Promoted by the Association against Cruelty towards Fat People

Ever wondered if you had Hrithik Roshan’s sculpted body ? Ever wondered what it would be like to gorge on your favourite desert several times a day without thinking of your calorie intake ? Ever wondered why the weighing scale is being such a bitch to you ? Ever wondered how revenge would taste so sweet when you shed all those extra kilo’s and stand with a perfectly curved body in front of your EX ??

Each day I spend a better part of my day swimming, walking, not eating, thinking about all the good food and a weight target I cannot achieve. And if this was not enough, I never seem to find something perfectly fitted and sexy looking to wear to parties. And just when I think I look good enough in a dress that has eaten up half my salary – I walk into a room full way too skinny girls talking about their weight issues !

Gone are these days – I DEMAND a FAT SUCKER technology ASAP. This magic wand is true to what it’s name is. It Sucks every inch of Fat and then vibrates and decomposes the fat from your desired part of the body. This little gadget has a controlling panel – which helps you regulate the speed at which the suction pad can vibrate.



1 packet of Easy Fat Sucker comes with
1. A Pen device – choose from a whole range of colours
2. A body lotion to avoid friction and easy movement
3. A micro-fiber hand-towel
4. Time Calculator

Instruction Manual :
1. Insert 2 new AA Battery.
2. Switch on the Power Button.
3. Set the time. Use the time calculator to determine your usage time.
4. Enter start and hold the device as though you are holding a pen at the desired area of Fat loss.
5. The vibrating suction pad will now decompose deep layer fat.
6. Enjoy weight loss at the tip of a button.

Please note : Decomposition of Fat has no side effects. Promoted by the Indian Medical Researchers against Obesity. Marketed by the Craving to look like a goddess or a greek god association of the world & The final Battle of Intelligent minds v/s good looking people who get away with anything association of the universe !

Ahhh.... !!! Wouldn’t this be BLISSFUL ?? Can you imagine looking your sexy best day in and day out ? I can’t wait to use my demanded technology !!

p.s. - This blog entry is a submission for the I DEMAND Contest. Parameter : Blog about a technology that you wish existed, or improvements to a technology- it doesn't matter how crazy your idea is!

Wada Sambhar, Dosai Chutney and Vidyarthi Bhavan

The concept of Brunch I want to believe is popularized by a sleep loving, but deprived community of people who work hard throughout the week, party on Saturday night till the wee hours of the morning and get up to walk into a restaurant a little late for Breakfast and a little too early for lunch – something my relatives in Bangalore are unfamiliar with. The phone next to my hotel bed rang. That’s the thing with hotel ringers – you don’t know it’s your until the person on the other side gives up and disconnects the phone. I managed to grab mine in the nick of time. In a hoarse voice I said, “umm... Hello !” The voice on the other end was that of a very excited aunty. “Beta get up no. Sorry did I wake you up ? Never mind, I am coming to pick you up in 10 minutes. We are going to Vidyarthi Bhavan !”

“Okay aunty !” I banged the phone. The digital clock next to me read 8 o clock ! I had only managed to creep into my bed at 6 in the morning. ( p.s. all night club’s in Bangalore shut at 11:30p.m. – it is the after parties at somebody’s home that is the real party !) I changed into a track pants and a top and walked into the car 12 minutes later to find myself in the middle of the bustling area of Gandhi Market at about 8 30 a.m. Life and commerce had already settled down, indicating an early start.


We walked into the restaurant – which looks like the Madras Cafe of Mumbai. Only difference is – there is no waiting ka chakkar. You find yourself a table that is already eating their Masala Dosa or sheera upma and stand next to it. This means you have marked your territory ! This table is yours.

If they were eating Wada dipped in pipping hot sambhar – it means it’s still their first course and they are waiting for their Masala Dosa. Waiters in their skyblue shirts and white lungi’s are running around with a pile of plates – now this surely needs some major balancing technique without a Tray. Any table does not take more than 15 mins, meaning we only waited for about 5 minutes before an entire entourage of a Kanada family got up to make way for my wanna-be dosa loving Gujarati family settled in Bangalore. (note: there are gujaratis everywhere – you cannot escape distant relatives when you are a Gujarati.)


