Towards An Extended Life of Adventure

Wonder why the human lifespan does not average more than 77 years (Google helped me here)! 

There is so much to see: nature in all her mysterious, fantastic splendour. I find it quite unsettling if a person breathes his last without setting foot on the extreme latitudes and longitudes and all those exotic places in between. That would be such a bummer! 

Not to mention seeing, watching, living, and experiencing the lives of the countless clans of people that makes up the human race. There are so many cultures out there, ethnic people to befriend and many others waiting to be known—million secrets to unearth, mystical stories to share, fabulous cuisines to taste. 

It took me close to three decades to partially understand the person I am. I am sure there are thousands like you on the same page here. It would still take two more decades to find out what I am really made of! Between the ignorance and revelation, I would have lost those pricey 20 years of my life to marriage, children and work. I would become a wise octogenarian with the deepest regret of not having set out on a grand adventure and making my life more exciting during my days of youth. In the end, I die, say somewhere between 70 and 90.

Dang, where was the fun part? Those 70–90 years are just not enough for me. Add to this a generous dose of good health.
 
There is a whole world out there waiting for every enthusiastic human; I need not prove here that our life years would hardly suffice in any way. 

Cynics might mock me at the very thought of extending human years—is there not enough hatred, violence and vendetta in our world to escape from? I agree. There are too many of those baneful happenings around the clock, but only for the weak and soulless human to succumb to. Perhaps it is time for every cynic to ultimately accept that life cannot be cocooned within the confines of human weaknesses and rigid boundaries. It has to be left loose—in order to form a full circle, in order to feel being complete. Still others might point out that I am not ready to embrace death—a silly, alleged prejudice for me to cling to the possibility of extending the human lifespan. To them, I say "You all are exceedingly mistaken." Death is one thing, life is another. Every second could be your last. Why not live it? Why not shelve all the hatred away and enjoy while you can?

I honestly envy the immortal jellyfish which can practically NEVER DIE. I am still amazed at the thought of this creature without a bracketed life. It possibly exists forever. Is it not wonderful that it can metamorphose itself to the infant stage once it reaches maturity? Maybe, for the jellyfish I am standing on the greener side of the grass. Maybe, it does envy my mortality. I assure you that I am not rooting for immortality here, but definitely an extension of life years—to explore all possible places, people, food; to eventually breathe my last and to be at peace that I did what I wanted to do, that I did not waste my time confining myself to the limited geography of my abode, that I did venture out and sought my own grand adventure. 

All it takes are some extra years!

Stop bursting Diwali crackers

I reckon I have an extremely sensitive pair of ears. I flinch when somebody raises his or her voice and shudder when that high decibel honking of a passing lorry catches me off the hook. I clench my teeth when I ride next to a lorry and cartwheel with silent gratitude when the same lorry honks feebly. No wonder I find bursting Diwali crackers an acute nuisance. I do not remember touching a loud cracker in my lifetime but for the mild kuruvi vedi. Dang, I was scared with that one too! I love sparklers, saatais and adore watching the black serpents mysteriously cropping out of that teensy little black button. I like watching those novelty crackers that vroom to the sky and spread spatially with flashes of stars in myriad colors – they are simply fantastic! But there ends my tolerance for crackers. I shut my ears tight for the rest and pray they be done with soon.        

I understand that as Indians we have every right to rejoice the slaying of evil Narakasuran. What I do not understand is how irresponsible we can be by being blind to what is reality.

We burst crackers and thereby are the direct cause of noise, air and land pollution. We have polluted our planet enough and this just adds to the insanity. Post bursting, the smoke stays and clings to our food. We brush this off with such foolish nonchalance when it can indeed be highly poisonous. Earth as such does not belong to humans alone; there are other creatures to be valued as well. Crackers are dangerous for animals. When was the last time you saw your cuddly dog happily woofing by your side during Diwali? Birds go missing and are nowhere in sight. Only after the deafening cacophony subsides do the other mortals come out. We of course know that very young children are employed to manufacture these crackers. To their parents or relatives it may be the only best thing that they can possibly do. Just replace those helpless kids with your child, nephew or niece – is it not agonizing to watch them waste away when they could instead march their way to school? Is it really important that we dance and enjoy bursting those crackers made from the unnecessary toil of those little kids? Not to forget the less healthy – there are people living amongst us with heart problems and old people can definitely not bear the cracker clamour.

