rid of them?
What is a perfect skin care routine?
What products suit my skin type?

It was after answering those questions, I was able to deal with it. With my hormonal changes, it was normal to had pimples, zits and skin rashes, and I needed proper medical attention to get rid of them. Also, following a proper skin care routine was very important. At one stage, things got really ugly and I suffered from Multiple Abscesses. It multiplied the pimple problem and I started having pimples on my cheeks as well. I had to take the complete course to treat it and then, my problems started to recede. It’s not completely gone but it is way better than what it used to be. After going through all this, I started following a proper skin care routine. It took me a while to find the right products for my skin. I experimented with many brands for many months to finally find what I needed. A good face wash to clean all the pores and dust. I have dry skin, so regular soap was a big no-no. A moisturizing cream that complements the toner. Also, I learnt to stay away from chemicals. Natural products are better and they don’t have side effects. A concoction of banana and honey is more effective than a banana face pack available in the market. Sticking to natural, herbal and chemical free products, like like Garnier Pure Active Neem Face Wash is the key to healthy looking skin. 

In a sentence - the right solution to all the problems is to follow a healthy routine, use right products and stay happy. I wish, when my rowdy hormones would come back to their normal self,  I will get my old look back. 

*This post is written as a part of Garnier campaign, check and
**Images for Collage - here and here

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Monday, January 26, 2015

Jiya Jale!

Contrary to popular belief, I am not romantic, but I am high on drama. I am lovingly called nautanki by my darling family. I have to do everything with style and the ‘zara hatke’ bug itches me every time I plan to do something. What is life without a little spice, I ask? I don’t believe in love being a gentle breeze, it’s like a storm that sweeps you off your feet - bold and ferocious. And proposals should be like hindi movie trailer - action mixed with the masti of an item number, and dashed with just the right amount of emotions.

This Valentine’s Day, I am planning to propose the man of my dreams, leaving all subtleties behind. I would bring action, music and daring in a never before avatar. And for that, I have to empty my wallet, rehearse a bit and grease the palms of few people. Dekho, itna toh pyaar mein karna hi padta hai! Since the love of my life is overbusy and works even on weekends, I am planning to surprise him at his office where he would least expect me. The plan is to bribe the security guards at his office and ask them to turn on the fire alarm, and then, the action would begin. The blaring noise of the fire alarm would announce the arrival of my prince charming. What next? Well, like a hindi movie hero, I would manage everything single handedly. I would park my car just in front of the fire exit of his building and hop on its rooftop with a box of his favorite kaju katli in one hand. Haven’t you heard - way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Why leave any stone unturned? You see, my movie has everything, even sweetness. In another hand, I would hold my iPod which would be connected to my Bose iPod Dock, poor thing would finally serve some purpose.

Then, as he would descent from heavens above, I mean, the fifth floor, I would play a nice medley of ‘Jiya Jale’ and ‘Love is on fire’. With two fire songs and actual fire alarm, mind you, I would be creating a trilogy of some sorts. With the music playing in the background, I would declare my love to the world and propose to him. Fine, in front of whosoever is slogging on weekend with him. In fact, I have written a “soulful” poem to propose him -

Twinkle twinkle little star,
How you wonder - what is this yaar?
Up above the car so high,
This ladki is proposing this guy!

...And I would point towards him. Have you seen such depth or seriousness before? Nahin naa!

So, ladies and gentlemen, this is how I am planning to propose the man I love and hope he says yes. Nahin toh, yeh basanti car se kud ke apni jaan de degi.

*For more love action, check
**Image Source - Here

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Thursday, January 22, 2015

Agony of Indian Dustbin

Roses are ashen,
Violets are gray.
I like everything rotten,
Just feed me properly - I pray.
People who bring me home treat me with care.
A special corner to stay and a shiny polythene to wear.
They feed me multiple times a day but give me bath once in a while.
They empty me everyday with a squeezed nose but never with a smile.
Still, I try to stay happy in my humble abode,
Far far away from the maddening lot outside.
People taunt me, tease me, avoid me there,
Always throwing around me or on roadside.
Fellas are good inside the home, you see,
They know what to keep and what to throw.
Stuffing the litter inside me day and night,
Stacking plastics and newspapers neatly in a row.
It’s a mystery how same people forget the rules, the moment they step outside.
World becomes a large dustbin and they litter everywhere with pride.

Roses are thrown,
Violets along with it.
Not inside me of course,
Just around the corner where I sit.
I feel neglected, 'Am I not important to care?'
They forget I am the one who hides all their filthy affairs.
I become a mute spectator or a dartboard of a special form,
They aim - some hit, many misses, simply leaving behind what is thrown.
Few come near - mostly four legged creatures and a truck of some sorts.
For stray animals, I serve as a large food court.
I feel dejected but many said they share my agony and sympathize.
Their stories shook me and I was surprised.
When people abandon me and turn a blind eye.
They find senseless ways to gratify.
Some go and paint the town red in a unique way.
Spitting in corners, walls, streets, stairs pretending as a jet spray.
It brings disgust not only to other human beings but even to inanimate us.
This, however, is not the only thing for which others are creating a fuss.
Roadside is equally heartbroken, maybe a bit more than me.
Seems everyone walking and driving on it, is on a litter spree.
Men add more mess when they turn their face to the wall.
Like no better place is available to answer the nature's call.
Lately, I found all these people are very very sick and they all need a hug.
They are infected with - Great Indian Litterbug.

They say - roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Then why don't people understand?
What they should do.
Drive on roads and walk on ledge.
Never ever spit where ever you like and color it red.
A toilet is where you pee, 'I' am where you put waste.
Neither aim, nor throw when you are in a haste.
Kill that 'Great Indian Litterbug' growing inside of you.
Do what is right and what you should do.
I am always there - in malls, in parks, even on roadside.
If you can feed me in your home, you should do the same even outside.

* This poem is featured on Times of India 'The Great Indian Litterbug' Gallery.
**This poem is written for 'The Great Indian Litterbug' campaign sponsored by

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