Category: Thoughts

Memories Made vs. Selfies Snapped

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Recently, my family and I went out for dinner with one of my cousins who was visiting. We had so much fun and we were laughing like a bunch of idiots when for a second there I wanted to pick out my phone and take a selfie of us to remember this moment. But then I stopped and I am so glad I did.

Selfies are a rage. The word was temporarily termed as a “mental disorder” by a few websites. Everywhere you go, everything you do, it’s “Selfie time !” My sister’s biggest regret is that her phone does not have a front facing camera. The need to look perfect for every occasion has gone up by a million. Kids that used to say “Ugh ! Family gatherings ! Boorinnnggg,” now eagerly dress up because “We can take lots of selfies!” 

I am just as self-obsessed as the next girl, so I am not going to point fingers and act like I’m any different. But on that particular day, I learnt something. It might not change me permanently, but it did make a dent in how I reacted at circumstances like that.

Someone I know was talking to me about weddings recently. She said “We have to get married early in life. Late marriage isn’t always the best choice.” I agreed. Some times, some people get used to being alone so much, that the later they get married, the more difficult it becomes for them to re-adjust to living with someone. This person is quite independent. So I presumed that’s what she meant and I admired that she had noticed that about herself. Until, less than a minute later, she said, “Yeah. The older you get the more old your face looks. It won’t look good in photographs.” 

*Abruptly screeching to a stop sound in my brains*

Wait, what ?! Have we really gotten to that now? That you would get married early not because it’s better for the relationship but because it’s better for the photos? I even asked her this and she just nodded. 

When I stopped myself from picking up my phone to click a selfie with my cousin, the jokes continued and the night ended up being one of the best times we’ve ever spent. Had I picked up that phone, the topic would’ve changed and become all about “Oh wait. I have to fix my hair” or “I’m smiling weird. Let’s take one more.” 

When I thought about it, almost all my memories over the past year have been “OMG, so we tried to take selfies, it was so funny. It was the best time ever !!” It makes me feel extremely lame. It was sad enough when I realized that none of my friends from school, that I now call “best friends,” would’ve stayed so close to me without social media. And now, I have been sucked into a world of needing approval from a third person by posting the “perfect selfie” for “as many likes as possible.” 

Some day, I’m going to exchange that phone or this computer. I’m going to want to move the data from it. How am I going to make space for 20 selfies a day over the past three years in addition to an extra 100 on every special occasion and still have enough space for important data and other new things that I might add in the future?!

Surely we all have more things to worry about than “I look like crap today selfies” and if you don’t have anything to worry about, I advise you to turn on the news and worry about things like Gaza & Palestine or the missing flights. 

Make memories by having fun in a no-technology kind of way. Go out and reminisce about childhood memories. How many of us have whined about wanting to go back in time and be a kid again? Maybe it’s time to realize that the reason we had so much fun was because it was board games, cards, video games (I realize that IS technology but it was just different) or spending time outdoors with hide and go seek, hopscotch and statue. And no, you’re never too old for games like that. Giggle, throw your head back and laugh until there’s no sound and just tears.

Because here’s the life lesson I’ve learnt this month..

Sometimes, the best memories are made not in pictures, but in your heart. 

 

Rebound To Avoid Relapse

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It was last year, around this time, that I became close to a guy who was two years my senior in high school.  Let’s call him Mr. Almost. We had been acquaintances for a long time and as we began to talk more, we became very good friends. We began to share stupid jokes and he was just so nice. In my so depressed state, he made me laugh. He made me giggle like a child. And I fell for him. The head over heels, I have no idea what to do with my life if I don’t spend it with him every waking minute kind of emotions.

He always hinted at a liking but there were never any promises or sure signs. He knew though. He knew how I felt about him and he always kept me on the fence. I have had days when someone would ask me out and I wouldn’t know if I should say yes because he made me feel like I didn’t have the permission to date someone else. Like I had to wait for him. So I did. For almost an entire year I did.

Have you been through a tough break-up? Where you believed that person was The One and your search had ended, only to have the relationship turn sour eventually? That affects you a lot and it takes a very long time to move on from something that strong. To say, “Yes. I’m ready to date someone new now.” I was healing from a bad break up when I met someone in university that I thought was a good person to be with. Somehow, I was very happy but it always felt like he was incredibly troubled the entire time we were together. It only lasted a few weeks.

