Tuesday, February 24, 2015

His Perfect Stranger

My art
Aryan had met that perfect stranger at an inter-collegiate badminton championship during the final year of his MBBS. She and her gang of friends had belonged to a prestigious Engineering college, which was known as the hub of nerds.

Aryan was playing against Rohan from their college for the individual championship trophy and he was winning. That was when the cunning sports chief of their team sent the girls to take position behind Aryan and boo him while continuously cheering for Rohan. It was emotionally tiring to Aryan as he had none to support except the two members of their men’s team who had taken off on a tea break. As expected, he began to lose.

His eyes met with a pair of mischievous and shining eyes, when he turned to pick the shuttlecock, which he had dropped. It was as if a current had run through him. As though he had recognized those pair of eyes, her, from a time that belonged to a forgotten past.

After that Aryan lost steadily, he was busy trying to analyze the effect the beautiful pair of eyes had created in him.

Throughout the day, he watched her. Vaishnavi- that was her name. When she won the women’s individual match, he grabbed the opportunity and joined others to congratulate her.

“Congratulations Vaishnavi. That was a superb game,” he told while shaking her hands. She smiled at him and he continued to hold her hands, stunned by the fact that her smile was equally devastating to his feeble heart as those mesmerizing eyes. He was lost. Like a lost puppy who had found its owner, he followed her around causing much headache to his team members who knew him as a person who put his brain before his heart always.

By the end of the day, he managed to get hold of her address and email id, which was written, in the logbook of participants. At night, he waited for the dawn. He would meet her again, as it was university team selection next day.

She wasn’t there though all of her other team members had arrived. He asked about her casually to her friends and they informed him she was down with flu.
A few months passed and Aryan continued to roam around with the old card on which he had her address scribbled and wondered why the strange girl with whom he hardly knew was occupying his thoughts constantly. Then came his final exams and he immersed himself in his studies and put his thoughts about her on a back burner.

Years passed by. After his MD, he went to Australia to finish his fellowship and while on a coffee break from the hospital, he stepped into a nearby Café and the same pair of eyes met his.

“Vaishnavi… aren’t you Vaishnavi?”

She appeared taken aback but smiled.

“How do you know me? Yes, I am Vaishnavi?”

“We had met a long time ago during an inter-collegiate shuttle match. Do you remember me?”

His words jogged her memory and she opened her eyes wide when she finally recognized him.

“Don’t tell me you are that spooky guy Aryan who followed me around making my friends tease me like hell,” said Vaishnavi, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Unfortunately, I am,” said Aryan and sat on the chair opposite her, ”What are you doing here?”

“I am on an on-site project here. And you?”

After they exchanged news over a cup of coffee, Vaishnavi asked him why he had followed her around that day.

“I had fallen in love with you that day. Don’t question my sanity. I was perfectly sane but somehow you made me insane. I was never able to forget you. You were that one stranger that I longed to forget, but was never capable of, the one whose memories were the most colourful in my entire life.”

“Aryan, I indeed now doubt your sanity. How can you love a person whom you hardly know? I might have been in love with somebody else, I might even be married now,” said Vaishnavi.

“No…you can’t be. If God made us meet unexpectedly, that too again, he has planned something for us Vaishnavi. Please, do give us a chance. Or have you fallen in love with that pen friend of yours?” asked Aryan.

“How do you know about my pen friend?” asked Vaishnavi and then Aryan’s silence told her the answer she needed to know. He was her anonymous friend, the one who wrote numerous emails to her every month and had become her closest friend throughout her engineering days until now.

“When I scribbled down your address, I had no definite agenda. But then, I wanted you to fall in love with me. So I started to email you. Initially you didn’t reply. Then you replied, and we have remained friends from then. Why do you think I opted to do my fellowship here? I knew you were here. I knew you lived in this place and frequently came for tea in this café. I was always just a step away. I have waited for long Vaishu, I can’t anymore,” said Aryan.

