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.
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.
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.
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?
Gulping in a hot, refreshing cup of ginger tea, I promised myself to do justice to my being. Was I utilising only a tiny part of my potential and letting the rest pass on as mere excess? If yes, I definitely needed to work on that.
When I have time at my disposal, I might just add a little extra sugar to my daily dose of ideas and create an aura around me that no one can break through. If I were to define this wall, I would call this a layer of sugar so deep and strong that cannot be brought down even by the highest power. It was a layer of un-grief, un-problems, un-insecurity, and all the other devils that eat up our strengths and juice them out into weakness.
I heard my breathe, it was ready to take on the world. There was beauty all around in all that I saw and felt. My un-smoking provided me fresh lungs like never before. I could smell better, recognize tastes like my mother tongue. Everything I touched had a bit of my sparkle left behind. I heard sharper, felt invincible and cared more and worried less. I believed everyone deserves a wholesome life. One with creation, productivity, non-negotiable laughter, bonds and immortal relationships. I could no more find my dream-killers in my neighborhood. My mind was fresh like a ripe lemon waiting to be squeezed into something healthy, nutritious and rejuvenating. I was indeed ready to take on the world with my glamour, my ruthlessness towards ‘happy’ and my beautiful heart that knew nothing but nice words, thoughts and actions.
Regrets were removed from the dictionary of feelings and replaced by renewal. I felt emotions like a bird feels the first rays of the sun. I was present, alarmed and glad that I was here. I knew what I had to offer and what I could make of it. It was truly inspiring to me. I was sure it would create a whole lot of difference to so many others, waiting to be bloomed, waiting to be shaken up and waiting to find a life that radiates hope, faith and belief.
Writing is a disease. Or rather the need to express is. When you do not write for a substantial amount of your waking hours you wither. You feel weaker, stranger and uneasy about your own mind. It feels like you are carrying around so many disgustingly great stories in your head that deserve to be heard.
Now some of these stories shall be lame. A handful of them have the potential to evoke unknown emotions in a person or two. Some will make a few of your readers laugh and some may lead to a nose-cringe, raised eyebrows and a fake laughter, all that matters is you are giving birth to emotions. An extra set of emotions have come into formation in this world because of the words you sprinkled over the pages of your notebook. Be charmed about the idea of it. You are the mother of the story. You are an instigator, a creator, an architect, a designer of a tiny part of your reader’s life.
Writing has been an integral part of my life. There came a time when I couldn’t go a single day without writing. Be it anything trivial, I just had to write. I gradually grew comfortable to writing on the web over the age-old pen and paper.
I am sharing an extremely vulnerable truth of my life here. I have stopped pouring out my emotions for a substantial frame of time. This has been triggered primarily due to fear of judgment, of internet shaming, of a large audience, of words being sculpted into the brains of people which cannot be taken back. The permanent nature of text on the internet is scary and makes me quite anxious in all honesty.
Being too afraid of getting judged and the all time fear factor of “Log Kya Kahenge?” a passion, a talent that I could cultivate was almost slipping away. I put my foot down today and I told myself that if it is taking so much time for me to figure out a topic for the scare of surveillance, I better start with writing about and accepting my fear and brushing it off my life.
I shall write- be it whatever. I shall let my words flow into streams and rivers of happiness, grief, passion and existence. I shall survive through my words. I shall be born through paragraphs and commas. I shall take deep satisfaction in carrying forward my strains, survival and love. I shall do it all without fear of being judged. I take away your power to judge me, to critique me or to hurt me. Tonight I turn invincible. Thank You. 🙂
“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”– Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life