Monday, February 9, 2015

~~ A blog not to be lost with time. I copy pasted for reading it once I am back on a time traveler~~~

|| One Dad’s Heart-Wrenching Letter to His Young Daughter Which Destroys Society's Definition Of Beauty ||
Dear Little One,
As I write this,I’m sitting in the m...
akeup aisle of our local Target store.A friend recently texted me from a different makeup aisle and told me it felt like one of the most oppressive places in the world.I wanted to find out what he meant.
And now that I’m sitting here, I’m beginning to agree with him. Words have power, and the words on display in this aisle have a deep power. Words and phrases like:
Affordably gorgeous,
Flawless finish,
Brilliant strength,
Liquid power,
Go nude,
Age defying,
Instant age rewind,
Choose your dream,
Nearly naked, and
Natural beauty.
When you have a daughter you start to realize she’s just as strong as everyone else in the house—a force to be reckoned with,a soul on fire with the same life and gifts and passions as any man.But sitting in this store aisle, you also begin to realize most people won’t see her that way.They’ll see her as a pretty face and a body to enjoy.And they’ll tell her she has to look a certain way to have any worth or influence.
But words do have power and maybe,just maybe,the words of a father can begin to compete with the words of the world.Maybe a father’s words can deliver his daughter through this gauntlet of institutionalized shame and into a deep,unshakable sense of her own worthiness and beauty.
A father’s words aren't different words,but they are words with a radically different meaning:
BRILLIANT STRENGTH. May your strength be not in your fingernails but in your heart.May you discern in your center who you are,and then may you fearfully but tenaciously live it out in the world.
CHOOSE YOUR DREAM. But not from a department store shelf.Find the still-quiet place within you.A real dream has been planted there. Discover what you want to do in the world.And when you have chosen,may you faithfully pursue it,with integrity and with hope.
NAKED. The world wants you to take your clothes off. Please keep them on. But take your gloves off. Pull no punches. Say what is in your heart. Be vulnerable. Embrace risk. Love a world that barely knows what it means to love itself. Do so nakedly. Openly. With abandon.
INFALLIBLE. May you be constantly,infallibly aware that infallibility doesn’t exist. It’s an illusion created by people interested in your wallet. If you choose to seek perfection,may it be in an infallible grace—for yourself,and for everyone around you.
AGE DEFYING. Your skin will wrinkle and your youth will fade, but your soul is ageless. It will always know how to play and how to enjoy and how to revel in this one-chance life. May you always defiantly resist the aging of your spirit.
FLAWLESS FINISH. Your finish has nothing to do with how your face looks today and everything to do with how your life looks on your last day. May your years be a preparation for that day. May you be aged by grace, may you grow in wisdom, and may your love become big enough to embrace all people. May your flawless finish be a peaceful embrace of the end and the unknown that follows, and may it thus be a gift to everyone who cherishes you.
Little One, you love everything pink and frilly and I will surely understand if someday makeup is important to you. But I pray three words will remain more important to you—the last three words you say every night, when I ask the question: “Where are you the most beautiful?” Three words so bright no concealer can cover them.
Where are you the most beautiful?
On the inside.
From my heart to yours,
Writer : Dr. Kelly Flanagan

(9th Feb 2015)

Friday, November 21, 2014

To My Dear Daughter

To my dear daughter,

As you grow, many boys will enter your years. They will speak words of love and passion, of wanting you–all of you.
Their sex will be lacking.

Believe me, dear girl, I know what crazy hot lovemaking is made of. Until the boy can assure you of the following, it is not true passion.

If he can patiently wait for over three years. From pregnant to nursing to pregnant to nursing, with your hormones fierce, and desire often dead. “Please, just let me sleep. I am so tired.” will be your common response. Until he can love you still, choose you still, it is not true passion.

If He can call you beautiful when even your feet are swollen from baby belly. Call you sexy when your legs run thick with varicose veins from the same. Call you perfect after your belly hangs loose with skin and your eyes deep with bags. Until he can still call you these things, it is not true passion.

You may throw things at him, yell words of hate and shame as you feel the hormones of post baby blues run deep. Until he can love you even deeper, piercing through the pain into your heart, it is not true passion.

He will go to work where there are other women, pretty women. Pretty women with no children and varicose free, high heeled legs. I know the way they toss their pretty little hair to and fro.

