Clear With Periodic Clouds

My phone, like all smartphones, gives me the forecast for the day. Today it said "clear with periodic clouds". I couldn't help but think that our lives too are very much like that. All of us have periods of distress and have experienced the calm before the storm or the horrific storms themselves. When you think about it, our lives can be explained in the form of a weather forecast. Take my day for example; mostly sunny with a few thunderclouds. It's a nice way of looking at life. A simple way-without all the riff-raff that we bother with.
I'd like the message on my gravestone to be along these lines. Somehow, when you look at life this way, it doesn't seem so complicated anymore. And therein lies our problem. We overcomplicate everything and then are shocked to find ourselves tangled in a filthy mess. Take it easy. We have only one life to live! Now, if only I could follow my own advice! Oh well, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!

Sappy, Lovesick Lines

While looking for some Disney clips for my mom's project, I found a song from 'Sleeping Beauty' called 'Once Upon a Dream'. The video shows Aurora dancing through the woods, singing about how she met the love of her life in a dream. And of course, as fate would have it, an actual prince shows up. Aurora, naturally, is a little wary. But then he tells her that they met in her dream. And of course, they dance together
Now, I know this scene was meant to evoke a smile on my face and perhaps an 'aww' as well. But all I could think was, "What a creep!". Anyone who actually uses that pickup line will probably get beaten up or be laughed at. Who says that to someone they just met? And Aurora. What's up with the naivety, girl? You don't talk to strangers for a reason. Especially not strangers who follow you around and then tell you that they are the one you were dreaming of. However much they look like Adonis.

But this is a fairytale. So it's alright. What about girls who actually fall for this shit? Some guy tells you some sappy, intense romantic line he probably googled and then forgets what he said a second later, and you start swooning?! Get a grip on yourselves. Why can't guys just stick to a regular introduction? And, if at all, add a compliment in there. Keep it simple. Keep it normal. Keep it sane. Frankly, if I heard something like this, I would be laughing my head off and whatever romantic interest the guy had in me would be diminished to nothingness.

The Mistakes We Make

When I wrote my boards in the 10th grade, I felt that nothing could be harder and I couldn't wait for it to finish. Then I reached the 12th, and thought, "Okay, this is the hardest thing I've done". Then I reached college; well, you catch my drift, don't you? It's the way life works. We always assume that THIS will be the hardest thing I will do, that THIS is the worst possible way I could screw up and then life surprises you. Rather, you surprise yourself. You can't expect life to be mundane and stagnant. It's filled with mistakes. You make mistakes so that you learn a lesson and are cautious enough to prevent it from happening again. When you make mistakes, major ones that is, you feel like it's the end of the world. Like choosing to trust the wrong person, losing your wallet that contained every single thing you need for identification (this actually happened to me a few days ago. Thank god I found it.), disappointing someone who believes in you. That's the thing about mistakes. They happen. They happen to all of us, no matter how careful we are. Life throws curveballs at us every step of the way. Some things are easy to deal with and some aren't. When I lost my wallet, my mom and I literally lost our minds. She was screaming at me about my irresponsible behaviour and I was ready to pull my hair out at my own stupidity. Had I not found it the very next day, I have no idea what I would have done. But you move on. You have to. If you don't, you haven't learnt much. Because that's what mistakes are for. To shape you into a better, stronger person.
I hope to God, I didn't come across as preachy. I'm so sorry if I did.

The Noose Around The Neck

I've always been very proud that I was brought up as a secular individual, taught not to believe in crap like 'janam kundali' which is basically some silly superstitious thing in India that supposedly determines the way your life will go and how it will affect the person you marry, and the zillion billion rituals and backward beliefs that most Indians possess.
Honestly, I don't understand how, in this day and age, educated professionals somehow still believe in this crap (not all of them, but quite a few). How can a piece of paper, based on no scientific knowledge whatsoever, decide what kind of person you are? Not only can it decide the kind of person you will be, it will also decide the kind of person you will marry. Because "the stars" cannot lie. Stars, my foot. What's the point of getting an education if you want your "life partner for seven births" to be chosen based on your compatibility on some pieces of paper that tell you what planet has a dominating effect on you (given by a fraud of an astrologer who tells you exactly what you want to hear. I can do that. And you wouldn't even have to pay through the nose for me). What absolute rubbish. I'm not the most logical person around and yet, this goes way too far for me. The logic of the janam kundali is that the two people will be married forever and ever (the seven lives- that's actually a vow made during the ceremony). Now how exactly does that work? How does anyone know how the marriage will turn out? What if they can't stand each other? What if they fall in love with someone else? What if they just bore each other to death? To be honest, the reason there weren't many divorces back then was because the couple felt they had no choice. It was better to tolerate each other than face the SHAME of getting divorced. What will society say?!
I find this absolutely despicable. I would rather never marry than have to put up with somebody saying I need to have a kundali. And then following it up with saying that we are not compatible and I may die because our kundalis don't match. Sure, you will die. I'll kill you myself with my bare hands. As a country we've come so far technologically and industrially. We are doctors, lawyers, accountants, pilots, teachers. We're role models. It's an insult to our education, our profession if we succumb to following dumb, pointless rituals. Do we want to teach the future generations to believe in meaningless superstitions and allow them to let it guide their lives? Or do we teach them to believe in themselves?

A Path To Immortality

I've always wondered what I look like through someone else's eyes. What do they see when they look at me? How would they describe me if they had to? Would they describe me through my facial features? Or would they visualize my expressions, my laughter or even my temper tantrums? We look at ourselves everyday. I highly doubt there's a face in this world we know better than our own. But at the same time, there's so much we don't know. What may seem completely ordinary to us, could be special to someone else.
I've always believed that we are the quickest to find flaws in ourselves, in our lives. We look at everyone else's lives, we think they've got it all sorted out and that we are the ones with the problematic life. But the truth is, we're all screwed up. Everything can't always be okay in everyone's lives. But we are blind to this. In a similar manner, we are oblivious to flaws in other people (unless we don't like them, of course. Then we begin to invent flaws for them).
How I would love for an author to describe me. It would be like looking at myself through someone else's eyes. Seeing what they see, judging what they judge. There's nothing quite like being written about. It's perhaps one of the only ways to be immortalized. Even if it is just a couple of lines, you're there in those words, forever. What would they say, I wonder. Would they talk about my loud laugh, my irascible temper, my fire breathing dragon nostrils (only when I'm angry), my wide smile, my bracelets manner of walking or the fat around my waist? Or will it be something else altogether? What stands out?
What do you see when you look at somebody? Like, really look at them. Me, I notice their smile, I notice the expression in their eyes, their manner of speaking, their voices and of course their physical appearance. I've tried it a few times. Writing about people I know-describing them without giving away their identity. It's fascinating to see how different my description of them is from their self-perception. And I know I'm being narcissistic, but honestly, I'd like to read an unbiased descriprion of myself written out beautifully. I'd like to be immortalized. To know that those words are permanent. For me, for the writer and for anyone else who reads it. That's not much to ask now, is it? :P

