The Facebook Detox Diet

Is there such a thing as the Facebook detox diet? No, there isn't and the term is merely a figment of my imagination. Although, everything about the diet is probably more realistic than fictional. Let me explain.

I can still remember the day I created an account on Facebook. No, I dont recall the exact day, date or time but I do remember my thoughts when filling in the usual standard questions. At that time I was a big Orkut fan and although everybody began to shift their loyalties to FB, I was still a stickler for the original social networking site. I also had a hi 5 account which I deleted because I honestly forgot to use it as well as a MySpace account, which again I used to forget to even check. However, I signed up for FB 'just in case'. I could never have predicted at that time just how big a control FB would have on my life later. And maybe for plenty of wrong reasons.

As you can imagine, I ended up deleting my Orkut account too because eventually like most things in life, Orkut gave in to the competition and tried too hard to become 'something else'. Gone was the clean interface and easy to read font which were now replaced with a number of customization features. FB with its boring, trademark white and blue screen seemed to have a much bigger magnetic appeal. And what a coincidence in a way, because the same faces that smiled at me from my Orkut friends list were the ones which added to my friends list on Facebook as well.

The good thing about Facebook is that you get to stay aware of what's happening in everybody's life without actually having been there in the first place. I've attended I dont know how many baptisms of new borns, shed a tear or two at weddings I never physically attended, said a prayer for those who had lost loved ones and can even claim to have visited a few foreign lands because of the pictures that were diligently posted online. What began as a celebration of the little events that make up life, according to me soon became a way to prove to others that their life was so very happy. Every little sneeze, every little booze party, every small makeover was being put up for the whole world to see. Although there have been times when I was glad that I was being allowed to celebrate with the person concerned, there were plenty of other times when I wished I had told the person upfront that too much info isn't any good anywhere.

And then came the disastrous 'like' option. To add to everybody's misery, now people could also like other people's opinions and even comment on them. The other day, somebody's dog died and there were actually 4 people who 'liked' the comment. Really? Another day a mum put up an update about her kid who was down with flu. And what have you? Another 5 people 'liked' that update too. I can now believe incidents of people suffering from FB mania or of checking their account some two hundred times a day.

For me, personally I realised that Facebook had begin to affect me in a few other ways that I never thought was harmful at first. Seeing pretty couples pose, beautiful babies being born, happy families on their nth vacation gave me the feeling that my life just wasn't Facebook worthy or even 'me' worthy. I began to compare myself in many ways to over a dozen friends who I felt had 'everything'. And it left me feeling irritated. Miserable. Angry and most importantly, ungrateful for all the blessings I never asked for but received anyway.

Like all problems, getting down to the root cause was the prime challenge. I had become so addicted to knowing what was happening in everybody else's life that I had stopped paying attention to what was happening in mine. And I just had to comment or 'like' something, no matter how silly it actually was. This may not be your story and hopefully you will never be affected the way I was, but I know that years of FB finally began rubbing me the wrong way. And hence the Facebook Detox Diet.

I decided that it was high time I got up and started appreciating what I already had and was in severe danger of losing. I may not have the picture perfect family. The shiny new car with pumped up speakers. Or amazing pics near the Tower of Pisa to show off. But as of now, it's still good to be in my shoes. And I'd like to feel that bit of reality a bit more closer before one of life's surprises knocks me in the face again.

I know that many of my friends love to hear about some funny incident which I have recounted here or some other humourous narrative that has them in splits. The humour hasn't died. But if this was truly to be Sanjana's blog, then I felt that it was also important to jot down my chain of thoughts and whatever started the fire in the first place. And yes, this is one diet that I wholly approve of!

The Green Tea diet failure

So now that the fetish for mangoes which was driving everyone in the house mad is over, I've now shifted my loyalties to the humble payasam or kheer or vermicelli pudding as it is called. With our beloved harvest festival of Onam in the air, it's that time of the year for our paddy fields to don their greenest cloaks, for us to celebrate the best of Kerala vegetarian cuisine and of course, it's also that time when you're allowed to gulp down endless cups of payasam without any mention whatsoever of weight gain!