Vaishnavi stood staring at him and then slowly walked into his arms, one she had come to love through the many letters that she exchanged with him. Aryan hugged her with all the love he felt and raised his eyes to thank the creator. 

His perfect stranger was his now, forever.

This post has been written for Indispire

Friday, February 20, 2015

Lessons in Compassion

As a thousand bloggers around the world join together to speak about compassion in #1000speak, I too join them to convey to my readers that compassion is something that the world desperately needs today.

My memories about compassion come from various sources. Inevitably, they have survived the ravages of time. They bring to me inspiration when I begin to feel low about some incident that occurred or after facing a disappointment. I am sharing anecdotes about three such persons.

Granny: Though I don’t have any photograph of her with me to show, my granny was a gem of a person. She was the epitome of kindness and compassion. Though she had five kids, she was fiercely independent and didn’t want to interfere in the life of her kids. She lived alone in the big house after all her kids settled well with family. There was this one boy in her neighborhood, almost my age that my granny helped to educate. He belonged to a poor family but was intelligent. His father was a drunkard who was a daily laborer. He would come for dinner every day as there would scarcely be anything cooked in his house and would use the small outhouse-room to study in peace and sleep. He completed graduation and is now well settled in life. But he still reminisces about Granny’s kindness.
My cousins and I never left her house without filled tummies. She used to say that feeding a hungry mouth was the biggest act of compassion. Many a gypsy would eat lunch from her house, every now and then.

2) My father:

I lost my father in 2011, but the biggest lessons about compassion that I learnt were from him. He was a doctor who gave free medicine to the needy, visited his old patients at home, spent time with them to increase their optimism and also took great care of his family and friends.
There was one of his patients, an old lady paralyzed neck down and cared for by her equally old husband. Every other day this old man would call, asking my father to visit their home, either to give medicine or do checkups. With regular treatment, the lady was able to move around in a wheel chair. When my father was bedridden, I remember having attended this man’s call. He started to weep and assured me that God would take care of such a compassionate human being.

Many would come home to visit him and run out of his room sobbing, unable to see the kind angel of their life, bedridden and struggling to breathe. During the six months that he was bedridden, I heard many tales about his selfless acts. He was a man who would give lifts to stranded strangers in bus stops. He would be the first to raise voice against injustice and crime.

He gave a homeless family free land to construct house. He had purchased the land with years of his hard-earned money. But the plight of the family, which had two small kids, who were sleeping on shop verandahs due to a certain political issue in our village moved him.

There is one incident I remember. There was this drunkard in our neighborhood, who would regularly put up a show of ‘wife beating’. He would come home drunk, drag his wife out of his house, and would slander her in the vilest language while beating her senseless. The poor woman would plead to him and to the small crowd that had gathered to show mercy. No one would raise a finger against him, as he was capable of doing anything in his inebriated state.

This man was a patient of my father. One day, while the act was on, my father passed via the road. He became furious seeing the way he was treating his wife. Though the crowd tried to deter him, my father went to him and slapped him right across his face. That slap brought him to his senses and he started to apologize profusely. Though the man didn’t quit drinking, he was a drunkard till his death, the wife-beating stopped completely.

There are many more incidents. You can read more about him in the posts The Complete Man and My Role Model: My Father.

3) Tadashi Fukayama: 
Me with Fukayama Sir
My Japanese manager at Dubai Metro Rail Project was the kindest human being among all my employers. He would employ anyone whom he thought deserved a chance, experience and degree certificates held little importance to him. There were many freshers in our team. He would teach them himself and make an expert out of them. ‘Okay, Okay,Okay” with a smile was his way of dealing with even the toughest crises.

 He would broom his cabin if he had created the mess. Once accidently he broke his teacup and instead of calling the office boy to do the cleaning, he went to the storeroom, came back equipped with a broom and mop and wiped everything clean. He would fiercely protect his employees and would argue in their favor during times of crises. Such crises were common as the project was a time bound one and construction was being done in a difficult terrain. He would own the responsibility for the crisis, whereas any other manager would have conveniently blamed the site engineer in charge.

