Friday, 30 August 2013

Rachna Says

Who is an entrepreneur?

Someone who can dream, who has the courage to start fresh, to take risks and capability to grow & succeed.

All these words resonate with the person I am going to introduce now. 

Rachna Parmar [“Sometimes, silence connects in a way words never can!”]

“A professional content writer and an entrepreneur & co-owner of Tranquil Software Solutions. She is also a founder of RachnaSays a personal blog where she shares some part of her life.”

Rachna did Bsc in chemistry, followed by MBA from NMIMS. After which she worked in brand management for few years before taking a sabbatical to be with her kids.

She is a doting mother of 2 boys age 6 and 11. It was during her sabbatical that her blogging journey began.

What is entrepreneurship?

Turning a dream into a clear idea and converting the idea into a successful business.

What was the dream?

The dream was very hazy. It was born on an afternoon dipped in kids’ antics and a need to be free. The dream started as Rachna’s personal blog Rachna Says. A chronicle of her journey, bits and pieces scattered yet saved. Reserved and preserved by her pen. It was a start to a long beautiful journey.

What was the idea?

Pen is mightier than tongue. Words are sharper than knives. Rachna’s pen gave way to her foray in content writing. She was and she is a very successful content writer with many national and international clients. But she did not stop at that. Her penmanship and her marketing experience coupled with her husband’s amazing conviction, confidence and ability gave birth to a unique idea. An idea to break the barriers and to make technology accessible to everyone.

What is the business?

Behind every successful man is a strong woman. Lets us relook at this proverb. Success goes hand in hand with strength, especially when chased with your other half.

Around 3 years back in March 2010 “Tranquil” was born as “Smart Solutions” a sole proprietary.  It was later converted into a company. It was formed with a vision to provide affordable internet solutions that would make many lives easier. Rachna is the Director of the company. She handles content writing, Marketing and accounts including all liaisons for the company.

In recognition of Tranquil's long term goals and in its ability to achieve them, it was accepted as a Microsoft BizSpark Member.

It is an organization dedicated in the endeavour of helping technology reach a common person and to help him/her enhance the quality of his/her life. The company mostly works with employees on contract basis. They employ people and give them flexible options to work from home. They encourage stay at home mothers and other professionals who prefer flexibility and work from home option.

It takes a lot of conviction and courage to convert one simple afternoon dream into something this big.

Rachna stands as an inspiration for all of us struggling OR may be not struggling in our mundane lives, content or not content with our mundane lives, BUT with a dream in our hearts. Her story inspires, her words encourage us to follow our dreams, to shed inhibitions and to push our boundaries.

She is one of the reasons I am blogging right now. I continue to dream because of her and I know there are many more, especially women who look up to her.

She may not be the face of any obvious social change but she is one of the women who are leading subtle revolution in women empowerment.

She has many facets and many achievements I would love to talk about all of it. She is one of my inspirations. I have read almost everything she has written and if I could, I would write endless chapters on her. But I can’t hence I delved in some of her facets; some of the things that I think would describe her.

[Written for the Indiblogeshwaris Ladies Independence Special Contest in association with]


float in orange hues
under the blue and grey sky
eternal rainbow 

Boat Ride Lanterns

Image credit here

Thursday, 29 August 2013

I will wait

I sit at the corner
See you walk by
I see life pass by me
I have been here for eternity
Waiting on you
Waiting for you

You draw closer and closer
And look through me
Your eyes wondering on and around
I wait for them to stop
Stop by me
Halt on me
I want you to look at me
But you move on
One look never enough
One me not enough

The day I saw you,
My eyes were seized
My heart was lost
I was lost in your world
You became my world
My world alone and lonely
With you but without you
You are here
But I am waiting for you

One day you will look at me
Your eyes will see me
Your heart will feel me
My soul will touch yours
I will not bleed or cry
I will not plead or die
Till then
I will wait
On you
I will wait
For you

(C) Juztamom 2013

Shared with dverse poets 

As per the prompt this is an old poem. Have edited, re phrased, revamped it quite a lot.


I fall in and out of love
I am born and I die
I travel countries and I fly
I break my heart and I break others’
I live through you, lavish tales in a book

I fall and I get up
I loose and I win
I forgive and I forget
I move and move on
I dance and groove on
I live through you, my little one

You are fiery and you are cool
I cry and I snicker
I am speechless and I talk to you
You shut up and listen
I live through you, my nibbles on a plate

(C) Juztamom 2013

Some of my obsessions for Verse First at Poet's United.