I always wondered why he was so frustrated. I figured it out recently. He was my rebound.

For all you hopeless romantics out there that believe in rescuing a person from their heartbreak and saying, “Oh. You’re going through a break up? Let me help you. I’ll be perfect for you.” I’d like to give you a heads-up on being someone’s rebound.

Here’s the thing about a rebound relationship – The person going through the rebound always rises by drowning the other person. You are helping someone get rid of their hurt by letting them lay it all on you. And I can promise you, there are less than 10% rebound relationships that actually work once the person stops hurting.

I never knew what I did to the poor guy when I went through rebound until I was on the receiving end. Today, I have drowned. I get to watch my Mr. Almost laugh and be happy in pictures and so much of me is so happy for him but I cannot erase or push away that tiny voice that wishes I was in the pictures with him laughing it away than watching it from the outside.

It’s been almost two months since I talked to him. I’d like to believe that it is getting easier with time. I don’t blame him. It was my call put a stop to it. He was better, he was seeing things clearly and I could feel him pull away and I am definitely one of those people that would rather end it than be ended with. But I still have days when all I want to do is pick up the phone and call. I have to stop myself every time and remind myself why it is a bad idea. I have to remind myself of all the emotional turmoil I will go through if I make that call.

I honestly wish I could have come up with a better blog post today but my mind is just so occupied with him. I promise to have a better post next week. It’s difficult to come up with incredible posts when you feel like you’re being pulled down by an anchor of some sort.

When you’re going through a break up, you feel the need to be validated. You need to know that you’re worth loving and caring for. That’s why the rebound relationships happen. The other person gushes over you, loves you and cares for you and it is why they end up hurting in the end. Like the old saying..

“Nothing so easy as catching a heart on the rebound.”

– Mary Russel Mitford, 1830

Nothing so difficult as letting it go..

 

Your Advertisement Tells Me I’m Ugly

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I always told myself, one day I’ll start a campaign against this. If not for me, for those who might watch these ads and convince themselves that they are ugly without it.

Have you ever seen the ads that say,

 “Use this to have long and luscious lashes.”

“Erase away the black spots and pimples that  make you not want to show your face.”

“Smell like a goddess, he’ll be all over you.”

“This lip color, it’ll make you look very very sexy.”

I read such things and I think to myself, ‘So you’re telling me that without all this, no man would want me? That when I get a zit, if I don’t erase it, I shouldn’t show my face out in the world even though it is something that is unbelievably natural and happens to almost every human being on the planet?’

Spending millions of dollars for these unrealistic versions of beauty created with a team of artists and designers that photoshop every part of the person’s face and airbrush it until it looks utterly flawless to convince me that unless I buy that product my face will look ugly with black spots, zits and freckles – I’ll be the first to say I’ve never seen a beauty product advertisement that works on boosting your self-esteem because if you feel pretty without it, they don’t have a market to sell to.

When I asked someone to define beauty advertisements, she gave me one word. “Deceptive.” Oh how I wish I could disagree.. not really.

I’ll be very honest here. I’ve been bitten. I use make-up almost on an everyday basis. But I still have those moments when I look in the mirror and think, ‘Is there a chance that I look better without it? More me?‘ Then I go back to using it because I have bought into the fact that maybe my lashes are too short, my eyes are too deep set and my lips are not luscious. How will the man I love, love me back if I don’t look like the model he gazes at on the cover of the magazine in the newsstand on the road side store on his way to work every morning ?!

Her skin is smooth, her hair so shiny and her eyes so sparkly. I want to wear what she’s wearing so maybe I can look a bit like her and he will see in me what he sees in her. But do I ever stop long enough to notice that he sees in her a woman he wants for a night while I want to be the woman he holds for life? No, because the colored eye liner, the perfect eye palette and the spf180 lip balm have occupied every little part of my brain exactly the way the person who put that perfectly altered photograph of the woman on that cover wanted it to and I have lost control over feeling like I need to get rid of those dark circles that are there from working all night, feeling the need to never have a dry skin moment and oh, have I mentioned the setting spray that gave me a face allergy ?!

Don’t even get me started on the sales assistant who stops me at the shampoo aisle and says “Ma’am, some moisturizers? Dry skin cream?” and I start to feel incredibly self-conscious, wondering if my face looks too dry and she’s pointing it out. Then I get sucked in with three different products and a face wash that I do not use.

