tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64468970527672741762024-03-06T08:09:39.324+05:30And the answer is.. 42!Keerthana Sethuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04648174371780605901noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446897052767274176.post-33269090781539675692012-12-31T17:34:00.002+05:302013-01-01T00:11:28.333+05:30My New Year Resolution: to speak out against misogyny, everytime.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">To
the Delhi Braveheart. To the girl who was the sunshine of her family,
who lived, laughed, cried, dreamt, hoped just like any of us, to the
girl who dreamt about her upcoming wedding, to
the girl who wanted to live – I am sorry we did this to you. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Note:
When I say misogyny here I mean everything from objectification of
women to sexual crimes to general androcentrism.</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>This New Year, I resolve</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>to
speak out against misogyny</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>to
encourage men</b>, like my husband, <b>who are not misogynistic to
speak out</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>to
speak out about my experiences of sexual harassment </b>including the
common incidents in public spaces and about incidents of being
molested as a kid. I think it is time
to speak out. I know every woman out there reading this has been a
victim too. I vow to speak out about how misogynistic our society is
and what it means to be a girl in India. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">And the
most important, <b>to discuss and fight for a strictly gender equal
family environment with all close friends and relatives</b>. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">To
encourage people like my sister, my friends and even my maid, who
subscribe to that.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">To
discourage those who believe otherwise: I have a set of relatives who
sent their daughters to government schools and son to a CBSE English
medium school – not because he was the brighter kid – because he
was a boy. I vow to speak out against such inequality. </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">And to
discuss and fight even when I might not be heard.</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>to
raise a son like a daughter and not the other way around. </b>I vow to raise the son that I might sometime have to empathise, to care, to cry, to cook, to clean, to speak his feelings - jus<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">t like I will raise the daughter I might have. And that son(and ofcourse the daughter) will also learn right from his childhood that s</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">ex is a mutually enjoyable consensual experience,and not something that is taken by force from somebody (thx Vandy for this line).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>to
like and comment on posts against misogyny</b></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">There
are so many men out there who are starting to speak. So many guys I
would have thought to be misogynistic coming out in support of the
Delhi Braveheart and seeing things the right way – and without
blaming the victim. There are cousins, friends, uncles, aunts and
even workplace acquaintances surprising me here. There is hope
after-all. Then there are those guys that I always knew cared. I vow to fight the cause you believe in - atleast with my
words.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>to
speak out against trolls – </b><span style="font-weight: normal;">When
a socially aware person posts a genuine status on FB, like for
example expressing anger or concern for the Delhi Braveheart – then
some trolls come and post “There are other problems in our
country”, “Tony Grieg died too”, “Why don’t you talk about
the XYZ rape victim also”, “it is because of short skirts”,
“how can a teenage go to pub, what were her parents thinking”,
“Indian culture is good and respects women so this is because of
western influence”. I take a pledge to speak out against it –
ALWAYS.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I
know, speaking out is one thing, and actual lasting change is yet
another thing. Maybe my new year resolution will change nothing. It
doesn't matter. I just know I have to do this. </span></span></div>
</div>
Keerthana Sethuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04648174371780605901noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446897052767274176.post-48456811165290658862012-09-06T15:12:00.003+05:302012-09-07T11:26:28.818+05:30Mookuthi!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpYVEvOHxu8ccXNw8weHt8vWAMySb-N7AhegylglW0DVMcX2y2B7HiKLYNVhiDbrbeIVvgoIpy3LPXPgC-y2KeQU3XIVClfu1S4y0wI06lwWu4rgpDdqu9MFWz01LP9Us2KfRpInAUxIOV/s1600/IMG_8883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>Sometimes some of us go through a phase where change is looming large
but the wait is extended. Some of you can probably identify with it - I
am feeling slightly lost with certain aspects of life (no its not
sadness, its more like confusion), a phase where I am always sensing
some impending change, probably I desire it or it is some lurking fear
of stagnancy. So I constantly have this urge to go crazy. And believe
me, I have mostly been Ms goody two shoes so it is surprising that doing
crazy stuff is actually so satisfying. And now don't imagine really crazy
stuff, its just crazy for my standards.
<br />
<br />
So the other day I was thinking I wanted to get a tattoo. A big colorful eagle or something like that. Then I got scared of the
pain so decided maybe something small to start with. I wanted something
I really believed in, to be tattooed in Devanagiri script. And I ended
up with one of my
favorite phrases that always gave me the goosebumps: Satyameva Jayate.