Once I asked him what is one characteristic of Japanese people that he didn’t like.

“I think we work too hard. We forget to live. When I was small, I never saw my father until I was in high school. He lived in the same house as us, but when I got up, he would have gone to office, when he got home, I would be sleeping. I don’t want it to happen to my kids,” he said.

Our smallest act of compassion can bring an enormous change into the life of others. Let us pledge on this day to be a compassionate human being. Let us add that tiny drop in the ocean of kindness and compassion that need to flood our mother earth to rejuvenate her completely.

Thursday, February 19, 2015

Rituals for happiness

My son when he was six months old

Life changes with the entry of a little one into our lives. Very soon, our entire world becomes our child, every moment we think about him/ her and not a moment passes when you have not been thinking about them. Their happiness becomes your happiness, their tears becomes your tears.

 Gradually we learn to understand their likes and dislikes, their favorite food, their favorite toys, their sleeping time and also what makes them ANGRY or HAPPY.
We develop our own sacred rituals to appease this new god in our world. After a grueling and tantrum filled day, we require a good night’s sleep and hence nighttime rituals are de rigueur of the hour.

The most popular among the tactics are lullabies- either played through mobile phones, television and laptops or sang by Papa- dear or mamma-dear. Next comes bedtime stories or picture browsing.

When my son was born, I was a confused soul. I was scared like hell as all new mothers are, as to how to manage the delicate being that didn’t seem to have a clue about my confusion. He snuggled near me for warmth and food. I had sleepless nights where the ritual would be breast- feeding him and changing nappies. The elders of the family insisted that I should use cloth napkins and that readymade napkins would harm the skin of my baby.

I forgot the idea of a sound sleep soon. My son would wake up every hour or so and would wail helplessly as the wet sheets (which he had peed on) would disturb him. By morning there would be buckets full of wet white clothe nappies that would make our room smell like a public toilet.

I decided to adopt Pampers and boy, wasn’t that what changed my life? Though during daytime, mostly to keep the mouth of elders in the family shut, I used cloth nappies, night times were always pampers times.

Every night after wiping him clean with baby wipes, I would make him wear Pampers. As pampers kept him dry all night, he would sleep well. I too could sleep properly.
When he was a little more older, I think about two months, he would get excited when I made him wear pampers as it would either signal that we were going out for a walk or it was his time to swing on his cradle –it was time to sleep. I would watch fondly as he would kick his hands and legs into air while a he flashed his toothless smile at me as though he was asking me to hurry up and finish making him wear the pampers.

Now he is grown up, a preschooler, but there still are many nighttime rituals.
He would ‘help’ me make bed. And would finish brushing his teeth, empty his bladder and would drink a glass of water before going to bed.

I have to read his favorite bedtime story before sleeping. I shouldn’t merely read, I should solve the puzzles involved in the story of three Billy goats gruff, trade turns with him for solving it, otherwise mamma is too mean. I cant even cheat by skipping a few lines or a puzzle. He knows to read now.

“Feeling Sleepy is a bad good excuse; I should do my duty, because you are my mother! And of course, I have used the magic word ‘Please’ as always. You shouldn’t cheat. That is a bad habit.”He insists and I wonder when in the world did my little one, who delighted me with toothless smiles had become this cranky pre-schooler.

 During summer months, he insists that I carry him and stand directly beneath the fan so that he feels cool. I should be singing his favorite lullaby non-stop too. Cuddling is another thing that induces sleep. He wants me to snuggle into his blanket and cuddle him close; he insists he feels safe that way.

And sometimes he would roll towards me at night in sleep, snuggle close and whisper ‘I love you mother,’ and my heart would melt. I then thank the creator for giving him to me.

This post is written as a part of http://www.rewardme.in/tag/Pampers and Indiblogger Happy Hours

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Living my dreams


Every man dreams and there is no limit to his dreaming capability. I too have my set of dreams. I day dream about my favorite things and yearn to do things that I always have wished to do.
I cannot fulfill them always as many issues come in the path of attaining them. There may be times when everything falls in place to pursue your dream and then a barrier comes in the form of a family tragedy, a health issue or a sudden financial scare. Dreams are shattered this way, very often. Very often, people quit when they are just a hairbreadth away from attaining their dreams.
If I had a chance to live my dreams #BefikarUmarBhar, I have my wish list of things I want to do, achieve.