Wednesday, 28 August 2013

Who wears the pants?

Well this is a rhetorical question right? But we do give a lot of importance to pants..Don’t we? If a person is a professional working in an office he/she has to be in pants and if a person is not in pants/suits but in pajamas or in this case salwar suit playing with a kid, he or in this case specifically she is judged as non-working homely home maker aka housewife. And isn’t it surprising that she has E-MAIL in her mobile??

Oh My Dear Lord!! A salwar suit wearing, playing with her kid type has an E-Mail facility in her mobile. This is shocking!! Yes the advertisement hits a shocking node. This is breaking news...She can afford an E-Mail because it is available only for Rs 1 per day. Oh My Lord..Dear Lord!! What a life saver for homely home maker!

This advertisement gave me goose bumps. Literally I sat up straight and saw it multiple times. Every time it took me to another level of disgust. I normally don’t pay much heed to ads. They are mostly hideous, part of a race, trying to outsell each other. And in the process out-sell every moral and ethic in the book. I have been a part of the process, seen things take shape quite closely and hence I am more disillusioned.

But this ad took being judgmental to a new level. Look at all the elements. The lady who is obviously a working professional gives a skeptical look to the other lady who is homely poor woman with a child, not wearing pants . Literally the look tells us she is already looking down on the other lady for no reason.

Even when the homely lady who doesn’t have anything better to do, offers help; the lady in pants gives an incredulous look and says something that qualifies as a taunt...big time.

And Voila!!

What happens?? The lady in pants is proved wrong because the homely lady [Not in pants] has an e-mail facility in her mobile, which she can easily afford now because it is so cheap. Otherwise how will a homely lady with a child [Not in pants] be able to afford such facility?

Oh My an E Mail!!

This advertisement speaks volumes about the judgements prevalent in our society. We mark people and roles in water tight compartments and refuse to believe otherwise. We follow what is convenient and everything that is different is not convenient. So we pick up stereo types, don’t fight them, rather sell them and sell our products through them.

I know marketers draw their target audience [TG] and define them as a single person. So in this case who was the TG? A 30 something homely home maker playing with her child, who otherwise won’t be able to afford an e mail facility but is now using it because it is cheap. So now she can help an office going professional [in pants]. But my question is what is the basis of this TG definition?

Do they really think there are these two type of women?? And through this ad they are reaching this identified type??

I am not sure how many homely non-pant wearing females would relate to the advertisement but I really really want the marketing brains behind this ad to come and live where I do.

I would love them to see some of us home maker aunties with kids roaming around in hot pants with our i phones/ i pads, checking e mails and FB and speaking in ENGLISH.

Oh My GOD...maybe next they can try and sell some English speaking courses to us. If e mail is so unexpected from us, then English speaking courses are gold mine.

Common teach us English Mr. Marketer!!

Master of puppets

 I am a broken toy without your string
Still dancing without you
Alive but fading each second without you
Master of puppets

You asked me to leverage my best
Let go of my past
Burn like a candle
Eat dark and spread light
Burn little by little
Scald little by little
Die but live

like a cricket’s quiet courting song
Knowing the love is near yet long
Voice weak yet strong

Be the carriage of borrowed glow
Like a moon 
Round still edgy
Dark still beaming
With a belief in goodness

On the edge of precipice
Wanting to fly on fall
But your words keep me grounded
My promise keeps me alive
Away from you,
To be with you,
With my words for you
Master of puppets

I wonder like calypso in Odyssey
Waiting for you to be immortal
Knowing that this is just a bubble
That you are gone
Leaving me alone
Asking me to wait
For the dawn
Master of puppets

Your dreams pepper and infuse
fancy in reality
bite after bite
Of your love
thrust after thrust
Of your lust
cryptic and real
Raged and surreal
Your memories
Your touch
Master of puppets

I rise like soufflĂ© 
rapidly falling in a fizz
drumbeats of your kiss
still banging in an abyss
You climb up in each moments
Moments that are broken
Moments those are empty
Moments that are bare
Because you are not there
But I am there keeping your words

Being alive

(C)Juztamom 2013

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Image credit here

Sunday, 25 August 2013

A Day Through My Nose

I got up in the morning, stretched my arms and smelled my palms, then hugged myself. The biggest baddest hug possible; then I closed my eyes and felt her. My mother is always around me especially in the mornings, though we live 1000 kms apart but there is something that has kept us connected.

When I was moving out of the house my mom told me to hug myself every morning, like I use to hug her when I was with her. She said she is in me. And this way I would be able to continue our morning hugs even when we are apart.

