Finding Balance Everyday

WordPress list of etiquette has good intentions and everyone puts in effort to make each other feel great at their work. I’d like to start a tradition which goes by my philosophy of “making a good average every day.” The math goes something like this:
1 good experience + 1 bad experience = An average day overall!

I’ll make my request after sharing this thought below that helps me survive adventures in fleeting moments in childrens’ effort at educa-shunn.

On a regular school day, I’ve learned to rationalize kids behaviours with two constant reminders to myself.
One. “Every student is doing their best” even if it seems to be a frustrating moment for the receiver and the giver of the behaviour.
Two, “Twist the way I perceive the experience, so as to surprise the student.”
Half the possible problems disappear just within these two frameworks. The others, ehm, well need a long talk or consequence.
So Be It.
At the end of the day, one good and one frustrating experience makes a great average. Yay for survival, because in the process, I learned something.

What do you say we try the balancing act with adults here at Thinkinkadia? Every one who is willing to comment or experiment: give one positive and one negative (read: learning opportunity) feedback to make a great average learning experience out of each communication exchange! See how harmless it can be?

I promise to respond Without Un-Following anyone😄! Game for a risk in Traditional ettiquette?

Thank you for visiting my blog! Enjoy this song as we take leave from here🤗  To me, this song talks of a similar balance.
Fiddler on the roof – Tradition ( with subtitles ) – YouTube

twinkling perfumz😴

remember starry lights
moonlit summer nights
shimmer coded letters
drapes n hearts a’flutter,
sweeps in a fragrance speciale
like resplendent royale
Queen of the Night!
quietly she tiptoes light
as i inhale a dreamy dream
a million smile stream
she prevails n reigns
through storm n rains,
pretty breeze surrounds
restful peace abounds
night calms n thoughts still-
tis’ curtains on my window sill.


Birds of a feather, must we flock together?

I remember when I first heard the word, Maya. It just sounded like such a beautiful name for a woman. Then I heard of a culture in South America. As I grew older, I heard the word in a completely different context which was very mysterious and fascinating, made me wonder and imagine, and frankly, confuse and dismiss!

Decades later, I realize that people can spend a lifetime trying to understand or misunderstand this word and justify their acceptance or rejection of its meaning. To respect its true magnitude, I will do neither. Using some references, I will involuntarily either convince or confuse you. And in either case, please let me know what you think or feel about it because in chaos, I believe, the best emerges.

In the video-link below, Anil Seth talks about concepts which in my view, relates with Maya, the hinduism meaning (see listed links further below the video). He talks about hallucination and reality through an interesting science experiment. It’s a whole different topic for a different day about why we need modern scientific proof to understand a deep concept already prevalent in a ‘foreign’ culture.
I first realized this after getting married into a joint family, living in different homes, but mentally close enough to make you feel foreign, for a decade. When four-five of them would say the same thing, it became real for them and I was always wrong because “everybody said …” something that matched. My answer used to be “What four people agree on, is not necessarily fact.” Imagine how can a daughter-in-law say that! Anyway, they were good people working with what they knew best.

Point is that these were my first personal lessons in how scary our lives can be because we choose to live by confirmation of what “seems real to us.” This was the first time, I consciously broke through the Maya barrier. Growing up, it had been automatic, because our family was at some level, open-minded, free of the Maya barrier across culture, religion, language, food, or any such binding force.

Do you believe that on wordpress, or any other social group, we tend to find people like ourselves, who will agree with us and confirm to us our-selves? This self, concept of I, is also



Either way, I choose to keep meeting and interacting with people who are different, who may agree or disagree with me, because they pull me out of any illusion that I’m Somebody.

Anil Seth: Your brain hallucinates your conscious reality

References to understand the concept in your preferred language:
1. maya – Google Search

2. Meaning of Maya in English | Maya का अर्थ (Maya ka Angrezi Matlab)

3. The Definition and Concept of Maya in Hinduism

East or West,
North or South,
Put Maya to rest-
Harmonize your best!

💞from: Your Happy Nobody🤗

Let dormant lie

Language fascinates me! Today I thought I’ll let the word dormant lie Dormant and use a flipped version instead. This is what I got:
If I decide to keep the t silent, then I have:

Some might ask, “Why the heck would you do that?!” Well for me, its the challenge to see things in a different way. And then, wouldnt you like a pleasant surprise? Be ready for unpleasant surprises, too😉 You could get either kind sitting at home, or while crossing a street, or flipping pages in a library.

On googling both spellings, I found its a Russian weapon, a dancer, a twitter account, a non-existant youtube channel, a game with an extra T, battle game, obituary for a person, companies, and so on. Language and how it’s letters and sounds travel amongst our diversity, are magical!

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Celebrate with a song and a dance with Abo Namrod dansar – YouTube

You can do this experiment yourself and see where it takes you. Have fun and thank you to all the new follows! Hope you enjoy my recent getting back to daily surprises for you🤗

Never a dull moment with you!

On the lookout, at the gate.

Hanging onto the Gate!

Trin trrrinnn! It was the familiar ring of a bicycle bell and tyres rolling over a dusty path, rocks tumbling under those furiously pedaling feet.

The days of living in remote cantonment areas, where the only communication happened through this hero in uniform. I’d be running on the hot tarmac, ou-ouing my way like walking on burning coal, but cool with anticipation of a teen awaiting news from old friends. I was hanging over the gate like greedy monkey waiting for bananas before ‘bhaiya’* could reach there and deliver the mail hand to hand.