1) I would travel all around the world:
I love to read about places and like to travel to places, but what comes as a hindrance are often family responsibilities, financial constraints and sometimes health. If there were no restraints in anything, I would become the wanderlust traveler, the carefree soul who would visit every nook and corner of the world for the rest of my life.

2) I would publish 100 novels:
I know this is a hard to achieve thing even if you had the normal disciplined routine of a writer. But I would devote all the hours that I can to writing stories.  I would create stories that change lives of people who read it, because they will inspire them to live life to the fullest.

3) I would start a library chain:
I have been a bibliophile since I was a child. I am in love with books. I would start libraries at various corners of the world to encourage people to read. And of course, there will be special offers for bibliophiles. I would encourage new writers to use the library to further their careers. The library would have special section dedicated to creative writing.

4) I would give the world to my son:
If I had the ability to do whatever I wish and however I wish, I would give my son whatever he wishes for. He would be given the freedom to explore his dreams; he will find whatever he wishes for at his feet, at the requested time.

5) I would help eliminate hunger from the world:
Man can’t tolerate hunger. Yet many around the world die of hunger. If I could do something to eliminate hunger from the world, I would dedicate myself to it. There are a thousand ways to help feed a hungry human being. I would use every one of them to end the pain of hunger. My granny used to say that giving someone food when they need it the most is the holiest thing in the world. May be I can elevate my Karma b doing some very good charity in the field of hunger management.

Those are the five things that come to me at the moment. I wish they all come true and I can live a carefree life soon.
 Watch this video:

This post is a part of  http://bit.ly/BefikarUmarBhar and Indi happy hours

Saturday, February 14, 2015

Love is a Many Splendoured Thing

It was a memorable day, a day that Shreya would never forget. She had visited many places of mesmerizing beauty in Kodaikanal including the suicide point, which had a breathtaking view of the valley. It had been as if she was viewing heaven. The best thing was that her father had been her companion.

Back in their room, Shreya sensed that her father was distracted, more so than usual. He was gazing out of the window, which faced a bare wall; he didn’t hear when she called. Such symptoms were not unusual in her father who was an author. But this didn’t seem like one of his usual trapped-in-a-story distraction. She knew her father well enough to understand that something was bothering him; after all, they had been there for each other for the last eighteen years, from the time when she was three months old. Her mother had died in a car accident while on a trip with her friends then.

“Papa, what is bothering you? Won’t you tell me?” Shreya asked, sitting near her father and placed her hands on the shoulders of her father.

“eh?” he asked as though he had not heard her.

“Tell me Papa, what is bothering you? I have been watching you since the past one hour. The sandwich I ordered for you, has turned cold, and you haven’t heard a word of what I have been blabbering in the last hour. Tell me, aren’t we the best of friends,” Shreya asked, touching her father’s chin as though their roles had reversed, as though he was a troubled teenager.

Letting out a deep sigh, Samay Batra smiled, a smile that resembled more like a grimace.

“Just memories, child. They never seem to leave me alone. Today’s trip was hard on me. This place holds a lot of memories,” said Samay.

“Tell me Papa, you always say that sharing your troubles to someone takes away the pain. Did something remind you of mom, today?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper as she knew she was entering forbidden territory.

Her father never talked to her about her mother but she knew he had never been able to forget her, to let her go. At home, he would gaze at her photo for hours together on some days. If Shreya asked about her mother, he would change topics to avoid talking about her.

“Yes kid, some memories never leave you alone,” said her father.

“But Papa, haven’t you told me a thousand times that we should not live in the past nor should allow the past to rule over our present?  Why can’t you leave it all where they belong- right there in your past?”