1 delicious Mendu Wada which was already in my stomach followed by a masala dosa i was waiting for can last you an entire day. It was soaking in ghee when it arrived. When the Dosa came without the chutney and sambhar I looked puzzled. Then a man running around with a big pot full of chutney came to our table and poured us some – okay not some, but alot of chutney. The dosa occupied one half of the plate and the chutney spread throughout the other half of the plate. By the way this chutney is unlimited and for FREE. I have never had such fresh chutney in my life ! It was all mouth Watering. After these 2 dishes there was hardly space for anything else but my cousin would not hear no for an answer. We topped it up with sheera and upma. Now I am not a big fan of upma – but this one is perfect. It melts away once inside – leaving a savoury taste in your mouth, followed by the sweet pineapple and almond sheera which tastes like little bits of heaven.

And after you are done – and there is no longer space to put in anything else – one is forced to have a cup of filter coffee. It is true – this meal is incomplete without the sweet filter coffee. By this time the person waiting on your head to get your table has become impatient. The man with the water glasses throws at you water so that you drink it and leave. The bill has arrived and you are encouraged to pay it at the counter. The already narrow bench on which you are sitting is too big to fit your big stomach. You inch your way outside, looking at the others savouring their dosai and wada sambhar and you cannot help but wonder if you should take a parcel back home just in case you feel hungry on the way ! You cannot help but wonder why you have fallen in love with this place in just 15 minutes from the time you walked into it – but one thing is for sure – Masal Dosa has a whole new meaning in this longish corridor style restaurant called Vidyarthi Bhavan.

No. 32, Gandhi Bazaar Road, Basavanagudi, Bangalore (080-26677588). Timings: Weekdays, 6.30am-11am, 2pm-8pm; Sundays and holidays, 6.30am-12pm, 2.30pm-8pm; Friday closed.

White-Love-Spell

3 years ago...
“I really need this Deesh ! I believe there is a higher spirit.” And the phone clicked from the other end. It was my friend. We has spent the last 8 months constantly reminding ourselves that we are not putting ourselves out there enough. She had been rejected by someone she considered the love of her life.. and I was madly in love with someone for 10 years – without him knowing. So I said to myself – even though this may seem like madness – I am going to take the plunge. We had decided to cast a LOVE SPELL. I always knew there was a hidden WICCAN within me somewhere. I believe in the power of Tarot Cards, Astrology, Numerology – even though i do not follow them on a daily basis. We both had actively used a better part of the day finding Spells which needed the least amount of ingredients.
We finally boiled it down to 1 Love Spell. It read :

This spell is definitely not ethical, but it is very effective. Remember that magic is a two way street and that you will be equally bound. Beware casting this spell unless you are SURE you want to be bound to this person!

Tools
•Dried white roses
•Almond oil

After scurrying far and wide we managed to find almond oil – but DRIED WHITE ROSES ?? We searched pot pourri’s with white roses and then every other flower shop until it was really late in the night. We finally tracked down a florist who was throwing again white rose petals that were blackening. We got them back home and with a hair dryer, we dried the white rose petals. We knew that this was technically not the right thing to do. But after 4 hours of searching one gets a bit too desperate.

We got back home and went to my balcony – which was the only un-carpeted area of my house. We even bathed before we actually performed the ritual. To make things more spooky we wore white bed-sheets and looked like FLINT-STONES. White for divine and pure – almost saintly. Because this was WHITE MAGIC. Then we got down to performing the ritual as instructed

“Sprinkle dried white roses with almond oil and burn them inside a magic circle as you recite the spell. If you have trouble getting the roses to burn add slips of paper with your names written on them.”

We did the needful, only to find that the white rose petals were not burning with the almond oil. We carefully made slips of paper on which we had written our lovers name in RED felt pen. Then we started chanting the chant...
Incantation to chant

”By all that lives on land and sea
By the incoming and the outgoing
By the odd numbers and the even
By the power of three times three
Thy waking thoughts shall be of me
From now throughout eternity
No peace or increase shall you find
Until your hand is joined in mine
I bind thee heart and soul and mind to me
I bind thee eyes and thoughts and loins
I bind thee to me forever
With cords of velvet longing
By the white rose and the rosemary
By the caverns and the groves
By the silence of the mountains
By the chasms and the standing stones
I bind thee forever to me
With cords of silken danger
Isis, Astarte, Ishtar
Aphrodite, Venus
I bind thee to me forever
So Mote It Be”

After half an hour, the ashes had blackened my floor. We gathered the ashes and put them in a handkerchief. We made a small Potli of it and then tied it to immerse it in the holy waters..