Which brings me to another much debated and worn out topic of discussion- weight gain. How I wish for the umpteenth time that I was one of those people who could hog like the world was about to experience a famine of the worst kind from the next day and still sashay around in figure hugging dresses and heels. But, sadly that was never meant to be for me, and although I have gotten around to the idea that even the mighty Creator needs a few laughs now and then, it hasn't stopped me from thinking of a quick-fix solution. So, I gave in to the 'green tea' mania which was guaranteed to work and burn off fat and all that. In Singapore, in fact, I even stopped drinking water and used to sip that yucky bitter brew straight from a jar because I thought losing a few fat cells here and there was something my body could give up easily. And since this is MY body we're talking about, I also figured that a measly 4 cups of green tea everyday would simply not work for me (Try convincing your mind to drink something when you actually want to puke so bad). After one week of torturing my taste-buds and putting my already fragile mental strength through such barbaric treatment, I gave up and promptly dunked all the remaining green tea sachets, where they belong in my world that is- in the dustbin :-)

 BUT reading about how effective green tea has been for so many other mums who were slogging to lose all that post pregnancy weight, of course the little devil who resides in half my brain had to make me feel guilty about it as well. ' How come others are able to do it, whereas you aren't? was the one question on my mind. I needn't have gone through so much of self-questioning anyways, because a certain smartypants working in Parry's came up with a fantastic idea- What if you could get all the benefits of green tea in a capsule and save yourself and other unfortunate family members from the possible side-effects (read complaints and non stop grumbles) of consuming the actual drink?? So, yes, I confess, I am now getting my green tea kicks from the humble capsule and although I have been on it for a week, I am yet to see any visible signs of anything whatsoever melting. Although, I have been feeling much more hungrier of late and royally giving into it as well, which again contradicts the prime reason for taking green tea capsules at all :-(

On a happier note, it's been raining kittens and puppies here and the weather is simply gorgeous. It's really grand to snuggle under the blanket for an extra 5 minutes or to hold a steaming mug of coffee between my palms and watch the raindrops fall so close to me. My little boy and I walk to the bus-stop everyday and I realised that he enjoys jumping in every puddle he sees. So although he has the wickedest smile on his face and giggles to himself, I being the strict parent obviously tell him not to do that, but inside I'm secretly enjoying the way he is acting his age. There's a certain freedom and joy and discovery all at once. Please note that he is also the reason why my otherwise white as snow pyjamas have also turned brown in colour. But pyjamas be damned. Childhood comes just once in a lifetime. ;-)

A not so short letter to my 4 year old

Dearest Gaby,

It may seem strange to you that I am typing a letter to you, that too when I see you every day but there were so many things I wanted to tell you but which you just wouldn't understand right now. Years later when you grow older, you are likely to come and ask me 'Mama, what kind of a child was I?' and at that time I don't want to dither for answers. The only reason why I'm likely to scratch my head and think hard about the many things you used to do as a child, is because I'm sure a deadly combination of senility and amnesia would have set in by then. Coming to think of it, as we grow older, for some reason we all want to hear little snippets about our childhood and the naughtier the incidents; the happier we are.

Some day I'm hoping that you will yourself sit down and read all the entries in this blog. But for now, this is what I'd like to say to my first-born:

1. I love looking into your big eyes because they are the only and maybe the best feature you have inherited from me. And they reflect everything- your happiness, a sparkle when you have done something naughty, a teardrop when you are in pain and a 100 other emotions that I know only too well.

2. Your sense of humor is so charming and it's only going to get better as your grow older. You've already figured out that imitating others, making faces, cracking a witty one-liner or your usual 'Pleeazzz' will make others smile. Don't forget to laugh at yourself sometimes too when you grow older. You'll find that it makes you stay grounded and humble.

