Me, Me and Me. Sorry About That.

Merry Christmas! Because I'm suffering from boredom, I decided to talk about myself. To start out small, I love ice cream and chocolates. I hate marzipan. I love stories and literature and I detest physics. I love the sun on my face on a cold winter day and I hate the painful city traffic. I love British and Irish accents and I loathe mumbling. I love goofiness, but not to the extent of stupidity. I love wearing shorts and I dislike anything that itches or makes me feel suffocated. I adore sunflowers because of the story behind it and I hate it when I see people plucking flowers from someone else's garden. If I could, I would get a dog, preferably a husky, because they're absolutely adorable, or even a St. Bernard! I loathe cats because they freak me out with their staring and hissing. I love James McAvoy and Colin O'Donoghue mainly because of their accents (their fantastic good looks help too!).  I hate Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey. I'm a die hard romantic and I passionately hate something if it ends sadly (watch out for loads of ranting). Also, I love to rant. I hate to speak on stage. I love watching movies, both Bollywood and Hollywood and I also watch way too many TV shows for my own good. I have a tendency to fantasise a lot. I'm off in my own world when alone. I dislike confrontation, but I know its necessary.  I love to gossip and I hate silly see-through excuses. When I'm alone in my room, I play my music and dance like nobody's watching, because, well, they aren't. I'm also a wimp and I cower under my blanket if I happen to watch a horror movie (that's a genre I hate).
I blush a lot, especially when someone compliments me and I hate it when someone calls me fat or stupid. I love food, especially non-vegetarian. I don't like food that has a lot of ghee. I hate exercise, but I love the way I look when I do. I feel self-conscious when everyone's eyes are on me. I love writing and I'm not a great fan of criticism. Oh, oh! I also live in the area where Milkha Singh once ran. Some claim to fame, right?
Wow, I can't think of anymore. I sound so self-centered, don't I? I really had to think during this one. But well, what does one do when bored? Probably not this, I know.

Finding Your Inner Crazy

We live in strange times; where, the physical attractiveness of someone is determined by the number of likes on their Facebook profile picture, popularity by the number of followers on Instagram, talent by the number of followers on Tumblr, Wordpress or Blogger. Strange, isn't it? There was the Neoclassical age, the Age of Enlightenment, the Age of the Romantics, the Renaissance and now? What would this age be called? The Age of the Emoticons? Or the Age of Narcissism? We're all so caught up with our own lives, we don't even know what's going on in the lives of our friends and families. We're concerned about our hair. We're concerned about our body. We're concerned about our image. We're concerned only with our own opinion, with our own "gift". It's all about me, me, me.
We don't even stop to acknowledge the fact that our work, whatever it may be, hasn't been compared to the  We believe we are the best. Us aspiring writers fancy ourselves the next J.R.R. Tolkien or J.K. Rowling. The aspiring photographers fancy themselves the next big thing. The aspiring dancers imagine they're the next sensation to take the stage by storm. The singers hope to achieve the fame that Kishore Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar did and the bands want to be The Beatles. And that's good. It's great that all of us have such high expectations of ourselves. What we have to ensure is that those aims of ours aren't lofty and beyond our reach. All of us start out aiming for the stars and beyond. Most of us crash and burn. As much as we hate to admit it, all of us can't be great. So, my question to you is, are you going to risk crashing and burning to go after something you love? Do you really love it? Or do you give up and choose the more traditional route and become part of the mundane but practical workforce? That's the real test, isn't it? Being crazy enough to jump off the deep end? This new year, let's search within and find the crazy that all of us have tried to hide within ourselves and attempted to stamp into oblivion. It's nice to be crazy sometimes.

The End of 2014. Well, Almost.

2014 is coming to a close. Its not been a great year. What with MH370 vanishing into thin air; another Malaysian Airlines flight getting shot down in Ukraine; the crisis in Ukraine; Boko Haram abducting schoolgirls in Nigeria; the death of Robin Williams; the outbreak of the Ebola virus; the terror that ISIS spread around the world with their executions of journalists and aide workers; the Israel-Palestine conflict; the Ferguson shooting and the violence that followed; the protests in Hong Kong; the gang rape and murder of two teenage girls from a village in Uttar Pradesh; the cowards who didn't have the courage to stand up for the two sisters in a bus in Rohtak; the ferry that capsized in South Korea; the 20 year old girl who was gang raped by 12 people on the orders of the head of the village and of course, the most recent massacre of children in Peshawar.
It hasn't been a good year for the world. Of course, there were some moments of joy, moments of happiness; moments of humanity. Narendra Modi was elected Prime Minister of India. The social experiment in Canada after the attack on Parliament hill in Ottawa. Kailash Satyarthi and Malala Yousafzai receiving the Nobel Peace Prize. There have been moments when the times didn't seem so bleak. But they are bleak, aren't they? As much as we would like to live in our pretty little homes with the outside world shut out so that we can never get hurt, it's getting to be quite impossible. Terror is everywhere. Evil is everywhere. Tragedy lurks in every corner. But we ignore it. We're content in our little bubbles. Those bubbles were meant to pop. And when they do, you fall hard.
But how can one ignore the events of 16th December? How can one pretend not to shudder at the evil that lurks in the hearts of mankind? How can one's heart not be filled with sympathy for those parents who lost their innocent children at the hands of the Taliban? However much we can compartmentalise and avoid, nobody could ignore this. This unspeakable act of violence. Innocent children. They'd barely lived. They hadn't seen the world. They were bright-eyed, little boys and girls just waiting to grow up. And that was taken away from them. Even the ones who weren't killed have to live with the violence that they witnessed. They took away their childhood. The monsters stole their innocence. WHAT HAS THE WORLD COME TO? So much violence, so much grief, so much...
There's a little more than a week left for the year to end. Here's to a better, safer and a more humane 2015.

Knowing What To Say

Some of us are lucky enough to born with the gift of the gab. Some of us learn it as we grow up. And unfortunately, some of us never acquire the skill of knowing what to say when. And these guys? They're usually in the majority.
When speaking to others, there are things that you can say and things that you can't. For example, you never ask a girl that's been recently jilted at the altar about her love life. Then why can't some people keep a zip on their mouths?
Our mouths are like DVD players. Sometimes you have to pause; sometimes you have to rewind; and sometimes you change the track. And like all DVD players, ours' need servicing as well. Some don't stop. Some don't start. Some stop abruptly between dialogue and some actually do the opposite of what you want them to.
All of us have made a faux pas more than once. We're only human. However, there are those of us who make such errors everyday, not realising the effect it has on the person we're saying it to. I wonder why they don't teach us etiquette at school. Is it something that we're expected to be naturally endowed with? Because most of us aren't. We can say the worst things at the worst times and not even realise it. There are different ways of talking to people. Politely, confrontationally, warmly, coldly, aggressively and of course passive  aggressively. Passive aggression is something all of us have experienced and we've probably used it on others without thinking. The thing about passive aggression is you really don't know how to respond without sounding like you're blowing things out of proportion. Passive aggression is ugly. It can be snide, laced with malice; its a thinly veiled insult. And it usually pops up out of nowhere. It fascinates me. What could possibly prompt someone to say something like that?  What are our deepest thoughts? Why are we all capable of such darkness? Passive aggression is just our way of letting out something that we've been steaming over. Its a subconscious reaction. Always at the back of our head. Like a little imp, making mischief and is never found at the scene of the crime.
There are always things to be said. There is always a time for them. There also things that needn't be said-they may not be true, or they may be completely apparent. And the trick is to know when to say what and what not to say at all. Not an easy trick, I suppose.