I tried doing it but in the starting I just couldn’t feel her. I didn’t know what was missing and I called her and said may be you are forgetting me, maybe that’s why I can’t feel you when I hug myself in the morning.

She laughed and told me to close my eyes, open my senses and my palms and smell them before the hug. And then take a deep breath and hug again.

I closed my eyes, smelled my palms, they smelled of her. The smell of our shared love of cocoa body butter blended with a whiff of gulabjal just like her. I could smell the haphazardly cleaned turmeric stain from my dress last night, just like her. Yes she was there in my smell, in my habits, in me. I hugged myself and I could feel her warmth around me. From that day onwards I have always felt her presence around me.

Warm and sunny, like a bright Sunday morning
There you are pulling me out of the bed, yelling in my ears “Good morning”
Rise and shine and take on the world
I am there with you, always holding your hands unnerved

As I walked towards the kitchen, I saw you keeping the tea to brew as always my love. The Kettle whistles and lets out its steam and the kitchen was filled with an aroma of fresh and mint

Fresh and minty just as I like
My first cup of the day always with you
Parle G dunked and licked
Newspaper opened and flicked
I close my eyes and sip through the memories
Of each cuppa shared with you, each sip divine, each memory exemplary
My life, my love, my other half

Just then it started to rain, I ran and opened the balcony.I felt the rains on my face and closed my eyes. The smell of rains and the sound of water gushing down took me to memory lane.

Last few days with you
We walk down our favorite lane
And just then the rain gods came
People ran and got shelter
We ran and got wetter
Spicy chat and sweet Popsicle
Spice burns and sweet tickles
Our last alone day together
My sis, my love, my saviour forever

I came in completely drenched relishing the memories and picked up the towel. I wipe, sniff and snicker. The towel smells flowery. It smells of spring. It smells of lily and rose together. It must be the new washing powder I laughed and said it out loud. How nice, flowery and wonderful. Just like our weekly trips to the temple when we were kids. How funny is our mind, how weird is our memory? My pink fuchsia towel takes me to a trip of the pious land, our family temple.

Petals and petals of flowers
On the lane leading to the temple
A look at the face of Shri Ganesha
And my heart trembles
I sing loudly, songs in your praise
My trust in you strong, my believe never strays

After this I head out to the kitchen with a head still wet and a heart still warm with so many wonderful memories. Wanting to make something special that would make this day more precious; I started looking around the cabinet. And saw my spice rack. It looked inviting filled with spices, colors and memories.

The turmeric....It reminds me of my endless coughs and sneezes followed by a glassful of yellowed milk

Red Chilly...I take a sniff and get teary eyed. It reminds me of all the gol gappas we had in a blink 

Garam malasa....I open the bottle and the kitchen is filled with memories of Sundays; spent on the dining table waiting for Mom’s special Chicken Masala and our finger licks.

I smiled at the memories and added all the love flowing out of my heart to the food. A sumptuous lunch and a long afternoon nap later I got up feeling all refreshed and bright. As I walked through my house tidying everything, I realised every object around me has a story. Not each story is important but it is still a memory.
A deodorant brings back college memories,
A sniff of room freshener brings the first date back
The rose incense stick burning brings back the memories of our wedding night
Fresh cut mango takes me to that summer afternoon of first kiss
Whiff of freshly fried Samosas reminds me of the treat I gave from my first salary
The smell of something burning reminds me of the first burnt chapatti after my wedding

So many more moments, memories countless, immortal living through our sense of smell

There are some moments that would remain lost like a hazy or a lazy memory somewhere in our brains but weirdly our sense of smell gives them life. It makes them more vivid, more colourful, and more nostalgic. So many things, so many smells, so many memories alive and throbbing forever through our nose.

This post is my entry for “Smelly to Smiley” contest at Indiblogger sponsored by AmbiPur India

