Monday 20 April 2015

Twice as Nice; Twice as Awesome

At first JK said: 
Being a fat kid, health was never a priority. Especially considering my parents were working, it didn't help that my grandmother fed me like a starving child. Bordering on obesity throughout school and college (with the nickname "hippo", not even "baby hippo"- school kids are mean!), then, life happened. And I lost all that weight/ baby fat using a combination of stress, stress, a little more stress, unrelenting exercise, starvation and being secretly proud of my jutting collar and hip bones. Little did I know that once the stress and starvation is removed from the picture, I would just as easily pile the kilos back on. Lo and behold, I was staring at an older, much wiser (debatable), fatter self in the mirror! One thing I was certainly not counting on was my skin appearing dull, dry and lifeless. It did not help that I was providing no nutrition to my body whatsoever. 

And then SD said: 

And I was as skinny as skinny could be, without even trying! From well meaning aunties asking my mom why she refused to feed me, to mean classmates calling me everything from sukdi to agarbatti, I heard it all! Instead of eating healthy, which I should have done, I drowned my sorrows in a strange combo of greasy moisturizer, water and talcum powder...
Acne in preteens, braces on my teeth, and a malnourished frame - I was like every awkward middleschooler ever! Hell, I invented the concept!


So JK continued:
Taking control of my weight and body into my own hands, I started a healthy combination of exercise and diet. This no doubt did wonders to my figure. Alas, the assumptions and stupidity of youth (there should be a self help book for the youth on the lines of "Youth for Dummies"). Thinking who needs to give special attention to skin when one is on a healthy diet I set off, yet again, on a slippery slope downhill. Having achieved the body of my dreams and the skin of a middle aged woman, I was left questioning my appearance. 
SD replied:
I had to do something too. This was just not working in a world where appearance matters big time. I tried the unhealthy approach first - paneer and pakodas every day! And a healthier one next - jogging in the morning. Sure, looked khaate-peete ghar ki now, but the face? Still showed signs of adulterated moisturizer abuse!
And then we discovered the Garnier Pure Active Combo!


https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kmQ52CmufIo/VTSDqNIyiTI/AAAAAAAAAqg/6jRP9FVUoOM/s1600/WP_20150416_003.jpg
Garnier pack- Image by Diva on a Budget
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Garnier scrub- Image by Diva on a Budget
https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NaSrLJw-0zk/VTSDnupP-dI/AAAAAAAAAqY/6HTFMsrCYgw/s1600/WP_20150416_006.jpg
Garnier Face Wash- Image by Diva on a Budget
Now, I (SD) have already used up a couple of tubes of the face wash, so I already know how it works. It's really mild and smells really - green! I do not know how to explain it well, but it reminds me of greenery and woods and grass... But not an annoying herbal scent. More like a nice herbal scent!! :)

Priced at INR 90 for 100g (there's a small tube for INR 50) this is really pocket friendly. 
Packaging: It has a tight flip cap, which makes it safe to carry.
https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3gmDX2kp2xE/VTSExHNmSdI/AAAAAAAAAqw/2Idoaz8giaY/s1600/WP_20150416_016.jpg
Image by Diva on a Budget
Consistency: Just right! And love the green color!


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Image by Diva on a Budget
Ingredients:
Quite a few of the usual suspects, along with tea tree oil
https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RpstocUE-1w/VTSFkWALO-I/AAAAAAAAArA/RbNsFFP-cOc/s1600/WP_20150416_014.jpg
Image by Diva on a Budget
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Image by Diva on a Budget
Shelf life: 3 years
Now let's talk about the scrub. Remember how I (SD) told you in one of my previous posts that TNC's Kiwi Hand Cream smells exactly like "sweet oats". Garnier Pure Active Exfoliating Scrub with Apricot extracts smells exactly the same!!! It's uncanny!


https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YxECe6HZ3lQ/VTSHEVSZkdI/AAAAAAAAArg/A82fFuVnhSs/s1600/WP_20150416_011.jpg
Image by Diva on a Budget
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Image by Diva on a Budget
Similarly packaged, with a tight flip cap. It is priced at INR 115 for 100g. 
Ingredients:
A lot of fruit extracts, I see!
https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t1B7msV0NYU/VTSHj2ne_SI/AAAAAAAAAro/97SBRVUmRcM/s1600/WP_20150416_012.jpg
Image by Diva on a Budget
Shelf life: 36 months
Consistency: 
Not-very-coarse granules. They say you can use it every day, but I prefer to use it on alternate days.