Then the “fairness” and “whitening” advertisements. Oh nobody cares, nobody looks at her, nobody gave her a job. Then she uses the product for a few weeks and OMG ! She’s so hot, she’s so pretty and everybody wants to give her the job ! Can we stop for a moment and re-think the stupidity of that ad? If you can only get your life going if your skin is white, President Obama would not have won. Twice.

I used to be that kid that hated the word make-up. Now, I have more products than anyone else in my family. So, give me the opportunity to be over dramatic and say, “It’s too late for me, but please. Go save yourself !”

Because that man that loves you, he’ll love you no matter what. He’ll find the freckles adorable and understand that pimples are a part of natural beauty. He’ll love you for how he feels with you and not what he sees on you. Honestly, try a first date without any make-up. If he’s The One, he’s going to see you like that more often than not.

That job you want so desperately, it’s yours if you have what it takes. And I do not mean two hundred shades of eye liner and the perfect mascara. If you land a job because the boss finds you attractive, know that sooner than later you’re going to be suing him for physical harassment and at that point, don’t tell me it was shocking. You and I both knew it was coming.

Advertising a product is very important. I’m a mass communication student, I can understand it. But making me feel so bad about myself so you can make more money to create more products for which you will make more ads that will make me feel even worse, now that should be a crime.

I have one last thing to say to you, the one who’s reading this. You are absolutely stunningly beautiful just the way you are. I promise. Keep your beautiful heart and you’ll never have an ugly day in your life.

The best and worst of mankind

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I know I don’t really blog on a weekday, but I had to get this out of my system. I saw two kinds of human beings today. I was so happy when my mother and I were at the vegetable market and I saw this man wait for a homeless man to hand him some bread. I thought that was humanity at its best. I was so overjoyed and I actually wanted to share the happiness that day. 

Then on my way back from there, I saw a Hyundai company bus speed past us so fast he almost hit us. We escaped, but falling prey to his stupid driving was an innocent dog’s leg. I am shattered to say the least. I just.. I’m furious and unbelievably heartbroken. I can hear the poor thing’s cries in my head and its blood on the road. And the heartless person that drove away without stopping for a second. 

I was just having a conversation with my mother about how animals could never tell you exactly where they’re hurting if they are and to witness that. I want to find ways to sue that goddamn driver. If he/she woke up late, it’s his/her problem. Driving rash on the roads, not stopping for an innocent being’s life and acting like nothing happened is unacceptable and I’m shocked that this is the kind of person a company like that would trust their employees’ lives with. 

The dog was taken to the hospital with the security guard. I will try and get an update soon but I really think someone should do something about the driver. Really. Playing with an innocent’s life is not acceptable behavior.

My Body, My Rules

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I went out with my father and we stopped to get some groceries. Due to lack of parking space, he stayed back in the car. After buying the things I needed, while at the billing line, an old man came and stood behind me. The first time I felt it, I moved a step ahead believing it to be a mistake. The second time, I had my doubts and the third time, I felt disgusted.

I assume there are a minimum of 100 women that are groped on public transport everyday, just in my city. With almost every complaint, there comes a statement

“What did you do that provoked the man to touch you inappropriately?”

Every time I hear that question, I want to scream “Yeah, she walked up to him, smiled and told him she wants to get a room and so he touched her and she’s an idiot for standing here and complaining !” Am I the only person that finds that question so insanely ridiculous?

There was a recent article I read about rapes and a woman had commented “Women shouldn’t be told how to dress. Men should be taught to keep their pants zipped up.” I cannot quite agree with her. It is so easy to argue with that statement and talk about how groping doesn’t mean he has his pants down. Does that make it ok? And also, you’ll be surprised at just how many male rape victims there are in this world. Just because it’s not flashing on the news or being printed in big, bold letters in the front page of the paper, does not make it non-existent.