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Being a student of psychology, we are told about a number of personality disorders, both minor and major. In my opinion, all of us are our very own personalized brand of screwed up. Some, more than others. Our hang-ups, our insecurities, our flaws. Some of us are just better at hiding it than others. Me, I'm not an even-tempered person. You could even call me short-tempered. You definitely could, actually. I'm prone to frequent fits of irritation. What sets it off? Could be anything. It could be my mother and sister laughing at something silly I did, it could be me feeling resentful about an opportunistic person trying to take advantage or hell, it could be the fact that I can't eat what I want at a bakery because someone ordered the last piece. I can be so incredibly immature, I surprise myself. I wonder how people put up with me and stick around. It can't be easy, considering I'm quite the Mount Vesuvius (flared nostrils, screechy voice; the whole shebang.) I try, I really do. I try not to lose my head. But then when my temper is triggered off, I cant stop it. It's like the rational part of me is telling me,"Shut up, you're making a scene and embarrassing yourself". But the damage is done. I'm like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Honestly, I wonder if I should go for counselling sometimes. I think back on all my temper tantrums and I want to curl up in a ball in a dark room because I feel so embarrassed. 

So what is my personalized brand of screwed-up? A short fuse in my brain that leaves destruction in its wake? A lack of empathy that I display every time I push myself off the edge? I guess I'm still figuring that out.

I wrote the beginning of this post a while ago. So I dont know with what intentions I wrote it. And I went off on my own tangent today. Sorry :P

The Difficulty of Being Good

A couple of days ago, my college had taken us for a guest lecture at the English and Foreign Languages University (EFLU). We met the head of the English Literature department and his second in command. The talk was incredibly fascinating as they explained to us how the Modernists were influenced by their environment; how literature attempts to show us the inadequacies of communication; how we might be saying the same thing, but our meanings might be completely different. The professor had a strange manner of speaking, maybe a speech defect of some kind. What shocked me was the way some of the students just made fun of him, imitating and mocking him. It's a disability, he's not doing it on purpose. And yet most of the class seemed to find it funny.
Why is it that we mock those who aren't as lucky as us? How cruel can we be? Mocking people without a limb, with a stutter, with a lisp. Even those who are mentally handicapped. This man, who's probably smarter than the entire room put together, took time out especially for us, and instead of being grateful to him, we mock him? What does that make us? We call ourselves civilised? We call ourselves educated, sophisticated? Really? That's what this behaviour is called? I wonder what savagery is then.
Cruel nicknames, bullying, verbal and physical violence, mulishness, is that a part of a civilised society? I thought it was respect, kindness, compassion, intelligence, level-headedness. It honestly makes me wonder whether we are actually receiving an education. Because education isn't just about the textbooks or the marks you score, it's about shaping you as a good person. If our teachers, our parents can't show us the right way, how else will we learn? How can we expect to treat others with respect, if we don't have role models who set such examples for us? Yelling at a waiter in a restaurant, throwing things at people, resorting to bad language or violence at the drop of a hat, acting as though being smug and narcissistic is very cool, talking down to everyone, saying terrible things about others-this is what the norm seems to be. Anything else is just an exception. My mother has always told me (I have a nasty temper), treat people the way you want to be treated. If you treat everyone badly, don't expect everyone to treat you like you're God's greatest creation. The first step in the right direction is to treat everyone around you with respect. There's no need to be a sycophant, just be your normal self. Its not hard; you just have to imagine what it's like to be at the receiving end of an insult or bullying.

Why The World Needs Harry Potter

Harry Potter is practically the first series that I became obsessed with after I got over my love affair with Mallory Towers, Famous Five, The Faraway Tree and about a zillion other Enid Blyton and Carolyn Keene (Nancy Drew) novels. I was an unfaithful girl, I know. I still continue to be. Harry Potter was one series that always stayed with me. Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, The Deathy Hallows, magic, where do I even begin? The world that JK Rowling wove with her words, is a world that has stayed with me ever since I read the books. The characters felt real. Hogwarts, to me, isn't just some fictional place. It's my personal brand of heaven (note the Twilight reference-don't get me wrong, I don't like the books. It just seemed to fit!). If Heaven exists, and I've been a good person, that's where I hope to go.
I don't understand people who haven't read Harry Potter. How can you not read something that spawned the dreams and fantasies of children everywhere? The world needs Harry Potter. It isn't just a series of books. Harry Potter taught people to dream, taught people to believe that even in the darkest of times, we can find happiness if we remember to turn on the light, taught people to stand up for what they believe. Harry Potter taught people about the sanctity of friendship. Harry Potter spoke to every kid who had ever been bullied for being the fat one, the short one, the eccentric one or the studious one. Harry Potter made an entire generation realise that every 'mistake', every detour in our lives is just a straight route to what we are meant for. Harry Potter made me believe in fate, in destiny.
The world needs Harry Potter so that we can believe that in this crazy, inexplicably violent and ugly world, all will eventually be well. The world needs Harry Potter for making us believe that heroes exist, and perhaps, to believe that we have the power to make a difference, however small. Finally, the world needs Harry Potter, because it's brilliant writing. You're truly missing out on a generational phenomenon if you haven't read it. Harry Potter changed lives. At least, it changed mine

Telling a Story

I've always wanted to write a book. What about, I don't know. I've actually attempted it a couple of times. When I think back upon those stories I wrote, I think that if I had ever attempted and succeeded in getting them published, I'd probably have been sued for plagiarism!
Every show I'd watched, every book I'd read, every song I heard, I put into my attempt at a 'novel'.
Now that I'm older (can't really say wiser), I wonder what I would write about. My mom tells me that I should write. But what would I write about? I'm a girl who's still waiting for life to happen to her. I haven't seen much of the world, literally and figuratively. I haven't done much. What do I know? What can I possibly know that the world would want to read?
Everyone has a novel in them, a story that they can tell; it's just that some take longer than others to find it. There are times I find myself bursting at the seams with things to say and there are days that I draw a complete blank. My unsatisfactory reason for never actually finishing any novel that I ever started, was that I don't have much of a story myself. The only story I could possibly write is about a girl, very much like me, eager to go out into the world, and yet when she gets the opportunity, she backs away in fear.
Repeating myself, everyone has a novel in them, myself included. It's up to us whether we dig deeper to find the story that we were meant to tell. And it's also up to us whether we tell it to the world.

