Of lotions and potions

 A very popular saying goes that one is never rich and slim enough and may I also add that one is never beautiful enough? These are precisely the three things where the maxim of “more is less” applies most aptly. The closer you are to achieving your goal, the further your over ambitious desire pushes it.

With a surge of DIY videos jeopardizing Youtube and social media, a renowned yoga guru swearing upon its benefits and almost all the magazines dedicating pages upon pages to ‘out of kitchen’ beauty recipes/remedies, it is very difficult to not let yourself give in to the temptations of giving them a try.  The eye catching fancy, colouful drinks considered as magic potions, promising to be highly potent detoxifying agents, aimed at making one ‘feel’ slimmer, lighter, happier, glorious etc. are bound to impress anyone and everyone. I decided to make best use of the ample time available to me by delving and diving into the vast ocean of literature, pertaining to beauty treatments, that is easily, readily and freely available on the internet.

Perhaps, this would turn the wheels of fortune in my favour and make me a beauty expert and help me earn worldwide acclaim & accolades. Who knows with my extreme devotion and hard work I might even give myself an opportunity of an innovative start up? After all imagination requires no wings!

 I started reading beauty columns very sincerely, immersed myself completely into beauty related googling. And I got to realize that almost everything available at home, from charcoal to toothpaste to Vicks vaporub to ridged gourd to gelatin, is capable, beyond our imagination, of lending further glory to beauty.  

‘Home-remedies’! The words ‘home’ and ‘organic’ have such a peaceful and soothing effect on our sensibilities. A strange calm descended upon me at the mere thought of starting my own beauty regime that would be 100% pure, straight out of the kitchen/bathroom and 100% chemical free.  "No, I am not gullible; I am strong enough not to give into the machinations of the ever so flourishing beauty industry", I reminded myself firmly. A sudden realization dawned on me that all my life I have been a lazy mindless spendthrift. Most disdainfully I looked at all the lotions and creams adorning my dressing table, sneering a little more vehemently towards my newly bought serum of vitamin C.  I could see all these , about to be declared useless, items looking at me most apologetically.

      Armed with a new zest and zeal , accompanied by many innovative ideas floating through my head I told myself that I could do it. I gave a hard look at myself in the mirror, strategizing my moves and planning on how to deal with my beauty woes. Suddenly my eyes acquired the ability of a magnifying glass and started pointing out patches, blotches, moles, and blemishes to me, in an accusatory manner. I was now determined to beautify myself both internally and externally. I gave myself around 15 days to change the biology, history and chemistry of my entire body.

      The next day I woke up with a song in my heart for I had realized the purpose of my life and headed straight to the kitchen. I made a concoction of triphala, aamla and lemon and somehow managed to gulp it down refusing to oblige the urge of my gut to puke. I deliberately avoided honey, thinking that the bitter the better. My stomach kept sending revolutionary signals but I kept myself motivated beyond my capability, ignored its warnings and focused only on picturing a slimmer me. I whisked honey, curd , lemon, cinnamon, egg—literally whatever I could lay my hands upon and applied on my face waiting for the magic to happen. Instead of leaving it on my face for 20 min, I left it on for 40. My face became stiff, almost paralyzed, my sense of smell was obnoxiously heightened but all I did was to visualize the impending glory. I washed my face and the telescope like abilities of my eyes too seemed to be washed away and all I saw was a happier, softer and a glowing me. I promised myself to continue undeterred, with the ongoing mission. In the evening I again went berserk in the kitchen and pulped all the available fruits and vegetables and slapped them on my face most generously . I decided to have the much famed ‘lauki’ juice as well. I felt as light as a Himalayan bulbul already. I slept the most satisfying sleep at night with a promise of dating my hair the next day.

      After having treated myself to magic potions and lotions the next day , I collected an assortment of available oils and whipped them up with bananas, eggs, honey, vinegar, lemon. In my excitement, I even threw in some dates. “So what if the application is messy, the after effects are going to be heavenly”, I told myself. At night, my husband was unable to sleep because his smelling power, convinced him that someone had puked on his pillow, bed sheet or may be on him. What a restless night it was for him! But i dreamt of him admiring my knee long tresses, with me revelling in the adulation smilingly coyly and at the same time clinging to my beauty secret most possessively. I professed my newfound love for beauty treatments and shared beauty experiments with my sister and friends. A delightful bond was established with an amazingly renewed fervour, over beauty secrets.