The Cliches We So Easily Fall Into

The easiest thing to do in the world is to fall into a stereotype. Its easy to be what everyone thinks you are. Being the younger sister, people naturally assume I'll be the spoilt and pampered one. Also, I'll probably be the rebel-trying to be as different as I can from my elder, wiser sibling.
We look to clichés because clichés are comfortable. They're familiar. They're easy to understand. Its easier to understand people when you can compartmentalise them into little boxes. The pretty one, the aggressive one, the smart one, the rebellious one, the gentle one. Facets are hard to comprehend. Its simpler to think of the intelligent girl as the one who studies all the time. When that probably isn't true. She most certainly will have a life that is beyond her books.
So, instead of compartmentalising people, why don't we take the time to get to know them? Their likes, their dislikes, their habits, their quirks. Why don't we take the time to form our opinion, instead of making assumptions?
And why do we compartmentalise ourselves? Why do I, the younger one, have to be the irresponsible one? Why does my sister have to be the model student? Why does a stay-at-home mom have to portrayed as harrowed and running after her children (Mrs. Weasley comes to mind)? Why does the businessman have to be stiff and stodgy? Why does the artist have to be broody? Why? Why don't we break these stereotypes? To be who we want to be? Why do we restrict ourselves to a path? There's time yet for us to grow up. And when we do choose, we choose on our terms. Why shouldn't I be ambitious, yet playful? Why shouldn't a businessman play football with the juniors? Why should the smart girl always have her nose in her book? Why shouldn't the sporty guy also be equally intelligent?
We are who we let ourselves be. If I decide that I am worthless and I'm not going to amount to anything, its a self fulfilling prophecy. I HAVE to believe that I am capable of more. Sure, I may not be lucky enough to give a speech on TED, but I need to have faith in my skills, in my talent. We all do. Its the first step to achievement.

Wanderlust

I have lived in Hyderabad all my life. And frankly, I now want to experience living somewhere else. And by that I don't mean going somewhere for a holiday. I mean actual living. I haven't known anything other than Hyderabad. And I think the world has much more to offer. But where to live? I wish I could snap my fingers and teleport anywhere in the world to experience that way of life. I want to travel before I settle. I want to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower to look at Paris. I want to see the Tower of London and the ravens that guard it, I want to see the Parthenon, the Colosseum and the Sistine Chapel. I want to see the pyramids in Giza. I want to see the Sagrada Famiglia once it's finally done, once Gaudi's vision is finally complete. I want to breathe the smell of freshly baked bread in the mornings in France. I want to see the temples in Madurai.I want to visit the gardens of Kashmir. I want to go to Ladakh to see the magnificence of natural beauty. I want to see the Grand Canyon. There's so much I want to do. Yet, I don't know if I'll ever have the time to do all of it. I'm no longer satisfied being the frog in the well.
The one thing dictionaries do is that they make everything boring. They make every word sound boring. It's like a robot talking mechanically. Here is one-
"Travel is the movement of people between relatively distant geographical locations, and can involve travel by foot, bicycle, automobile, train, boat, airplane, or other means, with or without luggage, and can be one way or round trip. Travel can also include relatively short stays between successive movements."
How lovely. It's like going to Paris and saying, "I flew to Paris. I saw the river Seine. I saw the Eiffel Tower. I saw the Louvre. I ate macaroons. I came back." It completely diminishes the taste and beauty of travel. Travel isn't just about checking tourist attractions off a list. It's about trying the local food-even if you end up not liking it. It's about sitting in one place and just cherishing where you are and whom you're with. It's about learning a new culture, so different from your own, yet you find something to identify with. The desire to travel is wanderlust. What a beautiful word for a beautiful experience. So, I have an endless list of places I want to go to. And I know that I probably might never get to see all of them. And I also know that the list has just begun. And part of the allure of travel is the endless possibilities of where you could go. It's about dreaming a dream with someone you care about. It's about making memories. Whether it's where you go. Or whether its the plans you make that may not see the light of day. It's about stories. It's about opening your eyes to the unknown. It's wanderlust...

Fighting Inner Demons

It never takes much to annoy me. In fact, its actually quite simple to get me all riled up. Call me fat, call me dumb or just be indecisive. Its not a fantastic trait to have, I know. I'll probably get nowhere if I put that on my resume.
My mom says I should meditate to get rid of all that negative energy that I have bottled up inside of me. Because when I'm annoyed, I 'radiate' negativity and basically repel anyone in sight. The ones who come close enough usually end up getting scorched. So, I sat down today, thinking, "I haven't written in a really long time! God that's annoying!" And my thoughts randomly reach a point where I begin to wonder why I was even thinking about it.
Today, I thought about why I get annoyed so easily. And no, I couldn't come up with a solution. If only life was a cakewalk, my friends. But I do have a theory. I think I get annoyed so easily because I'm more annoyed with myself than with anyone else and I have the selfish tendency of projecting it on others. Quite unfair, isn't it? But how does one get rid of the feeling of being annoyed with oneself? However minor your inner demons maybe. It could be the inability to learn a skill that everyone else seems to be doing with aplomb. It could be not being able to lose those few extra kilos. It could be anything. How does one battle oneself? I don't think there's a right answer to that. We just have to suck it up and take it one day at a time. Swallow the nasty remarks that are at the tip of your tongue. Smile away the frown. Take the anger away with a few deep breaths. Do it meticulously until it becomes second nature.
And, I know my post was probably repetitive. But I just heard my mom talking about rebellion in teenagers. And my tendency to start either screaming or weeping when I feel cornered. God. I just realised how much of a wuss I am. I'd want to give myself a good shake too if I was in her place. But, I promise my next post will be better!

A Letter To Oneself

Hey! You there in the mirror! Who are you? You sure look like me, but you don't seem insecure. You look confident. You don't look like you're worried about the little flab you have around your waist. You look like a girl who knows she's attractive, not one who wants to slip back into your shorts and baggy t-shirts
Its a scary world out there, you know? Full of treachery and heartbreak. You'll find happiness, you'll find friends, but you will also find betrayal and pain. Don't let that ruin your smile. Don't let that silence your laugh. Your eyes that sparkle with hope and promise of what might be waiting for you; don't let them dim. Don't pay any heed to people who try to make you feel bad about yourself, about your body, about your mind. Remember, you can't be made to feel inferior without your consent. Eleanor Roosevelt said that. And don't you ever forget that.
No one knows you the way you know yourself. And always remember to love yourself. Stroke your ego a little. It never harmed anybody. Don't forget to smile. Cry too, but most of the time, smile. So remember, keep your eyes sparkling, your smile bright and your laugh contagious.

The Girl Who Never Wanted To Grow Up

I've grown up listening to fairy tales. Not just listening, watching the movies repeatedly. So much so, that I knew the lyrics to every song. I knew every line before it was spoken. I always loved the stories of the princesses and the concept of love at first sight. But my absolute favourite, the one I identified with, was Peter Pan-the boy who never wanted to grow up. What an utterly brilliant idea. Being an adult isn't at all what we thought it would be when we were kids. You really can't do what you want. You have bills to pay, you have a family to take care of, you have to work hard to earn your keep.
Whereas, being a kid is amazing. Sure, you do have to follow some rules, but most of the time you're allowed to run free. When you screw up, its okay; you're just a kid and you'll learn one day. When you're a kid, you don't realise how lucky you are. You're always complaining about some restriction or the other. What kids don't get is, adults have way more restrictions and responsibilities than we do. They can't up and run for the hills when the going gets hard. They have to stick around and fight the battle. When you're an adult, you can't walk away from your family, from your job. All of a sudden, its not just about YOU. Its about everyone in your immediate circle. You're no longer allowed to make severe mistakes. You're no longer allowed to throw tantrums and create scenes without looking like a complete moron.
I wish I could be like Peter Pan. I would be the girl who never wanted to grow up. I can't seem to think of a name for myself. But Neverland seems like a nice place to live. And if I never grow up I'll never have to worry about grown up things. Its like we shed our carefree selves once we enter the world of adults. The worry becomes second skin. Whether its worry about how you're doing your job, or its worry about how your child is doing in school, the problems are endless. Worrying is part of being an adult. I guess its because the adults worry on behalf of the kids. They take on the children's share of worry so that the kids can have the time of their lives. Mighty kind of them, isn't it? But then, they are the adults.