What I Think About Love

On my way to college today, I was listening to a song that my friend was playing. It was obviously a romantic song and the girl was singing about how the guy she loved had become her everything- her laughter, her tears, her sky, her life. Yes, that's even cheesier than it sounds
I don't understand it. I don't understand a love like that. A love that's all consuming that your identity completely changes. A love that seems to be even more unconditional and blind than a mother's love for her child.
I understand love. I interpret it as having the courage to say what's hard to say because you care enough to say it. I see love as a meeting of two minds, of two hearts. I see it as intense and passionate, but I don't see it as something that takes away what makes you who you are. I don't see it as something that changes the way you define yourself.
And I really don't see how a love like that can last. Doesn't it get exhausting? That much intensity all the time? Why can't love be an interesting conversation over a cup of coffee? Why can't songs be written about that? Simple, uncomplicated and happy.
Life is complicated enough as it is, why add this Romeo-Juliet touch to romances? I've never understood the appeal of these kinds of love stories. They're completely overrated. They couldn't stand the thought of living without each other that they would rather die? Come on! Elope, for God's sake. Figure something out. There's no need to kill yourself. And these are just stories you read in books and hear at bedtime. Love like that doesn't exist. And if it does, it happens once in a century. So that we can fawn over it till we find the next one

You May Say That I'm A Dreamer, But I'm Not The Only One

So, I wrote this poem approximately 5-6 years ago. I came across it yesterday when my mother was asking me why I couldn't write lyrics like John Lennon's 'Imagine'. I was reminded of this poem. And I thought, since today is Independence Day, I might as well talk about the world I dream of living in-

On the wind, across the sea
There is a world waiting just for me
A world with no sorrow
A world with a better tomorrow
A world green and serene
All this is possible, if you can dream

A land filled with love
And stars twinkling high above
A smile on every face
And sorrow, not a trace
The sun shines with a yellow-gold sheen
All this is possible if you can dream

Friendship, love, family
There can't be a greater gift given so generously
The melody of life
An ocean of learning to dive
Only possible if you can dream

Now I wonder what was going on in my head when I wrote this and it also makes me wonder why I stopped writing poetry. Somehow I look at it and see a child. And I wonder if it's possible for me to start again.

Becoming A Dragon Slayer

Honestly, sometimes I wish the world would end. It seems to get uglier every single day. This report about ISIS executing 19 women for refusing to be their sex slaves is truly horrifying. They were executed for refusing to indulge in sexual jihad, which, according to Wikipedia is-

"Sexual jihad (Arabic: جهاد النكاح‎, jihad al-nikah) is a controversial practice of women within some Wahhabist groups who are allegedly voluntarily offering themselves in sexual comfort roles to men fighting for the establishment of Islamic rule."

Not only this, a translated ISIS pamphlet was found to be a rate card for prices of Yazidi or Christian women of different age groups-ranging from $43 to $172. The women can be as old as 40-50 or even as young as 1-9. How depraved, how evil do you have to be? What has happened to the world? That we have sunk to such a level that we've basically become the dregs of society? How sick do you have to be to even consider such an idea? The tragedy is that even though most of us will shake our heads in horror and disgust, we aren't really surprised with it. The zillions of reports of rapes, of child abuse on the news has gotten us accustomed to the idea that there are sick perverts in the world. What do we do about it? What can we do about it? The futility of my question bothers me.
There has to be a solution to this. If it were up to me, I'd probably mace them and then set a pack of hungry wild dogs loose on them. But then, we can't take justice into our own hands. If Hell exists, there is a special space reserved just for the sick, perverted, convoluted minds that seem to be growing by the day.
The fact that there is a market where people can be bought and sold for a listed price, makes me want to gag in horror. What is it with the need to dominate, the need to assert one's supremacy, the need to have absolute control over another human being? Why is it that we are so helpless? Forget about protecting others, we are unable to protect ourselves from any kind of threat. We know nothing about self-defense. And the one thing we do have? Our voices? We don't take any advantage of the gift of communication that all is have been blessed with. And the ones who do, meet fates like those poor young women. Its enough to frighten anyone. But should we stop? Just because we are afraid, we shouldn't stand up for what's right? We shouldn't fight for the legacy Nirbhaya left behind? That brave, young girl with a promising future; she could have been any one of us. Her life changed forever in just a matter of minutes. What truly set her apart? The fact that she fought with the courage of a soldier at war till her very last breath. All of us have it within us, the strength to fight for what's right. It's up to us to look within and find the grit that will help us stand up for what we believe in and fight against what we think is evil. We love fairytales, don't we? The Prince slays the dragon and saves the princess? Well, why don't we become the dragon slayers ourselves and protect what we hold sacred? No harm trying, right?

Courage is a Rarity

We are doing Pygmalion this semester. Which brought back fond memories of 'My Fair Lady'. And when you think of that movie, you have to remember how exquisitely beautiful Audrey Hepburn was. I was reading her Wikipedia page where I saw that she was trained in ballet, and she danced to raise money for the Dutch resistance (against the Nazis) and also occasionally acted as a courier for them, delivering messages and packages. She was no more than 15 or 16. So much courage. And she was the daughter of Nazi sympathisers.
It's truly one thing to say you feel empathy and just talk about it and it's another thing to actually get up and do something about it. Its a completely different thing to try to make a difference. All of us hate the Taliban, we hate the ISIS, we hate child labour, but how many of us have the courage that Malala Yousufzai or Kailash Satyarthi do? It's all well and good to talk about the tragedy and go, "tch tch" with pity. We just can't take a stand, can we? We are so frightened that our lives and our lifestyles might be harmed in some way. We are so afraid that something might happen to us, as is happening to the world around us. The fact that these atrocities are happening in the world around us, to our own species, inflicted by our own species eludes us. How can we stand by and watch people who aren't so different from us, people with families, people with responsibilties get hurt and tortured? How can we watch a child's future get destroyed? How are we human if the instinct to protect our own kind is weaker than our fear of something untoward happening to us? How is it it that 99% of us don't have the courage to stand up for what's right, but by some miracle, there is that tiny fraction of society that still believes in humanity and had the courage to speak their mind and do what they said they would?

After Riding Off Into The Sunset

I always wonder what happens after 'happily ever after'. I highly doubt anything ever remains happily ever after. It isn't the way of the world. After Simran grabs Raj's hand and takes the train to her future, what happens? He doesn't have a job, neither does she. What are they going to do? Live off their parents? He's easygoing, she's slightly neurotic. In what universe is that relationship ever going to work out? What about all those Bollywood films which show these college going kids getting married without having done anything worthwhile. Like, um, getting a degree perhaps? Or standing on your own two feet? No, no we must get you married first and foremost. At least they aren't showing that anymore in the current Bollywood films. Girls are standing on their own two feet. In 2 States, she has an MBA and is doing as well, or even better than her boyfriend. Queen is not about her finding a man, but about her finding herself. Khoobsurat, though not a geat film, did show her as a physiotherapist. But that isn't the point of this post. The point is, how many of those love stories actually succeed?
How long before you see all their flaws? How long before the phase of excitement about forbidden love wears out? Can the magic actually remain? How do we know? Would Romeo and Juliet have worked out if their families had accepted them? You have to admit, part of the attraction was the fact that they were from rival families. So what happens when the curtains close? What happens when life happens? It can't be all passion and looking at your partner through rose-coloured glasses? I guess movies don't show it because we don't want to see it. We don't want to see a relationship falling apart. It's too real. Going to a typical romantic movies is almost like wanting to forget everything for a while. Just wanting to live a dream for two hours. Whether it's by staring into Fawad Khan or Shahrukh Khan's dreamy eyes, or by drowning blissfully in the incredible voice of Atif Aslam and several other singers. It's interesting to imagine what it would be like to look like one of the actresses and have someone who looks like Hrithik Roshan serenade us.
I guess I'm just one of those people who likes to think about what happens after the film ends. Do Bunny and Naina stay together? Or is his desire to travel the world stronger than his love for her? How can she expect him to give up what he loves when she won't? Will he get bored of the everyday 'dal chawal'? How is that a fair relationship? Despite my habit of doing this, I still love to watch and read love stories. It's nice pretending that the world is perfect for just a little while. We live in reality most of the time, we deserve to fantasize a little. It's funny how I found a GIF that actually described this post.