      Next day, I became bolder with my experiments and decided to treat my body with a mix of ‘home’ made cream and honey. I told myself, “What better way to love yourself!” As I drenched myself in it, I again asked, “Can there be a better meditation than this?” I decided to discard all things chemical. I took a vow to do away with soaps and shampoos. I also sincerely hoped that my husband would adapt to all the ‘homely’ smells emanating from me. But it took a lot for me to ignore overpowering , unpleasant and pungent odours threatening to knock me unconscious.

      The next day I noticed a small blister smiling wryly at me from my forehead. "Trying to demotivate me from following my dreams?", I questioned sternly. I ignored it most defiantly, although in my heart of hearts I knew the reason of its occurrence. I didn’t want to deny my face the benefits of my beauty recipes because of seemingly inconsequential zit. My stomach also did somersaults to dissuade me from feeding it with my magic potions. My taste buds  screamed and shrieked but I remained determined.

      I woke up with a loose stomach and saw the acne assuming dangerously large proportions standing like an indomitable mountain on my forehead. May be my body was reacting to my treatments. But how could I have given up so easily? I searched the net frantically and stumbled upon the divine benefits of ‘tea tree’ oil in wiping out any signs of acne, blister, pimples or any such thing completely. I ignored all the instructions of mixing it with water or any other oil before applying and smeared it directly on swelled up acne in order to facilitate its healing and subsequent disappearance. My skin cried because of this ultimate torture but like a maniac I dislodged all its protests, applied some more and even covered it up with a bandage before going to bed. Throughout the night the painful burning sensation kept me from sleeping but me and my pride took it as a sign of healing, the imminent road to recovery. When I removed the Band-Aid in the morning my eyes witnessed the ugliest of sights. For a while I was unable to distinguish a nightmare from a horror. A reddish-purple scar! Scalded and scorched! A shock of worst kinds! I was beyond consolation and the worst part was that I had nobody but mysself to blame. Like all other important lessons of life, I realized it a hard way that even organic, pure and chemical-free products can trigger and aggravate worst of allergies. Therefore, i promised to never get lured by those wicked charms in disguise. The importance and benefits of an otherwise underrated patch test lay bare in front of me and caused extreme discomfort to my vanity.

Irony died a hundred times when I was prescribed a steroid laden chemical cream to treat the home remedy inflicted burns.  I once again understood the importance of having a balanced attitude towards life. I took down notes for self : Over confidence is more of a vice than a virtue. Excessive enthusiasm is as bad as all other excesses.

Unable to face the scar in the mirror I turned towards the Vitamin C serum most expectantly and endearingly. 

Smile with pride

SMILE WITH PRIDE

            My fetish for ‘crows feet’ is perhaps as old as me. The way it lights up the eyes and adds that special joyous tinge to an ordinary smile is almost divine. What is a smile if it does not reach the eyes? Then again, why call it 'crow’s feet' and not 'beauty beams'? How about 'smiling rays'? 

            I always feel that whatever suits on you, or makes you feel confident and good also makes you feel beautiful. But then it’s such a pity that the standards governing beauty are mere statistics, applied universally, disregarding uniqueness and individual beauty. Anyway, I always longed for ‘crow’s feet’.  I imagine myself smiling in a particular manner--'my' smile, after sitting on my lips for a while, dreamily trails up creating ripples of joy on my face, then it reaches my eyes, making my eyes beam in their full glory before fanning out of my eyes like soft brush strokes that stand out remarkably on a beautifully painted canvas. I often crinkle my eyes to see how deep and far these creases spread. This has been one of my secret joys and I indulge in it quite frequently during my sessions of mirror talking. I always wondered if ‘crow’s feet’ would make me ‘look’ as beautiful as my grandmother or our house help Badaami. It was only in one of the recently clicked photographs that for first time i saw a bold and well defined plume like formation around my eyes. To say the least, I was immensely pleased. And who says that pics belie? The camera is smarter than the mirror and mind sometimes. 