3 years later... TODAY
1. The man still does not know I LOVE him.
2. My friend is married to another man – it was a love marriage
3. Even though this LOVE SPELL didn’t work , I still believe it has magical abilities
4. I still believe there is a WICCIAN within me
5. And even though 13 years down the line he doesn’t know – i believe he will know someday... That there is this someone who LOVES him, even though she had dumped the idea of being with him several times.

Would you give a 4th chance ?

Have you ever given anyone a FOURTH chance ?
It’s one of the first things that you think of when you are recovering from a heart-ache – A MAKE OVER. To many girls envy – I am an extremely practical person which my friends dis-agree and call Emotion-Less. I accept criticism and take it in my stride and move on. A few months ago I dumped the idea of being in LOVE with this one man for the last 10 years and look for greener pastures that were waiting for me. I have been be-spectacled, first by choice and then out of sheer necessity for a good 5 years.

I am a sucker for routine. And I like getting up and putting on my glasses and going through with the mundane things of my day. But I decided to do things different that day. Right before getting into work, I stopped by the Opticians. After getting my power in both my eyes checked I sat in front of the mirror looking at those little dials called Contact Lens. The local cable guy ran incessant ads of Turakhia Opticians day in and day out – those who are privileged to live in the Andheri-Juhu area getting 7 star cable network would know. A terribly geeky looking guy called Bunty walks into the store and say, “Chashma, mujhe Kabhie nahi” –And a wise looking helpful eye doctor says, “Bunty yaar, Phir tum le lo contact lenses – contact lenses !” And Bunty walks out of the store with a fresh air of confidence. And as soon as he does an equally under-paid horrible looking model passes of to be a hot babe walks by and becomes friends with Bunty.

After being coaxed into trying various evil looking shades – this is precisely why I hate smaller retail formats and sales people, I settled for a clear pair of lenses that can be used for 6 months. On my first day I tried every angle – put the mirror on a higher platform, then a lower one, stretched my eye with2 fingers as instructed, then used all my fingers, then poked my eye several times, cried as soon as one fit in, rubbed my eyes because one would refuse to settle, by the time the other one fit the first one came out. Oh it was a nightmare. My routine now consisted of 20 minutes each day of adjusting and re-adjusting. They said that I would get used to it in a week’s time.

But on my 6th day I was sitting in a high speeding Auto-Rickshaw and one flew out of the coucou’s nest. It all happened in a flick of a second. One minute it was there. And the other minute it flew away with the air. It took me 6 weeks and about 3000 rupees to get another pair of lenses.

Round 2 was equally painful. For the first 3-4 days I only wore it on dinners or occasions – which meant only for a few hours of the day before I wore it to college one morning. After about 3 lectures I was even careful and went to the washroom and put the liquid in so that my eye does not feel itchy. I was sitting in the last lecture of the day. I was tired. I could hardly concentrate, when the boy sitting next to me pointed out to something on my face. One of my lenses had come out and was sitting right on my cheek. I was frustrated ! I had no case to put it in. After holding it on my finger for about half an hour I put it in an empty plastic bottle.
When I reached home i could not put my finger deep enough to a place where the contact lenses had slipped to and got stuck. Since it had become dry it had now become rigid. I had to literally slice the bottle into 2 to get to the lenses. The next day I took them to the optician again. Much to my misery I had lost this one as well. This time i did not buy a pair instantly.

A few months down the row – it was my Best Friend’s Wedding. And since I am of the “MARRIAGEABLE AGE” my mother parted with another Rs 3000, just so that I don’t look geeky in spectacles and Salwar Kameez. This was my 3rd attempt. I never give anything 3 chances before I write it off. But I did – to the concept of CONTACT LENSES. I was already running late, but I spent precious getting ready time poking my eye. And finally when they were in I left my house. I used the time in the lift and in the car on signals to plaster myself up. I don’t know whether it was the Mascara that touched the eye-lid and spread in the eye or whether it was the liquid eye-liner which did the trick – but yet again I had to poke myself hard – this time almost hurting my eye. My eyes were up in flames !! Finally I took them off and went inside for the wedding. I lied and told my friend she looked very pretty, when in fact she was just a hazy picture in front of me.

Do hell with people who told me “Oh darling, you just have to get used to it” or “Oh it takes time... but you got to do what you got to do !” I am not giving CONTACT LENSES any more chances. I am going to be be-spectacled for the rest of my life ! Enough chances given. I am not going to give something that has failed me 3 times a 4th chance. Would you ?