He will come home to you, your hair pulled back into the frizziest of buns, a baby on your hip, spit up down your arm. Until he can come home to you–you with no makeup–and express there is nothing as wonderful as seeing your face, it is not true passion.

You are touched by his love, and whisper tonight you will return the favor. Tonight there is a crying baby and a feverish toddler who just joined you in bed. Until he can laugh, fully laugh about this, it is not true passion.

Can a man like this exist? Yes, dear girl, and you call him your dad. He has shown me what true love is.

The hormones have faded. I am not pregnant. I am not nursing. My own passion has returned. Can I truly say “returned?” I really had no idea what passion was. So intense, so raw, I cannot put it fully into words.

I am not in love with just another man. I am in love with the father of my babies. The one who called me beautiful through nights of ugly, called me strong through days of weak, called me valuable through days of uncertainty. The one who waited patiently for me. Who washed the sheets of vomit as I bathed the fever infested child.

This is love dear girl. This is passion. It is being one with he who is going to be there for you, till death do you part, regardless. It is something mystical and unexplainable. It is something crazy. It is crazy hot sex.

Wait dear girl. Wait for him. There is nothing so beautiful as finding your heart in his, the one who will wait for you–even after marriage.

(Source: Web)

Tuesday, July 19, 2011


He chose to remain silent where as she chose to speak out.
He believes that the silence will make the boiling anger to subside.
She considers that keeping silent increases the friction between the two, and the anger isn't consumed. She believes only the words spoken can make the anger subside.

Both these friends have decided to get married. She has to understand him and to listen to his silence. As Mason Cooley says 'after an argument, silence may mean acceptance or the continuation of resistance by other means.' He has understand her as there is another thought stating that 'spiteful words can hurt your feelings but silence breaks your heart.'

There are various other thoughts. Like:
> 'There are times when silence has the loudest voice.'
> 'Absolute silence leads to sadness. It is the image of death.'
> 'Silence is golden when you can't think of a good answer.'
> 'Silence is the element in which great things fashion themselves.'

Now I am in a dilemma deciding whether is silence really golden or is it just showing that all that glitters is not gold.

Any comments??????

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Daddy: My Guiding Hand

A force against the water called wind
A force against the ball called bat
Everything including above mentioned, need some kind of force to do some kind of work. When the wind blows the water has some kind of energy transmitted through waves that are formed. When the bat hits the ball with certain energy, it goes more than its capability.

Similarly human mind is an slimy object that tarnishes very quickly if not used. There are times that the mind within the brain is tired to go forward in life, refusing to budge from certain thinking of the time. It requires quite a polishing and a push to work correctly. To inspire, to motivate, etc. are the names of those words given to that push. Brains to-be inspired are more but very few inspirers. The human race is running that course that doesn't yield much inspiration to the fellow beings.

In my life my dad is my source of inspiration and motivation. The moment I am tired he would state that this situation is a silly hurdle, you should be able to overcome with putting little more effort and prayers. Over the years when I look back I never understood the gravity of these words but time taught me the real thing. Those precious little words, the timely pushes, the strict guidelines, everything put together made my life easier when I had to face the real world alone.

During my school days, everyday he repeats the same old advice please be safe. Now I understand the depth of these words. And many more. Like Clarence Budington Kelland quoted about his father “He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.” My daddy walks what he talks as I have seen through my years. A stable, patient man unmoved by circumstances, knows what he talks and does what is correct.

Daddy, I can go on talking about you for hours non-stop and still not get bored to repeat myself. You have been my role model, my strength, my inspiration and the list simply goes on. Daddy, your guiding hand on my shoulder and all your words of wisdom will remain with me forever. Love you Daddy!!!!

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

The Walks Of Life

A long walk in the beach made me realize the different moods of the sea. At a certain phase the waves were so nice as it was simply wetting my feet and calmly going back to the womb of the sea. The breeze from the face of the sea was a soothing effect to my mind as well as my soul. I thought of a poem by Sarojini Naidu, 'Coromandel Fishers' (

Slowly the breeze turned to a wind making the waves play to its tunes taking them a little more higher. The waters rushing in was not only wetting my feet, but my legs too. The water going back to the sea didn't have the energy to push me down or pull me into the waters. The feel of wind in my face had my thoughts diverted out to the waves whose count was steadily increasing.