Demanding To Be Felt

I have never lost someone truly dear to me. Whether it is a blessing or not, I can't tell. Just recently, tragedy struck one of my friends. Her eight year old cousin passed away after a long illness. So young. We forget how fickle fate is. It giveth and it taketh away. All of us think we have all the time in the world to fulfill our dreams. When the opportunity strikes, we look away thinking it isn't the right time. And tragically, we get a brutal reminder of our mortality which bursts that happy bubble we've created for ourselves. What we don't understand is, that it is the nature of the bubble to pop; and a life without pain is incomplete. Pain and loss are an inherent part of our souls. If we can't feel those emotions, it renders us inhuman. It pains us to hear of children losing their innocence because of the things they have seen. It hurts us when we hear of a young child dying before his or her time. These emotions come naturally to us. They can't be taught.
Giving into these emotions isn't weakness. Shedding tears over someone else's tragedy isn't stupidity, it's compassion. It's a sign that there is hope for us still. In a book I'm reading,'The Inheritance of Loss', the protagonist while pondering, rhetorically asks herself if fulfillment could ever be felt as deeply as loss. Our ability to feel loss is a prerequisite for our ability to feel happiness. Because, how does one know what happiness is if they haven't experienced pain and loss in one way or another? How does one know the exquisite pleasure of a good long laugh, if they haven't wept until no more tears will come out? How does one understand the true meaning of friendship, if they haven't felt the sear of betrayal? Without pain,there isn't understanding. We bond over pain; over grief. It binds people together, doesn't alienate them. With pain, we sometimes find grit and courage. The grit to see it the whole way through and the courage to get back up even if it feels like the walls are closing in on you. Pain and loss doesn't change you, it reveals who you really are. It's a test of your character, of your humanity. You can either give up all hope and call it a day, or you can show your strength in times of adversity. We're all built tougher than we think. We just have to look within. If there truly is a God, I highly doubt he would give us more pain and loss than we could possibly bear. You can't run from pain and loss, it'll catch up. Nor can you succumb to it. You have to accept it. Treat it as part of yourself; just as the good memories are a part of you, so are the bad. John Green said that pain demands to be felt. It scorches, but it eventually heals. Pain is what makes us who we are. Pain is what invites compassion and redemption. Pain is almost like a universal language. All of us can identify with it. It unites us.

Speak Now

Resentment is a long and lasting emotion. It seethes and simmers as you go about your daily routine, slowly building up, piling up all the little irritants and one day the pipe bursts and there's destruction all around, killing every relationship in it's wake. Especially the ones that count. This is something avoiders go through. And yes, I'm aware that isn't a real word. 'Avoiders' also tend to be pushovers. They agree or disagree just for the heck of not wanting confrontations.
The problem usually starts out small. Perhaps, with something someone said.They probably didn't mean any harm and the matter could be solved in a matter of minutes and that would be it. But the matter isn't resolved and it stays at the back of your head like a parasite, gnawing at your happiness and peace of mind. And before you know it, you can't take it anymore and you let all that pent-up anger out. Instead of resolving things, it just makes things worse. Because the issues that seemed like everything, suddenly seem frivolous. Instead of feeling relieved that you got it all out, you feel empty.
Holding on to a grudge helps no one. It just makes you lonely. And no one likes being lonely. So, what I intended on saying through this post was that holding on to anger and resentment has never turned out good for anybody. Live for the moment. Don't let silly problems hold you back. Confront them as soon as you meet them, don't duck for cover. Speaking up for yourself is a sign that you respect yourself. Don't get walked all over. If you want to make people happy, do it. But don't do it at the risk of your unhappiness. You're not an inanimate object with no feelings and don't you dare let anyone treat you like that. You don't want to spend your life pandering to someone else's demands, while yours can go to hell. It's a choice you make. And only you can make it. You can't blame the rest of the world for the fact that you're a self-pitying spineless fool who can't defend himself/herself. So, make the right choice. Life is too short for anything else. Speak now. The world is a more accepting place than you think. Don't be afraid to voice what you feel. When you love something, say it. When you're upset or angry, say it. You have no idea how much of a difference it can make.

Waiting For The One

I've been mocked quite a bit about the fact that I've never had a boyfriend. People (some girls, rather) look at me as though I've escaped from an asylum, when I repeatedly explain that I've never been in a 'relationship'. Now, I can imagine the look on my mom's face when she reads this and then I will have to listen to her and my sister psychoanalyzing me and my curious head. I can't say that their comments didn't affect me. Of course they did. Most people don't realize how strong words can be. That's probably why the morons of the world never shut up. I felt bad, sure. I thought to myself,"Is there something wrong with me?"
But then I thought, the hopeless romantic that I am, I've never been in love either. The irony.
 I'm in love with the idea of falling in love. And frankly, I've never met anyone who makes me feel that way. Giddy with happiness. Butterflies in my stomach. I imagine myself dancing the night away with a faceless person. Nobody has managed to become that face as yet. And I'm happy about that. I'm still a kid in many ways. I have my temper tantrums. It takes little to annoy me. The overdramatizing  of trivial problems between the boy and the girl baffle me. The little mind games my gender sometimes play disturb me. When I fall in love; real love, not a character on a show or in a novel; I want it to be real. I don't want to have to feel a compulsion to keep him on a short leash, like he's a dog and not my boyfriend. I believe that when it's right, it'll feel right. Everything won't magically fall into place-there will be bumps along the way, but it will be magical. And a writer once said,"You don't love because, you love in spite ". However crazy I might be sounding, I want someone to love me with all my flaws, because I don't believe anyone can truly be in love if there isn't complete and utter acceptance of the object of affection. I don't need someone to enumerate the things they love about me. I need someone who will still love me even when I'm, as my mom so aptly puts it, shrieking like a banshee.
It'll happen when it'll happen. To sound completely cliche, the stars might just align themselves one day, and my life might never be the same. I sincerely hope my mom doesn't make a big deal out of this. I can already hear her laughing at my idealistic and mostly corny view of things.

A Shout Into The Void

There are times all of us have felt alone. Misunderstood. It's part of growing up. Sadly, that's a lifelong process. And feeling pain is a big part of it. Character building, I presume.

In one of my favourite love stories,'The Fault In Our Stars', Hazel Grace talks about how oblivion is inevitable. What she means to say is after the ones we knew and loved are gone, we won't be remembered. Augustus Waters, while professing his love to her, says that love is "just a shout into the void", but he is in love with her. 

At some point or the other, all of us have felt like the world's burdens rest on our shoulders. We're self-centered. We can't help ourselves. The truth is, most of us don't realise how lucky we are. There's a lot more pain and suffering in the world  than we think and have ever felt. Whether we like it or not, we aren't the center of the universe. The world won't collapse once we're gone. It will go on as it is. Sure, our loved ones will remember us. But they aren't immortal themselves.

I think all of us come into this world wanting to leave our mark on it. You have to be pretty darn exceptional to accomplish such a feat. Your deeds in History textbooks, your words of wisdom used in debates. To be exceptional, you have to do something exceptional.

Now, we can't ALL be exceptional-that negates the meaning of the word. What we CAN do is be the best possible versions of ourselves. Give all we've got to the ones we love. And, as my mom repeatedly says, live with gratitude. And, chew on this; at the end of the day, would you rather be remembered fondly by the ones you love, or the faceless strangers who mean absolutely nothing to you? You may not leave a mark on the world, but you do make a difference in the lives of those who know you.

Fame will come if it has to. It's high maintenance. Very picky on whom she chooses. We just have to keep doing what we do. And what we do, what we say may just be a shout into the void, but we get the message across to those we intended it for. That's what matters, right?

The Allure Of The Prince Of Darkness

I'm pretty sure all girls love the brooding bad boy. There's something so irresistible about the forbidden, isn't there? Sadly, this post isn't about my rendezvous with some bad boy. I don't know any at all. This is yet another post about Paradise Lost-Satan, in particular. You see, I haven't gotten very far in the first volume, but I have read Satan's speech. Milton really sounds sympathetic to his predicament. He took on God, obviously lost and was thrown into Hell into a burning lake. He tricks the reader into feeling really sorry for Satan, and then suddenly it hits you. You're sympathizing with the Devil himself. And then you see Satan is the underdog here. All of us want the underdog to succeed. And, well he does portray God as an unforgiving tyrant. I don't know if this counts as blasphemy. If so, I'm sorry.
Satan is almost Shakespearean. And Milton seems to be, literally, the Devil's advocate. I call him Shakespearean because he can be compared to some of Shakespeare's greatest characters-Macbeth, Hamlet, Caesar, Othello. All good men, possibly great-but with one fatal flaw that unravels everything. Satan just started believing that he was greater than God and deserved his throne. And being considered one of the most beautiful angels and being closest to God, it is kind of an insult when God calls a mere mortal his son. It's the age-old emotions in play here-anger and envy. All of us feel it. Usually together. You'd think celestial beings would be above all this, but that just shows, emotions aren't restricted to mortality.
Satan is the ultimate bad boy. He knows just what to say to pluck at the strings of your heart. He's like the villain you can't hate. You know he's evil, you know he's wrong and yet you still root for him. Milton manages to tempt and seduce the readers into feeling sorry for Satan. Some say it's his way of tricking the readers. Much like how Satan tempted Eve into eating the forbidden fruit. He re-enacted the 'Fall', showing that we are, at our very core, the same. Basically, we aren't much smarter now. We still give into temptation. The allure of the dark and the forbidden is just too irresistible to hold back. The best of us have given in. Hey, Satan, or rather Lucifer, couldn't control his thirst for power and that's what landed him in Hell. And he was an archangel. He was supposed to be an embodiment of goodness. We're humans. How much can you expect from us?
So, the good can definitely be boring. And the bad can be so incredibly attractive. However, at the end of the day, we have to choose the good. Because how much ever the dark tempts us, it's going to lead us off a cliff, figuratively and sometimes literally. But then, being just a tad bit bad never hurt anybody. You're only young once, right?

