No means No. But what are we thinking?

My grandmother had these bunch of homelies that she used constantly to curtail my childish rebellion. One when I wanted to go out and play after dusk – the Gandharva will kidnap you. Or when I did not want to part my hair –  You will not get a handsome husband. But the one that really irritated me no end was the one about being safe – Does not matter if the flower falls on the thorn, or the thorn on the flower, the flower will always get hurt.

Growing up in an extremely close-knit family, where every thought (let alone word or action!) was scrutinized and whetted against an unwritten “Moral Code for behavior set by our ancestors”, I would relegate all these aphorisms as orthodox and behind-the-times. In my mind, my grandmother and my parents lived in an old-fashioned time where a girl could not venture out without her morals questioned.

Such aphorisms are not relevant any more (I would counter in my mind). Men are modern now, more educated and sensitive, and respect a woman for who she is and what she does. The modern man really understands that “No means no”.

Looks like I am wrong. Totally. Especially when when I read newspapers nowadays. While my grandmother, if she was alive, would have been troubled and saddened,  she also would not be surprised – this is bound to happen to girls who cross the line.

Looks like it does not matter how developed we become as a nation. Or educated. Or liberated. Our mind continues to dwell in pre-historic times where men can do as they want, and women need to toe the line.

So here are the top 5 homelies that I am going to drill into my daughters as they grow up in “Modern” India, amidst educated and modern men.

  • Do not step out without a proper escort – ideally 3-4 male and female members of your family – or else the gandharva will kidnap and rape you
  • It does not matter if you part your hair or not – men will always look at you as a piece of meat they can eat any time, any how
  • No dates, no bars or discos, no going to the movies or to shop after 6 PM, no malls, no restaurants, no beaches, no colleges, no education, no career, no nothing. Forget women’s lib – those fairy stories exist only in the farthest recesses of a paleolithic woman’s mind
  • To heck with good touch and bad touch. From now on, NO TOUCH rules. This rule extends to all male members of the family. Including the uncle who loves to pinch cheeks. Instead of asking my girls to behave nicely with strangers and guests, I will insist that they treat everyone with suspicion.
  • Whether the thorn falls on the flower, or the flower on the thorn, you will get hurt. So listen to me.

And grandma, you were right. I wish every girl had a grandmother like you.

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Our annual pilgrimage to Amrita Preventative Wellness Center

Last week was our annual pilgrimage to Amrita Hospital’s Preventative Wellness Center for our routine check-up. Those of you who hate visiting hospitals, sick or not, will find Amrita’s Wellness Center a pleasure. I hope that at the end of this blog that you are not only encouraged to have your annual check-up, but also insist on Amrita for it.

My husband and I have been going to Amrita since 2006 for our annual executive check-up.  We missed 2009, which means we now have 6 visits under our belt, and therefore qualifies us to recommend it wholeheartedly. The biggest surprise this year was that Amrita had shifted their entire wellness practice center into a new building, all departments in a single floor. No more rushing around to different departments on different floors, no more waiting for the rest of the people in our batch to complete a test before going to the next one, and more importantly, no more sitting next to patients who may have active viruses waiting to use you as their next host. Instead we entered a completely clean, efficient, and healthy environment that came close to that of a 4-star hotel.

For Rs 4200 per person, we get a complete check up that includes Chest X Ray, Ultrasound, TMT, ECG, Urine, Stool, and Sugar test, BMI and weight check, Pulmonary fitness, and two interactions with the General Physician (at the beginning of the day around 8 AM, and towards the end (around 3 PM or so), who will advise you based on your test results. And did I mention a vegetarian breakfast and lunch buffet while you wait around for your test results to come in?

Instead of getting into absolute details (their website does that!), here are the Top Five things I observed (and reflected on) when we were there from 8 AM to 3 PM.