The Foremost Thing On My Mind

I wonder why I haven't posted in such a long time. I really am very lazy. Well, I've begun my second year of college and I've started going to the gym, because according to my mom, I was growing to be the size of a hippo. I might be exaggerating a tad bit. It's been horribly hot in Hyderabad, even though it's supposed to be monsoon season. It's almost as if the rain gods, if they exist, are mad at us. Forgive me if I sound disjointed. I really am wondering about what I should write. I guess the foremost thing on my mind is the way I look. I know it sounds narcissistic, but what can I do when people all around me are giving me advice about my skin, about my body? What prompted me to join the gym was a lehenga in which my love handles looked like two lumps of jiggly cake batter. It's true what they say, a minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips. Why is looking our best so important to all of us? We can try to deny it, but looks do matter. Not as much as brains and intellect, but good looks do wonders for your self esteem, for your confidence. And honestly, who feels like crap when you try on a dress and it's too tight? You. I remember tears coming into my eyes when I looked into the mirror and my mom didn't really help with her look of horror at the amount of weight I'd put on.
Looking your best shouldn't just be for some boy you like. Looking your best should be for you. Harping on my Psychology teacher, we must first learn to love ourselves before we expect others to love us. I can't help but wonder when that day will come when I look in the mirror and I'm truly happy with what I see.
A half-hearted attempt, but something. I promise the next one will be better.Fingers crossed!

The Plight Of Our Generation

Why is it that we believe that everyone is interested in our lives? We live in this state of hyperactivity on social media, updating every second of our day, somehow believing that people must be so fascinated by us and our 'happening' lives. When did we become so narcissistic? Why did we become so narcissistic?
When I bought a Moto E, everyone was shocked because, how in the world can I live without a front camera? How can I survive without taking a selfie? Nobody really cares, we're all too caught up with our own lives to focus on someone else's visit to Starbucks or whatever the latest cool place is. For that matter, why do I think people should read my blog? I'm not saying anything revolutionary or game changing. I'm just a young girl, not even a dot on the world map. Who cares what I say? How can I be so presumptuous as to assume that anybody would want to read what I write?
Why should every meal begin with a photo taken on Snapchat? Why should a photo session take place every time you meet a friend instead of actually having a conversation? Why? We've forgotten what it is to converse. When was the last time you had a meaningful conversation with a friend that didn't consist of what's up's and Ks? I'm equally guilty. I do it too.
Why can't we put our phones down? Why can't we stop making those goddamn duck faces? Frankly, I just find those disturbing. Why can't we stop adding filters to our pictures trying to make ourselves look beautiful in pictures? You don't look like yourself after a point, you know that? And you aren't fooling anyone. Why has taking selfies become a necessity? Why can't we just be? Live in the moment and not ruin it by saying, "let's take a selfie". Don't let it pass you by. Learn to be content. Learn to be happy. And then you won't feel the need to show it the world. Your smile will speak for itself.

Making A Choice

I've always found it incredibly difficult to make a choice when it counts. I'm scared. I'm so scared I'll make the wrong decision. I find myself wishing I was one of those people who have their lives planned out for themselves.
Its easy to fall into a rut. Believing that life will work out somehow. But that never really is the case is it? You go through your entire school life being told that you need good marks to ensure a good future for yourself. Then you reach college and that's not enough. You need a plan. Not just a plan, you need a backup plan as well, in case the first one falls through. You need to think through the contingencies, make allowances for them. It never ends. Its times like these I wish I'd chosen a more standard path - a Chartered Accountant or an engineer. Why did I choose the arts, I ask myself. I could just as easily have gone into the B.Com or BBA streams. My path would have been pretty much set then. But I chose arts. Because, for once in my life I wanted to do something I enjoyed. The world was my oyster. Little did I know that the oyster has sharp teeth that are closing in on you slowly.
So how do you know if you're making the right decision? Can't there be a dress rehearsal? If only we were that lucky

Roman Holiday

As I sat at the dining table with my mom, I expressed my desire to watch a sweet, romantic film. My mom suggested 'Roman Holiday'. Even though I've watched it quite a few times, I can't help but love Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. A princess who's getting her first taste of freedom in Rome, and a journalist who happens to come across her as he goes home and stands a chance to write the story of a lifetime.
But when my mom suggested we watch it, I said that I wished the ending was different. Every time I watched it, I prayed that the ending would be different. (Spoiler alert ahead)
She goes back to her duties. Even though she would love to run away with him, she decides to do the honourable thing by fulfilling her duty towards her country. And him? He doesn't publish the story at all. The first time I watched it, I was so upset that they didn't end up together and I thought to myself, "Can't she be with him and still carry out her duties?" If only life were that simple. My mother said that it was the perfect love story. They'd never ever see each other's faults. That one perfect day would forever remain with them. Fairy tales end when they do because that's when the real problems begin. This way, they'll be each other's biggest 'what-ifs'. Even though they haven't ridden off into the sunset, they have their memories. Memories of that first, perfect, pure love. And nothing and nobody can change the way they felt about each other at that moment.

Sure, if it was a Bollywood movie, it would have ended with them in each other's arms; otherwise, the audience might have killed the makers of the film. But by ending it in this manner, you're simultaneously left with moist eyes and a smile. Tears for the fact that they will never see each other again and a smile for the fact that the time that they spent together is something that no one can forget. Not them, not us. And after all, who doesn't love Audrey Hepburn? I, for one, would love to look like her. That gorgeous smile, those innocent eyes, that slender frame and her graceful movement. She's just lovely. Almost as if she was born to be a princess. And although I'll always associate Gregory Peck with Atticus Finch of 'To Kill A Mockingbird', he's incredibly charming and lovable as the journalist. And their love story? Its one for the ages.