“Darling, love, especially unrequited love is something that haunts you forever. You are never able to come in terms with that if you have fallen hard in love.”
“Unrequited love? You had married mother with whom you had fallen in love. I can’t understand you now.”

“Let me make it clear, I will begin at the beginning. I had met your mother here, right near that suicide point. I was on a writing trip and she was on a college tour. While posing for a photo near the viewpoint, she slipped and started to fall. I was near and caught her. In that moment, I fell in love with her; I thought destiny had thrown her into my hands. She thanked me, we exchanged address, and I found that she lived quite near my place back home though we had never met. Like a flower, I adored her from distance thinking I might harm her in some way. I didn’t think I deserved her, she was a bubbly, smart girl who brought sunshine into lives of others. My mother who was worried at my refusal to marry found about my obsession with Kavya. She approached her parents and they were thrilled at the proposal of marriage from a bestselling author. We were married within a month. The Kavya who entered my life was completely different from the person I fell in love with. She didn’t love me, I was late, she had fallen in love with a classmate and pined away for him daily. I came to know about it in a very painful manner,” said her father and paused.

Stunned by the revelation, Shreya waited for her father to continue.

“She accused me of marital rape when she found she had fallen pregnant with you. She told me she never loved me, hated it when I touched her, told me she felt soiled, dirty. Those were her very words. I begged her to give me one last gift and that then I would set her free. I asked her the gift of the child she was carrying inside her.”

“Papa…stop, I don’t need to hear further,” said Shreya, thinking about how her mother might have hated her existence right from the beginning.

For a while, both fell silent. Samay started to tremble with the suppressed sobs that had been brought forth by memories. Shreya decided that she must hear him out, help him vent the truth, which he might have never told anyone.

“”Tell me Papa, then what happened? Tell me, I need to know about that woman who might have wanted to kill me even before I breathed.”

“No my dear, she loved you. She doted on you from the moment she came to know  about your presence in her body . She hated me. I couldn’t see the hatred in her eyes. So, I found the person whom she loved and helped them meet again,” said Samay.

“But why Papa? Had you stopped loving her? I have seen you watch her photo for hours. Why did you do it?” Shreya asked.

“Because my child, true love liberates. If you truly love a person you would set them free, you would never want to chain them to something that they hate. Their happiness becomes your happiness,” said Samay.

“And then what happened?” Shreya asked, deciding to hate her mother even more for having left her father who loved her so much.

“I shouldn’t have let them go. They met with an accident five miles from our house and she was lost to me forever,” said Samay, dropping his face onto his hands, and began sobbing uncontrollably.

And the tears never stopped.

 This post has been written for Indispire

Sunday, February 8, 2015

A thousand Love Letters

Dearest  Dhruv,

Your skylark is singing again, to brave the darkest hour, hoping to lure her dawn with the saddest song. The darkest hour of the night is just before the dawn, so say the wise men of yore. You are my dawn that is eluding my every attempt at reconciliation.  Didn’t you promise me everything and the moon? Have you forgotten the vows we made?

Years ago, when we promised to be together until death do us apart, I didn’t think that there would come a day when you would begin to hate me to the extent that you would storm out of a room if anyone mentioned my name.

But whatever happens, I can’t seem to hate you. I know about the hatred you have piled in that corner of your heart where once I had my own safe haven. I know you don’t trust me anymore. You wouldn’t believe that I never cheated you, that it was a carefully plotted trap that Priya had woven to tear us apart. I have all the proof but you didn’t even give me a chance to explain.

Hadn’t we set a rule that whatever happens we would hear the other person out before deciding anything? But you broke that rule. You left me in tears while I tried to explain that your mother never liked me and had played her part perfectly in the play enacted by Priya and her team. You never realized that Aryan is Priya’s closest friend, I don’t even know him. All his claims that we were anything else is false, but you didn’t stop to listen. You had seen him in our bedroom, but did you know that Priya too was there then, hiding in the wardrobe waiting for Aryan to enact his role?Would you believe that I was trying to save myself from being raped when you arrived?Can’t you think that I would never let a stranger in unless they are accompanied by a friend? Your mother was with me throughout but she sneaked out before you arrived. 