Is it not our obligation to consider all these before lighting that doom of a cracker?  The festival can be pompous, grand, out of the world and everything to render it a visual treat. Exchange sweets, wear new clothes, educate newbies to the Diwali story, sing songs, party hard, picnic with friends and family. Nevertheless, edify people against bursting crackers to make this world a healthy place to live in.

Think before you light a cracker next time.
 

Begging - To Encourage or Not to Encourage

I was travelling by train from Chennai to Mumbai last week. The weather was pleasant - it had recently rained in Chennai - I was thoroughly enjoying this travel break. In every station that the train halted, there was a different scene; the people, the anxious faces, the vendors and the beauty of the place by itself. It felt good to go through so many different visuals in few hours of travel.

We reached Renigunta, nearby the infamous Tirumala Tirupathi temple. Our train halted for a good 15 minutes and I was savouring the happenings outside. I saw an old lady come out of the waiting room with a young mentally-challenged girl of about 14 towing behind her. Both looked shabby with unkempt hair. It was clear that they had a job to do - beg. Beg the people for money and food. I suddenly felt totally helpless and seeing them that way bothered me a lot. My mood changed. I felt sorry for them one side and furiously bitter the other. 

They entered our coach and started begging - some people gave food, others pittance. I am strictly against  begging but I did not have the temerity to ask them anything or advice them on a better life, a better world. I played a mute spectator that day. I did feel horrible.They passed me to continue their dehumanizing task and I felt terribly sad for them. 

Out of helplessness, I looked out the window and saw a fiftyish man walk briskly down the platform. With salt-and-pepper hair, a decent crumpled checked shirt and a lungi, he had a staff for support and a rag bag. May be I was the only person who was staring at him from our train and he noticed that. He changed course, feigned a forced walk and stood right outside my window; arms in supplication, begging for money. I was stumped. There he was - a hale and healthy man, who can walk and talk fine (positively not a differently-abled person) and he resorted to begging. I simply ignored him, he looked at me with his penetrative eyes for a second and he walked away. Then came another lady, an old couple and many other beggars - tall, fat, thin, strong and weak, traipsing around the platform. It was an unbelievably sore sight.

Whatever happened to these people to stoop so low? I agree that they do not have good education, may be a place that they can call home or probably no one to care for. But does it mean that they are left with no choice but to seek alms? Have they lost their will power to rise and shine in life? Or just to do something other than begging? I strongly believe that even the lamest fool has some talent left within him - something unique to be put to good use. Where is the missing link? How do they get respect?

I strongly advocate to my friends not to encourage them by giving money, rather showing them in black and white as to how they lead a pathetic life, not out of being submissive to others but by their own choices. They need to know that they can lead a respected life, that they can earn money just like the fortunate others. I sincerely wish that I pluck up courage some day and confront them for good.

Every person is human and deserves a clean and refined life. I look forward to a world which appreciates this profundity and gives a fresh lease of life to hapless people, pulling them out of their misery. 

Visit to Mangammapet village, Arakkonam

I recently took part in a Health Awareness Program held in Mangammapet, Arakonnam. Organised by Boanerges Welfare Trust, it was a first-timer for myself and my two friends. We invited a pastor and a nurse to come along with us. There started our 3 hour journey from Velachery to Park followed by Central to Arakonnam. It was indeed tedious but we were excited and looking forward to the program. 

We reached Arakonnam by around 10:30 hrs, took a share auto and directly went to the church. I liked the village. There were a good number of people at the periphery but as we ventured into the village the count dwindled - it showed. We did not see more than 4 or 5 men; obviously they had gone to work. Groups of women sat under huge trees gossiping, with children goofing around. Most of them lived in huts amidst a sparse sprinkling of solid brick buildings.We reached the church - it was small, cosy and neat. Empty plots all around, a cemetery some 100m away, fresh green trees, cows grazing nearby and rocks heaped at random to lay the road - it was every bit the rural scene.

