I entered this world in a state of panic and peace. Just before the delivery, my mom’s blood pressure had escalated and the doctors had to avoid the delivery for a day. On 1stMarch, 1992 I entered this world, quietly, which by the way, wasn’t a good thing. Babies were supposed to cry after birth as they take in oxygen, but I did not. I was kept in an incubator for 2 weeks, till I started breathing on my own. I did not have a name, so the nurses and my family decided to call me Jyoti. One of the older nurses would pray for me daily and apply black ash on my forehead, which she bought from the Mandir. Thanks to medicines, prayers and even a few threats to God by mom, I was healthy enough to go home.
After being showered with flowers, I settled in my cradle, crying loudly, with my shiny new bald head and a brand new name; Khushboo (the Pandit insisted that my name had to be changed)
I was not a strong child and my grandmom did not believe in western medicine. She believed that my breathing problems, weak bones and lack of appetite could all be cured with a nice massage.
A masseuse was hired for me and every day, she would have to bear my wails as she massaged my body to make it stronger. (Mom says that once I started crying, I never stopped till I became a sensible 2 year old)
Warm sesame oil was used, infused with a secret ingredient, to massage me. She would keep a camphor in the room as it was known to cure asthma. After a year of Ayurvedic therapy, my health improved and I got two new names.
Chuk chuk gadi: I could never stay still in place and would always run. Other babies started off by walking. Me? I ran, stumbled, fell, cried, got a few kisess from Mom and started running again. For the next 5 years, I never slowed down.
Hingdani Pinky(It means as pink as a watermelon): From a ghostly fair child, I became the poster girl for good health. With my pink fat cheeks, I could enrapture any adult.
Ayurveda played a very important role in my growth years and when I took in the fragrance of Dabur Lal Tail for the first time, I found it to be very comforting. I don’t have any memories of the massage, I don’t even remember the nurse who applied black ash on me or anybody for that matter. All this came up when I was talking to mom about Dabur Lal Tail. Suddenly, my mom was flooded with nostalgia and for a good hour we had fun talking about my childhood. That is why; for me Dabur Lal Tail represents a bottleful of memories.
A little about Dabur Lal Tail
A detailed look at the Ingredients of Dabur Lal Tail and their Benefits
All I can say is that the journey from a weak child to Hingdani Pinky requires lots of Tender Loving Care and a bottle of Dabrur Lal Tail
For more information, visit Dabur Lal Tail
This post is an entry for the contest ‘Traditional Knowledge, Natural Growth’ hosted by http://www.indiblogger.in