Our experience!
While SD is a fan of the Garnier Pure Active Neem Face Wash, JK is blown away by how bright her face looks one day after using Garnier Pure Active Exfoliating Apricot Face Scrub. This is the first time JK is using a face scrub, so she loves how smooth and bright her face looks the next day. 
SD says, while the stubborn acne marks do not go, the Garnier Pure Active Neem Face Wash has certainly prevented any new ones from cropping up.
Power of two? We think so too!!! :)
SD (http://idivaonabudget.blogspot.in/) and JK (http://tenpointeverything.blogspot.in/) are participating in Garnier Pure Active's #TwiceAsNiceActivity!!
Disclaimer: The samples were sent by Garnier

Sunday 22 March 2015

Happiness Is Underrated

  • Happiness is heading home after a year of staying away.
  • Happiness is a sinful cheesy pizza with Coca Cola.
  • Happiness is a "Pass" in an exam you knew you hadn't studied for.
  • Happiness is a clean pile of clothes.
  • Happiness is reading and rereading the scene with Professor Snape's "Always"
  • Happiness is walking to work and knowing you don't have to slog out an extra hour at the gym.
  • Happiness is the drunk time spent doing stupid sh*t with friends.
  • Happiness is mass bunking in college.
  • Happiness is mass bunking in office and going on a day's road trip.
  • Happiness is Agra ka petha.
  • Happiness is the warmth of the shining sun on a cold winter morning.
  • Happiness is watching an older couple hold hands and giggle together.
  • Happiness is watching teenagers do stupid stuff and realizing your own naivete at their age.
  • Happiness is food prepared by Mommy.
  • Happiness is watching your maid take charge of her life and educating her children.
  • Happiness is a day at work when the boss is on leave!
  • Happiness is watching the "uneducated" ground staff at work gleaming with pride at the prospect of signing their signature on the register on payday.
  • Happiness is samosas.
  • Happiness is when your brother has a larger collection of cosmetics than you and lets you borrow some!
  • Happiness is catching the local train on time. That 08:09 ladies' local is a must!
  • Happiness is a steaming mug of strong filter coffee and a book.
  • Happiness is when Lord Voldemort gets defeated.
  • Happiness is when my phone does that miraculous thing- it works.
  • Happiness is the satisfaction of having completed a book and not getting over it for a few days.
  • Happiness is shoes a closet full of shoes.
  • Happiness is largely superficial.
  • Happiness is when I am home alone!
  • Happiness is buying street children treats every once in a while.
  • Happiness is Coca Cola, Old Monk with a lemon wedge.
  • Happiness is a good run with the satisfaction that a large chocolate slab is definitely deserved.
  • True happiness is the state during childhood when you knew no hardships and lived a carefree life.
  • Happiness is a movie ticket for Rs.60.
  • Happiness is people sticking to feminism in its true form and not perceiving it to be man hating.
  • Happiness is equality in its true measure.
  • Happiness is getting your favourite songs on the radio one after the other.
  • Happiness is underrated.
Borrowed from A Borrowed Backpack:

1) Happiness is a break from cooking, when you cook for yourself three times a day.
2) Happiness is an awesome roommate.
3) Happiness is best-friend's wedding.
4) Happiness is just about manage to be served when the restaurant's kitchen is about to close.
5) Happiness is parents.
6) Happiness is siblings.
7) Happiness is food.
8) Happiness is the sound of rain-drops and a steaming mug of coffee/chai.
9) Happiness is 'salary/payment credited'.
10) Happiness is the pride in your teacher's eye, when you meet him/her after a decade.