Alone, But Not Lonely

I love to just be. I could stay in one place for the entire day if I had a book or my laptop and food. I've never felt the need to get up and run. I've never felt the compulsion to do something. I'm happiest when I'm by myself. I don't know how many hours I've wiled away just thinking about the most random things, whether they are of consequence or not. I've never felt lonely when I'm alone.
I find a certain solace in being by myself which I rarely find with other people. I can wear my shorts and ratty t-shirts and just chill. I also have the ability to conduct endless conversations with myself. Probably a sign of madness, I know. But I visualize scenarios and imagine what I'd say or do, I sing at the top of my voice, I dance with complete abandon, I yell away my anger and frustration over something, I even laugh at my own jokes. I like my company.
My mom thinks I like being by myself a little too much. But hey, I don't do anything in small measures. I think everyone should know how to be. Just be. Life isn't all about getting to the next big or happening thing. Its also about learning to savour and cherish the now. Its about living in the moment. Life isn't just about crossing items off your bucket list. Its about getting to them when you get to them. Life isn't just a race to the finish line, its about making friends along the way. Life is about dancing in the rain, playing under the sun, sitting around a bonfire with a hot cup of coffee in winter. Life is about learning to be comfortable in your skin. Life is about learning to be comfortable with people as well as without them. Life is about independence and freedom. Its about pushing your limits and knowing when to stop. Its about reaching for the stars and yet finding your home. Sometimes life can be a roller-coaster ride and sometimes it can be a cruise down a serene river.

There is a difference between being alone and being lonely. Frankly, I don't understand how anyone can't not like their own company. I mean, it's you; if you don't like yourself, how in the world do you expect anyone else to like you? It's common sense, isn't it? If you can't stand spending a few hours by yourself, without chatting with anyone, how do you expect somebody to spend the entire day with you? If you bore yourself, won't you bore everyone else as well? Food for thought, isn't it?

Confessions of a Lovestruck Teenager

Before jumping to any conclusions by reading the title, I haven't actually fallen in love, I've just been watching 'Zindagi Gulzar Hai', a Pakistani TV serial starring the dreamy Fawad Khan. Cue my mom's comment on what a lecherous creature I am. Admittedly, I do drool over Adam Levine, Hrithik Roshan, Shahrukh Khan (especially DDLJ!), Chris Evans and probably countless others like nobody's business. But hey! I'm a young woman, what'd you expect?
Contributing to the frivolity of this post, what makes Fawad Khan even more amazing is the fact that he married his long term girlfriend. He proposed to her at the age of 17! How cute is that? I mean, how often do you hear that in Bollywood? Its always about pouncing on the next hot thing that walks into tinsel town. When you see something like that, it makes you believe in lasting love.
I ponder way too much on love, don't I? I guess its because I've never been in love myself, not counting all the Nicholas Sparks' heroes. Although, those guys fell in love with remarkably different women. I've never been like a Nicholas Sparks heroine. I'm irritable, I'm stubborn, I'm lazy, I can be incredibly selfish and self-centered, I can be a lot of things. So, I guess its a good thing that those guys don't actually exist, because well, I wouldn't stand a chance.
Ah well, expect a few more of these posts over the years, until I fall in love. Till my next post, drool over these GIFs of Fawad Khan. Isn't he just amazing? Sometimes I surprise myself with my weirdness. Sorry :P I promise a better post the next time!

The Thing About Growing Up is...

The thing about growing up is.. that it absolutely sucks. I'm 19 years old, I just finished my first year of college and frankly, I've never been more confused about my future. And somehow, everybody seems to assume that I have to have everything figured out by now. Do I want to go into the civil services? Do I want to get my PhD and teach? Do I want to practice as a psychologist? Do I want to get an MBA? God! My head will explode! I'm 19, for God's sake! I'm still trying to figure out how to make my skin all glowing and unblemished and you want to know what I want to do for the rest of my life? The truth is, I'm frightened. I'm frightened of the world that is out there. I'm frightened that I won't be good enough, I'm terrified that I might fail and let down everybody who had the courage to believe in me. I'm terrified that I won't make the right decision.
Why is everything about sorting yourself out? Why can't it be about reveling in the fact that none of us are perfect and that we don't need to kill ourselves aspiring to be an ideal? Why does MY paycheck have to be the biggest? Why do we have to be a size that defies our bone structure? Why do we have to be a colour that defies our genes? Why do we NEED to be the best? Why do we need to try so hard? Aren't we taking the joy out of everything we love by making it a rat race? Why can't we learn to just take a deep breath and live in the moment? Why does EVERYTHING have to be about the future? I'm not saying that we shouldn't think about the future at all. I'm saying that we shouldn't put ourselves in a position where we're always worried about what happens next. So, yes, knowing what you want to do is important. It's very important.But we can't let that blind us to the present.
At the age of 50, do we really want to look back and wonder? Do we really want to have a boatload of what-ifs? Do we really want regrets? All of us have to grow up. We do. But why can't we have fun doing it? Why should growing up only be associated with increased responsibilities, increasing stress, a struggle to stay fit, so on and so forth? When put like that, you can't be surprised that none of us want to grow up.
I realize the futility of this post, I do. I didn't really come to a conclusion. And I know that I need to come up with a decision pretty soon. It's just something I needed to say. It's something I've wanted to say for a while and maybe one day, I'll have an answer. But right now, all I think is, that I don't want to look back years later and feel that I did everything I needed, but nothing I wanted. Man, I'm screwed up.

Blowing Off Steam

I'm not in a very good mood. In fact, I'm in a terrible mood. Raging and pacing like an angry bull. Everything seems to be annoying me. I don't know what set it off. Oh wait! It was the electrician. Who, like always was late. Tardiness pisses me off to no end. Having always been the punctual one among my peers, I'm used to waiting around for them. I just don't have it in me to be late for something. It agitates me. When someone tells me I have to be somewhere at a certain time, I ensure I'm there at least 5 minutes in advance. I don't know if its some obsessive compulsive thing. Despite knowing that my friends are going to be late, I feel the need to be right on time. I have no idea if its a good habit or not.
I find it incredibly rude when someone is late, especially after a certain time is decided upon. You owe it to the person you promised to be present at the assigned time. Nobody likes waiting. I, for one, can't stand it. My mind just heats up and I say the most nasty things in my head. I'm filled with the need to throttle somebody. The longest I've waited for a friend to come is an hour. I don't know why I did it. I really wonder if I'm the fool in all this. If nobody is ever on time, why should I be? Why should I be the one standing around like some security guard staring at everyone who passes hoping its the person I'm waiting for? Why?
I really am a sucker. It's a habit I can't get rid of even if I desperately want to. It's so ingrained in me that I can't function without it.
God. This blog should be called 'The Ramblings of a Lunatic'

The Sanity In Madness

We were writing notes on Oscar Wilde's style of writing today and my teacher made a reference to Alice in Wonderland, where the Cheshire Cat says to Alice, "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad"
What Lewis Carroll intends to say is that we're all eccentric and crazy, its just that some of us have the gift of recognising it better than others.
So, the question lies therein. Are the ones we consider 'mad' actually the brilliant ones? Have they discovered some strange truth that the world isn't privy to yet? Oscar Wilde was definitely eccentric, flamboyant, sarcastic, clever, witty; he could very easily have been one of Carroll's characters. He had the exquisite talent of camouflaging the fact that he looked at the Victorian society with contempt, but his writings made his opinion about them obvious. However, it was written so cleverly that even the smartest and touchiest of us would find ourselves laughing. He wasn't preaching through his plays; he was entertaining. And for me, that's the best way to learn one's shortcomings and faults. Nobody wants to be told that they're artificial and hypocritical. Yet, that is exactly what Wilde did and he was celebrated for it. He was celebrated for his 'madness'. He wasn't didactic. He was the entertaining playwright that everybody wanted to be friends with. Popular, handsome, insanely clever, the world was his oyster. Its tragic that he met such a terrible end. It was his very wit, his arrogance, his flamboyance that cost him dearly.
On that happy note, I think its okay to be mad. Its not just okay, its the way to be. For me, anyway. It's the way to be happy. It's honest, it's real and it's easy. You don't have to pretend. And if anyone tells you that you're mad, trust me, only the best of us are. And yes, I took that from Alice in Wonderland.