Saturday, 24 August 2013


floating on water
nothing is scary
we are nature

nature is us
flawed and flawless
piece of art

hand in hand
off the cliff
blending with the nature

People Jumping In The Air HD wallpaper for Standard 4:3 5:4 Fullscreen UXGA XGA SVGA QSXGA SXGA ; Wide 16:10 5:3 Widescreen WHXGA WQXGA WUXGA WXGA WGA ; HD 16:9 High Definition WQHD QWXGA 1080p 900p 720p QHD nHD ; Other 3:2 DVGA HVGA HQVGA devices ( Apple PowerBook G4 iPhone 4 3G 3GS iPod Touch ) ; Mobile VGA WVGA iPhone iPad PSP Phone - VGA QVGA Smartphone ( PocketPC GPS iPod Zune BlackBerry HTC Samsung LG Nokia Eten Asus ) WVGA WQVGA Smartphone ( HTC Samsung Sony Ericsson LG Vertu MIO ) HVGA Smartphone ( Apple iPhone iPod BlackBerry HTC Samsung Nokia ) Sony PSP Zune HD Zen ; Tablet 2 Android ; Dual 4:3 5:4 16:10 5:3 16:9 UXGA XGA SVGA QSXGA SXGA WHXGA WQXGA WUXGA WXGA WGA WQHD QWXGA 1080p 900p 720p QHD nHD ;

blending with the nature
floating in air
finally free

Image credit here and here

Friday, 23 August 2013


What is this sharp pain? Where is it coming from? I can’t bear it. Where am I? What is this loud sound? Who is singing this loud?

I opened his room’s door and saw Ansh singing out loud, with ear phones as usual plugged to his ears.

“Please stop! I will go deaf and with your superb voice I will lose all sense of rhythm and tunes very soon”. I said tearing off that thing from his ears. I detest touching it for even a second. What is with this generation and their love for weird things? It gives me creeps, looks like a live wire or a weird creepy crawly stuck to his ears.

“Maa please let me be. Why can’t I do what I want in my room? And you are my mom, you are not supposed to discourage my singing like this. Didn’t we see that program on discovery together? You can demotivate me from singing and music like this forever. You will scald me from music like this”

As soon as Ansh says it we both burst in laughter.

“Okay I will not scald you for life. Now will you please be a good boy and run to the Kirana shop and bring me some onions right now. No onions at home and Mr and Mrs Shrama are coming for dinner. Please do this first and then go back to your horrible yelling you call singing.”

“Maa one last song and then I will go promise” Ansh says and hugs me tight.

I feel a warm glow at my 18 year old son’s hug. Warm and fuzzy feeling...but what is this pain, this piercing pain. I can feel it starting from my heart and spreading all over. Wait, Why is Rohini running around?

“Rohini come here please” I yell at my 10 year old daughter. Stop running away and take your cough syrup now. You don’t want remain sick? Do you? Common!!”.

She looks at me and runs in Ansh’s room. As I begin pacing towards their room, I could hear deafening laughter, I peek and see Ansh trying to catch her. And finally she gives in and takes the syrup from Ansh’s hands.

Both of them together Ansh taking care of Rohini like a parent fills my heart and my eyes. A tear trickles down. Why am I crying? No, I can’t bear the pain. Please someone help me. Please. I want to yell and cry loudly but I am not able to. I can feel warm gush of tears flooding my face. Why am I crying? This is a party? Why am I crying at the party? This is my home.

Ansh comes in with a large cake and I don’t know how many candles? I am still surprised and can’t believe this was all a prank, a joke. I seriously thought they had forgotten my birthday. I sulked the whole day and missed Raman. I kept thinking of all my birthdays when he was alive and kept crying in my room, only to be surprised in the evening with this party. They didn’t forget, it was a prank. All this while they had one of the biggest bashes planned for me. I still can’t believe how many of my friends and family members are here. Yes turning fifty is indeed special.

“Happy Birthday to you Ma” Ansh and Rohini sing loudly and smash the cake on my face. Why is it hurting? They didn’t hurt me, it was a soft touch. Why is it hurting so much?

I am trying to cross the road. There is so much traffic on this road today. I am going to be late now. I should have left a little early; I knew how important today’s performance was for Ansh. This way I will stand on this side of the road the whole night. I throw caution out of the window and decide to cross the road. A lot of honking and a loud screech......And then there is pain and darkness.

I can’t feel anything else except this pain. This pain has taken over all of my senses. It has spread to my whole body. It is gut wrenching, it is tearing me apart. I feel like pieces of me are falling one by one. Now the pain is also leaving with my parts one by one...and gradually it is reducing. I am feeling light, weightless, almost like I could fly.

I am flying...I look down and see my lifeless body lying in a pool of blood on the road. I want to feel sad. I want to feel the remorse for leaving my kids alone but I am feeling light, feeling content. No pain, no remorse.. I am floating, moving towards the light and I feel myself dissolve...part by part..fraction by fraction. And then bliss!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Writer's note: This is a short story about a woman, who meets with an accident and as she is lying in pain on the road, her life flashes in front of her eyes. She relives some of the moments from her life before giving in.