9 months and 28 days

It’s a sad story. It ends with a bleeding heart. It ends with a crying soul. It ends with I HATE GOD. It ends with stop saying all those pitiful phrases to my mother like, “It is GOD’s will”. It ends with them looking down at me with tearful eyes and saying“It is written in the destiny of this child” It is an unfair story.

It started with LOVE. My parents fell in LOVE. They sowed the seeds of LOVE to form me. Then they nursed me for 9 months in my mother’s womb. From the time my first heart beat originated – my father has kept records of every sound I made, made notes of every time they went to the Doctor’s to check on me. One of the first few things I saw when they took me to my room – which was supposed to be my room for life – there were framed pictures of my step by step growth. Of all the sonograms – it also had some empty frames which would be filled over the years. My grand-mother – both paternal and maternal made my mother eat all this healthy food – some things which she loved and others which she hated, but they forced her to eat it anyway. She did it all, so that I would take birth to be a healthy child. A smiling child. A loving child. Grow up to be their darting son. A dutiful one at that.

And then the time came for me to waltz into the world. I did not worry my mother. She was prepared you know ! All those pre-natal classes that my father took my mother to, had helped. One big push – actually several big pushes and I waltz into this beautiful world. It felt cold ! Those bare arms of my doctor with the plastic gloves suddenly made me feel insecure. It was nothing like my mother’s womb – all soft and watery. I was a healthy 10 pounds. And as soon as I was wrapped in a warm cloth I fell into the arms of my beautiful mother. She held me from then on until I lived close to her bosom. The only time she left me alone was when she took quick winks in between my naps. I didn’t let her go away for too long.. I liked harassing her. But one day I let her sleep for a little longer. But that little longer is something that cost me my life.

They say the dump-yard outside my beautiful room’s window is a breeding ground of malaria mosquito’s... And that was it. In the second week of my existence the mosquito came, he fought the war with the repellent, and he conquered. He sat on me and stung me – a little longer than I was willing to let him stick to me. And that was it. Nothing remained the same. 2 days after this I ran a very high fever. I was rushed back to the hospital I had come from. Things could not be controlled – they went out of hand. The Family was called. I was suffering. And then they pulled the plug. I tried to fight back – but I LOST the BATTLE. Even before my mother could teach me how to fight, how to self-defence, I was put in the war field. And then I was KILLED !

I lived for 9 months and 28 days in 2 different worlds. I am leaving behind a scar... ! Why couldn’t they do anything to prevent those mosquito’s from breeding in the dump yard next to my house ? Some say it was Jaundice too – it was the water. Why wouldn’t they do anything about the water either ? Why don’t they know how to protect me ? Why wasn’t I given a time to live, to love and to spread awareness. Even before I could decide what I will be in this world – The CHANGE-MAKER – my chance was taken away.

(This is in memory of my Nephew who died yesterday at the Age of 28 days. They say he had malaria and jaundice together – they couldn’t detect either. The Mosquito breeding ground has been beside his house for years. No amount of protest will change the way the BMC looks at these things. May his SOUL REST IN PEACE!)

This is Happiness !

We blew his 45th birthday candles – his age is only an assumption. He claims he is 36 for the last 5 years... i have celebrated 20 of his birthday’s with him personally. 16th August every year in my household is celebrated with Cake, Wafers, Pav Bhaji and Thumbs-up. All of which are his favourites.

He speaks broken Gujarati up until today and he refuses to speak to us in Hindi. He calls my sister Dhwani – Jhonny. He says my little brother Rishi is his Child and not my parents. He sat through my chicken pox with me. He smokes a packet of Biddi every 2 days. He loves Amitabh Bacchan. His favourite colour is Black. He hates wearing closed shoes. He loves Cricket with a passion. Each day even though he doesn’t read the English Newspaper, he will look at the pictures of the Times of India. Our family put him into an Auto-Rickshaw driving school, so that he could earn more money – because this man is very smart. But he refused to part with my family.

When I was little – he taught me how to ride a bicycle. He ran behind me for hours on end until I finally knew how to balance. He drew the X and the Y axis of my graph tables all through my school days, so that the only thing left would be the plotting. Even before curling irons came into the hair-care scene, he knew the right temperature to set on the house iron for my hair.. so that they wouldn’t get burnt.

His name is Tinu. He is a Nepali by origin. He was our house-help for as long as I can remember. We tie him Rakhi each year on Raksha Bandhan – we call her our brother. We like to believe that he has been with our family for the last 20 years. He left to take care of his ailing brother a few years ago. But our doors are always open to him – when his own life gets monotonous he comes back to a place he calls HOME. Come Aug 16th – his birthday, we all are present to wish him the best. It is the birthday of one of us.

