walk away


So I chanced upon this being shared on Facebook, a few times now over the past week, and well, makes a whole load of sense doesn’t it?


how we evolved

[Found it originally here, and all rights remain with the original owner.]

We all walk away. From frustrations, silences, from unanswered questions, from questions with no answer or solution and from ones that leave you restless and uncomfortable and disturbed, among other lesser emotions.

Not at peace.

The premise of most man-woman arguments and a few of the same sex too, but mostly when one of them is uncomfortable with the truth. ..and as an extension, each of us are changed, ever so slightly. That slight change brings about a whole new perspective. Via thought, action and then the consequent reaction and acceptance of the new perception.

It’s fascinating when you think about it. All change happens because we are not content or happy with status quo. Maybe this is the answer to most of the questions that do not have visible clear answers that most of us are searching for.

What do you think?


grocery bag karma

Am not a domestic goddess. I watch all the domestic goddesses around me with alternating expressions of shock and awe and then of complete disinterest. To put it bluntly, I oscillate between playing Garfield in a cartoon strip watching Jon’s antics and that of a wide eyed toddler at Disney World.

For the few rare readers who have stuck on with me for the past 8 years (BY GOD! HAS IT REALLY BEEN THAT LONG?!) I had once written this post on how one goes about cleaning a closet. The formula was quite simple if you ask me. Get upset with someone, go clean. And if that someone happens to be your significant other, even better. The cleaning is directly proportional to the intensity of the said frustration. Trust me, it still stands the test of time.

And, let me add here that to my great astonishment I learnt while reading a Feng Shui book (no less!) that cleaning a closet or clutter is fabulously accurate a reaction to our state of mind. Go figure!

So where am I going with this? Of course I’ll tell you. Yesterday I accomplished a lot. That means I was upset a lot. I loaded my van with 6 bags of clothes that didn’t fit any of us anymore. 2 big cartons of SAT books of various kinds and some fiction and random books, and drove 14 miles out to a used book store and the Goodwill nearby.

I got $21 store credit that I promptly used up to buy more books. That’s where the Feng Shui book/reference came in btw.

The store refused to take 5 books, so I went over to Goodwill donation center, gave my 6 bags plus those books and grinned back at the happy volunteer and drove home happy and light in my head. Heart was a bit low, so I promptly emptied out the pantry. I also put my phone to good use and texted the rest of the family with before and after pictures.

Here’s a tip Ive learnt as an on and off stay at home mom and one who believed in doing things coz it was the right thing to do and who couldn’t care for any credit or accolades or justification with my time or was answerable to anyone.


Not in a bad way, but think about it, if they don’t know because they aren’t there physically, it’s not their fault. Not at all. Each of us have our plates and balancing act, and unless one is told explicitly in words, actions or as the case maybe in in pictures (hey, we live in the selfie-era) they are oblivious to all things done and accomplished. So, Ive started “sharing” – it’s easy. One pic, one text and one click, and there is a record. As an aside, the husband even said “thank you” which rarely happens, though he is thankful in his heart and head, but to actually see a visual extension of an emotion IS a high. Deny it all you want, but that is the truth the world runs on. So.

So I cleaned out the pantry and felt even better.

I landed with a huge hoard of grocery bags. I did what I now do reflexively, since 2 months rather, let me not brag way much. I folded them. Into cute little samosas or spanakopitas.

Like so:

Folding Grocery bags

Thanks to pinterest stalking and pinning over the past few months, I now realize the glory, happiness and pride that comes with being a domestic Goddess. That said, am a baby princess, and long ways to go down a path that at this point is occasionally starlit, but not that glamorous for me to rush headlong. I pick my medals, and pathways, and for now, folding grocery bags seems to work great for me.

They are so darn easy to fold and carry and store and use and look so good that my maid (who graces me every fortnight) looked at them and went “awwww, Bonito!” with a  flourish and a happy grin that crinkled her already slanted brown eyes. Admit it, having a happy smiling maid who doesn’t care for the corners is any day a blessing than the one who huffs and puffs her way around and leaves u feeling sanitized in the home and not the heart? Yeah? Yes. The husband will not admit it, but it’s easier slipping a samosa-shaped bag into his pocket when he walks the dog, and I know he appreciates it.

..and just coz seeing it once just doesn’t do enough justice, here’s one more detailed how-to picture by picture illustration on how to fold your own grocery bags (if u don’t get paper bags that is!)