That old man’s hand brushing against my back made me question myself because for a minute I wondered whether my dress was too tight in the back or something was too flashy. Then I stopped and told myself that it wasn’t my fault that he didn’t have the basic decency or common knowledge that he shouldn’t be touching what belongs to someone else without their permission. Because here’s the thing :

I CAN CHOOSE TO WEAR ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT MY UNDERWEAR AND WALK AROUND TOWN AND YOU STILL CANNOT TOUCH ME BECAUSE IT IS MY BODY. HEAR ME LOUD AND CLEAR WHEN I SAY, MY BODY ! NO MATTER HOW APPEALING OR UNAPPEALING IT LOOKS, IT BELONGS TO ME AND THERE IS NO EXCUSE YOU CAN GIVE FOR TOUCHING IT WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

No man or woman would like for me to walk into their house and randomly throw their stuff and break their valuable things and say “Oh well” and walk out. My body is valuable to me. You cannot touch it, feel it or use it without my permission and when you do that and the world finds a reason to blame me for it, I find it ridiculous, absurd and unacceptable !

I keep thinking, what if instead of the old man trying to feel up a girl who is young enough to be his great granddaughter, we both stood in line and I just turned around and slapped him and said ‘Well, your face was annoying me. I needed to hurt it.’ ?!

I’m pretty sure the store would have thrown me out, the general public would have cursed me, cooed to the old man and told him I was a bitch. A gentleman in the corner might even call the cops. “How could you hurt someone for no reason?” But when he did what he did, the woman in the next counter just looked and turned her head away like nothing was happening. Here’s the thing. Even if I’d hit him till he bled, the physical scar would have faded but when someone violates you in a very personal way, the mental scar they leave stays with you.

We have gotten to a point where, when you read “Rape” on the newspaper, you say “Oh again” and turn to the next page. It is so common because the abusers and rapists are never fully blamed. There’s always that small part that questions what the victim did to deserve it. The victims hide their faces in shame and some of them never tell anyone about it in fear of the humiliation they might face through all the nonsense questions.

There are still places in this world where the people around the rape victim say “How will you ever show your face to the world again? You must be so ashamed.” To those people I’d like to say, FUCK YOU ! Not just for being so stupid but for killing any courage that poor human being might have when it wasn’t her or his fault and the one who should be ashamed is walking around like nothing ever happened because of people like you.

To the idiots that say “Yeah, a lot of people get groped on public transport. You have to live with it,” you are empowering the criminals and letting them get away with crimes such as stealing (a person’s feeling of safety), trespassing (a person’s private, personal space), hurting (a person’s emotions) and killing (a person’s self-respect). I think, you, dear asshole, are more to blame than the rapists and gropers.

Once we got home from the store, I told my dad what happened and he looked at me and said, “The next time someone does that, turn around and scream. Don’t let him get away with something like this. These are the people that slowly grow confident that the person on the receiving end isn’t reacting and will someday end up raping some innocent girl that goes his way.”

I couldn’t agree more. Stop their behavior when you still can. Teach the douchebags a lesson they won’t forget. One doesn’t have to be raped to feel violated. Even a brushing hand in a crowded bus feels like a blow to one’s emotions and feeling of security. Scream, shout and drag him to the cops. If someone questions you about how you provoked the groper/rapist, shove their name in there too. Let them all sit together and learn how to respect an individual.

Because the world might find a million reasons to blame you for it or tell you you’ll get over it, but at the end of the day, it’s YOUR BODY, YOUR RULES. 

Someone Cares

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Like almost everyone, I went through the typical teenage phase – “nobody cares about me.” But unlike most people, that didn’t stick long because I realized that there was someone out there, who didn’t know me, that was risking their life for me.

Do you know that feeling you get when you think about someone and you smile because even if you lose everything you’ve got – your money, your looks, your memory, even – they will always care, no matter what? That’s the feeling I got and it’s a feeling I’ve carried with me through all these years.

This person, is possibly the most selfless person you’ll meet. Though his family suffers and is in utter turmoil more times than normal, he will still give up everything to give you the life you live. He might even have to leave his innocent new born so you can have a roof over your head and food to eat.

I knew a teenager about six years ago. She was just like everyone else. “The world doesn’t care. My parents don’t care. Nobody cares. My life is a mess. I have nobody.” And then one day, a YouTube video changed that. It changed the way she connected with other whiney teenage girls like her. The nobody cares turned into a “how dare you say nobody cares?”

The video was .. “Dad’s Homecoming.”

An innocent middle schooler was sitting in class when his father walks in and the kid just bawled his eyes out. He was seeing his father for the first time in three years. Because the father was too busy protecting the nation so people he didn’t know can get up and go to work without having to worry about the safety of their lives. A wife somewhere had to cope like a single parent so her husband could help some kid somewhere without the kid having to worry about his/her life and just focus on learning colors. A girl somewhere has gotten through prom, graduation, university without her father being there for any special moment just so some other girl can have the opportunity to do so without getting killed.

