Undoing The Hurt

Facebook image, The She Writer, Undoing The Hurt
Nights have a funny habit of strolling you through the freckles of time. A tape ceaselessly playing a hum at the back of your head. It is bewildering how everything is recorded…everything!
The one time you cried your eyes in the washroom while a party was going on downstairs, that day when you shook a hand while your heart wrenched in anguish, pain and jealousy.
You lay in your bed – stunned at the cycle of life, reminiscing each moment that left a significant scar in the child inside. There’s no going back, there’s no undoing the hurt.

This ain’t My Stage

Positivity Attack, This ain't my stage

 

Faking a smile in the midst of crowds is what I am known for. Reality is a faded truth, much blurred by dancing shadows, rejoicing to the myth of forced happiness. While this story unfolds all we do is grab a pretty drink, smile for the camera and pretend that we are a part of the crowd, while deep inside we are just not a part of this drama. This ain’t my stage, those ain’t my characters. Amen.

24

blanket-blue-chill-coffee-comfort-Favim.com-120985

 

24 – Well I just used that number to get your attention. Hope it worked. This is from my limited knowledge in advertising – Every 23, 24 and 25 year old will click on this blog post without a second thought. I am 24 and I get you. I am not here to bore you with “Things every 24 year old will connect with”, but I am here because I am 24 and lost. I am no more pepped about partying and getting sloshed. I am no longer the upfront, instantly-likable friend of a friend. Nope, I am the girl under the blanket on a happening Saturday evening with a laptop perched on her stomach, mindlessly scrolling through her news-feed and judging your lifestyle. Before you go “You Hypocrite!” on me, let me announce I am equally fucked up. I want to do ground-breaking stuff and achieve incredible things in life, but here I am sitting away from home, a head full of un-executed ideas, plans and stalled projects. As I write this piece, I have 68 others, saved as draft or let’s just call unfinished projects.

I make excuses for not going out with friends and colleagues because well, it’s the 23rd of the month, I have 600 rupees in my bank account and 7 fucking days to battle. Also my stomach, head and a few other body parts are aching (Read: Lies). I go through wedding albums on Facebook and judge your decision to get married, I refrain from commenting political opinions on social media, well because you know why it’s called ‘politically correct’.

I also smile at young 19 year olds living like they are juicing out the life from within their years and I do periodically read a piece or two online and feel the zeal coming back to life. Yes, I am HER – little unsure, an upholder of ‘transparency’, ‘honesty’ and ‘realness’. I am also those 24 year olds who used to believe in their potential to revamp the world, endorse integrity and goodness and who have somewhere and somehow lost track, fallen with a jerk and landed in an unfamiliar territory with no Google Map.

This is for you, in your 20s, for you have all the time to figure it out (or to not). There is probably nothing that needs your figuring out, possibly life is just to be lived. Let’s dismiss the pressure of expectations, the ideal images in our minds and travel with zero forecast. Let’s trust that we will be found, cherished and remembered.

The Biggest Fear in my Life: Plucking My Eyebrows

eyebrows-wordpress-sampurna

 

If you are already scandalized by the title of today’s piece, I am really disappointed with you man! I haven’t even begun to describe the experience. Of course, most women reading this have already been through this, some of whom would be nodding in approval, the other half would go “It’s not that bad, come on!” The latter are the lucky bastards walking on the face of this earth with the most perfect brows like Nike’s logo. They visit the parlor twice a month and come out without their skin going pink in pain.

I, as you must have guessed, fall under the first category. I hate the entire process of sitting with my arms in a weird angle stretching wide – the skin above my eyelids. I mean who was the first woman who sat up, looking at the mirror, saying-“ Yeh miniscule, never noticed portion of skin mein baal zyaada ho gaye hai, inhe ukhaad te hai, sundar lagenge.” I mean who? I shiver each time the parlor’s Mini aunties zoom in towards my brow with a piece of thread hanging from their mouth, it’s yuck! Then she places it right where it can hurt the most and ‘pluck’! There goes a follicle of hair which assures so much of freaking pain that you may cry.