4 pic

So yes. I folded them 34 odd grocery bags, threw some out and piled them all into an IKEA bag holder under the sink and felt extremely accomplished. I felt like a Stepford wife and beamed all around. Unfortunately no one clapped for me, but hey,. what’s twitter for and I shared and was laughed at, and then applauded and some thought I needed a break and some gawked at my Stepford-Domestic-Goddess incarnation and wondered whatever happened to poor Rads.

I am hoping this phase will pass quickly as well, coz right now am eyeing that corner of neatly stacked board games that none of have played in ages and wondering maybe there will be some who WILL play and they will benefit from it.

Alrighty, do try folding them though. If you do it as soon as you come home and empty them, it takes a grand 10 seconds for each.

Plus, you feel like you’ve used them at least TWICE before you swallow that guilt and walk away!


radhika reviews: a blog to watch for

Just a quick update and a record that things will be chugging along in the new featured post that Ive been working on showcasing inspirational ladies of the DC area. I now have a separate website for it and I have a few plans and I hope they will chug along well and in turn inspire and help others who need that kind of inspiration to go become the best person they are.

Radhika Reviews 

Check the space out. More fabulous reviews and real people that bring great things and change the community ever so slightly with their work.



flutters {fable}

She was late. Not like I was in a hurry or anything, and she called to say she was running late and sounded flustered and it really didn’t matter as I had plenty to do anyway, so I told her it was fine.

I waited in the mall. Just outside of the restaurant we were to have lunch. I looked up from my papers and there she was. A vision of red. I smiled. I knew why she wore red. It was a gorgeous red. Standing out among all the other pales as she stepped out of the elevators and came forward to the railing and peeped down. We were on the 3rd floor of the mall and I was on the other end of the circle. With her large bag slung from her shoulder, hair loose and framing her oval face, I saw her look all around, searching for me.

There is something perverse about watching someone search for you. Romantic at times, it kicks in a certain want, a lust even to be wanted and searched for. I get up and walk towards her along the other end. She catches my eye and smiles and starts walking quickly along to reach me. I see how put together she seems.

The gorgeous red cotton sari draping her curved full hips, the swish of the pleats as her legs carry her gracefully towards me. The pallu draped casually on her chest, the careless way it fell off her shoulder, hovering over her waist, with an occasional show of her skin. The rounded arms ending in slim wrists with the two thin gold bangles that caught the sun, her waist length hair flying away from her temples and shoulder as the wind blew and her small round black bindi between her arched dark eyebrows. Thick chunky silver beaded along her neck accentuating silver earrings, the jhumkas I gifted her, as she told me afterwards.

How she could pull off a worried yet smiling and an apologetic face is beyond me but she did. Apologizing for her late arrival, she tucked her hair behind her ears and looked at me with liquid brown eyes. I wanted to hug her, but instead steeled myself to just touch her elbow and say it’s okay, and steered her towards the restaurant while she kept a steady flow ore excuses, reasons and complaints on why she was delayed. She hated IST, and how laid back folks were, and how she didn’t have a ride and how she hated being dependent!

Steering her clear with an occasional nod and pacifying her at the same time we arrived at the restaurant and luckily were led to a quiet corner. Heaving a sigh of relief as the cool air hit us, we took a deep breath and looked at each other. A little quieter but yet annoyed, she smiled forcefully.
“This is how I wanted you to see me. In red. I luckily found this two days ago, and I HAD to wear it.”

I take in her enthusiasm, her childish excitement and peeve for how perfect she wanted for things to be, to fall into place and I nodded.
“You look beautiful”

She blushed. I could see the now disappearing sweat around her temples, the glistening skin on her forearms, the curve of her lips and the softening of her eyes.

We spoke.

Of random ness. Of the mundane. Of the daily. Of the routine. Of the memories. Mine. Hers. Things I had not thought of for many years came by quickly through me. Of pickled onions. Of manholes. Of money. Of truancy. Of guilt and ethics of the past. Of doggy bags. Of the less fortunate. Of food. Of lives long gone. Of apartments.

She handed me a brushed bronze pocket watch, a small dial on a chain in a small bag. It was a gift. She smiled, just a little something to remember this time. I took it, unsure of what I would do with a pocket watch, but it was a watch and she knew I liked watches, so that made me happy.

