Sunday, October 19, 2014

Dabur Chyawanprash Ayurveda ,Trust and Immunity

“There's nothing more contagious than the laughter of young children; it doesn't even have to matter what they're laughing about.” 

The laughter of a child is bliss, happiness personified. No sound sounds better than that of children laughing. The joy that echoes,opens barriers in ones soul and brings a smile to the lips.
I have one son.
By the grace of god, I have not spent as many nights patting him on his back and trying to get him to stop crying. He was not a cantankerous baby. He was sweet. That is why he is called Sweet Child.
Or maybe ,I'm getting old. I am sort of close to a major milestone, one that I would rather not admit in Blogosphere.
Well ,this much I know,I have suffered from a condition called Allergic Rhinitis for the longest possible time. When I began, people ran for cover after handing me a napkin...I sneezed everywhere.
And after I got married ,hubby dear always encouraged me to take steam therapy and eat Chyawanprash regularly.
Me, I had had this bias against the black,gloopy tarry mess that came in the bottle of Dabur chyawanprash, so I mocked and mocked his habit of substituting breakfast for hot milk and Chyawanprash.
However ,after sweet child started walking, he started falling ill regularly and even had to be hospitalised on account of infections a couple of times.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that we were stationed in the far east (India) and the weather was moist with strong, cold winds blowing after 12 noon,daily.
To top it all, I, a young mother schooled on my dog eared copy of Dr Spock was always a long STD distance away from Mum's advice.
Cell phones were non existent in the east at that time and STD calls were generally made from the PCO's which were more than a walking distance from home.
After many courses of antibiotics and trials of homeopathic medicines ,I had begun to try to force feed him.
I used to show him Cars on the far off highway(sweet child was car mad ,his first toys and security blankets were the dinky cars...) and force down some foul milk product down his throat.

I noticed his illnesses and infections decline and began to complement myself and my wisdom as a mother . After all I knew best.
Its just then around that time that i noticed that hubby dear had introduced Chywanprash to sweet child , and they used to have a bit together every morning.
It had become a morning ritual, the digging of a spoon into the gloopy dark unknown mix of amla and various herbs and then a small bite and that being washed down by a sip of milk.
The ritual of Chywanprash is still a ritual, though the boys rarely indulge together. On you forgot, sweet child is quite an opinionated teenager...who would prefer to do what his dad tells him to do behind his back,rather than in front of him.
The first sneeze is an indication of the changing weather and that's a note to replenish dwindled stocks of Dabur Chyawanprash.
So thanks to Dabur and Chyawanprash,I have not had to battle too many colds or infections or other illnesses.
My home has been blessed by the health and happiness and laughter of my boys...
Since when do husbands get referred to as boys??
Well,since men never seem to grow older....they get added into the nominal roll of children in the family.
OK, along with the boys, I manage a spoon a day and try to keep my Allergic Rhinitis and sneezing at bay too.
Dabur Chyawanprash is a tonic or an addition to your diet that you will never go wrong with-Dabur Chyawanprash. Its a healthier alternative to the allopathic drugs. After all Prevention is better than cure.

All I wish and pray for is that we be blessed by the goodness of Ayurveda. And that all our homes remain disease free.

Diwali Memories-Come home to Celebrations and love #GharWaliDiwali


A festival of lights and laughter and loud noise and fearlessness and daring and of course luck-at the infamous teen patti.Like in casinos...3 cards are dealt and one places bets.
I am a believer.
I believe that good will conquer evil,every time.
And that the bursting of crackers will kill the murderous mosquitoes for this coming season.
Tradition, diyas ,rangoli ,pooja,sweets,candles and lights have a lot of importance in the lives of us Indians. Across the country ,we love bling and loud music and flowers and the lights of the earthenware diyas.
And at least in North India ,we also encourage the vice of gambling. They say that if you gamble, Maa Lakshmi will bless you and your home...(sic)
My cherished memories are of the time that my father got stationed to Delhi and we began to celebrate Diwali in the style of the super loud North Indians. Southerners are comparatively quite sedate and well behaved.
Diwali memories are of crazy cleaning ,with mum going hysterically adept at wiping off every spec of dust from even the crockery that has been unused from generations. And all our Novels and Mills and Boons being dragged out of crevices in cupboards etc...
Consequence,I avoid this crazy, maniacal cleaning especially for Diwali. I prefer to keep my house relatively cleaner so that I don't need to indulge in such a stressful situation at this time. Full credit goes to hubby dear,left to my own devices,I would probably clean only when I would be able to write in the dust...
Yes,hubby dear must have been my mum's son,many lives ago.
Then the cards..
It has always been a communal affair,with relatives and or friends at home.
The cards or the Teen Patti, sitting cross legged on the floor with heaps of cushions and watered down drinks and  of course coins and a big fat wallet under  the daddy's knees.
Lots of food and coffee and arguments and cribbing and celebrations would pass and we would tote off to bed too weary to think of any celebrations.
Next morning, cleaning and decorations and gifting and setting up the house later we would help mum with the dinner .

Evening meant sitting with the parents while papa would go through an entire two hours of Diwali pooja with the help of an audio cassette with offerings of cardamom and fruit and mithai and flowers and books and pens and other stuff. Sweet sister and I would sit behind them ,getting up every now and then to fetch the offerings we had forgotten earlier...
and only then were we allowed to burst crackers.
Dinner on Diwali was always Pooris and Chana,because mum says that we don't use a griddle this night.
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As a wife and a mother ,I have done the cleaning and the card parties and stuff. But what I miss are the rituals.Hubby dear is an atheist and sweet child couldn't care two figs, so I pray alone.
I miss that pooja ceremony and the calm that those audio cassettes rendered. I miss my mums food and the Besan Laddoos, and the Pooris and her Chana and the love with which she insisted we ate more than what was needed.
I miss waiting with sweet sister for people to finish their crackers so that ours would be the last and the loudest...
I miss #GharWaliDiwali .
Now I am a mom and have started some traditions that I want sweet child to miss when he flies the nest.
I want him to also yearn for #GharWaliDiwali and come home to us for the festival.
PS I am going to the parents...the day after Diwali to get the same ghar wali diwali feeling.
This video brought tears to my eyes...

Go home for Diwali .
Celebrate your family ,celebrate your bonds and celebrate your love.


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