I watched him pick up his toys and lazily amble towards the center of sand filled playground. It had not even been five minutes since he had been thrown out by the elder kids, because he was too small to help them build mud castles. But heart filled with optimism, he made his way once again. I spotted one of the elder kids, perhaps about nine or ten, point towards him and laugh along with his friends. For a moment, I wondered if I should step in. After all, he was my son. And I was a duty-bound father, who swore to protect him at any cost. But something stopped me. Perhaps it was instinct. Perhaps it was just the curiosity to see how far he would go. Whatever it was, I continued to sit down and watch my almost-three year old toddler march towards the battalion of elder kids, armed only with his sand pail and a plastic spoon.
With bated breath, I watched him enter the circle that the elder kids had made and calmly put his pail and spoon down. The biggest one of the lot, perhaps just shy of his pre-teen years, took giant steps towards my son, who was less than half his height. For some reason that I could not fathom, my son turned back and looked at me. And then he did the strangest thing - He smiled. Rather, it was a grin. A full toothy one, no less. Behind him, the other kid stopped a few meters from him. I tried to gauge the thoughts of the bigger kid by observing his facial expressions. But like an expert witness, he remained impassive. 'This was it!' I thought, 'I'm going to have to go and get my son out of there. Or else, it's going to be a rematch of David v/s Goliath. And this David was not going to stand a chance in hell!'
As I stood up from the bench I was sitting on, the bigger boy moved closer towards my son. Before I could rush towards them, my son suddenly hugged the elder kid. I stopped in my tracks, confused by my son's unexpected reaction. And as I watched, partially amused by the scene that was playing out in front of me, the elder boy knelt in front of my son and hugged him back. Within minutes, my son had disappeared into the midst of his new-found friends. It took me a few minutes to understand the impact of what my son had done. Instead of being deterred by the attitudes of the bigger and elder children, my son had decided to focus on the end goal of getting into their gang. He had embraced his earlier failures, learnt from them and adopted a new approach. And he had broken through their defense with merely a smile and a hug.
I sat back on the bench, happy and relieved. As parents, we had inculcated the right attitude and beliefs in our son. That come what may, be optimistic and you can find a way to succeed in whatever you do.
This post was written for the 'Look up Stories' by IndiBlogger Happy Hours Image courtesy : www.HDWallpapers.com
“Sid, I am fed up with your procrastination! You keep putting things off and look at what's finally happened? I am going to cancel those days off that I had booked!”. With this, my wife stormed off, slamming the door shut behind her. I wanted to get up and yell at her. Tell her that I had been busy. Tell her that I always did the planning. Tell her that it was only human to forget. But I did nothing, except silently watch her storm out through the door. Deep down, I knew I was at fault, and that it was time to make amends. We had planned to take a special trip for our special 10th “relation-versary”. Though we’d only been married for five years, we’d been dating for five years prior to that, and the “relation-versary” was a special term that I’d coined to celebrate the day when she had finally said yes. Everything had gone smoothly up until this point. Even though April was a very busy month for her, my wife had managed to get a few days off. We’d budgeted for the trip and saved up for this occasion. Even my parents offered to look after our son, whilst we took some time off, to re-live our coupledom again. All I had to do was pick a destination, and plan the holiday.
Italy had always been one of our dream destinations. Despite having spent almost seven years in London, we never had an opportunity to visit Italy. So I’d decided that Italy would be our destination. Of course with no access to unlimited funds, traversing all over Italy was not going to be an option. So after lots of online search (using Google of course; I’m a smart traveller after all), I had narrowed it down to a quaint coastal village in Italy, called Positano. There was another reason for this selection of mine. For those of you who read my posts, you might be familiar that Positano featured quite heavily in one of my novellas, and subconsciously I had fallen in love with the place. So you might even say that some part of the research was already done. And since my wife had loved the description of the place, I was sure the place would be a sure shot winner with her too. But here was the problem - caught in between a number of deadlines, I'd completely forgotten to book the holiday. It was only this morning, when she'd asked me about the plan, that I’d remembered that I hadn’t booked anything at all. I’d immediately set about looking for affordable air tickets and hotel bookings, neither of which I was able to find, since there was less than 3 weeks for the outward travel dates that we were looking at.
I was devastated. (Sounds shocking right? Especially since it was my fault that there were no tickets available ) But trust me, I was!