            Nevertheless, If crow's feet make me look not so attractive and haggard to others' eye I surely ‘feel’ beautiful and worthwhile being the proud owner of these crimps. Sometime back, someone in a most polite and apologetic way pointed out that the worst and foremost tell tale sign of age is ‘crow’s feet’. Obviously she was hinting at my most cherished creases. She even recommended that I use a good eye gel that would make them vanish. Professing herself to be my well wisher she suggested in a polite yet seemingly sadistic manner that I wear sunglasses in order to hide my age. Is it really that bad to age? Why this obsession about hiding age? For me the grace of age is more poetic than the charms of youth.

I am reminded of  Robert Browning's lines:

“Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!”

Crow’s feet -- A death knell for vanity? Really? But then what about all this talk about beauty being skin deep ? 

            All Perceptions! Yours and mine! Ours and theirs! In this particular case I didn’t even want to reconsider my perceptions, and clung to them even more passionately. My idea of beauty perhaps does not comply with those in fashion industry or beauty business or those adhering to fixed and ancient norms of beauty. I am convinced that  my ‘crow’s feet’ is very endearing. Flaunting it is like showcasing the depths of life's experiences and maturity.  I realized, the genuine the smile the deeper and the profounder the crow's feet. I even noticed a beautiful  sun-rays-patterned ‘crow’s feet’ especially when I laugh out loud. Together with laugh lines, it adds a new dimension to my face--My face has acquired the power to reflect , in a subtle manner,  the untold tales of innumerable moments of joy-- a soft reminder of a life lived smilingly.

Your queries, my struggles....

PART V

Continued…

In this part I try to answer, to the best of my ability, a few questions asked by you all.

1. Are you out of it?

A rose must have thorns to be a rose; life must have ups and downs to be life. When depressed, one tends to lose the ability to ignore and accept. There is no one who has not been depressed at some time or the other in life, for depression is latent in all of us. I don’t want to sound pessimistic when I say that I am not “totally or completely” out of it. But now I have trained my mind not to let it overwhelm me. I have now regained the ability to get out of it and bounce back quickly with much more gusto. All I can say is that my days of over thinking, over imagining, over interpreting are finally over now. I am still attracted to sorrows but I now also know, how not to let the termites of sorrow eat out hollow, the joys of life.

2. Did homeopathy help?

I was on paroxetine for two years before I switched over to homeopathy. Perhaps my mind still wanted me to think and believe that I needed an alternative and external support to defeat it. Perhaps homeopathy filled that void. But I would admit I relied on homeopathy for moral support and sometimes that is all one requires.

3. What triggers it?

Even the most inconsequential of things like grey weather can give me the worst of blues. It could be an argument going haywire or Internet playing up. More than the trigger it is the aftermath that wreaks havoc. I cannot pin point on the trigger, for sometimes, a thing that has hurt me even months ago, remains with me and like a fast growing tumor keeps gnawing at my mental peace, finally leading to a breakdown of worst kind. I can’t avoid getting hurt, stressed or change the circumstances/people. I can only try not to get depressed by remaining strong. Now I have got the knack of swimming out of the horrible pool of negativity. I focus on all that keeps me happy and rejuvenated. I don’t let my mind oscillate unnecessarily between past and future, I don’t let the shackles of past affect me, or the anxieties of future overwhelm me. I simply move on, picking up the best and discarding the rest. Also triggers can’t be templated, in the sense that what triggers depression in me may not trigger it in someone else.

4. What is it that helped you the most?

Nothing in particular, but it is a combined effort from medication to meditation, counseling to positive thinking, change of environment to pursuing hobbies. Only you know what works best for you. Your idea of happiness is exclusive to you. Just focus on that. I put the bullies of pessimism, anxiety and worry in their place and jumped out of the pool of negativity into the wondrous world of positivity.

5. Was it really tough?

Of course it was extremely tough. For a very long time I didn’t even realize that I was suffering from depression. I carried on with this beast of depression till it sucked out every last bit of hope and happiness. All along I knew that something was missing.  It took me a long time to realize that I needed medical help. It took me longer to seek it and it took me longest to accept that I suffered from it --Depression.