Saturday 21 March 2015

Look Up- To Us

  • The rhythm of the local train, lulled me to blissful unawareness. I was half asleep when I heard loud squeals. As I came to, I noticed a child with her mother had boarded the train and were sitting right opposite me. As the child ripped open the packet of chips and stuffed her mouth with junk, she kept chattering. Once she was done, her dress, hands and mouth all messy, she folded up the empty packet, dusted herself clean and promptly deposited the piece of garbage into her mother's purse. There's hope afterall.
  • As I impatiently awaited my bus to show up at the bus stop, a long queue had snaked up to the end of nowhere. A bully next to me thought it of utmost importance to paint the concrete roads with his bright red beetle nut flavoured spit. Constantly, once, twice, thrice.. "Excuse me, why do you keep ruining our infrastructure? What pleasure do you derive from that?" I asked in Hindi. "How is it any of your business? How about you STFU and behave like a woman rather than questioning a man?" he responded in the most sexist, suggestive and offensive tone possible. All around, the young, the old and the middle aged gave him a piece of their mind, not raising their voice, letting their opinion out- ranging from cleanliness to respecting women to speaking respectfully to people to not ruining the country's image. There's hope afterall.
  • When I see women of all age groups being groped in crowded places and teased publicly, I feel sad that none of them are able to or even want to raise their voice against it. It fills me with pride when I see women standing up for themselves as soon as they have been humiliated by their attackers, not sparing a single thought to "What will people think of me if I create a scene despite the fact that I've been wronged?" There's hope afterall.
  • The week long apprehensions got the better of me. I couldn't think straight of what I was going to do, how I was going to bring up the subject and let it all out. I finally did it. I went up to my parents and said "I am joining kick boxing classes. It starts in two days." While my father gave me a "Good, it'll build your stamina!", my mother gave me a "Great! Good for your health and you learn some self defense. Have fun!" While I was left stunned at their response, my mind gave me a nudge toward There's hope afterall.
  • When my uncles and aunts, distant and close are all up in my business with questions ranging from "When are you getting married?", "Are your parents looking for someone?", "How many kids do you want?", When do you want to settle down?", my grandmother shushes them up with a "She can do whatever she wants, don't annoy her with marriage questions now. That is for her to decide!" There's hope afterall.
  • When I see the cleaning lady at my office everyday, toiling away so she can put her children through school, I feel proud. The feeling is inexplicable when at the end of every month, she comes to me with a shy smile and once I handover her pay cheque, her eyes shine at the prospect of signing her name on the register. There's hope afterall.
There's always hope- for a better life, for a better set of thoughts, for a better generation, for a better nation, for a better us, for a better person to look up to.

Sunday 15 March 2015

Together in Harmony, Maybe

Moving to a new city, starting a life on your own is fun, but hard. The only hope here is that you find tasks manageable than easy. Let's face it, if it is easy, it ain't right! When I found my house on Housing.com, having been raised in a chaotic environment, I found it to be eerily quiet. So, yours truly asked the kind (?) landlady for a roommate. I was hoping for a Monica, expecting a Rachel and was hoping against hope not to end up with a Joey!

The moment she walked in, tiny, petite, looking around curiously, my brain only produced a "Oh, shit, living with a stranger. Now what?"

Being the pessimistic cynic that I am, I noticed the cracks in this roommate-ship in the first few days. She had all the signs of my grandmother. Oh, the flooding memories of my childhood and teenage years! It all started when she opened her wardrobe door for the 16th time that hour, constantly rummaging for a pin or a comb or just to peer inside, I guess. It then extended to her taking her bucket out from under her bed, bathing and depositing the bucket back under her bed along with her toiletries. It then continued with her safely locking up her food in her cupboard and shrieking one day because the milk had spilled all over. All this alongside "Hey, could you please help me open this jar of jam?" to "Hey, could you please switch the gas stove on for me? I'm not able to do it." to "OH MY GOD! THAT DOG IS SO CLOSE TO US! HELP ME!" Need I say more?

Then again, it dawned on me- we are all here alone, trying to make the best of things because, let's face it, living alone is fun! Whether the nutty roommate is fun is a different question altogether.

It all started with me wishing her a highly enthusiastic "Happy Birthday!" Considering the high pitched tone was fooling no one and she had no plans on her birthday, I came back home from work with a hellish indulgence in the form of a dark chocolate pastry. Since I couldn't find birthday candles, I lit a matchstick as a makeshift candle and in the guffaws that followed, the matchstick burnt itself to the cake. This happened thrice. Once bitten, twice shy says who? Not bad for a anti-social creature (me, in case you were wondering) bonding with a fellow human being!

It only got better with me trying to burn the house down. I am not exaggerating. I had some left over Chinese food and we have a century-or-so-old microwave in the house that takes up to 30 minutes to boil a glass of water. So, I set the microwave for ten minutes to reheat my leftover Chinese in a plastic container and off I went to watch my TV show. The sound that startled me after five minutes was some loud clunking. When I went outside, I was shocked beyond wits to see the house filled with smoke, a deep burning smell in every nook and corner and the plastic container inside the microwave on fire. Literally on fire. As I yelled out to my roommate, I got no response, I switched off the microwave and poured water all over it. She walked down the stairs calling my name and asking me what happened. The mess, explaining and the stink was followed by about two hours of non-stop laughing, sitting outside the house for fresh air and finally closing the day with a round of drinks and a rerun of Horrible Bosses.

I am the stubborn, usually non-adjusting kind. The kind that stays in one corner of the room where people enjoy mingling around. I don't like meeting new people, I don't like socializing, I don't like being 'out there'. Then again, like I said, away from home we are all here trying to make this work, one way or the other. Maybe a good laugh and someone to laugh with makes it easier? Maybe people aren't so bad after all? I may not have a best friend forever, the ultimate roommate or friend turned to family, we do have good stories to tell. This is the one thing that keeps me going.