  1. No matter how educated and informed we are, preventative health care is not ingrained in our mental make-up. We prefer to hold off visiting the hospital until we are really sick, dying, or unconscious!
  2. I watched both young and old alike walking around stiffly with stool samples and urine containers! They were so embarrassed – shifty eyes, looking anywhere except at these ‘objects of repulsion’, and rushing to get rid of it. Imagine how the lab technicians must feel when analyzing it! Thank God for such angels..
  3. Keralites have a highly developed sense of personal hygiene, but as this wise senior next to us remarked, we are pretty bad when it comes to social hygiene. We saw people dump their plastic bottles into huge green containers that had “BIO-WASTE ONLY” written all over it, strew toilet paper all over the floor even when there were trash cans in every nook and corner, and mess up the cafeteria with food waste.
  4. All of us are paranoid when it comes to our health. And it only gets worse as we grow older. Even though both Mukund and I knew there was nothing wrong and we are relatively healthy, until Dr. Sivakumar went through the entire list of reports and remarked that all was fine, we were in a state of tension alright!
  5. For a country that has given the world the Bhagavad Gita with highly advanced theories of reincarnation, karma, and the infinite nature of our soul, we  absolutely hate talking about death. And incredibly uncomfortable (and terrified) when that subject comes up.

So, how can I jump from this topic of regular health check-ups to theories on spirituality and dying? Because they are all inter-linked. You can either be proactive about your physical health and ensure you follow the basics (eat right, exercise regularly, and have annual check-ups) or resign yourselves to FATE (no matter what I do, I cannot fight my genes and my karma), but end of the day, our spiritual make-up defines our physical health.

Here’s to health and well-being in the New Year and beyond – spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and physically. Cheers!

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The trials and tribulations of working from home

Work from home? Easier said than done. No matter how many smartphones, ipads, laptops, and wifi you arm yourself with, nothing can make working from home easy. That’s because we forget a small factor called “Life”.

Think I am exaggerating? Hmmm, methinks an illustration is in order.

9:30 AM: The Palak lady – Spend 10 minutes searching for 18 Rs – she needs exact change, and since neither my cook nor the maid has any, they invite me into this. At this point, since my laptop is starting up, I don’t mind the invite.

10:15 AM: Caretaker – to give receipt for the check I had written that morning. Ordinarily he does not ask for me, but the receipt is incorrectly worded, and he wanted to check if that is okay. I say, fine. And then spend 5 minutes chatting on the issue of finding good gardeners and security guards and iron men. (of the ironing kind, not the WWE)

10:20 AM: Call from courier service asking for the exact location of my house. Spent 7 minutes describing the location from every possible direction, since he was not sure where he was going to come from. Sigh!

11 AM: Call from my daughter’s school: Report card is posted online, please check before coming for Parent Teacher meeting on Friday. Additional appeal for donations for the local musical that the students are planning in January. I try, very ineffectively, to prevent my cash outflow, but end up promising to to do “something”.

11:AM to 11:15 AM: Rushed online to look at my daughter’s report card. Could not log in initially, and once I did log in, the report card was not updated. Sent an email reporting the problem.

12:30 PM: The caretaker again: He had corrected the receipt (even though I had assured him that the earlier one was fine) and wanted the other one back. I had already balled it up and thrown it in the trash can, so had to retrieve it, dust it, smoothen it and give it back.

1:30 PM: I call my cook, tell her to tell anyone else who calls or rings the bell that “I am not there”

2:30 PM: My daughters rush in, one excited as I was working from home, the other equally disappointed since she cannot watch “Grey’s Anatomy” on Star World. After explaining in minute detail of their escapades at school, they rush off for their lunch and bath. Time to really get my work done.

3:30 PM: The cook rings my room bell from downstairs, and when I come out of my room, she asks loudly – “Madam are you there or not? The courier man is here.”

I switch off my laptop, sign the courier receipt, join my kids for lunch, and launch into their homework, table tennis, yoga, and music lessons the rest of the day.

Please do keep in mind that the above schedule is in addition to the multiple bathroom breaks (I am a firm believer of the “2 liters of water a day” school), snack and chai breaks, and stretching my legs in front of the TV. Also do keep in mind that not all days are like these. There are worse.

Still think I should work from home? Hold on, there’s the door bell. I’ll be right back. But don’t hold your breath.

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Lessons from my flower seller’s daughter-in-law

When the bell rang at 6:15 am on Monday morning, I sighed. It was my flower seller again. At least her daughter-in-law. She has been ringing the bell at that ungodly hour for the last 3 days with one excuse or the other – which flower do you want, when am I going to get paid, you forgot to keep the puja plate for the flowers. I desperately wished for her mother-in-law to come back from her vacation soon. She never bothered me about such details, and accepted money whenever I paid, without even checking the account book I maintain.

As I held my temper and opened the door, she stood in front of me with the usual jasmine flowers. She dimpled and asked, “Do you want a couple of lotuses also for your Krishna?”