3. Your grandma loves to whine that the house has become messier after you and I have come here. And I love that. Because a house is always just a building made of bricks and cement, till a child comes and makes it a home. I know you've secretly added a few of your masterpieces on the walls (your grandma hasnt seen them yet and when she does, run! But till then I won't tell :-) ), that your fingerprints can be clearly spotted on the glass cupboards and your toys are everywhere but in their toy box and I love that so much. And I also know that although you say you don't love grandma, you miss her so much when she isn't around. Dont worry, she already knows how much you love her too even though you never hesitate to state otherwise.

4. Since you are the first boy to be born in my side of the family, I can honestly say that you came as a breath of fresh air to your dada. Having been surrounded by 3 women for a good part of his life, finally some testosterone came our way :-) And if you've noticed, your dada very subtly buys biscuits claiming that they are for you and royally finishes them up on his own. (that's another secret we won't tell grandma).

5. I know that bringing you back from Singapore and the whole change in atmosphere was anything but easy for you. But you've adapted so beautifully that I think it's as much your victory as it is mine. I also noticed that you've become naughtier and these days you behave like some invisible leash has suddenly been taken off you. I take that as a sign that this move was just what was needed for you. And me.

6. The last time I saw you biting your nails, you told me ' Mama, my tooth is coming loose' just as an excuse (did you think I was born yesterday?). I know exactly what you were up to and although I do not advocate such blatant twisting of facts or an over hyperactive imagination, my heart was secretly doing a tap dance and I was struggling to control my lopsided smile that was just aching to come out. In short, I wanted to laugh and hug you but that would have only encouraged you to come up with more such stories in the future. And so, you got a warning not to tell any more lies again. But, having said that, let me also tell you that you're nothing like what I was when I was a kid.

7. Hairstyles. I don't know why you think you have the most luxurious mane in the world, but darling you don't. Although I have to hand it over to you for style at the age of 4. I know you don't have enough faith in my style quotient (not that I blame you!) and you assume that your kiddy hairstyles are world-class, but they really are not. However, I do enjoy watching you take your ritual of brushing your hair and styling it so seriously, every day.

8. I love that you're not the clingy type and that you can manage just fine on your own without me. The first time you went to school and sat in the bus all by yourself I was half expecting and  hoping that you would cry for me. And when you didn't , part of me was so disappointed and the other half was so jubilant. If you are confident enough to sit in a bus with strangers you have just met and without a familiar face around at the age of four, you'll do just fine if you have to move to another city and live there when you're older.

9. I love watching you play by yourself. It's such a natural stressbuster that I don't know why I don't do it more often. The sounds that you make, the way you say 'Aiyyo', the imaginary conversations you have- these are a few of the things I wish I could lock up in my mind for always. Because these days will go away as you get bigger and by then you would have discovered the never ending fascination of video games and play stations. I think I've already unconsciously made the decision to keep you away from them for a while longer.

10. Each time I see you, I remember the 1 hour old infant who caught my little finger with both his hands. That one gesture said everything. I used to wonder why mothers cling to their children when they get married, but I've understood that it's something that is easier said than done. Although a mother may or may not say it, there is always the fear that a child may actually not need her someday. And then what is a mother to do? Although, if such a thing happens, it's actually a tribute to the mother's capabilities as a parent. But try telling that to any mother and I bet you she'll have immediate tears in her eyes. There's something nice about needing your mom even when you are independent enough. There's a clear reason why I still bug your grandma into making me tea every morning although it should ideally be the other way round. But, if its any comfort, I do make her breakfast every day.

11. I've rarely met people who can light up a room with their smile, a word or an action. Your Nikki Chech is one such person and so is your Uncle G. Sometimes, you look just like a ray of sunshine especially when you wear your yellow t-shirt and I pray that you'll always have a cheerful look on your face and flutter your long eye-lashes even when you grow older and you get a more realistic taste of what the world really is about.

12. You remind me of a French wine connoisseur every time you eat something tasty and close your eyes while simultaneously smiling and saying mmmmmmmm. Gordon Ramsay would be proud to know that you have such refined sensibilities and such mature taste-buds especially when it involves your mama's cooking.