Just maybe, it is the company that matters. The power of being #together.

Wednesday 11 March 2015

Starting A New Life

Ever since the end of school,the one motive in life for me had been "to be on my own". No, I wasn't subject to tyranny at home, not at all! When eight years later the opportunity presented itself in the form of moving cities for a job opportunity, I jumped at the offer like the fox lunged at its sweet-looking-grapes on the tree!

Now, I have been moving since childhood considering my parents worked for the Government of India; so, in my head, having watched from the sidelines, looking at the way my parents handled everything with utmost efficiency, moving was easy! I was going to be proved wrong in so many different ways!

I moved to Bangalore from the hustle and bustle of Bombay. What I expected was a quaint little town, tucked away with amazing weather and fashionable tech-people-spotting everywhere. What I have realized since landing here is that Bangalore is not a quaint little town. On the other hand, it is a mega IT city which is bursting to its seams with all this overcrowding!

Who better to guide me in Bangalore as far as accommodation goes than Housing.com? Having scoured through a bunch of websites with no satisfactory results, yes, Facebook groups included, I landed on Housing.com and lo and behold, look at my options! The most positive side of things was that I could go through real estate listings that had been verified by the Housing.com team leaving me with just having to give a cursory glance at the property before shouting out a big yes!

I had an image of an evil landlord built in my head (I blame Bollywood movies)- you know, the ones that literally throw the tenants and their belongings out when they have defaulted in paying rent by a day. I was surprised to hear a decent, sweet sounding woman on the other end of the phone call. (So, Housing.com takes its verification seriously!) Lesson learned- don’t raise your kids on a diet of Bollywood movies.

Believe me when I say this, life is no F.R.I.E.N.D.S TV show when you live alone and start making friends in a new city. A Joey Tribbiani is not going to just move in next door and neither is your old school friend going to turn up and share a room with you. Real life is much more scary and plain and much less exciting. My bungalow is shared by four girls, yours truly included. We are indeed a motley crew! From the finicky, picky, petite girl from up North to the utterly messy, mature albeit fun girl from the East to a relatively regular girl from up North again to me- the girl who is always one step away from a disaster. Always. Lesson learned- don’t let your teenage self be fooled by watching American TV shows.

Living alone is not uber exciting or difficult. It is rather fun when you are expected to do all those things that you have only watched your family do from the sidelines. You discover yourself in ways you wouldn’t fathom while performing mundane tasks, you learn to take care of yourself and those around you, you learn to live and adjust with people who are so different from you that about 70% of the time, all you can think about is how nicely you’d prefer smacking them! But then all is good when chilled bottles of beer are clinked and worries are drowned away in the blissful fizz!

Thank you Housing.com, you helped me move one step closer to my dream! True story.

Let's watch you #StartANewLife

Still not convinced? Watch this:


 PS: Hey, Housing.com, I take my referral fees in cash only :D

Saturday 14 February 2015

Home Away From Home: Setting up a Home

I am the new employee whose parents dropped her off on her first day of work and even had a word with her reporting manager about the company and its business. I am the new employee whose mom told her boss and I quote “I am leaving her under your care now.”
Is there any reason for my brain not to face palm at this? 
Now, I am not the type who throws a fit at being escorted by my parents to school, college, first day of my internship and now my first day of work. Who cares? As long as they are not pinning a handkerchief to my pinafore, making my shoes shine so well that the water bottle hanging on my neck gets reflected in it and adjusting my Spiderman back pack, I am cool with it! But even to my ears, the ‘care of’ to my boss sounded something an emotional, drama loving mom would say.

After such a delightful, eyeball catching entry on my first day of work, wherein I was happily six hours late (or as my friend says "Pehle din pe aukaat dikha diya tune"), my parents, with me in tow, went apartment hunting. After having endured the relentless, ear drum bursting, lung cancer giving effects of the cities of Bombay and Thane, Bangalore, in my head, looked like that beautiful, perfect cousin whom your mom always looks at with admiration and then gives you that look which silently screams “Meh!”

Independent houses dotting the streets and very few apartment buildings is something I may never get used to. Apartments/ flats make good economic sense. More human dwellings in comparatively less space. Cattle class all the way! Just give your monthly maintenance cheque and your utilities are magically taken care of. Independent house owners seem to love running from pillar to post to get stuff done. Jolly! 