But after the TV program of the same name I decided it would be too clichéd a tattoo. By then my poor hubby was freaking out and I was also
worried if the tattoo would mess up with the xrays/MRIs/CT for my
back problem. So I decided I do something less crazy and got my hair cut
really short. So far so good and my hubby was happy. Then I declared I
wanted to get my nose pierced. My MIL was thrilled (she probably thought I was
finally becoming traditional ;-) ) and my parents brushed it off as
though I getting a new pair of jeans. <br />
So here is the result:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpYVEvOHxu8ccXNw8weHt8vWAMySb-N7AhegylglW0DVMcX2y2B7HiKLYNVhiDbrbeIVvgoIpy3LPXPgC-y2KeQU3XIVClfu1S4y0wI06lwWu4rgpDdqu9MFWz01LP9Us2KfRpInAUxIOV/s1600/IMG_8883.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpYVEvOHxu8ccXNw8weHt8vWAMySb-N7AhegylglW0DVMcX2y2B7HiKLYNVhiDbrbeIVvgoIpy3LPXPgC-y2KeQU3XIVClfu1S4y0wI06lwWu4rgpDdqu9MFWz01LP9Us2KfRpInAUxIOV/s320/IMG_8883.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
And did I tell you my poor hubby was against this but had to take me to
the Achari anyway? And he was furious after seeing me turn pink
at the piercing. He said, "thats it, no more needles on you". But I am
sure he knows I will come home with the tattoo someday :-D<br />
<br />
<br />
And I almost forgot, so inspired was my niece by my mookuthi that she started going around with a sticker bindi stuck to her nose ;-) </div>
Keerthana Sethuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04648174371780605901noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446897052767274176.post-76232734762673508052012-07-17T18:15:00.001+05:302012-07-17T19:29:10.447+05:30Tell your son..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Guwahati Express used to be the only thing I associated with the city. Maybe I will learn a lot more about the city in future but I am sure the recent molestation incident is something that will make me cringe and shudder for a long time to come. <br />
<br />
The first time I caught some news item on it I just left the room in a hurry - it was too much to bear. Maybe I was in denial. Then some of my friends started to discuss the incident at lunch break and this time I heard it out. Since then I have read blogs, articles and new items on this and it still creeps me out. I feel so angry in a helpless way. I can't just imagining how crushed and defeated the victim would have felt when she underwent the ordeal. Think about it, after being stripped, she ran to different people all over the place begging for help. I can't just get the incident out of my head and each time I remember it, I want to just hug my knees and crawl to a corner and shut my eyes to the world. Injustice to women happens all the time in this wretched country but this one has left me quite traumatized. I keep thinking over and over again, this could have been me. As painful as it seems, like lot of similar issues, this news would become stale in a few days and the girl and her family would be left to fend for themselves. <br />
<br />
We always seem to say great things about "Indian culture" and how bad "western influence" is. I don't think there is a dumber thing than this one that unites Indian thinking. Next time I hear someone say this, I am surely going to pounce on them - verbally of course. <br />
<br />
All those of you reading this, please please please teach your little boy that he has no right to touch a woman without her permission. I wonder what it is about this country that makes us teach our girls to be cautious but we cannot teach our little boys to not rape/molest. And all you mommies and daddies of little boys, please read this: <a href="http://thelocalteaparty.com/post/27192073244">http://thelocalteaparty.com/post/27192073244</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>Keerthana Sethuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04648174371780605901noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446897052767274176.post-38930683824075548172012-05-14T21:36:00.002+05:302012-05-14T21:36:34.744+05:30The Death of The Last Vowel<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;">When I
first moved to </span><st1:city style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;" w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Bangalore</st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
I loved everything about the place. The cosmopolitan/ progressive outlook and
the abundance of fresh minds. It was a huge relief to be able to wear anything
and not be judged professionally or personally based on that. And thanks to the
sudden exposure to myriad cultures, living in </span><st1:city style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;" w:st="on">Bangalore</st1:city><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
also involved being treated to particularly entertaining wondrous accents of </span><st1:country-region style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;" w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;">.. Where
school could be "ischool", one could be "wohne", college
was "kholl-age", sit was "shit" and "bhaiyya" ,