The surest way to my heart is to talk about Krishna, and here she was offering lotuses. Ignoring the possibility of my kids missing the bus and going without their hot lunch boxes, I smiled and extended my hands greedily.

I showed her my new Krishna idol I had purchased just the week ago from Guruvayur, and then asked her if she sells in that temple town. (Her husband buys flowers in bulk from Coimbatore and sells to nearly most of the well-known temples in and around Kochi). She said she would love to, but she does not have the time.

I asked her how she could not have time when she finishes her door-to-door selling by 9 AM. Her schedule for the rest of the day shocked me into sitting down on the doorstep. She wakes up at 4 AM, starts her door-to-door selling from 5 am, wraps it up by 9, then boards the inter-city train to Coimbatore at 10 AM. Reaches there by 2 PM or so, then starts buying up flowers, loads them into an auto, and reaches the station by 6 PM or so.  Boards a return train to Kochi to let herself into her home close to midnight.

Why do you work so hard, I asked. What about your children? Don’t they help out? Her first daughter is doing her final year (Bachelor of Science) and wants to go on and do her B. Ed. and get a lecturer job in a good college. Her second daughter is doing her second year Engineering, and her youngest (a son) is doing a Diploma in Engineering. “I do not want them to work the way we do. I am doing all this for them.”

By now my second daughter was reminding me about lunch boxes and I hastily thanked her for the flowers. She smiled back and went her way.

I have not stopped thinking about my flower-seller’s daughter-in-law since then. Sincerity, hard work, love for her children – these were the easier lessons she could teach me. But her attitude (no expectations of anything in return from them) and her sense of duty and responsibility?

It put to shame my daily grumblings. It exposed my ignorance of a “real day’s work” in the real world. It touched me in a way no status update, tweet, or email from my friends or family could.  It taught me that life’s real lessons will hit me when I least expect it. I wonder how many of these real lessons have passed me by as I huff and puff my way through a day’s work in my world-class office inside an IT park in urban India?

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If you want good customer service from Electrolux, be a man

Warning: This blog is part of my ‘Rant and Rave’ category and contains sarcasm, disappointment, anger, hurt to my ego, and sheer frustration in huge doses. Not to be read by idealists, optimists, and all those human beings who have never called a toll free number to complain to a ‘Customer Care’ (ha!) representative.

I sincerely hope this experience never happens to the worst of my enemies – the Communist Party of India included. Here goes..

Act 1, Scene 1 – March 23

It is more than 16 months since I forked over Rs 12000 towards a 2 year preventative maintenance contract to Electrolux authorized dealer in Kochi. Since the engineer’s phone on the contract was “not reachable”, I decided to call the 1800 number on the back of the contract.

Shock 1: The authorized dealer no longer deals with Electrolux products – so they gave me a new 1800 number.

Shock 2: The 1800 number did not make me wait more than 2 minutes. I was promised a service visit within 48 hours

Act 1, Scene 2 – March 24

I called and was politely told 48 hours not over. What was I thinking!

Act 1, Scene 3 – March 29

I was told that my problem has been escalated to the next level and prompt response will be forthcoming from the Electrolux customer care team.

Act 1, Scene 4 – March 30

Now I was fuming, and my voice indicated clear anger at being ignored. This time I insisted on speaking to the supervisor. “Sorry madam, he has left the office”. The time – 6 PM

Act 1, Scene 5 – March 31

Spoke to the local authorized dealer who mentioned that they will come without fail on April 2 to service all 3 air conditioners. Called Electrolux customer care – and asked to speak to the supervisor. “Sorry madam, he has not come in”. The time – 11 AM. Can I get a job as supervisor at Electrolux Customer care?

Act 1, Scene 6 – April 2

Waited all day for the local dealer to send his technician. Called Electrolux customer care and asked to speak to Supervisor. Finally spoke to him and he assured that the technician will visit. Called local dealer, and she mentioned that the technician is on his way

Act 1, Scene 7 – April 4

Called Electrolux local dealer and she apologized for the no-show – apparently both her technicians were involved in an accident. (Why am I not surprised?)

But the biggest shock was when I called Electrolux Customer care (1800 number) and they said my ticket was closed. Apparently the technician came to my house and did not find any Electrolux air conditioners.

By then I had only one hour to get to the airport for my vacation. Decided to let go. For the moment.