13. Thankfully, you're getting tired of not getting your way each time you throw a tantrum and that makes it easier for me as a parent. Repeat for the 50th time- Tantrums are bad behavior!

14. Your love for books is undoubtedly from me. And thank God. Because I was seriously contemplating giving away my books to a charity drive or donate them to a school. But now since you already have a taste for the written word, there's a good chance that you'll develop it all your life as well. And anytime you feel like a good read, visit your mama's bookshelf. Each book there has a story of its own and is there for a reason.

In short, bringing you up is one of the hardest challenges I've ever taken up in life. Because I'm always worried if I'm doing it right. The nagging What if's just never let a mother's conscience rest in peace. On the other hand, you're also the sweetest. And the most fun. I can't tell you how glad I am that you know how to have fun and that you give the tightest and bestest hugs in the whole wide world.

Mmmmmmm Mangoes:-)

I dont have a favourite fruit. I like apples, grapes, pineapples and the occasional banana but mangoes are most certainly something else. Earlier, I used to grudgingly go through the fruit counter at our local supermarket in Singapore, knowing fully well that though they would have fruits from all over the world, they just wouldnt have the humble mango. And I've been proven right many a time.

This year, since I was in India I decided what the heck.. make up for all those years of smacking my lips at the thought of a juicy mango but having to do make do with some other fruit instead. And so it was with a huge smile on my face that I went to do some mango shopping recently. What I wasn't prepared for was the huge variety of that golden coloured fruit that seriously had me perplexed. From apoos to sindhuri to the small native kind, each variety has its own individual flavour, size and colour. I've been having plenty of fun trying out all the varieties available but so far apoos wins hands down.

I love my mangoes cold and as ripe as possible, yes even to the point where it isnt a piece anymore but a mushy slush. In my house, if there's anything tasty to eat, I first have to make sure my mum isnt around. Although I have to say that as far as the mango is concerned, my sister clearly proves that she's moms daughter! Usually the scenario goes something like this: ' Does anybody want a mango' I ask. ' No, mangoes give pimples' is what my mom and sister say. ' Well, ok then, here goes'. Thats when I sit down at our kitchen table looking at the cold sweet mango like one bite is going to take me straight to heaven. And just when I have cut a small piece and I close my eyes to relish every single bit of flavour, my mom has taken advantage of my weak moment and has cut herself a huge piece. And if you think my sister is any better, let me tell you that you are so wrong. In the end, my tummy may be satisfied but my soul simply isnt. And yes, I also wonder why the heck dont people say they want some mango when I asked in the first place??

I can think of so many rainy nights when a sexy mango would keep me company. How luscious and perfect it would look on the outside. And then I would cut it open to find that it had black fungus of some sort or had already become spoilt. I've chucked away probably 20 such mangoes ever since they were in season and while I should have learnt my lesson and looked the other way whenever I passed the fruit shop, I never learnt my lesson. Fortunately. So, dicing a mango I find is something like a lottery ticket or like Forrest Gump's mama once said- ' You never know what you're gonna get!'.

I was so thrilled to know that my child who hates 'vegebles' and fruits actually loved mango. And I was secretly thrilled that I could introduce him to this fantastic fruit. I even ventured to make some mango milkshake and a yummy mango vanilla pudding which was just divine. But, I think that the king of fruits tastes just fine on its own, which is why I dont think it needs any extra frills like milk, sugar or flour to keep it company.

And talking about my kid. He is getting so good at smiling and lying his way through, that I need some quick classes in how to handle 21st century kids. He has this habit of biting his nails and the last time I caught him in the act, he merely smiled and said that his tooth was coming loose. His charm seems to work for all the wrong reasons on my dad too. Considering that dad is so proud of our mini garden, I was sure my kid would be in the firing line if dad spotted him pulling down a few leaves with his umbrella. But no, my little boy managed just fine on his own. He turned around and told dad that the leaves were actually drinking water from his umbrella!! Dad smiles, shakes his head, and my kid wins hands down. 