I knew she’d been looking forward to this romantic getaway, especially since she’d been having a really tough time at work. As I desperately flicked through different tabs on the browser looking for a miracle, I noticed a video that had popped up via an advertisement. The snapshot of the video had a hand drawn airplane with a few passengers, an island, a ship, a camel and some other interesting objects . Though I had initially wanted to dismiss it as an advert for children, something in the drawing caught my attention. And on closer observation, I discovered that the title of the video read Skyscanner - Born Honest- TV advert. Curious to know more, I clicked on the advert which had a voiceover by Ex-Doctor Who star Matt smith. Towards the end of the short, snappy advertisement, a hand drawn button appeared and almost yelled out to me : "Lets go!”. (Check out the skyscanner TV advert on YouTube below)
Having travelled quite a bit, I was surprised that I hadn't come across Skyscanner previously. A quick but detailed search revealed that though a relatively young organisation, they had over 25 million monthly visitors. And not only did they partner with some of the top companies in the business to provide the best list of affordable flights, they also claimed to help get great hotel and car hire deals. "This must be a sign !" I thought as I entered the search details into their easy-to-navigate website. Within seconds I had hit the jackpot. So much so that I wanted to yell out “Eureka". Somehow Skyscanner had found not one, but multiple combinations of affordable tickets to Naples, which was the nearest airport to Positano. I made a note of the details and the cost and moved on to the next step, which transferred me to the website of the partner, that let me confirm the booking at the very same price that Skyscanner had shown me.
Content that the flights were sorted, I moved on to the next thing on my list - accommodation.
Since Positano is a small town, I was conscious that the number of hotels and rooms could potentially be lower in number. After all, I hadn’t had much luck with some of the other more prominent websites. "Why should skyscanner succeed where others had failed?" I thought. Once again, as soon as I had hit the enter button, my screen was populated with an amazing list of hotels all fitting my search criteria. I had the options to sort them by price, distance, rating, popularity and many others factors. In a matter of minutes, I had secured a room in a 4-star hotel, with a beautiful view of the Amalfi coast. I breathed a sigh of relief. I finally had a good shot at redeeming myself.
But my planning wasn’t over yet. One of the reasons I'd picked Postiano was for the drive along the “Strada Statale 163”, also known as the Amalfi Drive, one of the world’s most scenic routes. It was a driver's paradise and I completely intended to make full use of it. Of course, that meant we would need a car. Having been abroad for a while, I had bad experiences of missing crucial hidden clauses whilst hiring cars. But once again, Skyscanner came to the rescue. A quick search gave me a choice of amazing cars to choose from. I made a selection, entered a few details, and within minutes, I was the proud rental owner of a Skoda Fabia. Well, at least for 5 days.
Once all the three were confirmed, I decided to do the next set of planning. I collated all the confirmation emails, created a spreadsheet with a quick list of items that we needed to pack and uploaded all of these online. Once these were sorted, I carefully unpacked the gift that I had intended to originally give her - an iPad mini. After setting it up, I quickly searched the App Store and downloaded a comprehensive Italy Travel guide app by Triposo Inc. After my “smart booking” miracle with Skyscanner, this app was all that I needed to complete my “smart travel” experience. The app provided, not just information about sightseeing, major attractions, weather and restaurants, but also contained a quick guide to what needed to be packed, a phrase book of useful Italian phrases and best of all, an offline map of Italy. All absolutely free. Using the app, I marked out a tentative itinerary and saved it on the iPad mini itself.
I impatiently tap my fingers on the table looking at the clock. It’s nearing lunch time, and my wife should be home soon. As soon as I hear the door bell buzz, I rush to open it with a smile on my face. My wife greets me with a cold, stern look, one that slightly makes my insides tremble a little bit. She walks past me and puts her handbag down on the table. I continue to smile at her, which I secretly think, starts to anger her further. I look at her and say, “Guess what?” She glares at me again, and asks “What? Did you forget something else ? Maybe our anniversary date?” Though I’m slightly taken aback, I regain my cool demeanour and thrust a package into her hand. Surprised, she opens it up to reveal the new iPad mini that I got her. Quickly, she puts the “serious” mask back on, and asks “….and this is supposed to be in place of the holiday that I was counting on? Which by the way, you managed to screw up !” . “No!” I answer with a smile still plastered on my face. I power up the iPad, point to the wallpaper of Positano that adorns the lock screen and say, “THIS is your real gift!” . As her face erupts into a beautiful smile, I silently thank SkyScanner for saving my skin.
This post was written for the “Travel Smart with Skyscanner” contest in association with IndiBlogger.
To me, smart travel means being able to find good deals, even if it is at the last minute. Something that I successfully managed to do this time around, through www.skyscanner.co.in; And it wasn’t just for travel, but for accommodation and local transport too. Additionally, I also believe in harnessing the power of technology to travel smart. So having all the confirmation saved as a document that can be retrieved from anywhere in the world, and an app that can help plan my itinerary is a must.