"machan" and "maadi" (as in enjoy maadi) became part of the
vocabulary of a northie and a southie. I am wondering if Kolaveri and Saddah
Haq have joined the youth lingo yet..</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">But one
small thing did irritate me to no extent: the loss of the vowel.. Where Mahabharata
became Mahabharat (sometimes mah-bhart), where a guy named Shiva automatically
became Shiv, and Rama - Ram, the meaning of
meaning itself- artha is now arth and the most annoying – in
conversations and mails I suddenly became Keerthna. Bullshit! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Thinking
back, in 80s/90s</span><st1:place style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;" w:st="on">North India</st1:place><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> had still not lost
that vowel. Mahabharata still had that last 'a'.. And arjuna and duryodhana had
not yet lost it too.. Well my only proof is ofcourse the Doordarshan, but Gopi
grew up in the north and he does say those vowels were surely alive in the 80s.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">My theory
is that the death of the vowel is due to de-sanskritization of Hindi with the
onset of heavy Urdu influence in Bollywood music. Hema Malini and Sridevi
uttering Urdu words was nothing short of an "ouch" but then, beloved
effeminate Bollywood heroes crooning those popular with Zindagi, Mehbooba, Intzaar was
also an integral part of growing up in urban <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>. And I did dig 'ashiqui' and
'mohabbat' (compared to simpleton 'prem' and 'pyar') growning up. And pain, if
not other emotions, is best expressed with abundant use of Urdu words..</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">But why kill that last vowel???!!!. Killing the beauty of Sanskrit vowels in a
Sanskrit word is as sacrilegious (to art) as emasculating those statues in St Peter's
Cathedral (yeah I saw Angels and Demons yesterday).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Would be
interesting to research and find out the story behind the dead vowels.. What do
you think?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">I am also
wondering if the onset of UP and Bihari lingo in Bollywood will see the revival
of the lost vowels..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">And I
still like to be called Keerthana, with all the vowels intact. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>Keerthana Sethuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04648174371780605901noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446897052767274176.post-87891244699382589892012-04-04T18:12:00.000+05:302012-04-04T18:12:27.719+05:30How to be the office jerk? (Fool's Guide I)1. Ridicule any colleague who speaks in English in an informal setting. English speaking is a disease. <br />
<br />
2. If a guy is very passionate and enthusiastic, call him Peter. If the passionate guy volunteers for stuff, behave even nastier and run miles away. Passion is infectious you see, you shouldn’t catch it.<br />
<br />
3. Cover your social deficiencies by quoting one of the gross jokes from a Tamil movie. And then bask in the laughter it evokes – that’s as far you go in socializing. <br />
<br />
4. If a guy is popular with women, it is because he was over-flowing (read in Tamil). Speak cheaply about him when you’re actually desperately jealous about him. Don't ever misunderstand that women like him because he respects them and treats them with courtesy. Extra points for posting nasty stuff about him on FB - especially when he 'likes' a gal's pic or the vice versa.<br />
<br />
5. Missed promotion? Bad hike? Cha, not your fault. Romp around claiming that the girl was promoted because the manager had a thing for her. And the other guy got a promotion coz he did *** ****ing or because of his Peter. Peter is not his boyfriend - refer point 2. <br />
<br />
6. Notice how the girls at work do not look like Aishwarya Rai or Trisha? Wonder why Murphy always favours you - all girls but the ones at your workplace are beautiful? By the way, it doesn't matter that you are badly dressed/pot bellied/below average/ less-than-guy-next-door personality. You are doing a favour to the girls when you ridicule them for being fat or short or being well endowed/not. Better still rate/rank the girls and nick name them after a vulgar porn star. And top it by claiming ' women cannot take jokes' when she takes offense at this. <br />
<br />
7. When a pretty gal pays you some attention finally (she probably thinks its charity), despite all your cheap antics, call her a "slut" for wanting to talk to you. <br />
<br />
8. If a girl stands up for herself when troubled/teased/harassed at workplace (check <a href="http://keerthana-sethu.blogspot.in/2012/03/remember-sister.html">Remember sister..</a>), tell her 'why this kolaveri?'. Tease her for all the fuss about something 'normal'.<br />
<br />
<br />
So what else makes a person the office jerk? <br />
<br />
Write in ladies!<br />
<br />