Fangirling Over Disney

One thing that never fails to make me cry is Mufasa's death scene in 'The Lion King' and Simba's reaction to it. I don't know what it is about that scene that floods my tear ducts.
Simba going, "Dad.. Dad, wake up!" and tugging at his ears and when he finally accepts his father isn't going to open his eyes, snuggles up to him with tears in his eyes, trying to find a way to say goodbye. It just tugs at my heartstrings like no other. I'm a gigantic Disney fan. I've watched all the movies, I've sung all the songs, I've pretended to be all the princesses - especially Mulan. Somehow, the idea of being able to fight like that, save one's country from peril and at the same time, find true love seems like a dream come true. I recall watching 'Sleeping Beauty', 'Cinderella', 'Snow White'; the Disney movies then showed girls as nothing more than pretty faces who sang along with birds and any other animal at their disposal and waited for their Prince Charming to come and sweep them off their feet.
Then it moved on to characters like Belle, who dreamt of a different life; Jasmine, who was feisty; Mulan, who was gutsy; Pocahontas, who listened to and with her heart; Tiana, who dreamt of attaining success on her own two feet; Rapunzel, who dared to take a chance despite fear of retribution; and finally Elsa and Anna whose love for each other was stronger and truer than any other romantic relationship. How much the ideal woman has changed, hasn't she? From just being a damsel in constant need of saving, she's transformed into an independent girl who has more to her than a sweet smile and a weird ability to make friends with the strangest of creatures.
But 'The Lion King' is my utmost favourite of all. I've watched it too many times to count, but each time I find myself singing along to 'Hakuna Matata', bawling at Mufasa's death, and revelling in the majesty of the wild. Disney is beautiful. Disney is fun. Disney is for everyone.

What Makes The Greats Great?

There are a lot of things we consider great. The works of Da Vinci, Picasso, Monet, Renoir and so many other painters. The writings of Tolstoy, Steinbeck, Sartre, Shakespeare etc. The music of Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin. The voices of Billy Joel, Lata Mangeshkar,the Beatles. The speeches of Martin Luther King, Abraham Lincoln, Barack Obama and now, Narendra Modi.
So what is the criteria one must fulfil to be considered great? What made Mahatma Gandhi a great man? He did what no one else could. He gave his country freedom - without raising a single weapon other than his voice and his principles. What is it about O'Henry's short stories that they're read and thoroughly enjoyed even today? What is it about Pablo Picasso's paintings that compels you to stare at them trying to comprehend the thoughts behind it? How about the Mona Lisa? Why is that great? It's a tiny painting, of a not so beautiful woman, in a museum that's filled with several other infinitely more beautiful paintings. But tourists visit the Louvre solely to see the Mona Lisa. To figure out the mystery behind it. To know why Leonardo da Vinci said it was his masterpiece.
What is it that makes one great? Is it a lot of people saying its great? I think the X-factor that gives it the oomph quality is something that is different for everything and everybody. Gandhi was great because he had the courage to fight a war the way he wanted. Shakespeare's plays never fail to make one laugh, cry, make the hair at the back of one's neck stand up. To Kill a Mockingbird is a timeless classic because it's written in the simplest language possible and yet talks of something so deep and profound.
Being great is having the courage to be different. Even if you are risking ridicule from society. Most great men and women were not recognised for their wisdom and talent during their lifetime. Its one of the tragedies of being talented and intelligent- your audience consists of people who may never understand you.
So, I may not understand why something is so great. But I can't judge it unless I've seen it for myself. There's a reason why its great. Maybe we get it, maybe we don't. One of life's great mysteries - only for us to solve.

International Women's Day

As my friend was shocked that I hadn't written a post in lieu of International Women's Day and I have time to kill on the long ride back from the airport, I decided to give it a go. I'm all for equal rights for women. I don't believe that I deserve to be put on a pedestal just because I'm a woman. I'm human, aren't I? I bleed, I cry, I laugh and I feel. Just as everyone else.
We may say its not a good time to be a woman. We say a lot of things. Its not a good time to be a Muslim because of the news we watch and read every single day. Its not a good time to be an engineer because there are way too many. Its not a good time in general. What we need to accept is that its never a good time for anything, unless we take matters into our own hands. So what if I'm a woman? Should I cower and hide behind a wall because it isn't safe out there? No. I can't do that. For the sake of my own sanity. We can't spend our lives being afraid. We can't spend our lives waiting for an opportunity. We need to make our own opportunities. And hell, we could rule the world if we put our minds to it. So, this International Women's Day, let's learn to take matters into our own hands and kick some ass.
Sorry for the short post, mind doesn't function beyond 10 P.M. :P

India's Daughter

On the 16th of December, 2012, a young woman, on her way home after watching a movie with a friend, was brutally gang-raped and beaten and died after fighting a brave battle. In lieu of 8th of March, which is International Women's Day, a documentary was made talking about the incident. I watched it today. BBC released it on YouTube for the world to see as it isn't going to be aired in India.
Rape. Its such an ugly word, isn't it? It sends shivers down your spine; you close your eyes trying to un-see; you cover your ears hoping to un-hear. You want to block it all out. Because its such a taboo subject. Once you've been raped, you've met a fate far worse than death. That's what we've been made to believe. But when the Nirbhaya incident occurred, it sent the country into a rage. It was like we'd finally had enough. How much longer could we stand by and let rapes go unreported? How much longer can we be made to endure the chauvinistic, masochistic mindset of the majority of the country? In the documentary, one of the rapists was interviewed. He said that the girl had absolutely no right to be out that late. They also interviewed the lawyers of the rapists. Their words shocked me to the very core of my being.
Saying that women were not a part of Indian culture, that it was women who led men astray; that she deserved what she got. These are educated men. No different from most of us on paper. And this is what they believe? Isn't the thought absolutely frightening? It makes you wonder what your next door neighbour thinks of you.
The thing that saddened me most about the documentary is when they interviewed one of the rapists' wife. She was in complete denial. And while talking about their death sentence, she kept saying that, "I now have nobody to look after me. I can't look after myself. And my son? He's so little. He doesn't even know anything. Its better if I just strangle him to death." How? How can she even think that?
That's exactly what we need to change. The way we are trained to think. Women aren't weak. We aren't in constant need of protection. We aren't the damsels in distress. We CAN take care of ourselves and we SHOULD! Why should we have to rely on our boyfriends or our friends or our brothers to protect us from all that is evil? First, we need to learn to protect ourselves. Whether its through learning self defence or carrying a pepper spray. But the first thing we need to do is stop turning our eyes away when we hear obscene comments about our bodies, about our clothes, as we walk on the road, as we wait at a bus stop. We need to look them straight in the eyes and tell them exactly what we think. Create a scene. Call a cop. Let them endure the humiliation all of us have suffered through through no fault of our own.
We, as a country, need to stop blaming women. Its not because of our clothes, its not because of the way we look, its not because we're out alone, its not because we're out after dark, its because the bastards think they can get away with it. Its because they believe that its their right to teach women a lesson. Its because they're frustrated and want to assert their male dominance somehow. Well, I've had enough. Haven't you?