That video changed the way she looked at life. Somebody out there cared. He didn’t know her, he didn’t know what she did, he didn’t know her flaws and most of all, he didn’t care. He was willing to give his life to keep someone like her safe. If that isn’t care, she didn’t know what was.

That teenager was me.

There are more videos like that than you can imagine. Every one of those will bring you to tears. The sacrifice those people do is beyond me. Since then, every time I feel like nobody cares, I think of this person. This person who left his family, who left his “safe” life to go risk his life just so I can peacefully sit here and write about this.

Imagine living a life where you wake up everyday fearing that maybe your father / husband / friend / son / fiancé / brother will come home in a box, dead and cold. Having to record every moment of your child’s life in hope that someday you might be able to show it to them should they come back alive.

I am thankful to those innocent people, men and women, who give up everything they have to give me everything I have. For their struggle, for their strength and for the lost lives. Most importantly, Thank You for the care.

 

The Life & Death Of It All

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I wrote this post on Sunday. I didn’t post it. I was too emotionally lost. I’m still not very sure but I’m going to take a deep breath and here goes..

This whole weekend has been such a blur. My friend was having her Sangeeth (The Indian version of a pre-wedding party) today evening and I’ve been planning for it for a while now. Last night I got food poisoning. I was so sure my weekend was ruined. Things can’t get worse. You know, the usual whiney “My life is cursed and bad and nothing ever goes as planned.”  This morning I woke up to a status message on Facebook.

Every time you think you have it bad, life shows you that it could be worse. A while back I wrote a post called “The People Who Change Your Life” about a guy who was the reason I chose to study what I did and pursue the career and somehow find what I now know I absolutely love doing. A cardiac arrest had led him to a coma for close to ten months and at 7a.m today ( 22nd of June ), he ended his journey here. I have this shaky feeling that I can’t get rid off. I really had hoped he’d get better in some miraculous way but life isn’t always fair. I’m here whining about not getting to go to a party when his mother has to live with the fact that her son is never going to wake up.

So many messages of love were pouring on to his Facebook timeline. What’s the point ?! He’s not going to read it. He’s gone. He doesn’t care if you both had a memory anymore. He doesn’t care to say “Oh look I had so many friends on Facebook.” It makes you question the concept of “OMG I HAVE THREE HUNDRED LIKES AND TWO THOUSAND FOLLOWERS !” What’s the point ?!

I did go to my friend’s Sangeeth. I not only needed to get out but I also wanted to be there for her. Though time may have put us at a distance, she was one of my closest friends in school. She was so happy and giggly. Her fiancé was doting on her and it was such a pretty sight to watch. They were ready to begin their lives together. Their love surrounded them and you could see it when you looked at them. But even that didn’t help the way I was feeling.

I often feel like death takes up too much space in my mind. Not just in reality but when I read books or watch movies, I tend to turn to stories that I know will depress me and I let it occupy my mind though I swear I am usually a very happy person. But I feel like there’s something about it that’s so realistic. It’s the truth that is inevitable. It’s going to happen to every one of us no matter what we try. But I can never accept it. I believe in spirits and ghosts because I hate thinking that something s simple as that has the ability to take a person away from us forever. I don’t even know.

I’m pretty sure this post is as lost as I’m feeling at this point and I’m sorry for that but I really just don’t know how to feel. I wasn’t close to him but to me he played a big part in how my life tuned out and so he mattered. It mattered that he came out of his coma. It mattered that I got one last chance to say Thank You. It’s funny how you never realize how important a person in your life can be until you know you might never say something to them again. I wish I’d realized this before his coma. I wish I hadn’t lost touch.

I guess the only thing I can do at this point is to hope he rests in peace and his family and friends find the strength to get through this..

 

 

My Best Friend – A Superhero

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“The monsters are gone.”
“Really?” Doubtful.
“I killed the monsters. That’s what fathers do.” 
― Fiona Wallace

I’ve come across different kinds of fathers. The stingy one, the overly obsessive, the over protective, the non-stop traveller, the man buried in money, the playful one, the furious one, the perfectionist..