A Portal To Different Worlds

While waiting for a friend at the club, I decided to pass my time in the library. There's a certain peacefulness about it. It's calm and serene and tranquil. The silence isn't awkward or forced, it's natural. It's as if it were a place of worship, you instantly shut up the moment you enter. 

As I sat and looked around, I noticed that the few people present were probably around the age of my grandparents'. Not a single person even close to my age group, other than the librarian who peeked at me suspiciously over his desktop as I ventured around the books. As if I would do something sacrilegious.

There's something truly amazing about libraries. It's always welcoming. It's a rainy day? Come on in! There are several heartwarming books for you to read. A broken heart? We can empathise. You don't have much time to kill? No worries, there's still plenty for you. A library is like a therapist. It's a solace, a sanctuary. Most of us don't realise how calming it is just being there. Surrounded by pages that tell stories-not just of the characters that the authors create, but also the authors themselves. The most beautiful writing is one that has incredible honesty in it. Because writing isn't about getting words down on a page. It's about giving a part of yourself to your reader. Otherwise, it's just superficial and you really aren't fooling anybody.

So, my advice to anyone who wants it, spend a little time around books. You don't have to read them if you don't want to. But being around them is a start. I'm sure you won't be able to resist. It's a portal to magical worlds. Who doesn't want that?

Dark is Beautiful

We Indians are quite biased when it comes to skin colour. The light-skinned are instantly considered superior and better looking than the dark-skinned. Frankly, this bothers me. How does the colour of one's skin determine if one is pretty or beautiful? We're so obsessed with making our skin fairer that we spend god-only-knows how much on cosmetics that vow to give lighter skin in a few days. An entire industry thrives on our desire to have fair skin.
Beauty can't be determined by just the colour of your skin. You could be the fairest of all and yet, still not be beautiful. And fairness isn't just considered a prerequisite for beauty; it's also a prerequisite for success. How can brands like Fair & Lovely and Fair & Handsome send messages to the people that using the cream gives you "the power to shape your destiny"; and fame and fortune. Only you can determine that. Not some silly cream, that probably doesn't work. And since when does being fair and lovely and fair and handsome go hand in hand? Loveliness is something that comes from nurturing, from good values, from a kind heart. And handsome? Well, isn't Matthew McConaughey the sexiest man alive? And how many of us have dreamed of a tall, dark and handsome hunk sweeping us off our feet?
 I understand wanting to look the best you possibly can. I do. What I don't understand is, completely changing the way you look. Do you really hate yourself that much? Or do you really think that everyone will look past you just because of the colour of your skin?
Some of us have to learn to love ourselves. For others, it comes easy. If you don't love yourself, how can you ever expect to be loved? We were meant to be this way. Why would we want to change that? It isn't easy, I know. When you're surrounded by advertisements that tell you that fair skin is gorgeous, you're bound to look in the mirror and feel inadequate about yourself. The "seduction of inadequacy" is too hard to resist. I take that phrase from Lupita N'yongo's speech. But why should we let a billboard or some brand tell us that we aren't good enough? We all come out perfect into the world. Not caring about colour, about size. We can be the best versions of ourselves, we can't be someone else. We're only deceiving ourselves at the end of the day. Believe in yourself, in your talent. All of us are meant for something. And we shouldn't go screwing it up by obsessing over something like the colour of our skin.

A Futile Search For Inspiration

I seem to be suffering from a lack of inspiration. I want to, I really want to write, but the words just don't seem to come. I'm so desperate, I'm reading articles on the internet, hoping to get something. The Oxford dictionary defines inspiration as 'the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative'. Sounds pretty darn inspiring, doesn't it? If the writing doesn't explain it, I'm being sarcastic.
The thing is, I don't get it myself. I don't get what inspires me. It's almost as though it comes from within. It's a reaction to something, to someone. It could be someone you know or a total stranger. It could be a song, it could be something someone said; heck, it could be food! It's something that no dictionary can describe. That feeling? Of the words flowing, of the paintbrush moving? It's poetic, almost. You'll never actually see it, but you do feel it. You feel it when you read a beautiful story, when you see the works of an artist.
 I've read some of the "inspiring" quotes that are online, and frankly, they really don't inspire me. Stories inspire me. TED talks inspire me. Some movies inspire me; The Blind Side, for one. Elizabeth Gilbert, in one of her TED speeches, called her inspiration the 'elusive creative genius'. She said that people once considered works of art and beauty, almost divine. So divine, that us mere mortals couldn't come up with it. There had to be some divine or supernatural intervention of some sort. She also said that treating creativity like that takes off the pressure. Because, if you screw up or produce something mediocre, it really isn't all your fault. Also, you don't act like a smug shmuck when you produce something brilliant, because all the credit can't be given to you. I am yet to produce a work of brilliance, but that's a pretty great idea, isn't it?
One of my favourite books,'A Geography Of Bliss', says that if you look for happiness you'll never find it. It's the same with inspiration. When you yell to the high heavens asking to get inspired, you're unlikely to get a response. The truth is, you just have to keep trying. You'll churn out total rubbish sometimes, but sometimes, that elusive creative genius of yours, might just take some pity on you and lend you a hand. And then what, you ask? Magic, of course!

Taking a Step Back

A friend told me, that I jumped to conclusions much too soon with the Bible. She said that perhaps. I should have sat through the entire thing, and then gone on to form a proper opinion. As much as all of us dread criticism, I could see her point. We make a lot of errors just by jumping to conclusions. We lose out on opportunities, we lose potentially great friends; basically, we make mistakes-some gigantic, some not so major.What I did, was that I ignored the good, and saw only the negative.

My mom told me, that if the world considers something great, you have to give it a fair shot. You may not like it, you don't have to; but you have to see it for yourself. And then if you don't like it, it's okay. You have justification. You don't prejudge someone on the basis of what someone else says. You can't say that you hate the works of Picasso, without actually visiting one of his museums. The same way, you simply can't say you won't read 'Lord of the Rings' or 'Harry Potter' just because you don't want to. or you don't like books. These are books that have shaped generations. These are books that have fostered dreams in budding writers. I think everyone can be a book lover. They just have to find the right book. According to me, 'Harry Potter' would be a good start.

Coming back to my point, I do have a tendency to jump to way more than just one conclusion. And once that happens, well, there's no stopping me. Today was a bit of an eye-opener actually. Sometimes, taking a step back is all that is required. Because, taking a step back gives you a new perspective. It makes you think from someone else's point of view. How much ever we would like to think that we are the center of the universe, we really aren't. What IS at the center of the universe, we may never know. For the time being, I'm just going retract my opinion and once I'm completely done with the Bible, I'll officially have my opinion. Till then, I'll find something else to write about