Amortentia

For those who don't get the Harry Potter reference from the title, Amortentia is said to be the most powerful love potion in the world, designed to smell different to each and every person. The aroma reminds people of all the things they find attractive. It doesn't manufacture true love of course. It just causes a powerful infatuation. We're officially introduced to in the sixth book by Professor Slughorn who says it is one of the most dangerous potions of all. Made with Ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, peppermint, Moonstone and some other ingredients, it is recognizable by it's mother-of-pearl sheen and by the spiraling steam that rises from it. Now, moving on from the geek-out, I was wondering what Amortentia would smell like to me-the pages of old books, the aroma of chicken curry, filter coffee, my moringa-scented perfume and the smell of rain and wet grass. That combination would be strange.
Now, I think that J.K Rowling probably got the inspiration to create the fictitious Amortentia from aphrodisiacs, alcohol and the alchemy associated with witchcraft. Now, I don't understand something. Why would anyone want someone to be obsessed with them? Especially as the result of a magic spell? You know it isn't true, it isn't pure, it isn't real. You're holding them in a different kind of prison. And can you truly be happy knowing that the person doesn't love you, but is in a drug-induced state? No wonder witches were considered evil. They created hexes, elixirs, spells, potions designed to change the path of fate and one's destiny. What are we? Are we so desperate for affection that we're willing to shed all our dignity? Now, I know that potions and magic spells aren't real, but that doesn't mean that the desire to be loved and adored is potent enough to make us do crazy things. We change the way we dress, the way we speak, what we read and watch, the way we do our hair. We do all this to be liked. And I ask you, WHY? Do we really believe that people can't tell the difference between what's real and what's not? Everybody has different interests and if you believe that someone isn't interested in you because you don't enjoy the same things as they do, you're wrong. It's usually because they see that you're trying way too hard to pretend to be a savant. Taking an interest in what they do, while maintaining your own is a completely different matter That's a sign that you care. Not a sign that you're obsessed. A modern day, new age Amortentia-the ingredients-delusion, counterfeit interests and an unhealthy attitude.
I have no idea why I wrote this, I was supposed to be working on my political science assignment and my mind wandered off. Oh well, enjoy! :P

We Aren't Kids Anymore

The education system in India is quite strange. I'm in my first year of college and yet I'm still being made to bring my parents to collect my memorandum of marks. I mean, really? I'm 19. They need to let go sometime.
While talking to my mom, who complained about having to come meet the teachers, she told me that the system has mollycoddled us to the point of suffocation. It doesn't let us make decisions for ourselves. It even commits the mistakes that we should have made ourselves to learn a lesson. What can the teachers tell my mother that she doesn't already know? You can't grasp our hands with an iron fist. We're no longer the little kids who need babysitting all the time. Sure, we won't make great decisions all the time. However, that doesn't mean we shouldn't make them. When I was a little kid, probably 5-6 years old, I fell and scraped my knee pretty badly. My grandmother told me to stop crying, reasoning that I fell because it was life's way of toughening me up. We can't be protected from everything. As much as my mom would love to shelter me from the world, it isn't possible.
Now, I don't think this issue of the marks memo, arises out of some misplaced protective instinct. It arises out of the stupidity of our education system. We're all so set in our ways. Stick to the textbook. Nothing further. Your answers should be three sides at least. Doesn't matter if you fill it with crap as long as your subheadings are correct and its neat. We've become so focused on the textbooks that when it comes to practicality we're stumped. I'm not saying that being book smart isn't important. I value it above most things. But what's the point of being book smart if you can't explain it in your own style and actually implement it? Einstein once said that if you can't explain a matter in simple words, you haven't understood it. Exams are a test of memory and conceptual understanding. I think we also need to be taught how to actually use all those lessons that almost made us die of boredom. Coming back to my original point, do you want us to grow up or not? Do you want us to make you proud? Do you want us to smile and remember you fondly? If yes, let us go. We're not children anymore. And for god's sake, we can be trusted with a report card.

Here's To Another Year

So its 1 A.M. And I've turned 19 years old. Now this year, I wasn't particularly looking forward to my birthday. And now that its arrived, I still feel the same. Sure, I love the wishes I get at 12 and the incredibly sweet messages. That's the best part of my day.
I still remember the birthday parties I had as a kid.. The entire class would be invited; the house decorated with balloons and streamers; enough food to feed an army; the delicious cake- usually with a picture of my choice on it and the games my mom would conduct to ensure we didn't run haywire. And although I'd be having a ball being the centre of attention, I would secretly want to run to my room to open all my presents. I've always loved the idea of pretty, shiny wrapping paper. I adore the sound of the crackling as I rip it open. The feeling of exhilaration when I finally get a look at my presents. Ahh. I love all that.
I'm currently writing this because I'm unable to fall asleep. So, it may seem a tad bit boring and random. Who am I kidding? It is.
So, 19. What does one do when they grow a year older? Party hard? That's not really my style. My friend told me that turning 19 was amazing for her. She truly began to take her first few steps towards adulthood, towards self-acceptance. Here's hoping that my year will be at least half as fulfilling as hers was. Sorry for this ramble of disjointed sentences. I didn't quite know what to do to fall asleep. I guess this works.

Generic Compliments

Sundays are for lazing around in your pyjamas. I'm currently sitting at the dining table as my mom prepares mulligatawny soup. I've always wanted to taste it ever since I read the poem 'Mulligatawny Dreams'. The soup was actually an authentic dish from Tamil Nadu which the Britishers took along with them as they left our country. Here's hoping that it's as mouthwatering and delicious as it smells.

