Who am I? What is this blog about? What do I do? Why do I do what I do? How did it start? If your mind is brewing all these questions, calm it down!
Head to the kitchen, brew yourself a cup of coffee and come back for the answers. Go, I am waiting.
If you are already sipping it down snuggled cozily in a blanket right now, you sir/ma’am have earned my envy.
Or if you are staring at your smartphone’s screen out of boredom or mere misfortune by the virtue of being squeezed in a jam-packed public transport with fellow passengers screaming their lungs out on their phone and a rowdy kid pulling your hair, you have my sympathies.
Alright, now that everybody’s here (thank God, coffee takes not more than 2 minutes to prepare), here are your answers- I, am Ni… wait!
This isn’t a job interview/an office presentation. We haven’t met before, so let me make it different for us.
Let’s time travel. I will walk you through some incidents of my life and by the end, you may have known a little about me. Intriguing? Zoom into the past then. 3…2…1
The late 1990s
Playing hopscotch, pakdam-pakdai, chhupan-chupai (I like how we used to rhyme the second word with the first in any game); dancing to cringe-worthy chatak Bollywood songs (which today, I find not only sexist but also homophobic +ridiculous), slurping ice-lollies and watching TV shows (Aahat, Cartoon Network- the original one, Dekh Bhai Dekh etc.) are my fondest (and owing to the limited space of my brain’s memory disk) the only memories of the 90s.
Life was simple, easy-going and breezy except when it came to keeping up the appearances, quite literally there.
I was/am dusky. A natural sun-kissed warm skin tone that to foreigners may look exotic, I wasn’t the textbook definition of an Indian beauty and I was made aware of that.
I say this with no shame or even the slightest bit of pessimism today. I wouldn’t befuddle your mind with the politically correct hogwash- Looks Do Not Matter. They do. A lot.
Anyone confuting it should be smacked on their head to jolt them out of their la-la land.
I was advised to be anointed with a mixture of Besan+Haldi+Neem+Dahi in a desperate bid to whiten my skin by ‘well-wishing’ aunties. I was smeared with it. Besides my chickenpox scars healing, there wasn’t any skin whitening.
Those aunties came up with fairness creams in their defence. The less I say about them, the better.
The early 2000s
I had long, jet-black hair courtesy my mother (genes, after all). Being totally oblivious of them then, my hair became a high-rise apartment for lice. Ugly, pesky, blood-sucking insects… my fingers went Spartaaaa on my scalp round the clock.
To my rescue, my mother stepped in. Reducing the 3 BHK for lice to a 1 BHK by getting me a boy cut, my maternal grandmother drove the remnant lice away with her Neem+ Curd+ Tulsi Hair Pack.
By now, some kids around me began displaying their shallowness. Name-calling the warm-skinned kids in school with ‘Kaali Mata’ or ‘Kaali Billi’, I would say it didn’t affect me. In that case, I’d be lying.
Occasionally, I gave it back to them but it shattered the psyche, confidence and self-esteem of an impressionable kid. Add to that, TV adverts… and fairness creams forayed into my life. Again. Confidence score- Nearing zero.
The late 2000s
In a desperate bid to justify my existence, I set on a mission to ace academics and sports simultaneously. And I did.
I won’t go into the details of what all I aced (for a change, let me be humble), but the takeaway was that during that period, I had achieved far more memorable and confidence-boosting titles than what those kids who displayed their limited creativity in naming me, collectively did. Confidence scale- Soaring.
The early 2010s
Years passed by and my long hair became longer. I could see people gawk, gasp and desire them. I could also see their displeasure over why I am not doing anything to rid myself off my darkness (which in euphemistic terms is called a skin tan).
An adult by now (my birth certificate says so) I had realized the significance of the finger lying between my index and ring fingers. I have two hands. That makes it two of ‘those’ fingers.
If you are thinking I make frequent use of them to shush people down, I go the old-school way- sass them with words.
The turning point
Meanwhile, a number of my aunts had undergone the trauma called hair re-bonding; some even thrice.
As a last-ditch effort to have more hair on her head than what I had on my legs (Don’t cringe! I am not a polar bear. She didn’t have enough hair to flaunt), one of aunts who you may call P, turned to me.
Enter Ms. D-I-Y Devi (read: me).
From curd to Ayurvedic powders, from freshly plucked flowers to fruits, I had vowed to do the best I could with P’s hair on the condition that she won’t slit my neck if nothing works.
I was dedicated but realistic too. P’s hair had been re-bonded thrice!
Honestly speaking, they were dead. Never the less, I continued.
To my surprise, a few months later her hair and scalp started restoring themselves to life.
Nowhere close to the thick tufts of glossy tresses that Rapunzel flung off her castle’s window in the fairy tale, but after a year and a half of going au naturel, today she has hair that she is finally at ease with.
She doesn’t hesitate in throwing bouquets at me in awe. I am not complaining either.
She was my first patient, more so lab rat. Since then, I have become the unofficial Hair (and of late, Skin) Expert of my kin.
In spite of being nudged a gazillion times to start a blog of my own on the same lines by nearly every family member, laziness took the better of me.
Why did I start Glamorganicdesi?
On a whim! As simple and unimpressive as it may sound, but I don’t have a specific reason as to why did I start my own blog. The most credible reason may be that one fine day, laziness broke up with me.
What will you see here?
1) All-natural recipes that will reduce your trips to the nearby cosmetics store and save you oodles of money (you will become a D-I-Y expert after all)
2) My experiences with products that fall in the same category. Product reviews will be picture-oriented rather than a mere combo of words strung together. Words are just words at the end of the day. Seeing = Believing
3) Musings on what all I can’t get off my mind. From films that are like old wine to timeless songs, from a snippet of my life to perhaps even fashion one day, all the avenues are open.
4) Embracing India. Ayurveda is OUR science; brushing it off as an old-school undeveloped science that doesn’t seem to stand the test of time, is also OUR tomfoolery.
5) Anything & everything that celebrates being Indian, or Desis in the larger context.
What will you NOT see here?
Promotion of fair skin, fairness products, skin whitening, lightening, etc.
Let’s get some things straight. Incorporating Ayurveda in life & mindless pursuit of an obsession (fairness) are two different things.
The former is a way of life. The latter inferiority complex driving one to absurd lengths.
On that note, welcome to my virtual home – Glamorganicdesi