As for Skyscanner, there are a couple of things that make it probably one of the best online travel comparison sites I’ve used. And trust me, I’ve used plenty.
a. The app uses the widest range of airlines and online travel agents that I've ever seen. No wonder, they get the best deals. b. It is extremely user friendly and very transparent. No hidden charges and absolutely free to use c. Seamless transfer to the partner’s site and the cost is exactly as shown with no surprises jumping out at you d. Sky Scanner's best time to book tool : A very useful tool which shows you when you need to book to get the best deals. Quite handy for the smart traveller who is also an advance planner. Check out this cool tool here or download the brochure here e. The Price alert tool : You can subscribe to their pretty amazing price alert tool which lets you know via email, every time the price of the flight you track, changes. Completely free and if you decide that it’s not for you, you can unsubscribe at any time. No questions asked. Check it out here f: The Skyscanner Airmail - This is their weekly email newsletter which brings you the best of everything in travel - deals, tips, inspiration, advice, quite literally, everything. And it's in an amazing format too. Click here to check it out
So what are you waiting for? Check out skyscanner now, and get the best deal for your next dream holiday.
I love to travel. Train, bus, ship, air - all kinds of travel gives me a thrill like no other. And as much as I love to travel with my better half, there are times when I prefer to travel alone too. Mainly because it gives me enough time to think and also lets me observe people. I’m also the sort of person who prefers (and secretly hopes) that the seat next to him remains empty. Except when travelling with my wife that is. Or when it is occupied by a really charming woman. The problem is that though I am not a great conversationalist, I am a pretty good listener. And I acknowledge. Which means, I am frequently hounded by talkative people who are happy to have got someone to listen to their rather “serious conditions”. And I’m just too nice to ask them to shut up. Over the years, I’ve had the unfortunate “pleasure” of travelling with a number of rather unique co-travellers. But nothing spoils your travelling experience like having a fellow-traveller who takes everything seriously, quite literally (Also now popularly known as people "jinki #ConditionSeriousHai") My chance encounter with this rather “serious aunt” happened two weeks ago, during one of my solo-trips from Bangalore to Chennai. I had just plugged in my headphones and was scrolling through my iPad looking for something to watch, when I noticed a rather large shadow loom over me. I glanced up and saw slightly elder lady glaring at me. Confused, I threw a questioning look, to which she responded with a pointed finger. I followed her finger and found that she was gesturing at one of the straps of my laptop bag, a tiny part of which, was lying on the seat next to me. Nodding my head in acknowledgement, I tugged at the strap firmly, so that no part of my bag (or me) was touching the adjacent seat. Apparently satisfied with this, the lady opened up her large handbag and procured a pack of facial tissues. And as I watched, she dusted the seat and the arm rest with a couple of these tissues and eventually sat down next to me. Ignoring her, I started to put my headphones back on, when I heard the gentle squeeze of a bottle next to me. Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed that she was using one of those hand sanitisers to “cleanse” her hands. She then took out a small cannister and sprayed it a few times all around her. And then she covered her face completely with a cloth face-mask (yes, the kind that became popular when Swine Flu was doing its rounds). I grinned, as I went back to fiddling with my iPad trying to locate something to help me pass the time. But little did I then know, that all the "entertainment" that I would require for the six hours of travel, was sitting right next to me.
After about thirty minutes of flipping through the iPad, having been unable to find anything interesting, I glanced at the lady on my left once again. She had her tray table out and had laid out an A4 sized sheet of paper (which I assumed was her ticket printout) along with a laminated ID card. “Man, she’s so organised!” I thought, as I patted my shirt pocket to make sure I had a copy of my ticket. As the Ticket Inspector approached, she slowly put her hands into the depths of her handbag and dug out something that was neatly wrapped up in plastic. On closer inspection, I noticed that it was a pair of disposable sandwich gloves. She put them on and impatiently started tapping her fingers on tray table. When the inspector asked her for the ticket, she handed over the A4 sheet and quickly flashed her ID at the inspector. When he returned the ticket, she carefully wrapped up the ticket in the one of the gloves, put them together into another plastic bag and put this package into her handbag. She then pulled out her santiser spray again and gently cleaned the laminated ID card with a piece of tissue. Satisfied with her endeavour, she put the card back into her wallet and leaned back against her seat. Amused by the entire episode, I let out a slight snigger. She quickly looked at me and asked “So, you think this is funny? Do you know how many germs get passed merely through touching another person’s hand?” Too stunned to reply, I whispered a meek “Sorry” and quickly diverted my attention back to the iPad. As I scrolled through the iPad, I could sense that the lady was observing my actions. Not wanting to be at the receiving end of another outburst, I pretended not to notice her. After a little while, she said “Excuse me. It might not be my business, but I’ve been noticing that you have been scrolling through that machine for a while now. Do you want a tissue? I can see smudge marks all over the screen, even from here.” As much as I wanted to say “It’s none of your business!”, I quietly nodded, which prompted her to pass me a piece of tissue, using something that resembled a pair of tweezers. I mouthed a “Thank you” and in a bid to get her to look away, I slowly started vigorously rubbing my iPad screen in a circular motion, hoping that she wouldn’t construe my acceptance of her tissue as an invitation to chit-chat.