A women crowd of around 20 assembled in the church and we started the program. It was basic and simple. One of my friends educated them about daily hygiene and fielded questions. We came to know that there was a bout of viral fever around and women expected some medical relief. Our nurse was very helpful and she patiently checked those who were ill and prescribed medicines. Alongside, women who had woes poured them out to the pastor who ever so soothingly prayed for them, giving them advice. I was happy to see an old man (the only man!) with a crop of silver hair come in for a checkup. I was a bit gutted because we expected to spread awareness of chewing tobacco, consuming alcohol and smoking cigars to men and we just had one old man that day. Nevertheless, it was fruitful. We visited two families and prayed for them. 

There was a train to catch and we bid the villagers adieu. Promising to visit them again, we left Arakkonam with warm hearts.

We made good friends; young and old. It was enlightening for all of us. Having experienced the innocence of villagers and their living conditions, I honestly wish that every human reaches out to the under-privileged and offers them intellectual support. 

How 750words.com Helps

I love writing and one of my fervent wishes is to become a bestselling author. 

Sometime back I Googled for stuff that would help me write a novel and I stumbled upon this wonderful competition that is "NaNoWriMo", short for National Novel Writing Month. It is open to anyone who wants to don the writing gloves - the crux is to finish a 50,000 worded novel in a month; honestly a tough task. Yet deeply challenging! A writer should approximately squeeze 1667 words per day and that is where it is quite the meany. I can usually write between 800-900 words a day, twice the number is a feat for me. I definitely needed some start and some push.

Either I tend to run out of ideas or I run out of words. Both ways are bad for a writer and I had to polish my writing to better myself in the literary realm. That is when I discovered 750words.com.

It is a useful site started by Buster Benson (I am ever so grateful to you!) for any blossoming writer, especially ones straining to leap out of the writer's block. You log in, write a minimum of 750 words a day, stick to that routine and feel awesomely glad that you are able to hit that mark every day. The most fantastic thing about this site is the fancy algorithm which categorizes the mood of writing - happy, anxious, upset, affectionate; the mindset - were we negative, positive, introvert, extrovert, certain or uncertain while writing; the rating - PG if your writing carries abusive language and the most frequently used words. It also calculates the total time taken to write, the words per minute and the number of distractions (here a distraction is 3 minutes of non-writing). You have the option to share your writing or keep it just to yourself. 

I am totally chuffed with this serendipitous finding. If you are looking for something to test your writing prowess do try http://www.750words.com/ - it helps a ton, you will not be gutted!

Travelling That Is Bliss

I totally dig travelling and do not mind shelling out fat bucks there. To be in a different place other than home, to see fresh faces and make new friends, taste authentic ethnic cuisine, to buy souvenirs, to immerse in the sheer beauty of a never-before-seen landscape and to click myriad photographs - nothing can get as exciting as this. 

I personally find travel getaways refreshing, relaxing and exhilarating. Not to mention that it broadens my horizon and widens my thought base. 

• There are different people out there to rendezvous - tall and short, black, white and brown, grim and smiling, proud and ever-giving. 
• There are gazillion places to venture to - the breathtaking expanse of flora and fauna just does not suffice the human mind. 
• Likewise, I consider it a silly sin when one restricts himself/herself to her cuisine. If caged within those four walls, one might insanely miss the fantastic varieties of delectable food options. 
• Seeing the same old stuff can pull us into the abyss of boredom. Travelling kicks hard those mundane frames from daily life. It bursts open vivid, vibrant sceneries; the perfect treat for sore eyes! 
• Being an avid photographer (still very very amateur at that!), I do not miss any opportunity to wield my camera and point & shoot at nature, people and other awesome stuff that catch my eye.

Having travelled quite a lot around India, my thirst to foray further is unquenchable. It is two different things - travelling with friends and with family. Each has its own share of enjoyment and free rein that I have come to adore. It is utterly amazing to drift to places every now and then.

Like the famous saying goes - "The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page." - Saint Augustine of Hippo.

Confessions of a Food-aholic

I have been living for close to 3 decades. There are many things that I like, love, adore and that I am crazy about. It is only recently that I discovered myself as an insane foodie and an exotic eating machine who loves to experiment in the kitchen and wolf down as and when I please. My mom says I hardly spend time in the kitchen (that is coz you are there mom, and gran too!:P). Whenever I get the time I try cooking something different. The results are not grandiose, most of the times. Come on, I just experiment! Yet I absolutely feel the unbreakable bond between me and that delicious thing on the plate. It fills my tummy, makes me happy, brings back that long-forgotten smile back on my face and I feel complete. Food completes me. Tom Cruise, hear this!