Religion is a Misogynist

As I've been doing Milton in Literature, I decided to read the Bible as that would give me a better perspective on Paradise Lost. I haven't read beyond Genesis yet, but I have come to one conclusion-if religion were to be personified, it would be a misogynist. No, really.
Women are portrayed as impure, as temptresses, the weaker, the lesser beings. How is that fair? Women who were good with healing and midwifery were accused of witchcraft. Men felt threatened by a woman in a position of power.
 India's most famous early legal code, The Laws of Manu (Manusmriti), says that a woman is a liar and a sinner. That it is in their nature to seduce men and that a husband can leave his wife if she has only given him daughters; and and and! She should never be allowed to assert herself independently. She always has to be in the custody of a man-be it her father, brother or husband. How evil can you be to compose something like that? That, if a woman overhears Vedic chants by accident, hot molten glass has to be poured in her ears? How can one be capable of such cruelty against your own race?
I haven't read the Quran, but after doing some research, I found that it does say that husbands have a right to hit their wives, if the men fear highhandedness; man is superior to woman-he has to manage her affairs. A direct quote from the Quran is-The Prophet said, "I looked at Paradise and found poor people forming the majority of its inhabitants; and I looked at Hell and saw that the majority of its inhabitants were women.". The Prophet said, "Isn’t the witness of a woman equal to half of that of a man?" The women said, "Yes." He said, "This is because of the deficiency of a woman’s mind." . Women apparently, deserved only half of what the man deserved. 
Now, coming to Christianity, which was actually what prompted me to write this post. In Genesis, right at the beginning- God created Eve because he wanted a helper for Adam. He creates her from Adam's rib. Eve is the one who tempts Adam into eating the forbidden fruit and is cursed with painful childbirth and the domination of her husband. Lot tells the villagers to rape his daughters instead of the angels of God; his wife is turned into a pillar of salt for disobeying God and he sleeps with his daughters when drunk and impregnates them. And this is just the top of the dungheap. 
One thing that all religions have in common is that, polygamy is perfectly okay if you're a man. The woman was created for only one purpose. To serve. The man could do anything, ANYTHING; and he would still be considered superior and it would probably be blamed on the poor woman. How can books that supposedly preach the word of God say all this? my blood boils even thinking of it. I'm not saying that the people who follow these religions are misogynistic pigs. The ones who actually wrote it... Well that's a whole other story. What if women hadn't finally gotten up and said,"Enough"? Would we still be subservient and willing to endure abuse at the hands of our families? The saddest thing is, that some people still believe in all this. They think that as it is the word of God, it must be true. What a world we live in, don't we?

You CAN Always Get What You Want.

How many times have all of us heard the phrase-"You can't have everything"? Innumerable, I'm sure. But the truth is, the ones who do get everything they want are the ones who ask for it. If you don't ask, no one's going to hand it to you on a silver platter. 

You'd think that it would be pretty easy if all you had to do was ask. But therein lies the problem. Most of us don't know how, or rather, are afraid to ask. An employee doesn't know how to ask his boss for a raise. A student is afraid to ask his teacher a question, at the risk of sounding stupid to the class. Why are we so frightened of asking? Because we are afraid the answer will be no. Or the answer will be humiliating. Or both even. We'd rather simmer with resentment at not getting our due, than actually working up the courage to take a step forward and grabbing what we want. It's what differentiates the haves and the have-nots. The "haves" aren't afraid of refusal. They see it as a challenge. They work around it. Find a way. Whereas, the "have-nots" simply take the easy way out by not doing anything, by not saying anything.

How can one word have that much power? That people don't even want to take a risk? At the end of the day, it's just a word. We say it all the time. We say it to admonish little children when they ask for dessert before dinner. We click on it when browsing the internet to shut down a pop-up. We say it to overzealous salesmen at malls. If we use it all the time, why are we so afraid of being at the receiving end? How can we presume that the answer will be no? We're underestimating the person we have to ask. We're underestimating our own needs, underestimating ourselves. Sure, the answer can be no. But that doesn't mean it'll always be no. You have to believe you deserve it. Because if you don't, you'll never get it. Don't be afraid to ask. It's harmless. What can they say? No? It could also be yes. Is that a risk you're willing to take?

Writer's Block

I'm experiencing a severe case of writer's block. There's a lot that I want to say, but when I sit down to write it out, my mind goes blank. While I call it writer's block, my mom calls it sheer laziness. A bit of both, perhaps?

So, what does one write about when they literally have nothing to say? Well, if Milton, Bacon, Shakespeare and the other greats,of both the old and the present, had thought the same thing and stopped writing whatever they were in the middle of, we wouldn't have the epics, the poetry, the voluminous novels. We wouldn't feel what we normally feel when reading a particularly interesting novel. In a way, we feel the author owes us the privilege of getting his or her best. We are reading their books, after all. How would we know how they think, how they dream?

The truth is, years later, if we look at what we've written, we won't know what it was that we wrote when inspired, or when under compulsion. We won't be able to tell the difference. So, coming back to my point, what use is it to stop writing saying you have writer's block? It's just a state of mind anyway, isn't it?

What Sets Us Apart

We're currently doing 'Paradise Lost' in our Literature class and we were given a short introduction to Adam and Eve. All of us have some idea about them. According to the Bible, Adam and Eve were the first man and woman created by God, who were banished from the Garden of Eden for eating the forbidden fruit. What I found out today, was that they ate from the Tree of Knowledge. God didn't want mankind to have knowledge. As a result of this one mistake, mankind lost immortality and lost Paradise.

The only thing that really had an impact on me among all this, was that God didn't want us to acquire knowledge. I'm not religious, but I get it. God didn't want us to question. Because where there are questions, there's dissatisfaction. And all of us know that there's never an end to dissatisfaction. And there was probably no room for discontent in the Garden of Eden. We were given one instruction, and we couldn't follow that. We gave in to temptation. Although I do resent the misogynistic way they portrayed Eve as the one who ate the fruit. What? A man can't be tempted? Women need to stop being considered the lesser sex. But that's an argument for another time. 

So, we, as a species, have this thirst for knowledge that can't be quenched. Animals don't wonder why they eat a certain thing, nor do they feel any compulsion to change their diet. They don't question their role in the food chain. It comes naturally. I wonder if we are really better off. With this crazy thirst for knowledge, we've introduced the world to global warming. So, basically we have issued a death sentence not only for ourselves, but for the poor animals who've done nothing to deserve it. But it is this thirst that sets us apart. Makes us who we are. I repeat, I'm not religious; but these stories- these myths, have, at the root of them, a fact, a truth. And it'll do us some good to acknowledge that. It's never too late to learn our morals and values again. Maybe there's hope for us yet.

Being Your Own Kind Of Beautiful

Look into the mirror. What do you see? Considering women are the ones who are considered the vain creatures, you'd think we'd be fawning all over ourselves. Our hair, our eyes, our perfectly applied mascara, our clothes. Instead, all we see are the flaws. We see the extra amount of flab around the waist, we see the creases in our dress, the zit on our forehead. We spot our flaws, before anyone else sees them. As my mother said, we forget that Narcissus was a man.

We see flaws that no one else seems to see. For example, I see my broad forehead, the not-so-great skin, the weight I could lose. We don't accept ourselves as we are. We think that there's always room for improvement. And while that holds true to a certain extent, we shouldn't let it control us. We can't let it influence our self image. We can't let it ruin our confidence. We don't get that, when we can see a flaw in ourself, the girl next to us also sees a flaw in herself. We're not perfect. We weren't meant to be. And we shouldn't kill ourselves trying to be a certain way when we know it's not who we are. All of us are beautiful, we just need to believe that. We need to learn to believe in ourselves. 

Be your own kind of beautiful. Don't listen to what the world has to say about the definition of beauty. What do they know? The epitome of beauty seems to change every now and then. So, believe. Smile. That's not much to ask for, is it? 

Seeking Redemption

There are a lot of social experiments being done these days. To see how people react to a situation that's seemingly not their problem. A random girl being harassed as she returns from college and when she asks for help, no one steps forward, believing that it isn't their problem.

On a lonely street, there's a van with tinted windows, from which emerge heart wrenching screams, and yet most of the people who pass by, continue to walk on.

A man lies bleeding on the road, about 1 km from a hospital, begging for help. Yet, no one wants to take him, nor call an ambulance. 

The ones who silently watch this happen are even worse than the perpetrators. Because they know that something unjust and traumatic is occurring before their eyes, and they don't think that it is their responsibility to offer help, to call the police, or call an ambulance. Is this what we have come to? We don't have the courage, or rather the humanity, to step forward and help someone in dire need? Be it, a child lost, wandering and crying in a mall or a young girl just wanting to go home in peace. By not helping, we are destroying ourselves, knowing that we might have been able to do something. Knowing that it could happen to someone we know, that it could happen to us. It's the easy way out, looking away. By pretending that it isn't happening, we block it out, shut it out, lock the memory and throw away the key. But living under pretence has helped nobody. Because, at the end of the day, we are the ones who have to live with ourselves. No one should have to live with guilt weighing down on their conscience. Take a step forward, speak up, help. Not just to save somebody else, but even yourself. All of us seek some sort of redemption. And instead of searching for it elsewhere, we have to find it in ourselves. It's never too late to make that change.

Looking Like An Escaped Convict.