The wind no more intended to quiet down, but started bringing in huge waves. My loved ones joined me and the fun increased as we started tumbling on each other and falling into water yet we are firmly on the ground and not slipping into the deep waters. We were bathed in the salty waters and the sunset leaving us laughing and playing and pulling and pushing each other. This simply reminded me the childhood days...:-)

I returned back to my refuge but there is yet another face of sea that I didn't see but I am well aware of it. The rough sea which certainly leaves everything in shatters. It makes the fishermen, the people living on the coast, the admirers of the Sea Lady etc. move out from the proximity of its anger. The sea no longer cares about the limits assigned to it. Tsunami is the worst , the sea can give destruction from its side.

In the twilight, the walk reminded me the Chapters of Life. The ups and downs of life... a simple roller coaster ride. When the circle of life is seen, the ups and downs are simply to balance the life for a straight line. At a point the sea meets the sky from where the sun arises the next day or the sun has just set in today. Life is indeed beautiful!!!!!!

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

A Lifetime of Togetherness

The rose never knew the pain
The thorn was undergoing.
The thorn knew it had to suffer
If it to keep the rose safe.

The rose dazzled in the sun
The dew on petals was equally tantalizing.
The thorn was so proud of itself
That it was guarding such a beautiful creation.

Both did experience very bad times
Few plucking hands, few eating mouths,
But both survived all the trials
And they were standing out among the lot.

Pain the thorn was going thru’
How hurting it is when others are hurt
And the hurt is because of oneself
But it couldn’t be help too.

But the dusk was not pleasant as the dawn
Both felt the journey being together is gonna end.
The evening took its toll on the pair
The gardener pruned the branch off.

The rose felt everything ended,
The thorn felt it hadn’t fulfilled its purpose.
But then the evening looked most glamorous
Both were neatly snuggled in a bride's bouquet.

Friday, January 21, 2011

One Hour of my Life

My roomy Paru woke me up telling she is got a very bad pain in her hand and her thumb finger had swelled up like a balloon …I saw she was in tears…a little flashback… she had hit her hand somewhere strongly around 3 days before … she treated the pain with some ointment which indeed gave some relief but which corporate life is heard to make your life better? Something similar happened to my roomy P at 2:30 am in the night. My other roomy Sandy too woke up by this time and we both are looking at her helplessly. We dint have any painkillers, no relief creams or sprays. We decided we go to the nearest hospital or pharmacy to get help for her.

We three, I, Paru and Sandy together set out for night venture taking enough cash to buy the drugs. We talked to our hostel keeper and he happily opened the gates for us and in the same state went to sleep. We stared at each other and went on our way in search of our goal for the night. Hardly 10 steps later, there were 2 dogs following us…aahhh that was enough to send the shivers down our spines… We were moving as if one body is moving but no open pharmacy in sight. The roads that seemed so familiar all of a sudden turned into paths to dungeons. Not a living soul in sight except the canine species. Paru and Sandy asked me to call some one who stays at Madhapur… At that time we came to our great realization that none of us had the moving landline.. haaa this creamed our scare of the night... After sometime the dogs stopped following us as we heard a hen getting sacrificed by them.

At last there was a restaurant open and we immediately turned to the steps of the same and asked for the help from the resto-guard. After some reluctance, he agreed to help us. A genuine fellow, dint ask anything. We immediately moved to the Apollo pharmacy near the petrol bunk and asked for the medicines. After procuring the same, we were so happy that the night expedition had ended but I think night had some more in store for us. 6 police men in 3 bikes approached us and asked us the reason for our being outside. We explained part by part to them and fortunately they believed our real-life situation (story ;)) and let us go on our way. The minute needle of the clock had already turned one whole round.

Safely inside the four walls of our room at 3:30 am, we got a great feeling that we got back our lives from more-than death. I looked towards the heavens and thanked my God Almighty for keeping us safe and sound. Morning dint show any sign of the night’s journey as it only seemed to be a very bad nightmare. But the drugs in P hands showed us that the night indeed was a reality…one more thrilling page to the chapter Hostel life in the book of my life in Hyderabad.

P.S. No imagination included here…everything happened in reality…