Unfortunately she did, and before long, she was going on about how her son had told her about an invention, a pair of gloves to be more specific, that would let everyone use touch-screens without the fear of “getting any germs transmitted”. Being an engineer and a techie, I really wanted to stop her at that point and tell her that the pair of gloves was meant to be an invention that would let you use your touchscreen without any problem even during really cold weather, and not meant to prevent the transfer of "hand-spread bacteria". But something told me that it wouldn’t be a good idea to start a technical conversation with her, and I remained silent, occasionally nodding my head. As the journey progressed, she continued to ramble on about seemingly trivial little topics that according to her, were “quite serious” in nature. These included but were not limited to how it was important to keep everything neat, the importance of being organised when travelling, how she was always concerned about health and getting infections from people, how she hated it if things were out of place and without any sense of order, be it a carpet that was slightly out of alignment with the floor tiles or a bookshelf that did not have the books arranged in the order of their height. She also added how it really drove her mad when “kids these days” (I’m quite sure she meant me) were always so engrossed in their little gadgets and not serious enough about their health, career and settling down in life.
“Oh dear lord!” I thought, as I absent-mindedly scratched the remnants of an old, un-healed wound on one of my arms. After a few seconds, I realised that she had stopped talking. I looked at her and realised that she too was scratching one of her arms. Unsure how to react, I slowly stopped scratching and looked at her. She continued scratching, all the whilst recoiling at the scar on my hand which had turned slightly pinkish, due my scratching. “Have you gotten that checked? Do you have a dog? Maybe it’s an allergy. Do you know if it’s contagious?” she asked with a distressed look on her face. For a moment, I almost felt that she was going to whip out her sanitiser canister and spray it all over me. I smiled at her and said, “That’s just an old wound. It’s taking its own time to heal.” “Oh no!” she exclaimed loudly. "How long has it been? If it’s been more than a month and it hasn’t healed, it might be infected. When did you last see the doctor? Has it been more than a few months? Then you might be diabetic! How old are you? When did you last check your blood sugar?” I stared at the woman, surprised at her panic attack. “Ma’am” I said, unsure how else I could address her, “Please calm down. This is a wound from when I fell down a few weeks ago. Each time it almost heals, I inadvertently scratch and it opens up again. That’s the reason. It’s not because I’m diabetic or have an infection.”
That answer seemed to have satisfied her and she both stopped scratching as well as talking to me. Though a few minutes later, I did notice that she had pulled out a full-sleeved sweater from her bag and put it on, taking special care to ensure that no part of her hand ever touched mine. “What a nut-job!” I thought to myself as I looked at my watch. We would be pulling into Chennai in under an hour, and I couldn’t wait to get out of the train, away from this strange woman with her “serious obsession” with trivial things. As I sat there tapping my feet, I couldn’t help but notice a rustling sound beside me. Once again, curiosity got the better of me and I peeked out of the corner of my eye. The lady had taken out another one of her disposable sandwich gloves and was busy trying to fit her hands into these. From within the abyss of her large handbag, she brought out a rectangular bar which was enclosed in a shiny red wrapper with bits of white writing on it. A closer look revealed that it was the “four-fingered” version of a popular chocolate brand. As I watched, she patiently opened the red wrapper making sure that she had cut along the designated dotted line with a pair of small scissors. Once this was done, she carefully folded the wrapper up in precise, neat folds and put it into a tiny plastic bag she had. She carefully took the chocolate, which was still wrapped in a shiny aluminium foil and made three tiny cuts on the foil. At this point, I stopped peering out of the corner of my eyes and was quite literally staring at her, wondering what she was going to do. And then, as I watched, she pulled out a ruler and carefully marked three vertical lines on the aluminium foil with an architect’s precision. Satisfied with her work, she carefully “snapped” off one of these “fingers”, all the while making sure that it had broken off in a straight line. I continued to stare at her, in the hope that she would realise that she was taking this "obsessiveness for order" to a whole new level. Unfortunately, she didn’t notice and continued to carefully peel off the wrapper of this lone chocolate finger.
As the train pulled into the platform at Chennai Central railway station, I slowly got off my seat and moved into the aisle to pick up my back pack from the top shelf. As I swung my backpack around my shoulder, I was struck with a rather cheeky idea. Now, I’m not usually one to respond to people who irritate me, but over the course of the six hour journey, I had borne the brunt of the lady and "serious condition" and I wanted to desperately give her a piece of my mind. I fumbled through my back pack till I found what I was looking for. As the train came to slow halt, I looked at the lady and showed her what I had in my hand. And as she watched, I haphazardly stripped the golden yellow wrapper off (on purpose of course), and took a large, un-symmetrical bite of the chocolate. Wiping the oozing caramel away from my lips, I smiled and said “Take a chill pill, ma’am. Seriousness is a very serious disease!”. As I turned to walk away, I felt my backpack connect with her arm. I glanced over at her and said “I’m sorry about that ma’am. If I were you, I’d wash your hands right away. You’ve no idea where all my bag has been.”