But you would not believe me. Sadly, you believed everything that your mother and Priya told you.

I had thought I had learnt to fill the void you had left with mindless hours of work. But I am wrong. I wander in the rooms of the home we built at night, looking for signs of your presence. That lone T-shirt that you left in the cupboard often gets wet with my tears; I wear your cologne to breathe in your presence.
I promised my parents that I would move on, undoubtedly, you had moved on, they said. But why then do I feel assured that you would return before long, bringing with you the dawn that I await?

I feel forlorn now that you are continents away; the pit of dread in my stomach is becoming unbearable by the second. A nagging little voice in the back of my head tells me that your heartstrings have stopped singing my name, the ravages of time and the flight of memory has torn down the resistance of that stubborn sinew. I don’t want to hear that, I refuse to believe.

If it is the truth, just tell me so. I will not write another word to you. This is my thousandth mail- I wrote one to you every day.  I am writing this in the darkest hour of my life. I loathe this teary existence; I grieve your loss, my lost innocence. I can never be the same again without you. Your absence has tainted my blood with the poison of your love. Every sunset reminds me that I have lost yet another day of hope. 

The lantern of expectation is now beginning to smoke dark fumes of despair. The fire of love that kindled it is long exhausted; my wet eyes crave now for the light of the dawn.

Come my darling, my dawn; do not tell me it is too late. Do not tell me that the embers of hope have frozen forever.

Only yours,

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Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Ramayana- The Game of Life - Part Two: Shattered Dreams

Overview of the book:

Shattered Dreams is the sequel to the national bestseller, Rise of the Sun Prince, in the new spiritual and motivational series Ramayana – The Game of Life. Twelve joyful years have passed in Ayodhya since the wedding of Rama and Sita at the end of Book 1.
Now, in Shattered Dreams, Shubha Vilas narrates the riveting drama of Rama’s exile. Through tales of Rama’s unwavering and enigmatic persona, the book teaches us how to handle reversals positively; through Bharata’s actions, it teaches us to handle temptation; and through Sita’s courage, to explore beyond our comfort zone. This complicated family drama provides deep insights on how human relationships work and how they fail.
With Valmiki’s Ramayana as its guiding light, Shattered Dreams deftly entwines poetic beauty from the Kamba Ramayana and Ramacharitramanas, as well as folk philosophy from the Loka Pramana tales, to demonstrate how the ancient epic holds immediate relevance to modern life. Experience the ancient saga of the Ramayana like never before.
Know the author : Shubha Vilas

Shubha Vilas, a spiritual seeker and a motivational speaker, holds a degree in engineering and law with specialization in Patent Law. His leadership seminars are popular with top-level management in corporate houses. He also helps individuals deal with modern-life situations by applying the teachings of the Bhagavad Gita, Ramayana and other dharmic traditions.

Almost everyone in India knows the story of Lord Rama. Yet, it never fails to enchant with its many twists and turns. Rama’s story is in fact a thesis about living life in the pure and noble way. Shattered Dreams talks about the wisdom Rama exhibits while handling the reversals of fortunes, Keikeyi’s greed for power, the love and faithfulness of Bharata, Laxmana and Sita -the shattered dreams of Dasaratha.
When I started reading this book, I was excited, as I had been greatly impressed by the part one of the book. The book did not disappoint me at all. Filled with wisdom and many tales, which is not usually part of the versions of Ramayana that I have read, this book is an absolute delight. The footnotes make you pause and think. And these footnotes are written in a way to make the tech savvy generation pause and take note as they speak to them in their lingo.

An example:

Footnote 53 on page 65: “Death is a universal virus installed in every individual, programmed to terminate and dissolve the machine itself. Narada was encouraging Ravana to find the anti-virus software for the virus named death. A mission impossible.”

Another footnote on page 314 talks about forgiveness:
“Forgiveness is the fragrance that the sandalwood tree leaves on an axe that cuts it, the stone that grinds it and in the smoke that burns it.”