Act 2 – Scene 1 – April 12

Electrolux customer care and local dealer – but ‘Madam did not pick up her phone. We tried calling numerous times.’ This was after I had specifically told them that I would be out of the country and will be back only on the 11th.

Act 2 – Scene 2 – April 14

Spoke to the supervisor at Electrolux customer care and was promised that the technician would come next day. Since next day was a state holiday in Kerala, I asked if he was sure. He swore on his mother.

Act 2 – Scene 3 – April 16

No technician. No supervisor. The 1800 number no longer working. I called back on the number stored in my cell phone (long distance/STD) and was now told that this was the new number.

By now, my husband was tired of hearing me whine and complain about the lack of care in Electrolux customer care. He called the number, spoke in this dead calm voice that my kids recognize as the ‘calm before daddy dances his Shiva Thandavam dance voice’. I nodded off to sleep, but when I woke up an hour later, he had received a call from the supervisor’s supervisor, who again promised him the heaven. Or at least repair of our air conditioners.

As I watched in disbelief, 4 days later (after 3 more phone calls to the local dealer), the technician actually arrived, cleaned,repaired and left.

What can I say? Except, if you want good customer service from Electrolux, be a man.

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When your local department store closes down

Recently, the local department store closed down in my home town. This retail chain was the first to envisage the growth of larger, all-in-one convenience stores as early as 1990, and pioneered the growth of organized retail in our state. Last month, after nearly 55 years in operation, it closed down almost 59 of its stores all over the city.

Growing up with the first Varkeys Department store around the corner, I have always been amazed at their ability to create one of the finest and most loyal customer bases in Kerala. Used, as we were, to go to the local kirana stores to buy rice and dal from huge gunny bags, and walk through slushy pavements to get fruits and vegetables from the local market, Varkeys changed the very elements of shopping  – hygienically packed goods and produce, clear pricing, good customer service, and the ability to walk through a single store and buy everything from erasers and candy to imitation gold jewellery and vacuum cleaners!

And then came the “evil” brands from outside the state – Subiksha, More, Spencers, Nilgiris, and Reliance. When Reliance offered to buy up Varkeys (and were politely refused) I heaved a huge sigh of relief. What do global retail chains know about my shopping habits and tastes?
5 years of rapid globalization of our retail scene in Kerala later, I am forced to change my mind. While some Nilgiris stores and Subiksha stores have closed down, I could not believe this could happen to Varkeys too. But by now I was used to deep discounts, attractive give-aways, and free delivery (not to mention the air conditioned stores with its wide aisles and products from all over the world – salsa and chips anyone?) and am ashamed to admit that I valued these conveniences more than loyalty to my childhood brand.
So why did Varkeys close down? Whatever the true reason may be (some say it was over-expansion, while others talk about real-estate scams), as a customer I know of only one reason – they ignored the dangers globalization (read: competition) brings. Unfortunately in today’s Indian retail market, where the organized retail sector is growing by CAGR of 5% and contributes to almost 39% to the GDP, a 420 billion USD market is sure to attract cut-throat competition, and an all-out price war. Amidst this scenario, no retailer can afford to be ignorant of the dangers of global competition, or take their customer base for granted. No one.

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The best car for Kerala roads filled with potholes

I have been shopping around for the best car to buy. But before you recommend the Ford Figo or Volkswagen’s Jetta,  you need to know what I expect from my new car.

I have analyzed and categorized, and come up with 3 things my new car has to do, before I will even consider taking it out for a test drive. Here goes –

