Thursday, 29 December 2016

How to survive 2017 (An overview of 2016)

2016 could easily be called the ominous year (exceptions of the plaque and world wars). With the clear disgust, disapproval and disconcern about the year, all of us are the waiting for the last few days to pass like sand through fingers. Carrie Fisher dying seemed to be the cherry on the cake collapsing under its own weight.

I don’t want to be chased by an angry mob millennials, but I honestly did have a decent 2016. Which qualifies me to write a guide to how to survive the coming year, 2017. Come on guys be a little excited, if anything, atleast for the wild parties on 31st and for those of you who go to sleep at 10:30 just to rebel, or spend time in peace; I see you, I see you good.

Well I could sure make a list but that is too boring even for my taste. Secondly by no means this might work for everyone so just enjoy my mindless chatter and my un-asked for expert opinion.
Now you must know I survived my 2016 because of my 8 month long vacation which stretched on till August. Thus most of my time was wasted away in staring at my laptop screen mindlessly or coloring on the walls. I read books and thus tried to stay in touch with my hunger for knowledge. I went into a coma where my assimilation of knowledge was just like one listening to music. Taking in the words, but not the meaning.

This seems like a complain, well it is, but not as much as it is a lesson. I learnt that reading, getting active information is the key to wisdom. Now I aint trying to sound like a 90 year old man or a monk, just giving some good ‘ol advice, read as much as you can, because nothing adds more character than books.

I went through a lot of anxiety and in fact developed a hysteric sense of humor due a project taken up by me. Obviously a success, I think the biggest lesson of the year would be to have patience towards people and situation, because in the end, everything ends well. Putting it into perspective, waiting for your order at the favourite restaurant is always worth it.

And with those wise words, developed a new emotion, we millennials constantly seem to be experiencing is “ahhh fuck that” often exclaimed with droopy eyes and bushy hair. This taught me that some situations just need you to kick back and relax because these people or things don’t need your time and energy, because it is not going to add to you as a person.

I saw way too many posts on social media where people expressed their reluctance to go out there and put effort into their week or day. I did the exact opposite and I can rightfully say I did conquer each day everyday. All y’all got to do is get out of bed and look at the glass as half full.
Trust me it works.

As philosophical as this post is getting, I think it’s okay, three days to the year end and I can assure you I am now a much calmer and happier person. Honestly with this age of social media and all information always floating around in the car, we as humans still failed to acknowledge the real news of the world and instead dwelled in the media spun stories about war, politics and economics. 

Obviously as general public, that’s the information we have access to but it’s up to us to not jump on to bandwagons we don’t know the destination or origin of. It’s time for us to get smarter and put our mind to more useless things than scrolling on Instagram at 3 am.

It’s clear that most things went wrong in the year. The uproar about differences in religion. Un deserving presidential candidates, shadow of war in the middle east we always pray for, political unrest in India and its fight with Pakistan and on a more personal level loss of motivation, death of our favorite singers and actors, stupid medical examination goof ups, student suicides and demonetization.

But keeping in mind all the unfortunate events we had a lot of good news to look forward to in 2016 too. PV Sindhu’s win at the Olympics, wider acceptance of the LGBTQ community, beautiful Canadian Prime minister opening borders to refugees and other countries following, Consequences of Brexit are subjective, introduction of a digital India, more woman centric films like Dangal, Hidden figures. Uber and other startups rose in India (oh thank thy lord for Uber) Sure war still exists, but with collective effort of our main nations, 2017 will be a year where second world countries become strong in defense and sociopolitical situations, not sure about the first world countries.

Sure the world seems to be on a tip of collapsing, but I can’t guarantee what sort of year 2017 will be. But the least we can do is have a positive outlook and stop binging on mindless videos and go out and breath and more aware. Start thinking about the earth and where our individual actions lead the world.

We don’t want to be only known as the generation that killed the Great Barrier Reef.