I have always found it extremely unfair how our boys grow out their body and facial hair with pride. Their bloated chest and crooked smile spells out “Mard”. And these same group date women who have not a single trace of hair on their bodies. What about our “dard” boys? Why can’t we be cute fur balls with hair growing out of us like a tree!? How come ‘No Shave November’ makes you cool with stubbles and ‘Don’t Shave December’ makes us unattractive? Double standards and the problematic images that we have been fed by media’s various channels. I have watched videos of the ‘Try Guys’ going through the menstrual and labor pain but I wish more men try getting their eyebrows done. I am sure it’s going to be a game changer. And for the girls who are shrouded in self-doubt and chained in judgements, all I have to say is : Grow it out, show it loud.

Futile

futile

 

Have you ever touched a flower and felt it recoil into its shell, for you have ruined its purity? Have you had a baby in your arms, slap you in public? Have you been told that your existence is worthless? It is easier being slapped than being appreciated, have you noticed?

We find it more believable that we are useless, just a broken piece of a puzzle trying to find its corner on this planet. In a vicious world, it is easier to doubt than trust, pull down than elevate and ruin than save. Here lies the burial ground which witnesses the corpse of many a futile dream and destiny. A chance, taken away from a soul which could have created great ripples in the universe. It is the duty of the mind to cause ruckus. It is on a constant quest of finding the incompetent, wrong, futile, not-so-perfect in us.

 

Let’s not let it win. Let’s dictate the terms. Let’s be our own bosses, let’s kick ass like we own this place.

Sleep

I have always thought that sleep is underrated. Motivational speakers and leaders of this century make a constant effort to put the message across that sleep is evil. They mostly speak about how sleeping is a waste of time and how you can sleep to your heart’s content when you are in your grave. Though I am too young to judge or contradict their flow of thought, I have always felt that sleep is a miraculous tool that rejuvenates your core.

Although sometimes it disappoints me to ponder on how much time I have actually lost while I slept, it also reminds me of the wellness I have felt each time I took a solid rest of 10 hours or more. It is scientifically backed that 8 hours of sleep is a standard and absolutely necessary but I can vividly remember a few 14 hours of sleep that I have treated my body to which only turned me into a ridiculously happy person the next day.

  • It strengthens your immune system
  • Makes you less irritable
  • Reduces stress
  • Fights obesity and heart diseases
  • Repairs cells and tissues
  • Combats exhaustion
  • Restores emotional balance
  • Restores healthy skin and so much more.

Are you in for the Brownie, mate?

Are You In For The Brownie, mate

Life is like a swirling typhoon. You can see it coming and you can see it in full course, blooming in rage, beauty and circular motion. But do you know when it will cease to exist? No you don’t. Unless you are a mystic baba who has seen his own death in the eyes of a mountain. Now that’s the point. You came into the stage of glory, chances and opportunities with strong and invisible wings. Isn’t it but only a shame for an exotic bird to choose not to fly?

 

So what’s your plans with those crazy-beautiful set of wings? Treat it as a heritage passed onto you in the form of lineage or work it till its tired? Days are counted, magic-moments are few and relations are precious. So what are you gonna do about it? Sit there and let life unfold as it should? Or would you choose to live, fly and push it to the extremes and laugh out loud? Would you be just one of those who say “Love but be careful”?  Or would you be that “fool” who gave it all, in the quest for unconditional and platonic love?

 

See now, it all sounds crazy good when you say life has its own course and it is God’s idea that  we should ‘go with the flow’. But how come we fail to realise that we goddamn build that flow? We decide and act upon how deep and fast that river flows! Do you want to watch it as it passes by and be the one to blurt out that “Oh No!” at the end of life? Or will you be the one who chalked out that course, shook up the path, meandered through the wow-moments and ended where he or she wanted to end up (and said “Oh Yes!”). Failure being imminent and opportunities being countless, won’t you walk up and ask for what you need, deserve and enjoy? So what if some of them have to call you a “bitch”, “undeserving”, “ruthless” or “too much”? Guess who’s gonna get the brownies in the end while the former drools?

Are You In For The Brownie, mate 2