The book has separate sections, which elaborate and stress on the lessons hidden in the dialogues or actions of the various characters. Page 17 lists the six inner demons or Anarthas to conquer and why they should be conquered. The author talks about Lust, Rage, Ego, Greed, Illusion and Envy here.

A section on page 129 talks about the essence of true communication and explains the deep and communication between Rama and Sita. It explains how communication can be inaudible yet integral or heartfelt. It explains how good relationship begins, grows, survives and thrives through healthy communication.

The section about negative emotions as tools to display positive love on page 169 is a lesson for any modern day couple. It shows how even disagreements can bring about agreements.

Yet another section that begins on page 334 talks about the five tenets that form the most important limbs of a leader’s portfolio, where Rama teaches Bharata how to rule Ayodhya in his absence.

The book fills you with the power of positivity and truth and encourages us to venture beyond one’s comfort zone in the pursuit of contentment in life. Life lessons has never been told in a more lucid and eloquent manner than in this book. A sense of calm empowers you and makes you turn pages to take in more of the wisdom that lies hidden in the pages that lies ahead. It heals the soul with the tales it tells and I was sad when the book ended. I am now waiting for the sequel.

But this is not a onetime read. This book is more like a guidebook, which will always shed light on life’s many questions. We can adopt the lessons from the Ramayana in our own lives as it teaches you the efficient way to handle relationships and confront the vices. Shubha Vilas gifts us the literary treasure of Ramayana with all the subtle and enduring wisdom of the epic captured and encapsulated for the benefit of the present generation.

Verdict: A must have in your home library.

 This review is a part of the biggest Book Review Program for Indian Bloggers. Participate now to get free books!

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Shop or buy with ease using Quikr NXT

Image Source
Clutter is the biggest source of energy drain in every household. Unknown to us, unused electronic items, clothes, books all add to the clutter in our life draining the much needed positive energy or CHI from any house. These items have a negative energy field and hence we need to remove this clutter from our home to bring in positive energy. Things that remind you of a lost loved one, a pet or an unremarkable past often become items that should be trashed.

Many people tend to sell such items using Quikr and buyers get it at a rate, which proves to be quite a steal.

I have explored quikr before and experienced problems while trying to buy. Some of the sellers failed to pick up the calls. Some others had given vague details online while I wanted more details about the product. Some dealers would post the ad for a single item and when I contacted them, they would insist I had to buy in bulk and that they won’t sell a single piece.

These days if you call somebody, you inevitably end up in their whatsapp contacts list. Thus our display picture becomes a public property if we are not careful. Many even use the opportunity to ping complete strangers and disturb them with lewd messages, videos and even phone calls. It is such an invasive world. It is very hard to protect our privacy when we are dealing with online clients or buying from complete strangers.

When I heard about Quikr NXT, I found the idea of the app quite impressive. With Quikr NXT, a buyer and seller can maintain privacy and contact each other by using the chat facility provided by the app. The app records the chat history and facilitates exchange of photos. Moreover, the best thing is the facility is available as a mobile app and at the Quikr website.

Benefit for the seller:
For the seller this facility is a boon. He/she need not worry about calls coming in at inconvenient times or forgetting about the amount they had quoted for a particular item to a buyer. The app keeps the complete chat history saved.
Every seller would be reluctant to display his private phone number to the world. With Quikr NXT, the person is able to interact with his buyers just by using his Quikr ID. He can ensure that his number remains private throughout the transaction.

Benefit for the Buyer:
For a buyer too this is a boon. Whenever he/she is online, they can leave a message requesting details or showing interest. They can give details of their requirement and can even request for more views of the actual product.  We can even request direction details to visit the seller at their shop or house with more accuracy and convenience.

There would be fewer hassles involved in buying and selling. I am sure this app is going to bring the buyers and sellers across the nation closer than before. Even I am now thinking about opening a Quikr account myself. 

If you are thinking so too, Click the below link.

This post is a part of Indi happy hours on Indiblogger in associaltion with Quikr