Not to boast of my family and our values – but ask yourself this. When is your maid’s birthday ? How long has she been in service ? What’s her favourite colour ? What does she do in her pass-time ? Apart from her daughter and a beating husband that she complains of every time your mother asks, “Kaal Kyun nahi aayi” , what do you really know of her ? What is her favourite food ?

Many of us have Ramu Shamu working for us for years. Some even have generation after generation working with you. What is that one special thing you do for them that makes them love you ? What is that one thing that makes them want to be with you forever ? What is that one thing that they hold onto when their lives get tough ? Do you really know anything about them ??

In this day and age you know what food your dog likes – he doesn’t even talk ! You know because you choose to listen to his voice. Have you ever tried hearing the voice of those silent people around you ? Reach out ! And start by marking your house-help’s birthday in your planner TODAY !

Poolga Art

So I am an ardent Blackberry supporter ! I love the fact that the phone moves so fast. Everything is co-ordinated and organised. But its when you come across this website that I felt like immediately switching over to i-Phone.
This website is all about art and design on hand-held devices and discovering talented illustrators and designers. They focus on illustration and graphic design, but occasionally touch photography, typography and the fine arts.
I literally had to pluch myself away from this website.. Check some of my fav one's.

Dear Mr Subroto Roy... Sub : CWG

Dear Mr Subroto Roy,
Greetings ! This morning I woke up to the most pleasant full page advertorial I have seen. Without mincing any words, this publicly written letter has hit bulls eye with the people of India. This issue has been on my mind for many days now. But a letter from me to the EDITOR of Mumbai mirror was obviously lost in the mail. While you must have paid to get it published pulling your corporate strings. None the less, the point has been noted by our fellow country men. And for that i want to thank you.
What is the first rule of the civilized world ? If you are divided, then people will rule you. This international portrayal of India – publicly tarnishing Indian democracy, the government, the Indian companies on contract, red tapeism, bad infrastructure, Indian hierarchy, the board of the Common wealth games and their kith and kiln. Where is it going to get us ?

In some ways I think India is standing on the border – literally 2 months away from the deadline. What is it going to take to not only save the face of India but be victorious with as many soldiers un-wounded as possible ? This is the real question that needs to be addressed. But instead this constant humiliation of the Indian Way of doing things is creating such negative publicity.

I would like to bring to your notice, that South Africa who recently hosted the world cup games is the most dangerous country of this world. I personally know of 3 families who have lost their bread-earners in this unsafe country. And yet – right before the game, all one could constantly hear in chorus from this united country is their PLEA to attract people to their country. Where is this spirit in India. why haven’t we learnt anything from our past ? Why are we not united to save our country ? Why hasn’t the government put in additional forces to help save face ? Why is it that we only hear of pressure to resign or withdraw funds ?

As a little child I remember fighting with my siblings when the guests come with only 1 bar of chocolate. My mother would intervene and take that bar of chocolate away to avoid conflict. She would say you can fight after the guests are gone. Where is that mother figure in CWG committee and the rest of India debacle. Why is the media playing the STEP-SISTER ? Why can’t we first focus on helping meet deadlines and then talk about internal issues. If it has gone this wrong economically and politically, a little more damage will make no difference. But if we continue this way – damning the CWG then it will make a big difference.

So while the whole world is in AWE of our great country with our India shinning stories, the other half of us criticize those working towards achieving this honour to host the common wealth games bestowed upon us. Do not get me wrong, I am not in favour of the scamsters. But I agree with you when you say that this issue can be discussed internally post the games. This will save our faces when India is ready and bidding for bigger games like the Olympics or FIFA.. So that the international media can focus on What we are going to ACHIEVE, rather than what we are FAILING MISERABLY AT.

I hope this letter is digested well by fellow INDIANS. I am proud of your move !

Your Fellow Indian,

Disha Doshi

The Cherry Eyed Sherpa

“We have finally got a boy !” my mother squeaked into the phone. I would have been sad to find out that I will be now sharing my inheritance with 3 other people than the 2 already on the list. But I was happy – this boy was going to put an end to the riots in my house. A house-boy who will run around the house helping my mother in the kitchen, washing utensils, dusting the ever increasing memorabilia’s from our different trips etc. This one boy has to power to put my mother out of domestic misery. He was going to be our new house help.