As I walked away with a million dollar smile on my face, I could hear the now-familiar squeeze of the sanitiser bottle echo from a few yards behind me.
This post is written for the #ConditionSeriousHai contest, organised by the site IndiBlogger in association with Cadbury 5 Star. Check out the Cadbury 5 star Facebook page here, and live a little less seriously.
Disclaimer: Though the lady in this encounter was probably a really "rare and unique" example, and in all likelihood, be hell bent on hunting me down after this post gets published, I do acknowledge that Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) is a serious concern. Why, somewhere deep down, I strongly believe that I too have OCD. Why else does a tangled wire drive me up the wall? Or constantly check under the seat when I go to a movie theatre? We all have traces of it. But the lighter we can make of a situation, the more we enjoy life. For now, have Cadbury 5 Star and enjoy yourself.
The last person you’d expect voluntarily walking the aisles of the supermarket looking for baby massage oils, is a dad. I’m not being a chauvinist here, I’m merely reasoning out how modern society perceives it. Anyway moving on, I was checking the aisles, when I stumbled across a section of baby products of every imaginable kind. There they were, stacked neatly row upon row, column by column - and by the looks of the amount of mothers present, the most popular aisle there. I stood there, kind of lost in the moment and frozen to the ground. I had no idea what I had to look at or for, for that matter. As I went through some of the more commercially known choices, I noticed that most of them had two main ingredients - mineral oils and added fragrance. Though not a scientist by any proportions, I knew enough to know that, both mineral oils and fragrance were definitely questionable contents in baby products. This predicament made me re-think my decision, and I was convinced that I had to do some more research. After all, it was my son, and I needed to make sure we were using only the right product.
Based on talking to other parents, and some online research, I discovered alarming facts regarding some of these so-called “pure” baby oils.
Most commercially sold, beautifully packaged baby oils are actually mineral oils with some synthetic fragrance mixed with it. This oil is a byproduct of petroleum refinement and is quite cheap to obtain. The biggest concern with mineral oil is that it has a tendency to clog the pores, thereby “suffocating the skin”. And since it is absorbed into the body, through the skin, which is our largest organ, there is a danger that the oil could potentially choke the nutrients, which hence would not reach the vital parts of the body. And of course, we all know how babies love to suck on their fingers or thumbs. Now imagine them sucking a “mineral oil coated” thumb or finger. Since it can cause a layer to be formed in the digestive tract, the outcome surely can’t be good.
One of the other key components of these commercial baby oils is “fragrance”, which is a synthetic component, i.e. not natural. Its presence helps the oils derive an aroma of choice; say lavender, rose, etc. Research has shown that synthetic fragrances have been shown to disrupt certain normal hormonal functions in adults. With regards to babies, these scents can also interfere with your process of bonding with your baby, and he/she can get potentially over stimulated.
But there is always an alternative, as I discovered - Ayurveda and its natural products.
Ayurveda is one of the earliest practiced sciences and system of medicine. Often known as alternative medicine, it dates back to almost 1500 BC and originated in our very own India. While Allopathy helps us focus on the management of diseases, Ayurveda gives us the knowledge of how to prevent illness and eliminate the cause at the very source or root of it. Ayurveda is often known as the science of life and longevity and is credited to be the oldest healthcare system in world. It instigates a wholesome and complete growth of humanity and aims to maintain health by keeping our body, mind and spirit in perfect balance with Mother Nature. Today, this age old knowledge and practice of Ayurveda, has evolved into a unique, popular and indispensable branch of medicine, with almost no side effects.
It was during my research into these, that I came across one such ayurvedic baby massage oil - Dabur Lal Tail. Before we go into more detail about this, let us take a look at why massage is important for your little one.
Any parent/doctor will often vouch for one thing - the first three to five years of a baby’s life are the most important stages, when it comes to growth and development. Proper, healthy nutrition and care is of utmost concern during these formative and developmental years, as it forms the basis for their future health, academic success, social and emotional well-being. Another important activity during the newborn period is the “bonding” between the parents and their child. Babies often interact with the world through their senses of touch and smell. And hence why baby massage is an important aspect of this bonding.
Traditionally in India, babies are massaged before their bath. Though not in its entirety, I still have vague memories of my mother and grandmother giving my little arms, legs and body a good and thorough massage with warm ayurvedic oils before my daily bath. In spite of being too young to understand all of it, I have heard that I used to smile a lot during the massage, and sleep for hours uninterrupted after, as an effect of this massage. As parents, both my wife and I wanted to ensure our little boy’s proper growth and development, and hence why you found me wandering down the supermarket aisles looking for good baby massage oil.