What is it about passport size photographs that makes all of us look like escaped convicts? I, for one, look like the kind of person whose photo parents show their children to scare them into drinking their milk or eating their vegetables, otherwise I'll come get them. We aren't allowed to smile. Just stare blankly into the camera with lights shining on our faces. We look terrifying. Especially me. I look like a juvenile kid who got on the wrong side of the tracks and is getting her first mugshot for drug dealing or whatnot. 

How does a smile distort one's features that we aren't allowed to do it for our passports or visas? I'm not talking about a full blown 'Jokeresque' smile, but a small one (although, my friends say my smile is as wide as the Joker's). So that we look at least happy. And NORMAL. Not psychotic mental patients who want to burn your house down with you in it. I get scared of my own photo. If that's how I look when I'm not smiling, it's quite disconcerting. Maybe I should just smile more. To be on the safe side.

Attacking the Blameless

War. What is it good for?! In my opinion, we should just listen to music, eat good food and be content with what we have. Discontent is the reason we had the disastrous World Wars. Everyone got greedy and wanted to conquer the world to make it their own. News flash, that's impossible. Us human beings are a selfish lot. We don't let anyone or anything live in peace. We've cut down numerous dense forests to build ugly skyscrapers. We've endangered so many animals just to get their fur, or the ivory from the tusks or something. We use it in the coats we wear, the bags we carry, we mount stuffed heads on our walls. Don't people get creeped out wearing or carrying something that used to be alive? Don't those crazy morons that hunt for fun have nightmares that the stuffed heads of the animals they've, will come to life and devour them whole or trample them? We are such a self absorbed bunch that we don't even get that the animals are living things too. Why are we waging a one sided war against animals that have done nothing to deserve the treatment we give them? Don't they deserve to live? They wouldn't be wandering into cities if we weren't destroying their habitats. And they wouldn't attack us unless they felt threatened. And they would feel threatened only if we invade their habitat and come at them with those monstrous guns of ours. 

Everyone deserves a shot at living their lives to the fullest. Them, more than others. Because they haven't done anything to harm anyone. They do what they do to survive. They aren't evil. They aren't conniving and they most certainly aren't the ones responsible for global warming. We just HAVE to mess everything up, don't we? Who are we helping by committing unspeakable atrocities on blameless animals? All we are doing is creating imbalance in nature. Attacking innocents who are powerless against guns and bombs is unfair and cruel. The ones we don't kill, we cage. No one should live in captivity. It's unimaginable for us to spend our lives in a box. Not being able to do as we please. These animals were born free. And they deserve to be free, they deserve to run wild. They definitely have a better grasp on what's good for themselves than we do. It's only when they are free, that they can defend themselves. They don't need the animal rights activists to fight for them. They'll do just fine themselves. It's us that needs to learn how to fight fair. 

Uncommonly Common Violence.

In Nigeria, Boko Haram continues it's kidnapping of young girls. In Pakistan, the Taliban attacks it's own people. In the United States of America, there's a story of a shooting taking place in a school, a college or some public place. The world becomes an increasingly frightening place each day. Each day, you hear of another tragedy. Another casualty.

And the most tragic part of it all is, that we turn a blind eye to it all. Because it isn't happening to us. Or to people we know. We sympathise, yes. Our eyes tear up when we see Malala Yousafzai delivering a moving speech and continuing her fight for girls' education. A grown man doesn't have the courage that she, a 17 year old, does. But none of us want to be a part of it. We don't want to be part of the fight against the evil that plagues our world.

How does someone get so brainwashed that they take up arms against their own people? All in the name of religion? Islam, Christianity, Hinduism, at their very core, all preach the very same thing. Being honest and true. None of them tell us to be rabid in our beliefs. None of them tell us that we have to turn to violence to get our voices heard.

Trust us to screw everything up. A war doesn't solve anything. Blowing up things doesn't solve anything. Blowing YOURSELF up definitely doesn't solve anything. It's an insult to one's religion to turn to violence in it's name. No God would ever tell us to invent weapons of mass destruction. No God would tell us to kill innocent people. We are so hellbent on playing God, we don't realise that we are destroying ourselves. And it's not just violence in the things we do. Violence has seeped into our words. The way we speak when angry or annoyed is violent. As much as we hate to admit, violence is a part of our lives, of us. And the only way we can rid ourselves of it is by trying to do something that can make a difference. We are so used to hearing bad news, we hardly react to it anymore. It's time that we get up and do something. React. Show outrage. Show grief. Show spirit. Show courage.

An Almost Fatal Obsession

My mother is a huge fan of Anderson Cooper and never fails to watch his show everyday. As a result, I get at least some idea of what is happening in the world. A few days ago, he was talking about the "Slender Man stabbing". The Slender Man is a fictional character that stalks, abducts and terrorizes people, especially children. Two twelve year old girls in Wisconsin were huge fans of this character, almost obsessed with him, and believed that by murdering someone the Slender Man would appear to them, as that was how the tale went. They concocted a plan to kill their best friend, by luring her under the pretence of a sleepover.

After stabbing her 19 times they left her there. Luckily she was spotted by a biker and taken to the hospital and saved just in time. What is happening to the world? How did this even occur to the two girls? At just 12, they're devising plots to kill people? And it wasn't out of anger or anything. It was some demented obsession with a fictitious character who kidnaps children. They almost killed their friend. Can you imagine the trauma she must have undergone? The poor thing must be scarred for life. 

What I don't seem to understand is, how could those two girls get so influenced by a fictitious character? When did they stop differentiating between reality and fiction? And how could such thoughts even enter their heads? How could they even contemplate murder? Aren't kids supposed to be all innocent and sweet then? They almost succeeded in murdering somebody, who was their friend. The world is going completely crazy. With people of all ages having access to the internet, how can anyone keep their children safe and innocent?

Perils Of Reading An Incomplete Series

I wonder if authors realise the power they wield over their readers. Especially the ones who write a series. George R.R. Martin and Rick Riordan have been occupying my mind since the stress of my board results is over. I go completely crazy imagining the different things that could be in the book. My imagination runs wild and I concoct tales that make me question my sanity.

In 'The Fault In Our Stars', Augustus Waters, while talking about a book, says that when someone reads a book, it's like entering into an unspoken contract with the writer. It's the duty of the reader to read the book seriously and the duty of the author to complete the story. I think that holds completely true. I get that masterpieces can't be rushed. But give us a date at least. George R.R. Martin hasn't released the date of his next book and threatens to kill off one more beloved character if he's badgered too much. It's his fault that he writes such a compelling and brilliant series and then leaves the fate of most characters hanging. People like me are hankering for the tiniest piece of information we can get. I check for updates everyday, to no avail. Just a vague promise of 2015. There are 12 months! 365 days! Specify!!! 

I probably sound like a crazy person. Can't help it, I am one. Especially when I'm waiting for a book to come out. The number of stories I've made up. I think my mother should have had me tested. 

The Institution We Like To Call Marriage

I've just watched '2 States' for the second time. Who knew getting married can be so complicated? You have to be liked by the partner's parents and the both families have to like each other. What happened to just falling in love and living happily ever after?

It's hard enough finding the right partner, and to add to it, you have to find the right family? Staying single seems to be a much better prospect to me. In a wedding, it isn't two people getting married, it's two families. And I wonder if this is a quality unique to Indian families, but both parties seem to think they have one up on each other. It's not a competition for gods' sake. It's your kids getting married. They've decided to marry each other. It's about them. Not you. What a warped system this is. Looking at how complicated a wedding can be, who would even want to get married?

Marriage is a common topic of discussion in my house these days because apparently my sister has reached the 'marriageable' age. What does that even mean? Just because you're 23 or above doesn't mean you're ready to make that big a commitment. Ah, the perils of being an adult. Always having to worry about what to say, what not to say. It's easy being a kid. Even if you say something politically incorrect, people think it's cute.

Awaiting My Fate

With a little more than 24 hours to my results, my heart has already started beating faster. Fear of doing badly isn't something that is new to me. But it doesn't make it any less painful.

I feel like melting into a puddle on the floor, never to emerge until after the buzz of the results are over. 

I've never been a star student much to the chagrin of my mother, who is convinced that I just never pushed myself hard enough. While that is true, I never really wanted to push myself that hard, although I wanted to be top of the class. I'm a creature of contradictions, yes. My mind was much happier reminiscing about a book that I was reading, or a movie that I had watched recently rather than listening to what the teacher was saying to the class. The only class where I really paid attention was English. I've always loved the subject. Maybe because I've never found it hard. It gave me a license to dream. It gave me the freedom to imagine and believe. It still gives me joy to imagine that, perhaps, one day my stories would be taught in school. Although I hope I won't be cursed at as much as I heard my friends cursing at Shakespeare. 