I have heard people say, "All You Need Is Love". But I say, the best thing that can ever happen to a person is authentic, relishing, mind-boggling, awesome, lip-smacking, salivating, scrumptious food. 

I say, "All You Need Is Food".

The Last of the Oburumus

There was this online random writing competition where I had to use these four words - "Reluctant, plague, magazine, sleep". This is something I tried out of it!

Aba Oburumu was forced to kneel. Hands tied behind him he fought back, his nerves bulging out at the neck. Only he and his brother, Nalo, remained. With guns pointed at his back and hair yanked to one side, Aba reluctantly gave in. His mother, sister and friends were mercilessly killed. There was blood everywhere - obliquely splattered on the walls, coursing crimson on the road, diluted in the gutter. The strong metallic smell permeated the air, portending death. Tears of loss, anger and fear ran down his cheeks. The mysterious plague robbed him of his dear father barely last week. He knelt hopelessly as the heartless men circled Nalo with shotguns and rifles. One of them kicked Aba from behind and he fell flat on his face. The poking spikes of a shoe crushed his jaw, forcing him to watch Nalo plead for his life. Utterly terrified, Nalo cried his lungs out; hand outstretched calling his brother for help. Aba thrashed furiously on the road and cursed himself. They were outnumbered, he was powerless. The sudden click of a magazine resounded and time froze. Blood oozed from Nalo’s temple; his body went limp, lifeless and he looked every bit asleep. Aba let out an inhuman cry. Hisentire tribe was dead and gone. Another familiar click; his vision blurred and he felt searing pain on the back of his head. He shuddered for one last time, never to wake up again. The Oburumus passed on in a ruthless genocide.

Writing - A Panacea to The Boggled Mind

I read books, experiment in the kitchen, surf the net, play shuttle, commune with nature during my once-in-a-blue-moon walk on the terrace, watch TV, sing songs, sleep and write. All these in random obviously! I enjoy every one of these moments but the sheer satisfaction that I get out of writing is unbeatable. Initially, I preferred writing on paper and kind of abhorred the idea of shunning my wonderful black pen. As I enlightened myself with the trivial yet significant merits of digital writing I gradually started liking it.

• There need not be those squiggly strikethroughs. Tap a key and it does the cleaning.
• Where all have I used "Septuagenarian" in my 1256-word document? Search and find it easily. It is a great relief not to scan through the entire document for one word.
• Formatting options are galore.
• I am not wasting paper.
• I am tree-friendly.
• There are still loads more, these ones steal the bunch for me.

Though dismally tangent at the start, my thoughts somehow channel to make some sense. I enjoy my writing moments as they extensively improve my diction, my thought flow. I get to toy with words, play my own word game - I am a self-confessed logophile. To me, the best part of writing is expressing my emotions. Be it happiness, sorrow, anger, hatred, jealousy or anything that just wants to jump off the chest, I put them into writing. It is my remarkable panacea for all those mind wars. 

A World Without Money?

Of late I have been debating the idea of a world without money. In everybody’s life it has become so indispensable that we have lost sight of what life is truly all about. It has turned us thick and greedy, unwise and foolish. Money has become such a necessity to all of us to the point where humanity runs greedily along with it like the unsatiated sidekick. The clear distinction between the rich and the poor is a visible separation of the human race. The condescending, snobbish attitude of those holding money towards those without is a dismal projection of how money can change the very facet of human connections. Add to this the omnipresent corruption. The entire world is so corrupted, mean and selfish. What is at the dead centre of this corruption? -  of course, money!

Without money nothing moves. We have become so involved in industrialization to mint money and it has convincingly raised the status quotient of people. Everything is a trade these days. Right from birth till death - education, marriage, housing, medicine, all involve the green bill. Gone are the days when we worked not for money, but to improve the society as a whole. We have advanced so much in technology but it all comes with a price. 

So there I was mulling over the possibility of a world without money. In today’s living, it is essential. We need not be Neanderthals or vagabonds who had no roof above their heads. At the same time, we need not waste money on materialistic wants like cosmetics, clothes, jewellery and other forms of luxury. I do not understand why people flaunt their priceless clothes; unless for the mere sake of exhibitioning them to others. There are people, just like us, who do not even have the privilege of the basic necessities for living. There are such startling contrasts among people and it hits my conscience hard everytime I come across such truths. 