SURVIVOR

PART V

Continued...

So how does one defeat this ‘mind boggling’ problem?

      Once upon a time a self- professed atheist, I have now started indulging in a lot of 'non-ritualistic talking' with HIM. This is my idea of praying…talking. My God is a non-religious fatherly figure who is averse to being pleased and appeased, wears a perpetual smile and is an excellent listener. HE also wears a turban. I can talk to HIM anytime. The more I unwind, the clearer the understanding of self. Stubborn knots of heart untie effortlessly and instantly. I talk, he nods. Those who say I keep to self, let me admit, I save all my talking for HIM. So yes, I pray a lot these days and believe you me that does help.

Guru Granth Saheb ji says, “Suffering is medicine, and pleasure the disease, because where there is pleasure, there in no desire for God.”

      Gratitude is prelude to abundance, not necessarily materialistic but abundance of contentment, empathy and compassion. It has opened my tightly shut eyes to the numerous blessings that have been bestowed upon me from time to time. Once while chatting, HE asked me, “What would make you ultimately happy?” And to my utter surprise I had no reply, for I realised I have far more than what is required to be happy...far more than what others have. I just need to acknowledge, appreciate and be thankful. Reaching out to the less fortunate and genuinely helping them out of difficult situations gives a sense of contentment. No feeling is as great as the feeling of contentment and it goes hand in hand with happiness.  

      And of course, the mantra is to keep your mind busy. Being busy is bliss! Pursue your hobbies, they lend charm to a monotonous life. I used Photography as a hobby to delve deep into the rusted and cobwebbed corners of my heart. I trained my camera lens towards the best of birds, butterflies and flowers. Lo and behold! they started modelling for me. Photography helped my ignorant mind and my sorrowful heart in seeing the unseen, discovering the undiscovered and exploring the unexplored. Spending time with nature taught me to smile a lot. Try making a connection with a flower and see what it does to you. Nature is highly therapeutic. From a tiny flower to a mammoth tree, everything is full of humility, ever so smiling, always amiable and amenable.

      

       

      They say, “There is no friend as loyal as a book.” And how true! Reading is something that helped me connect with minds. Writing helped me to de clutter my thoughts. Believe me, it is soothing, stimulating and creative. 

     'Everybody is unique!' Heard this ample number of times but not really true.  Being different is not a very happy situation to be in. Herd mentality is much more acceptable. We evolve collectively and also individually. Over the years I’ve started thinking and looking at things in a particular manner depending upon my surroundings, situations and circumstances. I know my perspectives are not always going to match with others. The key to being at peace with self is acceptance. I accept the uniqueness. I try to accept situations. Acceptance is the forte of the strong. The more I accept, the stronger I am. I can completely relate to it when people say that I’ve changed. Yes I can’t talk that ‘usual’ talk. I sometimes do not approve of people’s thought process. Precisely the reason for my refusal to interact. But I realised that shunning people because they think, talk, behave in a particular manner or simply because they judge or criticise everything will make me recoil into my shell further. I decided to stay strong, to stand my ground. Observing, listening, smiling and yes…a tall glass of good wine does help during parties.

      I have no qualms in declaring that now I love myself unabashedly. I take special care to surround myself with positivity. I remove negative people from my life unflinchingly and un-regretfully. I value ‘my’ happiness above everything. I take good care of my body. Exercise keeps both my body and my mind fit. I do yoga regularly. I am now addicted to gym. The confidence that comes with a healthy body is unparalleled. A strong body nurtures a stronger mind. 

      But at the same time I’ve come to accept that I shall forever have to make constant and conscious efforts and remind myself repeatedly to remain happy. All I can say is that if cancer is the most dreaded disease, depression is the most dreadful one. The fight with depression is constant and never ending. Every time depression bogs me down, I emerge stronger. I profess proudly that I am a depression survivor.

P.S – I have shared my journey from Nadir to Zenith most honestly and sincerely. There are some who feel that these blogs require cleaning and editing for typos and grammatical errors. But friends, when words come straight from the heart, full-stops or commas don’t matter. Agree?

Answers to your questions follow in the next post.