Thrill of thrills! Guesses, who is it from? Some friends wrote like clock work, others didnt. But oh! Nothing could be taken for granted. This was the only entertainment in this old British town, too small for a good movie theater, big enough for a single University, sprawled all over a hill.

“Thank you, Bhaiyaa!” I rang out as he turned, trin trrrinnning away to the next home, delivery cheer from strangers to near and dears. My day made, I’d hop, skip, jump back into the cool interiors of our home, converted six horse stables, each room with individual doors leading in from the long corridor.

On my bed, sprawled, opening letters and reading, transported to the writer of my letter, my friend.

Dedicated to all my mail-friends and pen-pals, who made life curiously fun in those quiet places.

*Bhaiya: All known and unknown males were addressed as ‘Brother.’ In those days they even behaved like one, asking about each others’ welfare.

Lolly all the way!

The word <ahref=””>Lollipop had several interesting variations and I made up a short story using all of them. Please put your own version below if you’d like to, for fun.

The three brothers had loblolly for breakfast and then went to work at the dockyards for just lollipops! The trio quit work and went lollygagging around the beach eating lollipops. At dinner though, their father had heard enough of their misadventures and he sure did a lolly!

Meaning of each word form:
1. Lollipop: a small bribe, money.
Hard candy, treat.
2. Lollygagging: idling time away as on vacations
3. Loblolly: thick gruel
4. Idiom: do one’s lolly- to lose one’s temper (australian slang)

Hi! Meet Mirth!


Soil: Leave me alone!
Man: I paid for you. And I must put you to work for me.
Soil: You have used and confused me enough with chemicals!
Man: I will farm one more year and then you are free.
Soil: Ok. That sounds reasonable enough.

Observer: Man and Soil work with each other for another year. Both outdo their efforts and leave no stone unturned!
Man returns the loan and puts his profits to a business after selling the land. Soil is happy to have done her best in giving.

Soil: Finally, I can rest. I’m so glad Man is keeping his promise. But where has he disappeared?

Observer: There’s a new owner, Mantwo, a poor old gardener who had worked for many people in the city. He had to struggle to save for several decades to buy this piece of land. All his lifes’ savings were gone and not much was left to build. He wanted to grow vegetables and fruits and make a dream garden of his own for which all his previous employers had offered plants from their homes on his retirement.

Soil got the rest she needed because Man was gone and though she’d missed working with Man, she had not missed his greed. Mantwo had come after a few months. Soil was scared!

Mantwo: He looked, poked, and dug around. He drew lines in the earth and danced and sang to himself with joy.

Soil remained silent and scared, but was amused with Mantwo’s antics. He seemed friendly but was strangely silent between dancing and singing. His lines became sure and deep and some areas were dug up. He softened the earth with his bare hands.

Soil: Welcome, Sir! Please be kind. I need a little more rest before I give you my best.

Mantwo: Sure, no problem, let me add some natural manure and compost to nourish you during your restful phase.
I can build my cottage in the meantime. And he did.

Soil: Thank you, she said, and liking his voice and hardworking nature agreed to give him one try before she gave up on her renewing abilities, only to crack open all her stressed out fault lines.

Mantwo: He built his sweet little house nice and strong. He put in more work than he took out. He used friendly techniques and materials for nourishing the fields.

Soil: Now very curious, was ready and waiting with a good vibes about this new gardener.

Mantwo: Can I begin now? I must build to feed myself, and grow beautiful flowers to make you the most beautiful garden in town!

Soil: Oooh! I like you already! But I’m so old and worn out … I dont know if i can give that much because … and told Mantwo her story.

Mantwo: Cried bucketfuls of tears into the earth and asked for forgiveness from “Mother Earth!”

Soil: She soaked it all in and swelled with pride. “This is a true Son of the Soil!” she exclaimed with joy.

Mantwo: He got every animal manure and made a plan for rotational farming. He made an elaborate plan for a balanced garden where plants and weeds could complement each others’ nutrients and protection instincts.

He watered every day, as he sang to the earth, seeds, sun, and trees. He made sculptures when she wanted rest. And made dancing fountains to express their joy, together, to share with visitors.

Observer: Next year saw mother earth blossom and swoon with joy. They came one by one, from far and wide, and then in throngs. Within three years, Mantwo had to set up a ticket booth to control influx of the crowds.

Soil: She giggled in the breeze like a happy little school girl.

Mantwo: He called ‘their’ garden, Mirth, My Earth!

Observer: No more scared, soil felt Sacred!

A Recipe and a 😉Degree!

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A little secret … A huge treasure!

Armed with a dream and a shovel,
I dig into the forgiving for giving earth;
She moves delighted, makes room, asks,
“What is it you bring, sweet suspense you mask?”

I think I surprise her, naively show off
my raid on colour, boastful aquisitions.
Pink, lavender, blossoms giant red,
like sleeping beauty, shall rest in her arms, her bed.

In the hole, a raindrop blesses whole,
rocks, roots, mysteries live like a wet mole.
Out they go, make room, Bury kitchen shreds,
Plant in. Working worms and bugs, composting our dreads.

The earth nurtures a tryst with sun and magic,
from love, our airs, organic matter not tragic;
She Collages all to blooming fruition in the raining mist-
giving her best, pushing through every human twist.

There’s the secret: organic and natural,
Brings best Grit out of earth, plants, and us all.
A huge treasure! To nurture, loving ways unseen,
Children like flowers, spread joyous sunbeams!