Which brings me back to hero of my little story here - Dabur Lal Tail. I’d read about this particular brand of ayurvedic baby massage oil in many places. Every parent that I spoke to and from the online research that I did, stated, claimed and indeed proved that Dabur Lal Tail was an ayurvedic baby massage oil, which was made from 100% natural key ayurvedic ingredients and combination of special herbs (as below), each with their own unique properties.
- Shankhpushpi - Often considered a gift of nature, this beautiful wonder is known to protect against skin infection and general weakness
- Camphor - Any Indian worth his salt will know about camphor (also known as karpoor). It has been proven to be an antimicrobial substance and as something which stimulates blood circulation
- Urad - Though traditionally associated as a protein, urad is something that helps refresh and nourish muscles and bones. It has also been shown to have an effect in preventing rickets.
- Sesame Oil - Also know as Till Tail, it has been shown to have positive effects on the growth of a child. Additionally it soothes and aids in post-massage sleep, as it is absorbed quickly by the skin
- Ratanjyot - Essentially a herb used as a natural food coloring agent, it also helps in protecting the baby’s skin
Though we only relocated to India very recently, Dabur has always been a popular choice in our household, mainly for the natural ingredients that goes into making all its products. Ayurvedic products in general, are made from a combination of plants and natural herbs. However the right ratio and blend of these herbs is of utmost importance and needs to be very precise. Even the slightest changes in combination or proportion can change the benefits it provides. Hence why the Government has Good manufacturing practices (GMP) in place to ensure the quality of the product. I was extremely happy to note that Dabur Lal Tail was manufactured in strict adherence to all the traditional guidelines on manufacturing of formulations; additionally it follows the Government’s GMP procedures to the letter, thereby ensuring that each bottle of oil is the perfect mix of all the herbs and of pristine quality.
Everyone who has used this miraculous product on their babies stressed on how their little ones were growing up quickly and were much more content in general than some of their counterparts. As a parent, your baby’s weight and height charts dictate your lives to a certain extend - since they are accurate measurements of your child physical developments and growth. I was also pleasantly surprised to notice the claim that kids massaged with Dabur Lal Tail experienced 'TWICE faster Physical Growth’ than kids without massage or massaged with other mineral oils/talcum powder, being backed by clinical evidence from the Paediatric department of Jawaharlal Nehru College. You can read more about the research here.
All of these were enough reasons and proof for me to go purchase our first bottle of Dabur Lal Tail for our son. He was a few months from his first birthday when we first used the product on him. Before we go on, I must confess something. Since he was born in London, and he was there during the initial six to seven months of his life, we did succumb to the marketing and commercial hype and try a few “pure mineral oils” to massage him before his bath. Needless to say, it did not go down well, and his skin reacted quite adversely to these oils. Hence why we were doubly cautious to try new oil.
My family has always been a strong believer in Ayurveda and ayurvedic products (- and not just because we hailed from Kerala:)). What always strengthened our belief in Ayurveda was the fact that we knew exactly all the key ingredients that went into every product. It was comforting to know the unique benefits of simple daily products such as tulsi leaves in improving immunity, or having honey, lemon and warm water as a solution to cough and cold. During the cooler winter months, when all of us fell victims to the cold and cough, I remember how my grandmother would get me to drink boiled water with a strange concoction of leaves and herbs. Though it was beyond me at the time, I remember how I used to feel much better the next day and then go back to playing in the rain, in the belief that my granny could make her magical medicine again, if need be.
Since my wife was also brought up in such a traditional set up, we were sure that we wanted to pass on all of these to our future generations too. After all, it is absolutely normal for all of us to want our kids and future generations to remain close to nature, their roots and be healthy from day 1 of their lives, isn’t it?
We’ve now been using Dabur Lal Tail for a while now and the results were amazing. Our little boy has grown remarkably and is now taller and healthier than most other toddlers in his play group. Here was someone who previously often had a small or very little appetite. He used to sleep for very short stretches and they were often disturbed naps due to his blocked nose. But soon after we incorporated Dabur Lal Tail into his pre-bath massage, he has started having a much more healthier appetite. Furthermore, he is now able to sleep for a few hours without any disturbances and it is a joy to see him breathe clearly and freely without needing any of those nasal inhalers or sprays. And the joy that it gives him when we massage him with the oil - that smile is surely priceless, for us anyway.
So to sum up, to put it a commercially approved format, Dabur Lal Tail can make remarkable a difference in your baby’s growth. How, you still ask?