I seriously wish for a money-free existence. Imagine the scope of peace and harmonious living that comes along with it. Why can’t everything in this world function without money. Why can’t there be free services to humanity? We can enrich international relations just by sharing our proficiencies without the factor called “money”. It needs to enter every human’s head that we do not live in this world just to multiply money, own houses, and rev up and down in cars. We are here to belong, to share and to help each other with what we have. Every human deserves respect and every other person who is down in wealth should be brought out of their misery. Everybody should live equal and money should not be an enticing aspect. I do not propose living like a sage, rather I propose living like how a human should live - with all that is absolutely necessary and will us away from being magically entranced into the world of money and materialism.

The Decision

I was itching to write something and wrote this on 10/07/2012 using the prompt "Stars blazed in the night sky".


Stars blazed in the night sky. I lost count of them as I lay down flat on the soft, white sands of the Copacabana beach. There were very few people around me - there was a man dressed in a stark white sleeveless shirt and corduroy trousers puffing cuban cigars, an old lady in a bright floral printed gown, the lone customer of the Seaside Inn (she was the owner probably!) and a couple of shirtless macho teenagers tinkering surfboards, flaunting their abs in front of a threesome group of sophomore girls. And there I was blessed with a stunning ink black complexion in my 33rd year of life. Yes, it was my birthday and I was smothered with many calls and Facebook messages. I am a loner, not married and living alone. Once every month, I visit my parents in the Old Mexican town near the Holy Cathedral. I have had my share of boyfriends and fragile relationships and decided not to venture any further down that mysterious road.

If there was an alpha lioness I guess that would be me - an independent, beautiful African woman who strives hard to educate the children of remote Mexican villages. I write during my spare time and sing my heart out in the shower. I love to eat and I am a self-confessed exotic food lover. I do not like pets, I do not like them caged but love to watch them live in the wild. No wonder I found my solo trip to Kenya the most exhilarating experience in my life - not to forget keeping in utter silence when a pride of lions lurked just a few hundred metres away! 

So many thoughts run in mind, all that I did in the last 32 years of my life and what I would do in the future. There is so much that I do not know, so much that I want to know. There was something missing in my life - definitely not the absence of a man and thereby a family, no not that! 

It was this unsatiated feeling in the pit of my stomach, a longing in my heart, waiting for myself to pull myself out of the ordinary. And there I took a pledge in the dark night of the beach, with the million stars and the waning moon, that I am destined to travel, that I am to tour the world - to meet new people, to learn new cultures, to see the expanse of God’s work, to enjoy the freedom that comes out in pleasure travelling and to explore the real me through my wanderlust adventures.

Relationships

Just like everybody else I live amidst a plethora of relationships - familial, friendly, intimate and more. I am nearing three decades of life but to understand what relationships actually entail is far beyond my grasp.

There is definitely the notion of security and someone to look up to when we are connected to a large pool of people, when we are in a relationship. But I always find individuality losing its essence and unavoidable obligations on the rise. To top them all, relationships always have the "selfish" factor stamped on them - especially when we are expected to or when we expect others to be what we want them to be and eventually rob them off of their true persona. Stunted personal growth is what I call this! 

People do co-exist in harmony. But never without expectations, disappointments and betrayals that can shake the very sanity of a person. Not to sound like someone immersed in the lake of absolute negativity, but this is life, ipso facto. It hurts to get hurt and to hurt someone. Relationships at some point in our lives tend to go complex and confusing to the point where they can eat us inside out. Quarrels, fights, jealousy, misunderstandings and loss of peace ensue. 

On the flip side, there is so much mirth and belongingness amongst certain clan of people. I am simply amazed at those who shower their love on others selflessly. No holds, entirely unconditional and so very comforting. How do they do that? What is it that keeps them giving without expecting nothing in return? Is that not a trait that every human should possess? To glide through problems at ease, to maintain that invincible smile always and at the same time being the real us, loving, giving and sharing. Now that is a valuable and worthy relationship. 

It delights and excites to have fruitful connections in this ephemeral mystery called "life". Why not we be a part of this selfless spree?

I pour out of my feelings best in poems. I remember writing my first when I was 6 years old. It was about my baby brother and mom liked it:) Almost two decades later, I find comfort in expressing my emotions, moods, routine and my thoughts as poems.