  1. My car should have the ability to fly over potholes – Anyone who has lived in Kerala knows that there are only 2 seasons in this State – rainy season and pothole season. The rainy season covers a period of 6 months, and the pothole season the rest of the 12 months. Yup, I know the months do not add up or make sense, but neither do the potholes…. So I need a car that can literally rise above crappy roads (and crappier politicians and road contractors) and fly over the potholes.
    1. If you think I am making a big fuss about such small holes, read the following statistic that I carefully made up – 89% of cars undergo an emotional trauma when heaving in and out of a pothole. The other 11% become so emotionally distraught that they have to be carted away by ambulances.
  2. Not only should my car fly over a pothole, it should also scan it from a distance, gauge its height, width and girth, and then smoothly take off without jerky or abrupt movements. And to facilitate that, I have already categorized the 4 potholes it is likely to encounter on Kerala roads.
    1. Pothole 1 aka Babies – These include potholes which are slowly emerging from the freshly tarred roads due to rain. The cracks are just beginning to appear, the stones are slowly getting scattered, and the hole can barely be felt by the car.
    2. Pothole 2 aka Teens – These potholes are a menace to cars. Wider than 1 meter, and deeper than 1 feet, these potholes surface unexpectedly on an otherwise smooth road. You and your family are coasting along, and this “Teen” pothole jolts you back to reality. And spills hot coffee and your mother’s “kaya varathathu” all over your lap
    3. Pothole 3 aka Grandpa – These potholes have hidden depths to them. You think it is only a 2 feet deep pothole, but when you fall neck-deep (okay, car roof deep), you realize these dangerous potholes are best avoided. (Or if you have my car, best hovered over). These potholes cover 3/4th of the road, and if you pay close attention, you may be able to avoid these crabby, mean-toothed holes.
    4. Pothole 4 aka Corpse – The mother of all holes, you can actually bury a corpse in these holes.  At least 6 feet deep, 10 feet wide, these potholes are spread across the width of the road and no amount of manuevering will help you avoid it. Your only option is to slowly slip into it and get it over with.
  3. Finally, my perfect car for Kerala roads should be environment friendly. As it hovers over the potholes, it should at least water the plants and trees that the thoughtful citizens (or “too -sozzled-for-words” drunkards) have planted in these holes to warn approaching traffic. It is the least I can do for the environment as I drive into my garage in an emotionally healthy car.

So if you know a car that will do all of the above, please send me an email immediately. Until then I am going to wince every time the Benz jumps into a pothole. And it is not even mine…..

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Up yours, Mr. Terrorist

Beacon of Hope 22 months has passed since terrorists held the Taj Hotel in Mumbai (and the entire nation as they watched in horror) hostage to one of the most heinous acts of terrorism in India. 22 months since 173 people martyred, hundreds injured, and crores of property destroyed. 22 months and still no justice for the victims.

But one man has done what the politicians, the media and the law could not do – restore a semblance of dignity and hope to the victims.  Ratan Tata – a giant among men, an icon in the business world, and a great humanitarian. When his HR team brought forth a proposal on what the Tata Group could do to compensate the victims (an amazing list by itself), Ratan Tata asked – “Are you sure we are doing enough?”

Enough Mr. Tata? You got to be kidding right? In a nation that treats its politicians and actors as Gods, citizens as dust, and citizen rights as negligible as the fly in your khichidi, you are indeed a beacon of hope. I am not going to recount the entire list here, but present 3 cases (The Week – October 3, 2010 – The Cover Story – “Healing Touch” and “Wah Taj”) that moved me, and let you imagine the comprehensive program the Tata group has implemented not just for its employees who were affected by the attack, but to even the “pav-bhaji” vendor across the street.

  • Manoj Thakur, 29, was working at a roadside shop when the firing at Leopold Cafe injured him. He got Rs 5000 from the Taj Public Service Welfare Trust (set up within days of the 26/11 attack by the Tata Group) for six months, and then got a job as a waiter at the Taj President in Colaba, Mumbai. His children’s education is taken care of by the Trust. So is his wife’s higher education.
  • Diagnosed with terminal illness while being treated for injuries sustained by the taxi blast, Shyamsundar, 36, was given Rs 10,000 for a year, and his entire medical bills are being paid by the Trust.
  • This is not to say the Trust forgot employees of the Taj who died in the attack. The families of these 12 employees will get the last drawn salary as long as the spouse is alive. This is apart from the lump sum amount (in lakhs) paid to the family, free education for their children, and complete medical insurance.

The list goes on. Ratan Tata and his company has touched the lives of every victim of this attack, and ensured their families  get to live a life of relative peace and security.

True, none of these efforts will undo the work of the terrorists on 26th November in Mumbai. None of these efforts will bring back the dead. But these efforts are bringing back hope. Hope, that in a nation of cynical, corrupt leaders, there is someone who cares. Beyond borders. Beyond doubt.

If there is one quality that separates terrorists from people like you and me, it is a feeling of hopelessness. When you lose hope in the system, in yourself, and in your God, that is when you decide your fellow human beings are not worth the air they breathe.

But what the terrorist forgets is that when they kill someone, they are not killing a Hindu or a Muslim, or an Indian or an American, but a son, a father, a husband, a brother and a human being filled with hope, dreams and aspirations for his family.