Babies who have been massaged with Dabur Lal Tail have:
- Better appetite
- Much better sleeping patterns
- 2 x faster increase in weight
- 2 x faster increase in height
- and are overall a lot more active than their counter parts
And as for Dabur, with over 125 years of experience being the “trusted provider for ayurvedic and nature-based solutions and products”, you really have nothing to worry about. Your baby is in safe hands :)
The topic was : The right product makes a world of difference when it comes to the development of your child. Write a blog post on your understanding of ayurvedic and chemically processed/synthetic products, and its role in a baby’s early growth & development. You can also recount your own experiences.
As they wheeled her away into the room, I stopped at the entrance. Though my thoughts were starting to wander, and my legs were refusing to move, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the mid-wife help transfer my wife onto the bed, and prop her up with pillows. “This is it!” I thought as I willed my feet to respond, and take that fifteen- step walk towards my wife. I slowly walked up to her bed, and sank into the single cushioned chair beside it.
Heavily exhausted from lack of sleep the previous night, and loaded on epidural shots, my wife kept drifting in and out of consciousness. The doctor had mentioned that they would try to “push” in a couple of hours and it might be best if she rested until then. "Labour was going to be hard as it is, without the added fatigue from no rest” she’d added. I sat wondering what I had gotten myself into. I kept asking myself if I really wanted to go through with this. As I watched the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, I found myself thinking about us and what we’d been thorough in the years gone by.
Neither of us were believers in love at first sight. I mean, to see someone and know that they’re right for you. Surely things like that don’t happen in real life. Well maybe for a handful of people, but definitely not for most of us. And ours was far from even “like" at first sight. I first met my then “would-be-life-partner” while pursuing my engineering degree. If my memory still functions well, the year was 2001. She was the stereo-typical studious first-bencher, whose talents ranged from academia and sports to music and quizzes. Me - I was the cornball back-bencher, who wasn’t necessarily a bad student, but whose talents were more suited for extra-curricular activities like music, some amount of sports and general slouching. We couldn’t be more poles apart, if we tried.
Though we studied in the same college and even the same class, it wasn’t until a college trip in 2003 that we started talking. At the beginning, our chats were usually about trivial things and college gossips, as you’d expect. At some point though, we both felt that we were “inversely right" for each other. She was organised, practical, meticulous and focussed. And that hasn’t changed to date. I was (and am still) easy-going, sloppy, unplanned and definitely carefree. As it normally happens with premature relationships, I, as the guy, was really vocal about taking the next steps, while she remained in the quiet whenever this topic was broached upon. However her smile and twinkling eyes left me in no doubt that we both wanted the same thing.
Most of 2003 passed by in a haze, with me trying to convince her that we should go around (note : It wasn’t a proposal as such), and she singing the “let’s just remain friends” tune. As the next year unfolded, I decided to do the honourable thing and give her some breathing space. After all, it had to be a mutual decision, if we were to go ahead with this for life. The year 2004 was an eye-opener for us. It was the penultimate year of our engineering degree and we both knew that the end was near. She had a lot of high expectations riding on her - to graduate top of the class, gain placement with a good company and choose a path which would hopefully propel her into a successful career. Me - I had two objectives; complete my engineering degree with decent grades and elicit a favourable answer from her. After all, time was running out.
April 7th 2004:
Weather wise, it was probably one of the least romantic days. The Indian summer was already underway, and the unrelenting 46 degree Chennai sun beat down on the barren land of our college grounds. Fortunately for us, we were sat in the cooler surroundings of our college library. As an avid reader (and not to mention one of the few air-conditioned rooms in our college), the library was my favourite haunt. As I sat immersed in a novel wrapped within a Digital Signal Processing (DSP) text book (hey, don’t judge me!), I felt something flutter onto my desk. I looked up from novel/DSP text, to see her flowing dupatta trail her graceful walk. I glanced down onto the desk, and saw a note, which was folded with absolute precision. Holding my breath, I carefully opened the note. Inside was a single word. THE single world which was capable of making me jump up on the desk and sing one of those cliched Bollywood numbers. Resisting the urge to do anything cheesy (as if !!), I smiled and watched her walk out of the library.
Now if this was Bollywood movie, I would probably end it here saying that “that was and is our Platinum day of love”. But for those of us living in the real world, whilst this was a close contender, I’m going to chug along to the remaining part of the story. There’s a simple reason for it. Though that was the day my “future wife” agreed to make our relationship official, we were both still very young at heart, young in love and to an extend I might even say immature. I’m not downplaying the importance of this momentous occasion in our lives, but hopefully when you finish reading you’ll understand why I did, what I did.
In the interest of saving you some time and escapism from the cheesiness, let’s fast forward a few years to the time of my present writing, circa 2012.
