Thursday, 4 August 2011

RED FEET, PAINTED FEET!!

When I was a kidthere was always a bottle of alta somewhere in the house. These glass-bottles full of deep blood-red liquid used to come with a tiny aluminium bowl and a long stiff wire ending in a small piece of sponge/cottonwool. The alta would be poured out in careful measure into the bowl, the wire would be dipped into it, and then a line would be drawn all around the foot, circling the heel and dipping in and out of the toes.

This was done during all religious ceremonies. And alta had a pride of place in Bengali marriage rituals – along with sindoor (the red vermilion powder applied in a dot on the forehead and in the parting of the hair), it symbolized the married-status of a woman.

My Dida (grandmother) used to say that alta would be regularly used when she was a young bride; apparently it helped to prevent/cure cracked heels. But during my childhood,my mother and aunts would use alta only on special days, although they used to put sindoor on their foreheads everyday after bathing. For cracked feet, they usedBoroline.
Though we were not allowed to play with sindoor (being the exclusive preserve of married women),
 I was allowed to fiddle about with the alta bottle, maybe because it was no longer part of the daily routine of married women.


And all of us my cousins and my payal ma
shi would sit down sometimes and inexpertly apply uneven alta-lines around our feet, painting all over our toes and leaving red footprints all over the place. Alta-paint would wash off after a few days, so the damage (to the floor and to the feet) was never too much.


When I entered teens, we began to regard alta as terribly old-fashioned. With cheerful disregard for tradition, we neglected it totally in favour of the more permanent and more modern nail-polish to decorate our toe
s. But still when ever I a perform a Bengali dance I apply two small dots of Alta  on my arm.. ..they are cute :)

My First Kiss..



My first kiss was a stolen one in an empty room. 


I was all of eight years old. The older members of the household had gone out for some family celebration.

The room had a large mirror ideal for posing and preening, and a dressing-table full of rows of lipsticks and other rainbow-hued make-up stuff (all part of the armoury of my newly-wedded cousin's wife).

I was irresistably drawn to the luscious lipstick in their sleek shiny cases... Red She Said,Very Berry and Coco Loco. But it was Passionate Pink that I wanted...passionately.

The strawberry shade glided over my lips like smooth honey. Enchanted by taste and the texture, by the very grown-up appearance of my face (or so I thought, I'm almost sure I overdid the outlines), I puckered up and, leaning towards the mirror, gave a resounding kiss to myself.

Admiring the pink lipstick mark (on the mirror it looked so pouty, if you know what I mean), I spent a long and wonderfully narcissistic half-hour with myself. Wonder whatFreudJung and co. would say about that.

So lost was I in self-passion that I came to myself at the sound of the garden-gate opening. Hurriedly rubbing off the lipstick off my lips, I forgot about the mark on the mirror.

Needless to say, I was caught (pink-lipped, if not red-handed), and became the butt of many a family joke for a long, long, time. Enough to turn my thoughts of love from myself to other worthier objects, like the boy-next-door.

Wednesday, 3 August 2011

Birthdays and Birthdays..


When I was 3, I celebrated my birthday wearing a green frock  gifted by my grandmother, a big party was arranged and my cousin organised many games and antakshari. I hardly remember things and the gifts i got but i still remember the Micky Mouse cake dad brought and a pure white square cake my grandfather brought, it became a tradition from that day to yet i cut TWO cake every birthday.


When I was 9, I celebrated my birthday by going to school in a red-checked tunic and top stitched by my mother, carrying a bag of toffees for my classmates. Flushed and excited, I was even more thrilled to be allowed to wear the sleeveless tunic without the top later on in the evening. What mother thought would be a concession to the hot evening, was a step towards the joys of adulthood for me.


When I was 15, I celebrated my birthday rather somberly. My sister had died just over a month ago, my tenth-standard exams were looming within months. It was a time of change and expectation, of  determination to prove myself and a great big lump of sadness that SHRISTI my younger sister would never again see my birthdays.


Now that I have just celebrated my 18th birthday, I really feel thankful that I am so so busy enjoying my life. And that all I have lost over the last one year was a few kilos of weight. And what I have gained is a new confidence, a lot of work, and a lot of good friends. God keep me busy, happy - and slim with new dresses - down the next few decades!!

Tuesday, 2 August 2011

Careless Confessions

What I've felt, what I've known
Sick and tired, I stand alone
Could you be there?, 'cause I'm the one who waits for you
Or are you unforgiven too?
Come lay beside me, this won't hurt I swear

What I've known
Turn the pages, turn the stone
Behind the door, should I open it for you?

Sick and tired, I stand alone
Could you be there?, 'cause I'm the one who waits for you"-Metallica


It was so easy...to slap me tight and move on...cause i was the nagging bitch.


I nagged. I called. Mailed. Tried to beg, say sorry but you were never there. You had left long back. I couldn't. Something still stops me. I know what is done cannot be changed. Our lives will never change.


Its true all souls on earth have problems and may be I had my share too. But despite all my share of problems I wanted to reach out to you always and let you know I needed you. I really do. Wanted to get back to you and say that how much I missed our thoughts, our feelings, which though were transient yet they still last for me...You blasted me everytime as I was the beggar.

I checked my mail today. Your words screamed out. They were meant to slap me hard. They were meant to affect the unhealed wound. Yes, you were "SUCCESSFUL".

Yet somewhere beneath all the unhealed wounds and pain, hope still lasts. I'm hopeful, that someday you will understand.


It was so easy for you to write it. But why me? Wish I knew the answer. Did I really deserve this?

Fashion and You

From a very young age I am attracted to fashion &styles.Colourful clothes and shoes brings a feeling of pleasure in me.It's not that I am a vivacious shopper. I try to restrict myself within my means but sometimes everybody enjoy a dessert and so do I.I believe Fashion and Clothes are reflection of your inner personality.Since I will define minds from my angle, I presume Plain Jane or people without proper clothes are insecure and lonely.Everybody can pour some colour in their lives and makes it a little more colourful. Colourful clothes and touch of fashion makes your life a little bit more lively.You can be your own personal shopper or your own stylist if you only pour your mind into it.No dress is bad or worse and no clothes are vulgar only if it suits your looks and body.I dont have to follow the stream but the stream might follow me if I can show the right way.So pick up your jeans and top or a beatiful minidress with the right accessories and wedges and there goes in the streets .It is all upto you.