Apologies to non-Chennaites. Seems like these are unique traits of Tamil men. Hence you may not be able to comprehend some of these..Keerthana Sethuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04648174371780605901noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446897052767274176.post-52758637364376815952012-03-08T18:23:00.002+05:302012-03-09T11:20:14.605+05:30Remember sister..To all my female colleagues - past and present.<br />
<br />
We work/have worked with a company that values women as equal to men. <br />
Still, those occasional weird things happen and some rotten idiots ruin our happiness at work. <br />
A few words from me to each of you beautiful women..<br />
<br />
------------------------------------------------<br />
Remember sister..<br />
<br />
If a colleague stares at you all day,<br />
Or if he cannot look at your face when he talks to you,<br />
if he thinks your chest is your face, <br />
Remember sister, it is not normal, and you did not invite it.<br />
<br />
If he pings you on chat for no reason,<br />
and if he refuses to speak to you in person,<br />
and always insists on talking on the sly,<br />
Remember sister, it is not normal, and you did not invite it.<br />
<br />
if he insists that he just wants to be your friend,<br />
or if he cannot take your rejection gracefully,<br />
If he demands you like him back,<br />
Remember sister, it is not normal, and you did not invite it.<br />
<br />
Or if your boss criticizes your work for no reason,<br />
If he gives you the work that everyone rejects,<br />
if he claims girls are good only at documenting,<br />
Remember sister, it is not normal, and you did not invite it.<br />
<br />
If you are smart, be openly so,<br />
You don’t have to be nice to jerks, just to be accepted,<br />
Hold your head high and be yourself<br />
because sister, those who expect otherwise are not worth your time.<br />
<br />
It is not because you very outgoing, warm and smiley, <br />
it is not because of your fashionable clothes, <br />
that those jerks think you are 'loose',<br />
It is not your fault sister, it is his perverted mind.<br />
<br />
Don't feel bad, don’t feel sad,<br />
Don't think you could have dressed or spoken differently,<br />
Don't think you were too nice or not nice enough,<br />
It wasn't you sister, you did not ask for it.<br />
<br />
Don’t bend sister, and don’t ever break,<br />
Don’t run away, don’t just ignore it,<br />
Stand up and say your NO out loud,<br />
For your silence only empowers him.<br />
<br />
Remember sister, it is NOT NORMAL, and you did not invite it.<br />
<br />
<br />
------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
(Its not meant to be a poem exactly.. just my angry ramblings.. written spontaneously.)<br />
<br />
And to my friends and cousins, who panic with each post of mine and call me to check if I am ok: relax. None of this happened to me! Guess i don't seem so vulnerable or because Gopi and I have always worked in the same company :-DKeerthana Sethuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04648174371780605901noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446897052767274176.post-43493552111183487022012-02-28T15:49:00.005+05:302012-03-07T14:52:24.275+05:30Weighty Issues!Always a chubby little kid, I ended up getting cheek-pinched a lot by well meaning aunts and uncles. But that also meant not-well-meaning uncles on the bus wanted to pinch me too and not on my cheek. Yet, these incidents were only of nuisance value and I was always a happy kid with great self image. You see, being the adamantly positive idiot that I was, too busy dreaming of winning Oscars, Nobels and even marrying British Princes, besides becoming Prime Minister etc. <br />
<br />
I was mostly aloof to all the teasing and when I heard those cat calling songs in pre-teen/teen years, I actually giggled and embarrassed the offender (guess they expected a blush not full blown laughter). My favorite instance was when I was walking to school with a friend and someone cooed "Yendha Kadai-la nee arisi vangare.." and I started giggling and the guy just ran away! :-D. <br />
<br />
(For the uninitiated, the line is from the song "Kathirikka, gundu kathirikka", translated as "Brinjal, plump brinjal". You see, in Tamil, we get pet-named after veggies(Poosinikka, pumpkin, is my fav!) ;-) And the particular line from the song: "Yendha Kadai-la nee arisi vangare.." is effectively translated as "where do you shop for such fattening rice"!)<br />
<br />
So until I hit late teens, I was blissfully plump. Later while in college I still wasnt depressed (I was too busy dreaming up a grand future and I went to a girls college so got a good chance to develop a lot of individuality) yeah but did miss wearing those bootcut jeans with fitted shirts (My first jean, since I was 15, came way too late at 24!). <br />
<br />
So what made me loose weight finally? To answer that question, another one stared in front of me. Why was I fat in the first place? I wasn't exactly a couch potato and had a very healthy diet at home. One thing led to another and it was soon discovered that I had an hormonal imbalance that was causing an insulin resistance in my body. I was told it was a vicious circle because the hormone imbalance was causing insulin resistance and that in turn was worsening the imbalance besides continously reducing my metabolic rate. And I was told its very difficult for me to loose weight because of this, but, not loosing weight wasnt an option anymore. Insulin resistance is a good indicator of middle age diabetes. So I set out to loose weight. This was in May/June 2006. And I weighed a startling 81 Kgs!<br />