You can find my other poems at http://www.writerscafe.org/Ramya/writing/

At times I look long and hard at a poem and compose tunes. It is such a lovely experience! My poems do not follow a structure, there are no set rules of poetry applied. Each piece is a free flow of thought, in my own writing style. Hardcore poets, please do not go bonkers:)

E-Reader

Another article of mine for which I slogged. 
http://www.audiovideoclan.com/reader-3-version-amazon.html

I did not know the nitty-gritties of E-readers - nada! Researched my best and got the stuff out in writing.

Chile

This was my 2nd article on mygola.com
http://www.mygola.com/flights-to-and-accommodation-in-chile/q5016

I had the toughest time of my life writing this article. It did not go through the first review; I had to dig big time and gather sense. I knew then that writing is never going to be easy - it needs oodles of patience, extensive knowledge and the ability to reproduce what we learn, in writing.

I was very glad when it was finally published!

Things to Do in Vietnam

I occasionally write articles, when I really and literally get those vibes. I cannot force myself to write, rather the feeling should seep deep into my veins. My fervent wish is to become a successful novelist; these articles and the blog as such are practice writings for the big tome!

As far as I can remember this was the first article that I wrote for the online audience:
http://www.mygola.com/things-to-do-in-vietnam/q5950

Click the link above, read and travel places:)

The Unchained Wanderlust

There are times when I just want to quit my job and do what I love. I went into one of those moods and this poem is an extension of my frustration at work.

With knitted eyebrows, I sit on my work-desk,

My thoughts churn and I go berserk.

I hit the keys on my mundane keyboard,

And clench my teeth to get off the workload.

Tied to my chair by an invisible thread,

I force myself to work, to earn my daily bread.

I question my conscience, my heart and my soul,

Dry are the passions for the job that I hold.

"Enough of this!", I say to myself,

I march to my boss, toss my papers ahead!

It is time that I live,

It is time that I love,

It is time that I did what I hold most dear.

I pick my red rucksack,

Stash them with clothes,

Dress myself in a green top,

Blue capri, black gloves.

I wear my shades brown,

Tie my hair in a pony.

I sit on my BMX,

An expedition to the unknown.

I step on the pedal,

And let it loose,

I spread my hands wide,

Fresh breeze teases me through.

I am what I am now,

I know what I want,

I listened to my heart,

My soul, my mind.

A wanderlust am I,

With a thirst for adventure,

No one can tie me down,

But nature, enraptured.

Zippy Countryside

I have always fancied the lush green countryside, the people, the rustic life, the sparkling stream and the fresh breeze. I wrote this poem when I dearly longed to be a part of it. The colourful  and simple vocabulary is intended for the younger generation:)

Mad rush at all times,

Skyscrapers mundane,

Where money and power 

Is a zillion dollar game. 

Far from this world,

Far from this fame, 

Awaits paradise green, 

Of corrals and game. 

Up in the mountains, 

Down the steep hill, 

Round and round lake placid, 

With barbecues and a grill! 

Cows, goats, chickens and pigs,

I love farm animals and their funny gigs! 

Riding on horses, sombreros tall, 

Grandma’s pies, with pecans and corns.

Flowers aplenty, yellow and brown,

Teal and aqua, to match my gown. 

Guitars and foot taps, the dancing, the glee, 

Beers a dozen, an unchained spree. 

This is the place 

Where I want to belong, 

Far from the urban, 

Singing country songs!

Boredom Blues

There was this time when I did not have much work to do. My head was lolling to one side and I was bored to death.  I wrote this poem to keep me wide awake and slush through the long day!

When nothing comes to my mind,

And all thoughts come to a screeching halt,

I sit totally blank; a clean chalkboard.

Restless, impatient,

Disconnected from the mundane,

It is hard to fathom this gap, unseen.

My mind ain’t a devil’s workshop, no!

It is but a thoughtless existence,

When absolute boredom seeps through.

I slide down my never-ending chair,

Eyes half-droopy and ridiculously insane, 

I crawl helplessly on the floor, 

Akin a sloth that has gone askew! 

Pillows, I hit them; 

Fluffy and white, 

Clouds of soft sensations, 

Dreamy delights! 

Just being there, 

In that cottony comfort 

Is what I love the most. 

I do not care, I do not need 

Bliss anymore.