I'd devote my attention to English, neglecting necessary subjects like Math and Accounts. As a result, I think my mom and sister were afraid I would flunk my board exams. We will just have to wait and see, won't we? 17th of May, 3 p.m isn't so far away. Fingers crossed!

Taking a Flight into Paradise.

So, I'm just back from Bhutan, known to be one of the happiest countries in the world. I've wanted to see Bhutan ever since I read Eric Weiner's 'Geography of Bliss', a travelogue tracing his travel to ten different countries, figuring out if and why they are happy. He said that Bhutan was happy because the people had accepted their mortality. They didn't fear death. They viewed it as a part of life. 

Bhutan, while a gorgeous country, is all the more gorgeous because of it's people. The Bhutanese are gentle and contented. They aren't longing for the latest brands or wanting to make a lot of money. They're just simple and happy.

To reach Bhutan, you have to fly in through the Himalayas and you have a glimpse of the Mount Everest and the Kanchenjunga, the highest and second highest peaks in the world. Its a little unnerving to fly so close to the majestic Himalayas and Eric Weiner's quote holds true, "Paradise, is not paradise, if you can take a taxi there". 

Bhutan is untouched, unscathed by the rest of the world. It's like an oasis in a desert. Wherever you go, you're surrounded by mountains, some lush and green and others,sparse and bare; both equally gorgeous and majestic. Living that close to nature gives one a different perspective on life. That's why I think the Bhutanese have got their priorities straight. They're healthy, they're happy and they're content.

I'm not quite satisfied with this post because it doesn't even begin to convey the magic of Bhutan. How can one put into words the smiles of the people? How does one begin to fathom their patience? Their easygoing nature? At a stupa, I was approached by an old man, who in slightly broken Hindi said namaste and said that it warmed his heart to see us in Bhutan and he too wished to come see India. I was almost ready to cry at this man's kind, heartfelt words. How much happier all of us would be if we just took a little time to say something nice to somebody. Everyone is so caught up in their own lives that they lose sight of what's important-being human. All it takes is a few kind words to put a smile on someone's face. The world is a selfish place. Bhutan has somehow managed to keep the selfishness at bay. It was wonderful to visit a country so generous with it's smiles and it's love.

Seeking a Connection.

So, there's this video that's being shared by everyone on Facebook. It's about how addicted our generation has gotten to social media and as a result we're missing out on opportunities that could change the course of our lives.

I wouldn't have known about it, if a friend hadn't asked me to go watch it. It's a beautiful video showing this man who is lost and asks this woman on the street for directions. As serendipity would have it, they fall in love and live happily ever after. And then they say none of this would have happened if the guy had been using GPS on his phone. The video asks you to look up at the world, instead of down at your phone.

While I was quite moved by the video, I couldn't understand why people were sharing it. Wasn't it the point of the video to stop people from doing that? To stop people from continuing to morph into automatons? I guess social media has become a part of us. It's consumed us. Look at me for that matter. I'm not half as vocal in person around most people. And I'm obsessed with Whatsapp. I remember when I was a kid, after school my sister and I spent our afternoons at our grandmother's house playing hide & seek, watering the garden, playing hopscotch and badminton (well, I tried to play badminton, but I was no good). Thinking of it makes me nostalgic and want to go back to that simpler, happier time. My mother constantly tells me of her childhood. How she never spent a moment inside unless she had to study. How she cycled to school. People seemed happier then. I guess social media, instead of making the world a smaller place has made people unable to interact with others or to form a bond.

All of us need to take a step back and give serious thought to this. Have we truly become slaves to technology? And if we have, why aren't we trying to do something about it? What all of us seek is connection. What most of us don't realise is that everyone else out there is seeking the same thing we are. Reach out. Connect. I think I should do the same. Otherwise I'd be a hypocrite.

The Prince and the Courtesan.

My sister visited the Golconda Fort's sound and light show yesterday. When she returned, she told me of a love story of the Qutb Shahi dynasty. The prince, Mohammad Qutb Quli Shah, fell in love with a courtesan named Bhagmati. Such stories generally end with the poor girl being killed or exiled somewhere. And the boy will be heartbroken. Surprisingly, this isn't the course the love story takes.

Obviously, the father was disapproving of the match initially. He'd want his son to marry royalty, not an ordinary girl that performed in his court. Mughal-e-Azam comes to mind.

But love overcame all odds and the star crossed lovers were united. Quite refreshing, isn't it? To hear a story like that? Where there is actually a happily ever after? You'd think such stories can be created only on the silver screen, but here we have this spectacle of undying love, that fought bravely and actually won the war. My family finds my obsession with love and love stories exasperatingly amusing. But never having been in love myself, I seem to have fallen in love with love. So, my fondness for Nicholas Sparks, Susan Elizabeth Phillips and other chick lits and chick flicks has become somehow ingrained in me. I enjoy looking at things with a romantic outlook. It makes it all the more beautiful. In the walls of palaces there are stories left untold. Stories of love, stories of feuds, stories of deceit. At least, I like to think so. Ah. If only I approached my math textbook with the same interest. I'd be brilliant.

What Once Was Ours.

Out of boredom, I've been reading about the heritage of Hyderabad. We're famous for our Charminar, our Nizam palaces, Golconda Fort and of course, our famous delicacy- biryani. Quite interesting our history is, actually.

Did you know, that the majority of the world famous diamonds came from Andhra Pradesh? More specifically, from The mines of Golconda? Turns out that people used to think that diamonds could be found only in the mines of Andhra Pradesh in India. The tragedy is, that none of these diamonds belong to their homeland anymore. All of them have been looted and stolen by Iran and Britain. The Koh-i-noor (mountain of light), Darya-e-nur (sea of light), the infamous Hope Diamond and several others. All of them now sit either in some museum, or in the crowns of the monarchs.

Last year, the UK Prime Minister visited Amritsar, in lieu of the Jallianwala Bagh tragedy, to pay his respects. On being bombarded by the press and others to return the Koh-i-noor diamond, he straight out refused. Saying it was "illogical". How could it be illogical to return something that was never theirs? They looted, they enslaved, they slaughtered. And they have the audacity to assume the diamond is now theirs?

These are the people who cut off the thumbs of the Muslim weavers and destroyed their looms so that the Indians would be forced to buy only products of the Industrial Revolution. These are the people who used the policy of Divide and Rule, so as to cause strife between the Hindus and the Muslims. They succeeded as well. Pakistan is proof of that.

200 years. 200 years of slavery. 200 years of abuse. 200 years of struggle. And when asked to return what they have stolen, they refuse? They say they don't believe in 'returnism'? David Cameron, the UK Prime minister, when making this statement also gave the example of the Elgin marbles, which they had taken from Athens and also refuse to return them to Greece. They believe that these masterpieces, these gorgeous drops of heaven, are better off there as they will be better looked after there.

Shouldn't India have some say in that? Don't we deserve at least that much? The British might have left India, but they left behind scars that have not faded. They plucked out the precious stones from the walls of the Taj Mahal, they were responsible for the Jallianwala Bagh massacre. General Dyer, nicknamed the Butcher of Amritsar, was actually praised by some. And that's not even a fraction of the tyranny our ancestors were subjected to. What they did to our country was unforgivable. It was cruel. At the very least, let them return what is ours.

About a Much Loved Story

I was told that while my post 'I Can' was good, it should have been divided into two parts. I digressed too much. Well, I don't have the patience to edit it all out, so I'm just writing a new one. 

A few days ago,my mom and I were discussing one of my favourite books, 'The Fault In Our Stars'. She said that it was a tragedy. I said it was a romance. Pondering over it for a while, I came to the conclusion that it was a bit of both- a romantic tragedy. Both of them are young. Both of them deserve a long life. And yet, they have a ticking time bomb inside of them. They can't help their fates. It was written in their stars. And despite that, they take a chance, and fall in love. John Green, the author, doesn't make them sound sappy, or depressed with their circumstances. He doesn't show them to be unhappy and angry. Do they have their moments? Yes. But don't they deserve that? But mainly, you see immense strength. You see grit. And you see love. I guess, many interpretations can be made from this story. It all depends on how you look at it. But I'm sure, that whoever reads this, has to love it. Love it for different reasons? Sure. But it will be loved. I love it because of Augustus Waters. The boy who seems so perfect, yet at the same time so flawed. I love it because of the words. Because of the absolute beauty in them. And finally I love it, because I've never read anything like it. And I highly doubt I ever will.