Another weird notion that I find unsettling is the friendliness in a neighbourhood. Something that goes against my every sense of being. The concept I am totally alien to. Back home, we would barely acknowledge a neighbour with a smile despite living in the same building, on the same floor for eight odd years. If you come across a person from your building, you avoid eye contact, appear to be busy on your phone (while you and I both know that you are randomly scrolling through your Whatsapp list, judging your friends' display pictures) and try to scurry away before having to forcefully act civil with them. Once that catastrophe has passed you coochikoo with a cute stray and try to communicate with him/ her in Dog. And philosophers say humans don't make sense. Pch!

The concept of paying guest accommodation here, like everything else, is commercialized. They call a broom cupboard a bedroom. Bombay townies will vouch for this- a town area servant quarter is more spacious and cozy than the PG accommodation here. You get a cot with a thin mattress, used bed sheet, a thin pillow (hopefully the past user didn't have dandruff/ lies) and voila! You have what they call a living space. I suppose the broom cupboard bedroom is supposed to give you an idea of the worst case scenario- if you take wrong decisions, you may end up in jail, and this is how jails are. LOL. Just kidding. You may be slightly more comfortable behind bars.
We will make the bedroom look as shabby and unwelcoming as possible that you will not even think of entertaining "guests" here. 
The best part of so called accommodations are the deadlines. Some of them had deadlines of 9:30 pm. Essentially, I'll be paying them to run my life while I enjoy their complimentary jail food. And I will be calling this my home. One PG for women went a step further and added a note on their main gate which read "Ladies who are late will be allowed entry only if they are dropped off in a company car." Because we don't use cabs or rickshaws or have colleagues/ friends drop us off in their vehicle when we are running late. That just sends a wrong message. Besides, if women come home late in non-company cars, they have no morals. So, don't allow them entry and keep them standing outside in the oh-so-safe-in-the-middle-of-the-night environment. Makes sense, no?
By Facebook's grace, we found comparatively normal landlords (not a PG), liked what they offered and took it. 

Now, love your mom to infinity because she will not judge when you are standing in the supermarket, looking like a fool and not having an inkling as to what all you need to set yourself up in a new place. While you stand there dumbstruck and completely useless, be assured that she'll pull out a nice shopping list and start ticking things off. Something which makes you go "Oh shit! This is how things magically appeared back home?" 
Eventually, in your temporary home you realize that the maid is only going to wash your clothes and hang them to dry. The dry-clothes-fairy is not going to get them back from the balcony. Oh, your wardrobe is not sprinkled with fairy dust to arrange itself properly.

When you live with housemates, there are adjustments that will be demanded. For example, you need to be totally okay with a stranger's lingerie drying in the balcony right beside yours, have a shoe lying around in the kitchen, loud noises around the house that make you think "What is that noise? What can possibly make all that noise?", a stranger running around the house wearing a helmet and by far the worst- looking at the aforementioned strangers in their night clothes. That is one moment where I feel like clicking their picture and sending them to my mom saying "Here's proof that people dress way worse than I do when home. You cannot say that I dress like an urchin at home."

The household will generally be either all male or all female. Never a mix of the two. Additionally, one more unspoken rule is "no opposite sex in the house" which feels like going back to school- "Girls and boys should not talk or mingle. Girls and boys should not sit together. The best punishment is making the child sit in between two children of the opposite sex."For the overtly adventurous kind, this may be your chance to break the rules, live life on the wilder side, play sneakoscope games and what have you!

All in all, living alone, especially for the first time, is never foolproof. Be your dumbest, lose your ego, venture into everything without any expectations, be safe and you will come out of this bruised and slightly less foolish. Maybe.


Friday 16 January 2015

Home Away from Home

From being a girl of 10 or 11 whose parents used the "I'll make you live in a hostel" threat to reprimand her to being a girl of 15 or 16 who wanted to live in a hostel (which rebellious teen doesn't?) to a grown up (maturity is questionable) of 23 who is finally moving out of her parents' chatrachaya (as my friend so eloquently put it) (meaning protection or shelter).

It has been a roller coaster of decisions, reality checks, permissions and emotions.

This Bombay Bumpkin is making her way to another city.

I will be writing about:
  1. How not to screw up when you ain't with mommy and daddy 
  2. How to grow up (haha)
  3. How to cook maggi 
  4. How to make sure you don't screw up so bad that your parents pester you to "come back home for good" before you are ready
  5. Other misc items related to"Just how not to screw up"
The fact that I don't know what is in store for me gets me scared, excited and uncertain all at once.
I hope to document it all. Maybe it will help someone somewhere sometime; just maybe.