Uncontrollable Unbosomings!

Facebook ads, email marketing, Instagram, phone calls...what should you use as an employee of the marketing team of your company? Amidst numerous courses flashing various tools as being the holy grail of marketing, it can be confusing, and even daunting to venture into this space. In fact, many people feel that marketing is rocket science and can only be mastered by a few. However, that is simply not the case. With the right information and guidance, you will be clear on exactly what tool to use, and how to use it. In this article, I am going to provide you information that you need to relay to your boss if you want some serious growth. I’ll explain to you how exactly can you crack the market by understanding the essence of marketing, the human psyche, and personal branding.  Market-ing? Many people when talking about marketing think that it is all about learning Facebook, MailChimp, and other such tools. Even more, people who learn about these tools call themselves ‘Digital Market...

Seema Jain has never felt "more alive and aligned". She expresses the same as she munches on her plant-based soya chips, organising her desk to plan the day. However, she was not always like this. Just 8 months ago, she faced sexual and physical abuse from her former husband. Traumatised and shaken, she did not have much to look forward to, except a painful, numbing feeling. This was before she joined Nimisha's mindfulness program. "I felt like I was swimming in the same sea of pain, but instead of being engulfed in it, I was looking at the pain with love and empathy, caressing the feelings like a baby," she says. 2 months down the road, she has launched her own startup to help broken wives heal, and is self-reliant. Meet the miraculous mindful warrior Nimisha was just 16 when she experienced her first panic attack. "It felt like I had no body, and only my nose remained to breathe," she recounts. In the subsequent years, she went through many panic att...

So I was this supposedly cool and definitely naïve pre-teen, and I had just heard of something called "electronic mail". I saw my daddy turn on the computer and check some fifteen hundred random people contacting him on this ugly layout which was called the inbox. And like a stupid daddy follower (I am the epitome of the observation method in psychology) I decided to create my own email ID. So one day, when Dad was out, I quietly turned on the computer and connected the internet which I had so keenly and passively observed dad doing, without giving him the subtlest of a hint. I used to sit on a mental high horse and considered myself very smart, the most intelligent preteen our dear planet has ever witnessed. And when Google asked for an email ID, it struck me: SMART PUCCHU! That is it. I am smart, and I love the lovely nickname my parents had given to me, bless them (sic). And that is how smartpucchu@gmail.com was born. Oh, how elated I was. Now even I could have im...

You You are the weather I want for eternity, You are the breeze that is always serenaded, You are an epiphany... You are the moonlight I always want to sink in and make it seep through my skin and bones and beyond. You are the rain that lets me float away in ecstasy Yes, you are the rain; the first drop– slight shiver And then it pours like a hurricane, and floods every inch of me And beautifies me, makes me glowing, radiant, gregarious, amorous... Oh, when did you become an ocean and drown me in you for perpetuity? You are the truest, purest, bona fide reflection of me, a mirror... But you are also a downpour, that becomes a vehement thunderstorm and rips apart the nests sitting peacefully on the trees. You are the face of intimacy that makes me florid You are that touch that gently caresses the locks and tangles that make my hair and make me shiver and tremble, like I just got an overdose of a current or something You are the eyes that fall on every crevice of my hea...

I feel asphyxiated When I see so much around me; My issue is that I want to be anything and everything that I see, hear and feel... I see poetry, and I want my mind to be filled with every word existing and make them string themselves in my mind naturally to create something enchanting, an elixir... I see academia, and my heart takes a giant leap into a conceived hole to feel the dearth of every page of every book of every genre that I have never seen, heard or felt... I see beauty, and I want to dismiss all imperfections and every flaw of every nook and cranny of my skin... I see people, I see discoveries, and I want to find things that are unfathomable to even fathom... I want every atom of every element of what makes others... I want to be everyone; I just don't want to be myself... What bedlam is this?

Reflections... I hate mirrors, For they s how images , But they can't explain reflections , For reflections are abstruse , And images are allusions of the overt, Why do we see things are we are And not as things are? Perhaps because we ponder over reflections, and for get who we are. Perhaps our re flections are no longer our own, They are defined by others... I covet myself .   This poem may seem silly, but it has a real deep meaning. Writing after a long time..do tell me how is it!

This has been happening since 5 years. The only difference is that now, I'm irritated and fed up to the core. I walk towards my home, at half past three in the afternoon. The entire walk is surrounded by no one except men. Men scratching their tummies as I walk by. Men staring at every nook and cranny of my body. Your lurking eyes silently make me doubt my school uniform. Is my clothing at fault? Tongues out, eyes ravenous.Your eyes are better scanning us than even an X-ray machine. When I bend down to tie my shoe laces, you leap with excitement. You are finally successful in making me conscious of myself and my attire. Maybe it's my over-sized shirt. Maybe it is my skirt, which even though reaches till the end of my knees, somehow arouse you. Or is it my belt?  People tell me to behave like a 16-year-old, to talk about " happy and merry " things. How can I, when I'm a prey to so many men everyday? More than me, it is my young sister that matters. She notic...