Happily married with the occasional tiffs and expecting our first child, the year began as a hope-laden one. We’d been together for almost eight years, and were ready to start a family. As with any couple in love, we’d had our share of disagreements, arguments and “Talk-to-the-hand” moments. But deep down in our hearts, we both knew that we’d be there for each other. She’d already proved that to me more than once - be it leaving everyone she knew behind and moving to the UK with me (even prior to marriage) or leaving her dream job in Pune to be closer to me in Bangalore. As for me, I was yet to deliver on my promise. Of course I took care of her needs and was there for her as any normal husband/partner should. But I was yet to show a selfless act of support. As I’ve once posted before, I am not the bravest of souls. And so when my wife asked me to be with her during the labour and subsequently the birth of our first born, I was surprised when I agreed. Probably on a sub-conscious level, I knew this was my chance to make good on my promises to her. Which brings me to the present.
“Excuse me, sir?” The mid-wife’s calm yet shrill voice snapped me out of my day dream. “Are you alright? You were mumbling something incoherently and smiling.” she goes on. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just …well…dozed off” I say and snap myself back into reality. “Yes, you’re actually here” my inner voice tells me. “You’ve got to go through with it. You can’t chicken out now!”. Great, I’ve now got an inner voice admonishing me.
“We’re about to start the process. Kindly bear in mind that it will be physically stressful for your wife, and you will have to support her as we go along” continues the mid-wife, complete unaware of my inner turmoil. “Oh, and before I forget, if you want to leave the room, you have to do it now. Once the process starts, you cannot exit till we get the baby out or unless we have to take your wife to the operating theatre for anything that may go wrong” she continues. My heart starts to beat wildly. “Are you for real?” I want to ask her. “Who says “something going wrong” and “operation theatre” in the same breath?”. As she thrusts a form into my hand, asking me to sign my acknowledgement, I realised that it was crunch time. All the “sweet-nothings of following her to the end of the world no matter what” that I had whispered to my wife over the past years, had come back to haunt me. Unable to make a decision, I look at the mid-wife and say “ Can you give me a couple of minutes please?”. She shrugs her shoulders, as if to say “whatever you crazy man”, and walks out of the door, closing it behind her.
As I watched the love of my life slowly stir in her drug-induced sleep, I suddenly feel nauseating waves of embarrassment and love wash over me. Embarrassment for having second-thoughts about being by her side for what was probably going to be the most physically and emotionally stressful day of her adult life. Love for her commitment of going through with this. Here was a person, who at the pinnacle of her career, took the conscious decision to give up all her potential promotions and social engagements that she loved, to fulfil our “collective” dream of starting a family. Here was someone, ready to tackle the intense physical and emotional trauma associated with giving birth, all out of her love for me. And just like that, in the blink of an eye, I grew up.
I wiped away a tear from my eye, and signed the acknowledgement/acceptance form. I loved her and I was going to be there for her. The mid-wife came in, glanced at my hastily scrawled signature on the form, and went over to my wife. She slowly woke her up and commenced the preparation for the delivery. I looked at my wife. Now fully awake, it looked like her epidural drugs were starting to wear off. To me, she looked to be in a world of spasm-ic pain. As I walked over to the bed, she glanced up and gave me a half-hearted teary-eyed smile. I gently squeezed her hand to reassure that I would be there with her, and that she was not alone. Once the final preparations were done, the doctor arrived. She smiled and said “Let’s do this!”
Through eerie chants of “Deep breaths…and…push”, I focus attention on my wife. She is in excruciating pain and looks like she could possibly explode any moment. Digging her nails deep into my flesh with every contraction, she cries out loud. As we briefly make eye contact, her glassy eyes silently plead to me to get her out of her misery. I fight back my tears of helplessness, and whisper to her “We can do this….together…you and me!” She smiles weakly and releases her hold on my arm ever so slightly. Three long hours and a gallon of bodily fluids later, I hold up our pale, pink bundle of joy up to her and whisper “We did it!”. As our little one cuddles against my wife, I put my arm around her and look at my watch. The date read 7th April 2012.
Eight long, sometimes amazing, sometimes crazy years, since she had dropped that little folded note, changing my life for ever.
As we cradled the little one in our hands, a realisation dawned on me. We had made the right decision all those years ago. We were perfect for each other. And eight years on, we still loved each other more and more with every passing day. What we’d been through together a few hours ago, had brought us closer than ever before. And for me, I looked at her with new-found affection. That was our Platinum day of Love.
Just like Platinum, our love had stood the test of time, and would continue forever, indestructible and always pure and true to its form. Next year, as we celebrate the 10th anniversary of our togetherness, our life will have come the full circle, and nothing but the best would do to celebrate this momentous and precious occasion of the realization of our unfading and untarnished love.
Of course, your blessings are invaluable gifts too :)
Also a bit of a disclaimer: I know my handful of regular readers probably did not expect such a "cheesy, at times romedy-ish" post from yours truly. But thank you, for taking the time and effort (yes, I know how long it is!) to read a "true story" with some "literary freedom" thrown in for good measure.