'The Fault In Our Stars' is absolutely gorgeous. It makes you laugh. It makes you cry. And it leaves you feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. 

[Note: I tried publishing this on Saturday, for some reason it didn't work, so I'm publishing it now.]

Loveless Ties, Loveless World.

As you saw in my last post, I'm currently obsessed with 'A Song of Ice and Fire'. One thing I've really noticed in the books, is that none of the characters really have a happy ending, especially when it comes to love. Robb Stark died because he married the girl he fell in love with. Cersei was made to marry Robert Baratheon, whom she didn't love (she loved her brother Jaime, so that would never have a happy ending).

The war was fought due to Rhaegar Targaryen's abduction of Lyanna Stark. No one really knows what happened there. Whether she was abducted, or went willingly. But that was the reason for  Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark to take up arms against the Mad King, Aerys Targaryen. I'm getting too much into the unnecessary details, I know.

What I'm trying to say is, royalty isn't all that it's cranked up to be. What is the point of being powerful when you can't even be with the person you want to be with? What is the point of all that wealth when you don't have someone you love to share it with? Sure, you have the world at your fingertips, but wouldn't it be fruitless when you're stuck in a loveless marriage that took place for the sole purpose of increasing power and continuing the royal bloodline? I would much rather be a commoner. Free to do as I pleased. Not be a pawn in the games that are played. As a young girl, I dreamed of being a princess and having my own palace. After watching 'Game of Thrones' and reading 'A Song of Ice and Fire', I'll settle for being just a city girl. If not for anything else, at least I won't have people gunning to kill me. Or even marry me. 

Marriage is meant to be a sacred union. Game of Thrones renders it almost sacrilegious. The most horrifying things happen mainly at weddings. Death, treachery, barbarism. While I love the stories, I'm glad that Westeros is just a fictional place. I don't know what I'd have done in such a world, where everyone is deliberating their next move in this very complicated game of chess. Where one's actions are motivated by power, not love. Where honourable men are mocked and love is considered a weakness. It sounds absolutely frightening and nightmarish. Definitely not my cup of tea.

The Rant of a Drama Queen.

On the 4th of February, 2014, my eighteenth birthday, I was given a gift by my friend- 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series so far. At the time, I thought it was one of the most fabulous gifts ever given to me. Now, I absolutely hate the gift. It's gotten me completely hooked. My dreams are haunted by dragons and wolves and gruesome deaths. One night, I'm Daenarys Targaryen, the next I'm Arya Stark. To my horror, I even find myself to be Stannis Baratheon. Now that I'm done with all the books, I'm left with a feeling of utter loss. There are two books that are yet to be published. And a date of publication hasn't been released.

I know I sound like an overdramatic teenager who's probably hyped up on sugar, but George R.R. Martin's writing has it's claws in me. Dragon claws, perhaps. There's no chance of me getting off this wagon. It's all I can think about. To say it's put me in a foul mood would be an understatement. I've been reading every scrap of information I can possibly find on the books, relishing it, yet feeling unsatisfied.

His books just leave you wanting more. And to make things worse, he's left the fate of most of the characters hanging. My mind, with it's hyperactive imagination has already made up some ridiculous stories, not at all worthy of the man who created the characters. Sorry for this inexplicable rant. My mind has been invaded by the people of Westeros and Essos.

I Can

I watched a talk on TED today. It was by a young woman named Sarah Kay. She is a spoken word poet. You'd think that isn't a real thing, right? And even if it is, what's the scope of it? Who'd be stupid enough to think they can make a career out of it? But she has. Along with a fellow spoken word poet, Phil Kaye, she has founded Project V.O.I.C.E. (Vocal outreach into creative expression), something that celebrates and inspires self-expression. It's meant to bind together learning and understanding the unknown, writing and growing as a person.

She came up with this concept in 2004. She was just 16 years old. In her speech at TED, she said that the first step to anything, is to believe that you can do it. Because, and this is coming from me, if you start off something believing that you won't be good at it, or will never like it, you'll never be phenomenal at it. It's like me and math. Kind of a love-hate relationship really. I've always been terrible at it. And I'm unwilling to try. My mom and my sister are convinced that if I had liked math, I'd never have needed extra help and I'd have been just as good as they were. I remember the moment my teacher introduced integration to us. My jaw dropped open. I said to myself, "I can't do this!". I was terrified of it. Frankly, I think I'm still scared. And the mistake I made then was that I started to believe and it wasn't my cup of tea. Because the year-long struggle I had after that was absolutely exhausting. More for my mom than me. I tend to get mulish, when I'm afraid and underconfident.

Fear is a part of being human. Only a fool is not afraid of anything. But fear can be damaging. It can be detrimental to one's development. Fear of not being good enough, fear of being unpopular due to a particular opinion, fear of not being accepted. Fear is good. But it's something we need to overcome. We'll always be afraid of something. I'm afraid of speaking on stage. My heart pounds, I start trembling and I begin to stammer. I forget everything that I had planned to say. But I can't always shy away from speaking, can I? And the only way to do it, is to keep trying. I was once afraid of my sister hissing "Voldemort" at night as I tried to sleep. I got over it. Fear is natural. It's human. And, it lingers. It never really goes away. All of us learn to brave it. And it all starts with saying,"I can."

Too much time

After the board exams, I've been left with a feeling of complete uselessness. I have nothing but time on my hands. Although, I do have a long list of things that I want to do this summer. I want to learn French, I want to swim, I want to learn how to drive, I want to organise my horrible mess of a bookcase and I want to improve my general knowledge skills.

I wonder how many of these I'll manage to do. It's not impossible. But along with the heat that summer brings, it also brings a feeling of lethargy. The desire to just sit in the comfort of your home, wearing a comfy pair of shorts with a good book and a cold coffee is strong enough to overpower any will to do something productive. Surprisingly, my mother hasn't asked me to get off my butt either literally or figuratively.

I'm sure her patience will wear thin soon enough. She's been giving me flak for being so careless with this blog. She told me that I can no longer call writing a passion, since I hardly write anymore. I talk about her an awful lot, don't I? I think I've mentioned her in each and every post I've written till date.

Anyway, as I was saying, I hope I manage to do most of those things during this summer. I've run out of things to write at the moment, so on this merry note, I bid thee farewell. May your morrow be bright and beautiful. Sorry for that, I've been reading too much of 'A Song of Ice and Fire'!

Being Different.

I apologise for my prolonged absence. A lot has happened in the few months I vanished off the face of this blog. A new year has begun, I'm done with my boards and as a result, school, and lastly, I've turned 18!

Doesn't really make a difference, since I haven't learnt how to drive yet, nor have I gotten myself a Voter ID card. Well, I do intend to make this a summer to remember. I guess I'm a little rusty with my writing, since I haven't written in ages, but I'll try to keep you entertained.  As I write this post, I sit beside my sister who's reading 'Lord of The Rings', and opposite my mother, who's working on a presentation and is going crazy over not being able to think of a word to describe something. My fingers itch to reach for 'A Storm of Swords', the third book in the ' A Song of Ice and Fire' series. But I must write, because it's something that I know I'm good at, and shouldn't take for granted.

I remember a conversation I had once with my mom while sitting at a neighbour's house. She was telling me, like she has so many times before, that I have to learn to enjoy my subjects. I was about to reply, saying I loved English, when she said English doesn't really count. It's necessary, of course. It's an advantage. But it doesn't guarantee a future. To say that annoyed me to no end would be an understatement. But I know what she said was true. Where is the future for the ones who love to dream? The ones who have their head in the clouds? What would I do with a degree in English? 

Only those who have their heads screwed on tight have a chance of surviving the urban jungle that our world had become. How is it fair?? Shouldn't being different be celebrated? Shouldn't choosing the road less travelled by be appreciated? Shouldn't there be more importance devoted to the arts? To literature? The smell of the pages, the complete absorption in the story, the beauty of the words. My friends mock me. For loving to read. They say what's the point? It's so boring. It's a waste of time. But I don't care. It doesn't matter if you love something that no one gives a damn about. All that matters is that you enjoy it. Don't rub it in anyone else's face. But be happy that you have something that makes you happy.

And when you're happy, you make people around you happy.