On Day 7…
…it gets more difficult than ever to find something to blog about every day. I have very often let my thoughts flow through words as I type or write, but when it comes to actually publishing on the blog, I suddenly seem to become a lot more cautious.
In other news, I watched Kalyaana Samayal Saadham today. A breezy entertainer that tackles a serious issue in the most light-hearted manner possible, it touched my heart. Admittedly, it’s not the best movie ever made, but there was something about it that made me relate to it. The setting, the upper middle class Tambrahm society to which we belong, Meera’s rebellious streak…I loved them all. Perhaps I’ll come up with a full-fledged review a bit later.
That’s all for today. See you tomorrow, hopefully with more things to talk about.The art of sari-draping…
I am strongly convinced that the art of sari-draping is dying a slow death. Why else would someone be willing to pay 6000 rupees to a random stranger to teach them to drape a sari perfectly. In case you are wondering what I am going on about, you should probably read this article from Wall Street Journal.
The story talks of Kalpana Shah, a freelance sari-draper who offers “basic and advanced sari draping courses” for a fee in Mumbai. On top of that she gets invited to conduct group sessions on sari-draping. Wait a second! I am missing something here. Someone actually makes a living from this kind of thing? And others pay for it? Now, that’s a lovely business idea, ain’t it? Maybe I should consider this an alternative career. Now, sari-draping is one thing I do reasonably well. And, so many women seem to think it’s an art that I should perhaps make use of the opportunity. Making hay and all that you see…
However, I can’t help but lament the fact that the sari is slowly becoming a garment to be worn only for wedding and special occasions. Not that I am a prolific sari-wearer, but the day I do end up in a sari to work, people look at me rather strangely. Just yesterday, I was dressed in a sari and was accosted almost the second I entered office by an enthusiastic soul who asked me almost accusingly, “So Amrutha, what’s special? Sari and all…” I was so taken aback by the tone of the question that I just stammered that there was nothing special.
I find the slow disappearance of the sari quite unfortunate. After all, a well-worn sari actually makes a woman look lovely. There is something about the sari that lends elegance and beauty to the woman in question. And, it doesn’t necessarily have to take hours to drape. I truly appreciate women who take the effort to wear saris regularly despite the obvious conveniences of kurtas and jeans. I only wish I could be more regular in wearing saris to work and elsewhere.
Maybe this should be a new year resolution: Wear the saris in my wardrobe at least once a year! What say? 😉
Just checking in…
…to say that I am still trying to maintain my daily blogging spree, but finding it increasingly difficult already to find at least one thing a day to talk about.
With nothing more constructive to add, signing off for today! Ciao! And see y’all tomorrow!Of readymade foods and cut vegetables
The other day S brought back a packet of chopped yam from a vegetable store on OMR. It was evenly chopped, neatly packaged and attractively priced, criteria that render it attractive to the average working woman who can do without the drudgery of vegetable-cutting.
That day I didn’t think much of it. In fact, I thought it was a great business idea, especially because of the location of the shop inside a major IT park. But this morning I discovered the pamphlet lying around on the sofa and wondered if I was missing an important point.
The pamphlet in question said that over 40% of a vegetable is skin, seeds, stem and other inedible parts. In other words, buying a whole vegetable is less economical that buying chopped ones. How true is this claim really? Didn’t we learn sometime in school that most of the nutrients in a vegetable are derived from the skin and stem, those we consider inedible most of the time? While saying something like this may make sense to a trader, why are we not more discerning as consumers? Are we, like always, confusing the convenient option with the healthy one?
Are cut and cleaned vegetables actually healthier than buying whole vegetables and chopping them up ourselves? How do we know that the shopkeeper has not cut away a rotten part and left the not-yet-rotten-but-stale part for us to eat?
Also, several vegetables can be eaten with the skin including potatoes, carrots and beetroot. The skin of some other vegetables like chow chow and ridge gourd, the seeds of the pumpkin and the rind of lemons can be used in a wide variety of dishes.
Are we missing out on an opportunity to not only eat healthy but also cook interesting variations in our quest for convenience? Maybe.
With these questions in mind, I quietly resolved to buy whole, fresh vegetables to the extent possible. Although I hate chopping vegetables and try to delegate the work as much as possible to the others at home, I would still like to know what kind of vegetables I actually consume.Dark is beautiful…
When I first received an invitation to like the page Dark is Beautiful from a Facebook friend, I didn’t think much of it. I ignored it as just another spam message. But, something led me check it out one day when randomly surfing the net. Perhaps it’s the involvement of celebrities like Nandita Das or perhaps the manner in which the message was conveyed. The campaign instantly appealed to me.
I have for many years now tried to avoid using any products that promise to make me fairer, sometimes illogically shunning even sunscreen just because of the message it conveys. But, the campaign for non-discrimination on the basis of skin colour hits a raw nerve. It is not very long ago that I was considered dark. Growing up, relatives often commented that with this skin time I would never find a suitable boy. A cousin once put her hand against mine and said, “See? Your skin is black. Mine is white. It basically just means you’re not scrubbing hard enough when you bathe. Scrub nicely and you will also become white and pretty like me.” For a 12-year old me, this statement was heartbreaking. The cousin in question was six years older and considered very pretty by my extended family. From then, the concept of fair is beautiful stuck on, much like the grease from a badly-baked cake, that refuses to wash no matter how hard you try.
It took me nearly a decade to get over my complex of being dark-skinned. A decade of feeling inferior and trying to tide over that complex by doing things that my fair-skinned cousins would have never dreamt of doing. A decade of trying to be the best in what I did in an effort to prove that my dark skin was not a handicap.
Nearly twenty years after that incident, I realize that I am worth much more than the colour of my skin. I realize that dark is not ugly and will never be. I realize I was perhaps foolish in trying to overcome what was never a handicap in the first place. But, the memories linger. Today, when I tell people that dark is beautiful, that being dark is nothing to be ashamed of, I am often greeted with the retort, “It’s easy for you to say because you are not dark.” No, I am not dark. I realize that now. But, there was a time, over a decade of my relatively short life, when I spent hours in front of the mirror agonizing about the pigmentation on my neck and the blemishes on my face.
It has not been easy for me to say this aloud. I do understand how people feel when they are called dark and ugly. But, it’s time we stop obsessing about fair skin. It is time we stop linking success and beauty to complexion. It is also time we stop relying of chemical cocktails that promise to make us fairer and lovelier. Fair is not always lovely. And dark is indeed very beautiful.