Sigh! Why didn't I think of any of that when I was his age??

Starring my BOOK-STAND

Something strange is happening to me these days. A few months back, I was moaning about the lack of new books to read. And now that I have around 15 new works that are simply bawling for some attention from me ( and if you thought using the word bawling was an exaggeration, I swear it's not, because these books have simply jumped from my already stuffed book-shelf and have now invaded my cupboard. So on the last shelf where you ought to see some pretty clothes, you'll see Steve Jobs, Bill Bryson, Vinod Mehta and Anita Nair fighting for some breathing space :-) ). Now where was I? Yes, so like I was saying I'm honestly surprised at myself. I now have enough books to keep me company for the next 6 months but I don't feel like touching them. Instead, my eyes keep wandering to my book stand which is certain to fall down on me someday, if I add any more books there.

If there's one thing in my bedroom I'm supremely proud of, it's my book-stand. First of all, it was made from scratch at a time when carpenters actually used good quality wood to make furniture. Furniture from those bygone years really lasts and I find that furniture bought from retail stores these days just doesn't. This book-stand used to be placed in my grandfather's house in Mulund, Mumbai. Back then, my grandpa would proudly show off his collection of Osho books ( Lord knows why), his spanking new Encyclopedia Britannica collection and a few other works of fiction like the Arthur Conan Doyle collection of Sherlock Holmes stories. Although I never got around to reading Osho, I like to think that my off-beat taste in the written word comes from my grandfather. While my dad's dad liked such stuff, my mom's dad on the other hand preferred to stick to his Perry Mason mysteries and other thrillers.

The idea of my own book-stand proudly showing off my taste in books didn't occur to me until I went to a dear friend's house and spotted her small collection of books on a stand under the staircase. That's when it hit me- why not have my own collection of books, something that I can pass on someday to the next generation and something I can go back to now and then. I sometimes think that a good book is better than a husband- it's always there when you need it, no unnecessary talking and a good 9/10 chance of being really interesting. Sadly, I don't recall which is the first book I bought. But when I take a look at my book-stand, each book has its own special moment in time. There are books bought after long hours of browsing at Odyssey when I was doing my MBA in Hyderabad, there are books bought in Mumbai from Crossword, books bought off the street, quite a few bought online. Books I swore I would buy when I had more cash, a few books that I thought would be interesting but turned out to be so boring, books picked up from 50% off sales ( How I love a book sale), books that were purchased because they just had to be there, plenty of historical biographies and of course, many classics.


 What you won't find in my book-stand are books on spirituality and management. Sometimes, I think that I was the only MBA student back then in ICFAI who diligently stayed away from any book with the words ' Time Management,' Success', ' Habits', ' Winner', 'Succeed', 'Goals' and ' Fulfill' in its title. I just hated such books and still do. Nothing in the world can make me buy an Ed Bono book or works written by other writers in his league. Spiritual books are another waste of time according to me, because spirituality is something to discover within yourself- why should you have to listen to somebody else's lecture about it? But then again, that's just me!

Anyways... One look at my cherished books and my eyes fell on ' Shantaram'. I still remember buying this book one late evening in Mumbai, when my best friend and I were shopping at Shopper's Stop. Back then, this book cost 500/- and I had read so much about it. The cost of the book pinched of course, but I devoured it within days. And I remember enjoying that book quite a bit. Reading it all over again for the second time now, makes me realize how many words of wisdom are actually tucked away in every page. And I feel the same reverence for the writer as I did when I read the book for the first time. To be able to store all those memories safely in one's head and then while putting them down on paper years later, to be able to recollect those emotions and take the reader on a journey is nothing short of commendable to me.

I've started writing down atleast two lines of where I had bought my books, from last week. It's hard- I've forgotten many details as it is in the space of a few years, but I like to think that someday when my son picks up books from my sacred collection, that he will smile as he reads those few lines written in my handwriting. And that's what keeps me going :-)