<br />
1 years and 2 months later, I had shed 24 Kgs! How? I did a lot of things right, some knowingly, some inadvertantly. I exercised vigorously (walked along Marina for 1 hour every morn - 7 Kms), adjusted diet (all home food allowed, no outside food) and sustained my weight by a super healthy diet while in Europe on a business trip.<br />
<br />
Thinking back I am pretty sure that this is one of my biggest achievements and the very first one that I set out doing with so much drive. And I succeeded.<br />
<br />
Along the way I also shed my spectacles, opting for contacts and it startled me to know that I had admirers! It wasnt easy! It shocked me, because you see I had grown up being the happy ugly duckling! People cannot believe the "happy and fat" part, but what better proof than the fact that Gopi and I got together just as I hit the roof at 81 Kg? The weight loss came more than 3 years later. I still am fat in my head and still shocks me when I catch people staring (different from fat days stare) and I even more shocked when someone tells me I am not fat anymore - In my head I always react with 'really?'<br />
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Years later, my weight does fluctuate often along with the hormone fluctuations, but I have managed to retain an average BMI. I still always plan to loose weight, and one might think that its so much easier since I have done it once.. But no.. the scale seems frozen in time, because the last 5 years taught me something beautiful. To love myself, unapologetically.<br />
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The much awaited before and after pics:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JGsDVRFz9CEzwT2UXAeZEFwFEivlQTW5JxGNikpdh7AAHRJPRfxg0sZO7ABUIUBuA3BhMpk6RLkDLSa7Mh_LuMm_0hNJsUHkAqhiZQ7_cdU8rVhnbUYiWgVFUcC6tSH_IuiGbr_9eOV5/s1600/DSC01161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JGsDVRFz9CEzwT2UXAeZEFwFEivlQTW5JxGNikpdh7AAHRJPRfxg0sZO7ABUIUBuA3BhMpk6RLkDLSa7Mh_LuMm_0hNJsUHkAqhiZQ7_cdU8rVhnbUYiWgVFUcC6tSH_IuiGbr_9eOV5/s320/DSC01161.JPG" /></a></div>Sometime in 2005<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtaNxfzu0d0OPqZhMRM-Hz6IhtGxkyeWq_SbXduUVEi0AEYp6ibLu-AAOl8ZKQlD0S4GnSXNfs7VNRhn8YpDhRMRgnUHCsZMHcnQvDU4hi37BduBC8IohoQ52ydgw2nqteHV3ilHXpKGp6/s1600/IMG_2607+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtaNxfzu0d0OPqZhMRM-Hz6IhtGxkyeWq_SbXduUVEi0AEYp6ibLu-AAOl8ZKQlD0S4GnSXNfs7VNRhn8YpDhRMRgnUHCsZMHcnQvDU4hi37BduBC8IohoQ52ydgw2nqteHV3ilHXpKGp6/s320/IMG_2607+-+Copy.JPG" /></a></div>And in 2010Keerthana Sethuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04648174371780605901noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446897052767274176.post-73599064363013432842012-02-10T16:08:00.001+05:302012-02-11T11:53:21.913+05:30Mystery of the Peeping Toms and other idiots<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My next post was going to be about my 5 years in Ericsson. But seems like that has to wait. I just cannot help but write about all those Facebook pests putting up idiotic posts(yeah yeah, I block them, so if you authored one of those posts, please don’t argue with “if you don’t wanna see it, ignore it”.).</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b>Nehru-Gandhi Bashing: </b>Just as I log in, on my wall are 3 posts about the Nehru-Gandhi family. I sure am no supporter of dynasty rules, but why is everyone so f**king bothered about Sonia's heels, Priyanka's clothes, Rahul's girlfriend/lack of it, Nehru's affairs.. what the hell!!!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It is one thing to be a socially and politically aware responsible citizen. It is nothing short of 'peeping tom' behavior to be so bothered by such personal things. If you are so socially conscious, why pay that bribe to register your new house? Why does Tamil Nadu alternate between just 2 chief ministers? Why did Lok Paritran not win? </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b>Religious posts: </b>Do I want to see your pictures of Navarathri. Yes. Pictures of your family in Tirupathi. Yeah why not. Wedding pics. Oh yeah. You want to write about your Amarnath Yatra adventures. Heck yeah, bring it on!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">But shout out to the world about your religious affiliations, beliefs, prayers, preaching. That, no thanks! Bashing another religion (claiming Taj Mahal was a temple), no way, not on my wall – get lost! </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b>Click to win posts: </b>This one goes like this: If you click on this link, you win 1 million $. Seriously, then why isn’t even of one of you in my friends list a multi-millionaire?