I’ve read stories of fathers who kill their daughters because she divorced her abusive husband. I’ve read stories of fathers who abuse – physically, mentally and sexually abuse – their daughters. I’ve read stories of fathers who died protecting their daughters. Of fathers who live in guilt that they survived a hazard and their children didn’t. Of fathers who would give their world to keep their little ones safe. Of fathers who run away from responsibility. Of fathers who come back from war to see their daughters graduate.  Of fathers who hold their dying child’s hand and tells them he’ll meet them there. Of fathers who warn their daughters’ boyfriend, “Hurt her and I’ll hurt you!”

Like I said, I’ve come across different kinds of fathers. But nobody quite like my best friend.

I could start this off saying “he’s a superhero.” But that would just be the child in me. So let me talk about the man that would give up his world to put a smile on his kids’ faces, the man who doesn’t have the ability to say no, the man who has accepted his kids for who they are even though he comes from a place where any other father in that situation would have looked at their child and said “I’d rather throw you out than call you mine.”

He’s the person that every child dreams of having in their lives. Even during the most difficult of times, he tries to give them everything they want. He works hard is an understatement. He makes every other man in this world not worth it. He supports, understands, loves, cares and most importantly, stands by you.

Like all best friends, we quarrel. We have big arguments and stop talking for a few days. But then we snap out of it because, “come on. You can’t be mad at your best friend!!” I tell him everything. My secrets, my dreams, the comments on my blog that make me smile and most of all, boy troubles. He always understands. When I had my first break-up, he was there for me. When I was half-way across the world crying on the phone because I wanted to come home, he stayed on the line and talked me through it.  Midnight medical emergencies, ligament tears, home sickness and fights with my sister, he’s been there for me through it all.

I’ve heard many childhood stories of mine with him. But I don’t remember much of it. What I do remember is the person that said “Let her have a life and make her mistakes and learn from them.” I remember the care when I had all four of my wisdom teeth taken out at the same time. I remember the tears of joy I had when he gave me a card to congratulate me for the very first money I ever earned. I remember the silly laughter, the perfect movies, the love for popcorn. I remember Hindi movies with subtitles, Drive-in theatre experiences, our first trip alone and the first time he put me on a flight back home all by myself.

I’ve learnt so much from him. I’ve learnt to stand up for what I believe in, I’ve learnt to not settle for anything less than what I deserve, I’ve learnt what unconditional love and care means and he is the reason I learnt to dream, to chase those dreams and to not stop for anyone.

Like all people in this world, time and life pulled us apart a little by little. But even today, when I have news, when I am hyper for no reason, when I am bored, when I find something interesting on Buzzfeed, I rush to him. And even today, he listens and nods his head even if he doesn’t have the time to be doing so.

To my superhero and my best friend,

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

🙂

Great Expectations

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When I was a kid, one of my cousins said she wanted to be a journalist. It sounded so appealing. So fancy. I wanted to be a journalist too. Then I wanted to be a doctor, an actress, a singer, an F1 racer, an astronaut, a movie producer, an advertising creative head.. A full circle that ended in “I want to be a Journalist.” It was my first dream as a kid. It is my dream as an adult. I also want to write a book but that’s more a desire than an ambition.

Many of you would know, writers don’t get paid much. I knew that at some point I was going to have to give up my ideas of living like the Kardashians (You can call them my guilty pleasure) . No private jets, no Bora Bora vacations and definitely no million dollar wedding. My luck was that I always told myself, If you’re content, consider it enough because, sometimes, even billionaires don’t get there. So it was not THAT difficult for me to accept it and I always thought that was enough.

Turns out, I was wrong. You accepting your life choices is the easy part. Getting everyone else to where you are, now that’s a challenge. I remember reading somewhere : When I picked up my kid, I realized my father would have felt the same way I feel now and it makes me wish I had been a better child to him.

I didn’t have to pick up a kid to know that my father had big dreams for me. I was the smart one. I would go places. The world would look at me and say “Your parents must be so proud” and my father would stand beside me nodding his head yes. Instead, I defied him every chance I got. I chose an industry he didn’t particularly approve of. I chose a lifestyle he didn’t enjoy. I now chose a dream he knows would never get me to where he hoped I would be. I became someone he didn’t understand and in all things short, I will openly say : That dream that he had when he first picked me up at the hospital and looked at my face – I crashed it. Hard. And someday, I might regret this. But today, I choose to be that rebellious kid that says “But Dad, I’m happy !”