“Smile all the way, and you’ll be fine. Master the art of smiling, that of turning up the corners of your mouth, lifting up your cheeks, and perhaps sport a dimple.”     This is what has been taught to us. Smiling is good. Faking it every time, even better. It is a custom that we have to retort to every “how are you” by showing that Mona Lisa smile. You are quintessentially frustrated, angry, melancholy, irritated, sullen or crabby. And the supreme solution for it is to smile. Show your teeth. Grin. The smile therapy. But it doesn’t seem to work. Not for me. I smile often. But that doesn’t mean it is a genuine spread of my lips. Well, I was in a morose mood the other day, and this girl came up to me and asked, “How are you doing?”. And I waspishly replied, “I’m grumpy and angry. But I’m bound to say that I’m fine, isn’t it? Because the word ‘fine’ apparently describes everything- whether you’re happy, sad, joyed, bored, angry, or whatever. So, I’m fi...

Note:  Before you read this crap, let me remind you that I'm insane, and this post is COMPLETELY RANDOM. So, someone made fun of me again. Why am I not surprised? It's not that I make a clown of myself. And it occurred to me- Tit for Tat. I had read this in a story long ago, probably in class two. Anyways, I just thought of and analyzed the fact that whatever I do seems to happen again to me. Unexpectedly. Well, (this is embarrassing) I threw a bottle in the direction of my teacher, which didn't hit her, and the next day someone threw a bottle at me, which didn't hit me. If I criticize someone, I get double the criticism. And in one of my idiosyncratic mood, I realized that every time I just can't avoid it by terming it to be a coincidence.      I complain of people always choosing me as a target for making fun of, without any reason most of the time. I get agitated and violent. But it never crops up to me that the one I make fun of,...

Aim : To get A1 in maths. Materials required: Some fat books with endless number of theorems, 25 sample papers, tuition teacher Procedure: Solve each and every sum of all the books. Devote your time to sample papers. Instead of chatting and writing on your blog, clear your doubts on social networking sites. Do maths during science. Do maths during english. Do maths during maths. Do maths for 2 months, 24x7. Observation: You faint after seeing the paper. You realize that your principal is a PhD in maths. You know that the sum of the squares of sine theta and cosine theta is 1, but you don't know the sum of sine theta and cosine theta. Results: You get B2, and eventually start hating maths again. You slap yourself for considering to opt for maths in 11th. Note: This cycle is repeated every half year.

Memories of the past, still hovering in my mind. If those moments can reoccur, I still try to find. Learning how to walk, step by step. Knowing the value of words, their deepening effects. Getting a star in my notebook was immense victory, Which gave me more joy when mom gave a chocolate to a jocund me. Learning the world, their modus operandi, Mystified me always, the ways of living leurs vie. Crying on the first day of school.. My intense agony of being separated from my mother still makes me drool. The bygones retrospect inside me, As my nostalgic gaze lingers to find the same ecstasy. Those waves of happiness are perhaps imposter moments, Escorting you for a moment before exploding into silence.

Wrote this long time back..when a five-year-old was brutally raped in Delhi. She has a story to tell, A story of every other woman Where criminals ain't criminals, They are prestigious godmen. Aloof from the chaos, Lost in her own thoughts, Her gaze lingers, Searching for her own world. Her thoughts go back to that day, Playing in the park innocently, A man offers her chocolates, And she follows him with glee. But those sweet chocolates were never received, For the man turned out to be a dog, And she howled with pain, Having faced such brutality, Left to be buried under the grave. But she was alive, Found after two days, With an oil bottle and a candle The candle not giving light, The candle giving throes. Her life was all wan, She was treated to be stable, Which was pretty ironical As mentally she was highly unstable. A mere girl aged five, Occupied with the horror, Afraid to step out, Her dignity had been murd...

A random poem written during the maths slot. She tries to be her best Not to show her flaws A person of repressed emotions Nevertheless she is neglected. With all the makeup Lest not to be called ugly It took all her courage But still, never appreciated. What is it with first impression? Carving a big mark on one's mind Even with repeated kosher It never seems to shed its plight. What is it with first impression? Paving a road of negligence Cavorting with emotions In the already woebegone deep well. What is it with first impression? Which distances our support Perhaps trust when broken Can never again mold.