</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b>Graphic descriptions of terrifying non-existent/imagined .diseases: </b>Is that for dhrishti pariharam on fb? ;-) </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b>Spreading false rumors: </b>A woman gives birth to 20 babies? Reese Witherspoon passes off as young Sonia? Seriously? Since you can read English: there is a search Engine called Google. You can establish whether the post, that you so feel like posting, is really truth or simple myth/hoax. Well I don’t have a big problem with this. It is you who comes out looking like a fool.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b>Motivational quotes: </b>Grow up! Get a life!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b>Posting pictures of unknown pretty women: </b>Single largest reason why girls remove people from our friends list. Like that guy I know who posted a picture of a girl he dint know – a normal girl – simply because she was too pretty and held a beer can: He was out of my friends list in a split second. To explain more on thed this topic itself is in an insult to womanhood. If you really think this isn’t all that bad – well, poor you, even the psychiatrist cannot help you.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Well so this is my list of post categories that I deeply hate and I notice people around me: colleagues, friends, family all share my view. Maybe I am just surrounded by smart people! ;-)</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">These are my kind of posts: People, what goes on in their life, pictures, arts, history, science, technology, quirky facts, original writing..etc. ? I know a lot of you out there reading this, hate posts of my kind. But who cares? This is my blog. :-D</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Keerthana Sethuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04648174371780605901noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6446897052767274176.post-85349392221540787272011-07-18T16:22:00.000+05:302012-09-06T19:03:01.795+05:30Mylapore Misadventures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Mylapore has been my 'enga area' for close to 15 years now. I always took pride in the fact that I could walk alone at even 10.30, 11.00 PM and not feel even remotely uncomfortable about my safety. Little did I know that times have changed and that there is grave danger posed by anti social elements lurking in those calm tree lined streets.<br />
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With my hubby travelling for business, I moved into my parents for a month. I signed up for swimming. It all started fine, I was walking back home at 9PM, dressed in exercise clothes and walking in a mild drizzle. Everything looked fine, the neon lights that have replaced the dark bungalows of RK Salai, swanky cars and beach goers returning home. I felt so good about Chennai. Here I was, wearing fitted clothes and walking alone and still feeling safe and secure. It felt so great that I caught myself humming tunes and looking up at the sky and smiling.<br />
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About the time I was starting to feel weary I reached the end of my street and smiled at those some beautiful and some quirky houses. What all people can do in the name of Vastu! As I was approaching my apartment, I noticed the hot engineering college kid from next block standing around with his equally hot friends and the cool bikes. Nice. I walked past them and smiled about their Bessie plans in the making.<br />
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And then, out of nowhere came the two monsters. In an instant, they started circling me viciously, as if zeroing in on their prey. The constant smile that I had simply froze and I could feel the panic flush through me. I tried a meek 'Shoo shoo po po' as they came too close for my comfort. My menacing tormentors refused to give up. And then started the fierce 'ggrrrrring'. I shrieked, screamed, yelled and worst of all just froze there! And the engineering kids, watched totally amused, surely having the time of their lives! And to add to my ignominy the devils refused to budge and started 'ggrrrring' even more! And I started screaming in a even more high pitched voice. I am sure it probably matched high pitched laughter of those kids. Then came my saviour, the lazy fat watchman from next door, my knight in the shining armour for that split second. He deftly shooed away the menacing tormentors, a couple of street dogs, with his stick and saved my life. But not my pride.<br />
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So while the roads of Chennai and all other dark streets remain safe for me till date, walking the last segment of my street requires an escort with a weapon (my near blind watchman with his stick waits for me at the end of the street).<br />
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Note: Apologies to the animal lovers. I do hate these 2 dogs. They have a new litter with super cute pups which is the reason for their aggression. We do not want to call blue cross until the pups are a little bigger.</div>
Keerthana Sethuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04648174371780605901noreply@blogger.com1