A friend of a friend of a friend had suggested this little boy of 15 from Nepal who was going to come in. Of course the only reference was that this little boy’s Mama works in this friend’s house. And this boy is 4 days old in Mumbai. The common friend was going to drop him of at our house. So we prepped his bedding, his pillow and a few basics ready so that he instantly feels welcome and likes our home and agrees to serve us till the end of time. At 4, I go down to fetch him. At first I can only see the Aunty driving the car with an empty back-seat. I was surprised she had come alone. Then when the car stopped a little boy no taller than 4 feet something jumped out of the car. “aunty, I thought you said he was 15. This boy looks like he is 10” I screamed at her. I was surprised and dumb founded at this little thing waiting with one plastic bag in his hand. “He says he is 16, his mama claims he is 15 ! What do I do ?” She left him in my care and drove away.

While waiting for the lift I suddenly realised he had just 1 plastic bag. Upon enquiring I found out that there is nothing but a pair of clothes inside. And that is it. This shabby looking Nepali boy had nothing but 2 pairs of clothes and rubber slippers. He looked weak – but he put on a tough exterior. “Mein Shab Kuch Kar Leta Hoon” he said in his cute nepali accent – and that’s the only thing he knew how to say in correct Hindi. When the lift came, this little being got scared. Hesitated a moment and then ran inside. It was probably one of his first times he has ridden a lift.

Once in the house I gave him tea, glucose biscuits and some hot snacks. While he ate I asked my neighbour to send her little child’s olds clothes. Then I sent him inside the shower but this little Sherpa looked at me. He did not know how to run the shower. So I showed him his way through all the knobs. Since he didn’t have anything, I took out New Toothbrush, paste, a bar of soap, some powder, a comb, a towel – the basics. He lacked THE BASICS !

While He showered and got dressed my mother made quick calls back of forth enquiring with my father what to do. My father put his foot down – “This boy will not stay in my house ! He is too small. It is not only a criminal offense, but a social one !” He screamt down the line for my mother to return him back through the link. It was when we were telephoning and devising a plan this little boy emerges out all clean and freshened up and announced to us that he had not only showered but also finished clearing all the vessels in the kitchen. It was spic and span.

This little cherry coloured eyed boy of Nepal was the eldest of the 6 siblings. His father has 2 wives. He lives in a small town called Dotti far away from Kathmandu. It’s a shame that we knew only one town of this country and asked him directions from there. We enquired about his family and how he had come to India, managed passed the borders etc? It is a real surprise how we get rejected VISA’s and they just waltz into our majestic country. Of course by waltzing in I meant that he had taken a BUS which travelled for days before he boarded a train from Mathura. From where he came to Mumbai. How on earth did a BUS go un-noticed on Borders? He said he had a BAJJI which is basically a piece of paper from which we could read nothing which allowed him in.

It was probably a lie he was asked to tell by his mama. He had probably travelled on a BUS to the border, then crossed it on foot as he was trying to brush away the topic of how he got here. But he is all but 10 years old. And their innocence is often reflected on their faces. But this boy is brave. I remember being away from my parents when I was 21 for just 7 months and I had cried my heart out at the airport. And here there was this 10 year old bravely telling us stations and routes.
Finally night came. And my mother asked him to sleep alone. My brother who is 18 still runs into my parents room when he had bad dreams. Where is this child going to run ? What will he do when he is scared to death ? Why is he in Mumbai, when actually he should be cattle grazing his family herd in the mountains of Nepal ? He had never slept under a fan – and thus asked me to turn it off. The A/c throughout the day had given him a cold. I gave him child cough medicine which soundly put him to sleep.

This morning when I woke up at 6 30, this little boy was up. He had bathed already and was folding his blanket and bedding neatly onto the pile. I was surprised that he was even up. We fed him breakfast and then returned him back – fully knowing that if not us, some other heartless person will hire him to put of their misery – THIS IS MUMBAI.

We had a heated argument with our father. We wanted to keep him – because at least we know with us this little one will be safe. We had planned that we would not make him do any work. We would just let him live till he turned of a certain age. Send him to street school just outside our house. But my father was adamant. “We cannot keep anyone illegal” he said. He was right. But we were right too.

This little boy had no idea why we had provided him with everything only to reject him and let him go. We all cried. Some silently and others literally. We felt helpless as he drove away.. My little Sherpa is going to be a street boy some day... Mumbai is his new home. He probably will never see his family or Nepal again. And all I can do about this is blog about it... and cry my heart out !
What do you think I should have done ?

Funky Helmets