We barely ate. I could tell she wasn’t. I didn’t eat much either. Maybe it was me, but neither felt hungry enough, or maybe it was the anticipation of meeting. Maybe it was the heat. It was time to go.

She leaned on my shoulder as I gave the taxi guy directions from the back seat. I was making conversation, and she nodded and remained silent, preoccupied but yet very present. The way her eyes flickered with interest, her lips curved with a slight dimple above when she felt happy, as I pointed out familiar landmarks. The hotel I stayed the last trip when I spoke with her, the buildings that were once work, the roads that I had traveled in another lifetime, with other souls.

With barely contained excitement I opened the door to my apartment of the last few days. The place that was mine more than anything else I owned. The details, the time spent in hashing details, the journey and the pains and travails to become a home owner. For the first time. I had worked hard to hold on to it, through the empty walls, the offers that came and ones I refused to the ones that fell through. The investment, the memories it carried, and clearly all that emotional investiture was coming to a head. I had never dreamt of her walking in along with me here one day. I did hold this place as a back up for her for one day if needed but to actually see her walk around the empty rooms, touching the walls, the kitchen counter, the tiles in the bathrooms, the balcony and then the mirrors, was almost surreal.

She walked with rounded eyes. Slowly. Following my lead as I showed her the little parts of a long ago me that raised this place with so much care and love. The balcony, we were high up and the winds were strong. She lent on the railing and immediately lurched back.

Head spins! yes, I laughed, Let’s go back in, here, this is the master bedroom. See, we had two closets. 

She twirled around in the middle of the hall. Her sari flying, and from where I stood, the light streaming in through the balcony framing her, she looked divine. A mirage. A vision even. I still couldn’t believe she was here.

Come here,. the kitchen is neat. See the space here in the corner, had to think so hard on how best to use it. Yes, that’s for the maid to use for wash. Through this window you can see those buildings in the corner far away? They seem far form here, but they aren’t. Just about 10 minutes of a drive maybe less. That’s where I worked. 

I stood behind her. Over her shoulder as I pointed in the distance. Erect, with her shoulders square. Her hair smelt good, as I bent forward. Smiling, she turned slightly to look at me. Nodding, she breathed in sharply. I couldn’t help but touch her waist. My fingers had hovered ever so slightly at her waist, barely touching, but feeling.

Our voices had dropped to a whisper. The apartment was getting warm. The wind from the balcony barely reached the kitchen. Standing there in the quiet, our thoughts climbing to a crescendo and slowly finding harmony with the other.

She started walking out of the kitchen, when I held her left palm and pulled her close to me.

Come here.

..and we hugged.

I felt her body relax and tense and heave a sigh of relief, love and happiness as she collapsed into my arms. I cradled and buried my face into her right shoulder and her arm held my neck tight. The skin at her waist felt cool and hot against my right forearm. She rested her neck on my shoulder and held on to me.

I’d waited so long for this moment. To be able to hug and hold her close in a space in my mind that had no room for anything else but her. That’s the least we owed each other I reasoned.

She snug closer to me. Whispering into my neck on how long she had waited. I replied. I don’t remember now what I said, but it didn’t matter. We held a little longer. Neither wanting to let go. Our lips finding skin, cloth, and just in a suspended state of motion to be in touch. The touch. The flaming touch of skin on skin. The happiness, the wait, the pleasure and the agony, interspersed with the love and then lust.

I withdrew to look into her eyes. She looked up at me and then into my eyes and there was just raw emotion as she parted her lips and closed her eyes. A truant thin lock of hair had called across her brown face, dancing on her lips and chin. I gently tucked it away behind her ears, and bent down to touch her lips with mine.

Soft. Cold. Flutter.

Soft. Touch. A pull. A nibble.

The slow dance. Of lips. Of emotions twirling within, of the flutters that held us and rocked us within us, towards each other, as we stood in the closest embrace and kissed. Gently. Slowly. Savoring the moment, with controlled rush in the most natural way possible, to just be with each other.

Like we were meant to.

A simple kiss. A kiss full of love. A love that was pure. A purity that could be tasted in that simple kiss.

And we held each other, and the moment in an embrace that was special. No one mattered. No one else would know. It was just us, in a cocoon, stealing a moment from our lives, defiantly.

This one was for keeps.

For the memory books and for the tales that I may one day tell my grandkids.

I smiled in pain as I let her go.