I came across this picture recently.. If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you know that I’m someone who believes one must always do what they love, not what they’re forced into. So it’s not a surprise that I automatically took to this picture.

 

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I’m doing what I love and what I believe I’m good at. Yes, I’m terribly broke but when I get up every morning, the only thing I don’t want to do that day is take a time consuming shower. I’m always so excited to go to my internship because going there means writing and I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE it. I realize that the #WIN is something that I might not get to. It is a space that only a few people actually make it to and maybe I will, but the chances are slim and I can accept that. But how do you convince the people who have raised you and loved you and dreamt big things for you that you’re going to be a normal working class person and you don’t mind and neither should they ?!

With great expectation comes great disappointment. It really is true isn’t it? I wish it could be different. As a kid, I enjoyed studying. As a teenager I hated school with every cell in my body. As a university student, I loved it again. And now, I just want to move forward. I want to find a job that allows me to do what I love. All through my years as a student, I never succumbed to expectations. Until now..

I want to say something to you.. Something that I am now repeating to myself, every single day of my life. People will always have their expectations. There are the ones who expect you to be better at what you do and there are the ones who expect you to be doing something better than what you do. Mute those voices. Some call them motivating but I think if those voices didn’t exist, you’d be more happy doing things your way. They always pressurize you with their great expectations of who you should be. And I believe in taking a stand for who you are. Who you are might change the world, might cure cancer and might even make penguins fly. But you won’t get there if you let others manipulate the way you think, constantly. Sure, you might still get to your destination with those voices. But the journey without them might have been a more peaceful one and it’s always the journey that defines how you feel about the destination.

Every time I send a resume somewhere, I remember my father’s face. I realize how he deserves much more than this. He deserves to be by my side as the world looks to me the way he wanted it to. I think of what the future might hold. The expectations the people in my life will have. The example I set for my siblings. How I wish I could mute them and do what I love like I always did..

As I write this, I can still hear people telling me this isn’t enough. This isn’t success. But I’m going to try and not care about it. Because this.. this makes me content. And that’s more success than I could ever ask for..

May Madness & My Madness

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This week has been crazy. This month has been crazy. Everything I never thought would happen to me, did. I woke up this morning and realized I didn’t put up a blog this weekend and I almost gave into it thinking “one weekend. I’m on break.” But it didn’t seem right. This is going to be the second post where I don’t have an actual topic. But here goes :

I wanted to add this because in my previous blog, Looks can be deceiving – where I talked about how you should walk up to a stranger and tell them that everything is going to be ok, someone had asked me if I had ever walked up to someone on the street and told them that. I realized then that I hadn’t added my personal experience in the post. So let me do it now. The experience that inspired my post was not a situation where I went up to someone and told them that. But rather, the other way around.

October of last year, my mum had taken me out and I’d finished early so I was sitting in a corner and was waiting for her to finish her stuff. I was whatsapping my friend and smiling about something. I looked like a normal 21-year-old. Nothing looked wrong. Nobody could even guess that two weeks before that I’d gone to see a psychiatrist because I was drowning in depression. I had my hand on my cheek and that’s not a good thing to do, according to my tradition. So this old man walked up to  me and told me not to do that. I listened to him (you don’t really want to say no to someone that old) and he walked away. A few minutes later, he walked back to me and said “Don’t worry. It’ll be ok. No problem is unsolvable.” I don’t know why or what made him do it. But that entire day I was so positive. A few weeks later, I started this blog and right after I got my first follower, I mentally thanked him for giving me hope when I needed it. That’s why I suggested the experiment. I didn’t look like I needed to hear those words, what with my smiling and giggling and a nice fancy smartphone, but I really really really did. 🙂

Also, the first thing I realized beginning of this week was that every time I have to write actual, I write actualy. It’s annoying as a writer that I mess up the easiest and most simplest of words.

My aim to finish chapter 3 of my book by the end of May hasn’t happened. I’m half way through chapter two and then I just got super busy.

May also marks my six month bloggiversary. (I don’t know if that’s a word. But it describes this perfectly.) I’m really glad I took the plunge. I can’t believe I’ve been doing this for six months. It’s been amazing 😀 Thank you for all the comments and the encouraging words. Thank you for the creative criticism. Just.. THANK YOU 🙂

The last time I did a post like this, I added a few of my poems from the past. This time, it’s all about the arts … or doodles actually. 🙂

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Have a good week ahead of you 🙂