Moving on, what does one do when bored? One stalks people on social networking sites. No need to deny it. All of us do it. It's kind of everybody's guilty pleasure. I came across my friend's photo from her school farewell party. She looked incredibly pretty and I commented on the picture saying she looked amazing. That's when it hit me. I say the word 'amazing' way too much and frankly, it just sounds generic and meaningless. We've used the word so many times it doesn't mean anything now. It's like-"Oh my god! The food is amazing! That dress is amazing! The weather is amazing! I'm amazing! You're amazing!" My God. Can't we be at least a little original? Can't we expand our vocabulary? Isn't that what words are for? To be used. Imagine all those beautiful words and phrases just drooping and wilting away because we never use them in a sentence. So much so, that when we hear it, it's so uncommon that we've forgotten what it means.How hard is it to tell someone they look beautiful? That the view from the top of the hill is breathtaking? How hard is it to not use the word hard? Difficult, arduous, strenuous, laborious, grueling, burdensome. All of these words mean the same thing. However, we think that these words are 'big'. It doesn't even occur to us to use them. Except when it comes to giving an interview. Then, everyone wants to use words like 'mellifluous' and 'morose'. Anything to make one look smarter. If looking intelligent and dapper is so important to us, why can't we use decent vocabulary in our everyday lives? Why do we reserve it for special occasions? Because frankly, most people can tell when you've just learnt a bunch of impressive sounding words. When you learn a new word, it takes a while for you to adjust to using it in the correct sense. Why don't we want to sound smart and well-read all the time? I'm not saying use unnecessary adjectives in a sentence. Speaking and writing are arts. They require rehearsal. There's a difference between sophisticated and trying too hard. My advice is-read. Listen to intelligent people speak. They command your full attention. And reading, usually helps you figure out the meaning of words and their usage. When one reads, vocabulary becomes a piece of cake! If this didn't inspire you to read and speak better, watch 'Dead Poets' Society'. That always works.

Lover of Losers

My family and I watch a lot of television. By television, I mean soap operas. And we get very involved with the characters. Their pain becomes our pain. My mother fell half in love with Dr. Gregory House while watching the show. Now everyone loves the central characters, don't they? So do I. But I feel sorry for the ones nobody likes. They're the good guys-but they generally aren't good looking. They're the plucky sidekicks. The guys who completely blend into a crowd. The guys you rarely remember. They are, for the lack of a better word, losers. I'm sorry about how mean that sounds. And I'm a self-proclaimed "lover of losers".
Somebody has to like them. Somebody has to root for them. If someone always roots for the underdog or for the obviously stronger candidate, who's going to cheer for the little guy who's too afraid to open his mouth? The could-be underdog? How are we ever going to get him out of the shadows? Everybody needs somebody other than themselves to believe in them. Big breaks only come to those who have had a chance to demonstrate their potential.
So, this is a trait that I am mocked endlessly for. All in good faith, of course. I think I do it because I could very easily have been one of those guys. I could very easily have done my very best to blend in, to be a face in the crowd. Sometimes I think I'm still capable of it. Its easy. Its easy to not try. But what all of us need to realise is that we owe it to ourselves. We owe it to ourselves to be our best possible versions. We owe it to the ones who dared to take a chance on us when no one else would. So, in those 'reject' characters, I see a glimpse of myself. A glimpse of what could have been, of what could be. It serves as a reminder. A reminder that, there are a lot of unheard voices out there, just dying to shout out. And I root for them in the hope that one day they shall find the courage to speak up.

Sincerely, A Friend

So, this isn't me but a friend of mine and at my request, she wrote this. I hope you think she's as brilliant as I do-
I'm going to let you in on a secret:
There's no 100/100.
promise me you wouldn't throw it around like it wasn't something you already knew; and wanted to chafe at me for repeating what a hundred other people told you (over and over again).
I'll tell you why.
Because despite all the knowing, despite being the best ultracrepidarian you know there is, you strive for 100/100.
Remember the downcast eyes when your teacher told you she's cutting a few marks off for no logical reason apart from the simple truth that was supposedly universal: There's no 100/100.
Remember the one zit that kept coming back, no matter how hard you tried making it go?
Remember the relationship (yeah, stop thinking the term relationship only refers to that boy who looked at you in all the seriousness that his fifteen years on Earth taught him, and told you he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. I'm actually laughing) that didn't work? Remember your tears?
It's a farce. It's all a farce.
There's no 100/100.
We're the 99s who try everything in our power to get that one extra point.
And will continue to do so for the rest of our lives, if we don't take good care.

Wouldn't It Be Loverly?

People call me a Grammar Nazi. That's probably because they haven't met my mother. This afternoon, my darling mom proclaimed, that when she reads my posts, although she enjoys it, she feels the immense need to edit my grammar. I write as I think. So, sometimes my English isn't going to be perfect and flawless. My mom is my own personal Henry Higgins and I'm her Eliza Doolittle-without the 18-inch waist, of course.
My mother detests it. And maybe its hereditary, but so do I. Call me snooty, but I really can't help it. When I hear incorrect English, I'm overwhelmed by the urge to correct the person and then hit them over the head. God, I'm intolerant. Sometimes I wonder why I have friends at all.
Coincidentally, I'm taking a phonetics class this semester and so, one day a week, I'm sitting in front of the computer and making short and long vowel sounds. And that just gives me the 'Eliza Doolittle feeling' even more! I'm this close to bursting into song and exclaiming, "wouldn't it be loverly?!" If only I had the looks, it would be picture perfect.
Sorry for the randomness of this post. I just felt guilty about not updating for so long.

#JeSuisCharlie

Listening to the news these days leaves you feeling depressed. Everyday, a new attack. Everyday, a fresh story more gut wrenching than the previous. The recent attacks in Paris led to a rally today which many of our world leaders attended. A reaction to the attack on the people who worked at the Charlie Hebdo magazine, which is basically anti-establishment and had satirised Prophet Muhammed, among many other religious leaders and politicians. It was an attack on free speech. How dare anyone encroach on someone else's right to an opinion. Sure, maybe the cartoons were in 'bad taste' as my mom tactfully put it; but then, so are the infinite write-ups and paparazzi photos that invade the privacy of the famous. That doesn't mean we retaliate with violence. We retaliate with our voices.
We have the right to offend. We have the right to be offended. We have the right to express our beliefs without having to worry about death threats and actual attacks. And when it comes to religion, how can one's faith be shaken by reading an article or seeing a caricature showing an ugly truth? Being devout doesn't mean being a sycophant. Blindly believing whatever you're told is naivety. And just as you have the right to defend your faith,  you also have the right to see that its not perfect. All religions have their ugly sides. Fanaticism is present in all of them. But we have to be willing to recognise that. I was watching a debate on free speech with my mother. One of the panelists said that freedom of speech should exist, but in a controlled form. This caused one of the female panelists, a stand-up comedian, to say, "Controlled freedom is like being slightly pregnant". The idea is ridiculous. You either have complete freedom or you don't. And why shouldn't we have the right to speak our minds? We were endowed with them to use them-to think, to evaluate. Not to mechanically listen and accept whatever we are told.
Don't be afraid of voicing an opinion. Its an intrinsic right. And frankly, its insane that we are hesitant to use it. If these terrorists aren't afraid to pick up their guns and shoot more than a hundred children in Pakistan, cartoonists at their workplace, innocent shoppers buying their groceries, and countless other heart wrenching and blood-boiling crimes, why should be be afraid and be denied our right to speak up? Every single time we hesitate to speak up for what we think is right, we're no better than the person we hesitated to speak up against. I'll sign off with this French statement by the philosopher, Descartes - Je pense donc je suis. It means, " I think, therefore I am".
My interpretation of it is that we were blessed with the ability to think, to understand, to draw conclusions, to look at the whole picture. And when we don't take advantage of that, what are we really?