Bringing down the poverty line is no doubt a harsh joke played on the poor. This move has inevitably led to thousands of people deprived of the benefits associated with people below the poverty line. Our great government is trying to show that many people have come out of poverty all these years, by lowering the poverty line.  After the disturbing statement by congress spokesman Raj Babbar, who said, "One can have a full meal for Rs.12" and the congress Rajya Sabha member Rasheed Masood's statement "You can eat well in Rs.5 in Delhi", I think that these people seem to live in a bygone era. Even a minister from Assam has seemed to join the line, by commenting that anyone can have a full meal in Rs.20. Have they become so austere that showing a little sensitivity towards the plight of the poor is too much for them? Such pretentious behavior needs to witness strong condemnation. Such derisiveness towards the poor completely shows the lack of connectivity and sensi...

On the 5th and the last day of the convention, we were given a chance to perform whatever we had learnt on the stage. It was quite a thrilling moment for me, performing in front of so many people from all around. It turned out to be really good, and I felt satisfied that I'm taking back so much from the intensives.        Before the performance, after settling down, taking the final guidance from our master. After all the performances were over, we were allowed to sleep for some time to prepare ourselves for the most awaited overnight concert. The concert commenced with Pt. Shivkumar Sharma on santoor at 8:00 pm. Various artists performed all night, making the concert melodious and enchanting. If you stay awake the whole night, you will realize that your concentration will be at the peak position, which is what happened with me. The time between 4:00 am and 6:00 am was the most soothing, as we heard Shri Venkatesh Kumar singing, giving the concert a sound fini...

Posting a little late. But the experience to share is worthwhile!   It was the 18th of June when we left for Kolkata. We went with Kiran sir, the founder of SPIC MACAY and some senior volunteers. Spending time with Kiran sir was really gratifying and we learnt so much from him. As the train entered West Bengal on the morning of 19th of June, all one could see was greenery and beautiful clouds. And rice fields.  It was absolutely beautiful and I sensed that I was going to love every moment of my stay here. Kiran sir is very particular about his yoga. But I got to realize that when we reached the station at 7 am in the morning, and he started jogging at the station! A symbol of true dedication.                                   Kiran Sir is quite oblivious to his surroundings, as he continues jogging. We reached IIM Kolkata which was 18 kms away from the Howrah station, within an hou...

Note:  Laxmi has started a petition addressing the Union Home Minister Sushil Kumar Shinde to immediately take measures to regulate the sale of acid in retail. Please sign her petition here:       http://change.org/ stopacidattacks          It is disheartening to hear about 23-year-old Laxmi, who had lost her looks due to an acid attack when she was 15. And her “mistake” was that she inoffensively turned down a marriage proposal of a 32-year-old man. The attack took place amid a heavy crowd, and it wasn't a surprise to me that no one came forward to help. Because in India, we rather like to enjoy the show. The incident took place in 2005; and nothing has changed since. Women are still victims to acid attacks, and the so-called harshest punishment to the accused is an imprisonment of maximum 10 years. The accused, Nahim Khan, (who married shortly after the incident) was awarded a seven-year sentence.      ...

 Writing after a really long gap. Does it ever happen that you're comfortably settled in your bed with a DAN BROWN   book in your hand, totally engrossed in it and suddenly, lights off! And then you're reminded by your angry mom that it is 12 am, and you have to go to school the next day. Every ardent book reader has at some point in their life faced such problems. I find myself  reading in the light of the fridge at 3 am.      The most inhuman torture was my almirah eventually locked, and I had to spend my entire vacations without books (except the fact that i found the almirah's key one day and quietly took some books). A major problem of a bookworm is the trauma which occupies you after reading a book, which is worsened when you read another book and get overwhelmed by its trauma, too. Everything around you seems to be different, and sometimes you become so influenced that you compare real people with fictional characters. Some books l...

She looks at herself, and sometimes asks, Can anyone figure out this fake mask? Behind this lively, crazy smile Is a lugubrious soul crying hard inside. Will she remain an introvert, pretending to be frank? While her thoughts will be wondering in her own dreamland. Perhaps it's destiny, leading her to where she should be. Like a road so confusing Diverging and challenging. Someone emotionalizes her, she chokes. Overwhelmed, her tear drops began to pour. She wants to be in her virtual world, where she can be herself. And so she stops her melancholy strain, Her thoughts drowning in the drain. She closes her eyes once more, and is welcomed to her virtual world.

And so she is sitting with what was and will be hers forever: LONELINESS. She is accustomed to it now, as it isn't a rare sight for her anymore. Contrary to her bad reputation and fake friends. She seems as if she doesn't give a damn, but inside she's dying. Yea, she is, far worse than one can imagine. She wants to escape. But no matter how hard she tries, loneliness always grabs her, not letting her go. She becomes isolated, gets confused and leaves her secluded. She wants to improve, but no one actually gives her the chance. She has an ocean of problems, but no one to listen. Her heart sinks when she hears the merry laugh of people around her, to whom she is INVISIBLE. When she does something good, they term it as "seeking attention". When she does something bad, she's surrounded by criticism. Her mind is muddled up, wondering what to do. As no matter what she does, she's always dead to the world.