This blog is dedicated to Mr. Ratan Tata and the Tata Group of companies. For caring. For showing those terrorists that while they can destroy lives and property, they cannot destroy hope.

Up yours, Mr. Terrorist.

Sources:

http://wadias.in/site/arzan/blog/the-tata-gesture-post-2811-mumbai-terror-attacks/

(Unfortunately I could not get an online version of the print articles, but did find the above link that comes close to what the Tata Group is doing for the victims and their families.)

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Are we running for our life?

If I’d known I was going to live so long, I’d have taken better care of myself.  ~Leon Eldred

Yesterday, September 26, was World Heart Day. I decided to do my bit by taking part in the Kochi Marathon.  Since I am fond of living, I decided to stick to the safe 4 Km run instead of the main event – the 21 km mini-marathon.

Though I registered early, I was still worried about how well the run would be organized. If Delhi can goof up, why not my small home-town Kochi? So I got up well ahead of time, stretched my sleepy muscles and headed for the grounds by 6:30 AM on sunday morning. An amazing feat considering that the last time I woke up this early on a Sunday was when my 12-year-old was a colicky infant…

I was in for a very pleasant surprise though. When I walked in, there were millions, sorry thousands, sorry hundreds of energetic men and women ready to do their bit for their Heart. What was even more surprising was that the event started on time.

The first batch to be flagged off were the mini-marathoners – fit athletes, mostly cadets from the Southern Naval Command. Ladies, sight for sore eyes indeed! If nothing else, waking up early was worth it for this breath-taking view alone!

Ahem. Moving on, I found out that individual women were clubbed with senior citizens and children under 15. While my friend was grumbling about this “ranking” I was grateful since it meant I would not be the last one at the finish line. But let me tell you this, I was no match (not even close) for the bubbly children and the even bubblier and competitive senior citizens who almost crushed me in their haste to get going. 

Imagine my horror as I found out that the ambulance (crawling at snail’s pace) was always right behind me. To heck with cramps – I picked up my pace and started leaving the ambulance behind when this senior citizen bounded past me. Adding insult to injury, he turned and waved to me and said, “Come on, buck up!”

I drew satisfaction from the fact that at least my 79-year old dad was way behind me. Ha, that should teach him for making fun of my walking habits all these years. (He walks 5-6 kms everyday from 5 AM to 6 AM. Without fail. Ever since I can remember).

The last stretch was over this beautiful, old drawbridge (Venduruthy Bridge) that connects mainland Kochi to the Wellingdon Island and the Southern Naval Command center. I have gone on this bridge thousands of times, but this was the first time I was running (well, crawling!) over it. As the sun rose on another beautiful day, construction workers banged on the new train track coming over the bridge, the fishermen were  returning from the sea after their early morning fishing session, and the world looked beautiful. I completely stopped in awe when I saw this white-beaked eagle swoop down to the waters and carry away a wriggling, pink fish. This is what they mean by poetry in motion.

I waddled in through the finish line exactly 7 minutes before my dad (who had his quadruple by-pass surgery 4 years ago) sauntered in. I nearly had my first heart attack! While he chatted with his friends and exchanged time/duration/speed statistics, I ran towards the snack counter and downed a couple of gallons of lemonade. Luckily for me, everyone else seemed to prefer water!

As I said goodbye to my fellow-runners, we promised to do more for our hearts. And our health. A retired teacher (who ran the 4 kms) dropped us back to the grounds so my dad and I could pick up our cars. As I waved good bye to my dad and limped back to my car, I prayed for everyone to have a healthier and a nicer heart in the coming years.

So what did I learn from the race yesterday? Apart from the fact that you can never underestimate a senior citizen’s zest for life? Apart from the fact that there is something about being with a group of like-minded that energizes you instantly?

As I watched the laborers race to catch the bus so they could reach their work place (on a Sunday), this is what I learnt. While I am one of the lucky few who gets to run for their hearts, there are still millions out there in this world who HAVE TO RUN (or fly or swim) for their lives. My measly 4 km walk is dedicated to their health.

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Stop all these meaningless surveys about Facebook

Yesterday I blogged about the meaningless surveys produced by companies all over the world that adds no value to our life.  I decided to replace those meaningless surveys and conducted one of mine instead. I surveyed the one person whose opinion is of paramount importance to me. Me.

Want to know more? Read the complete blog at our Content Crossroads Blog and let me know what you think.

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