Oh and a Happy New Year!


Thursday, 24 November 2016

Teardrop on the fire

It starts with a little zest of enthusiasm, bubbly and ubiquitous. The anxiety makes your head spin while the excitement makes the colors of the world animated. The red is like the seductive pout, luring me in with the beauty of an idea I am not able to encapsulate into a metaphor. The white is like the whimsical dandelion, changing paths with the wind, welcoming the irony that destiny has to offer. The black is as sinful as it was. May be even more; more than I can decipher.

My insanity died too soon.

I liked how the wings of the butterfly were frames of a motion picture; breaking and forming creating an image purely out of the struggle to gain coherency. I liked how I noticed the smile lines on people’s faces. I could guess the age, couldn’t I? It was a good game to play with myself. I play games with myself a lot. Counting the number of liars in the room and pretentiously trying to cleanse the awkward but obvious pretense in people. It worked only in my head.

What were we talking about?

After the euphoria, comes the downfall. There is no peak. No plateau and nowhere to stop to enjoy your success. Success of finally understanding what are you standing here for. Success of finally realizing that the pseudo peak is your downfall into insanity. And maybe I liked it that way. I liked the screeching scratching downfall. Because that’s when I felt most alive.

When the wind kissed my face and the doors flung opened in the face of my restrictions. As I cut through the air it wasn’t fear, but sheer happiness inspired by pure achievement of what I valued most: the feeling of my own presence.

That’s when I realized I was a teardrop falling on the fire. As unmovable and unclaimed for the fire was and I as insignificant as the next, I knew I could still make the wood sizzle. 

A few words

Very seldom do we discover our pursuits. And very seldom do we keep pushing ourselves to keep in touch with them. This piece was inspired by the idea of feeling really small and insignificant but yet powerful with a hope and drive. That is when you know that its time to go an extra mile and push yourself to do that one extra rep, study an extra hour or ponder over your art, because somewhere your are flicking the string of change.

Wednesday, 24 August 2016

My Un-Ladylike Chronicles- Part 3

It’s not very pleasing for a girl to be complaining or pointing out obvious flaws in system, but here I am, on the third part of my series. And I got one more to go.
If you are wondering what today’s topic is going to be, you were right if you guessed the Olympics 2016.


An event where casual Indians complained and cheered as the Indian athletes underwent a range of struggles and emotions. And so did we. We were one with the pride of our country and if you were a follower of the games, you, like me, had never felt more patriotic before.

But I wonder. What do we know where do the athletes go through? A casual Indian is present just in the celebration of victory or the funeral of a loss. We all understand the frustration of every loss that Indian athletes underwent but just as onlookers and not as an individual standing in the middle of your battle ground while the crowd chants the name of your opponent. While your people cry in despair since you apparently were made responsible for their emotions.

That’s what the problem is.

Why is a hardworking athlete the reason for your disappointment towards your country when you disappointed them all along? Did you know how long they trained? How much they sacrificed? Did you know how many legislative ristrictions they had to face to get across the pacific? Did we make it any easier for them?

We didn’t. we didn’t do shit for them till they stood on the podium and claimed the metal; that’s when we truly claimed them as our own.

I am talking about majority of Indians, including myself. I never knew any of these sportsmen and women. PV Sindhu, Sakshi Malik, Dipa Karmarkar and OP Jaisha were simply a future pride to come and I feel ashamed for not following their progress upto their victories. For then I would truly feel like a part of the celebration.

I don’t need to remind anyone of comments made by famous figures and our ministers and Neta’s barely batting an eye towards the plight of our dehydrated runners. Anyone can point out the obvious flaws of lack of systematic support or any acknowledgement towards the players by the government until they proved themselves. I know a solution to that Netaji, how about you start tweeting with the right names and spellings of our victors?

It was clearly outrageous; the lack of support by the government as pointed by OP Jaisha furiously. Haven’t we really thought about this? Isn’t the real problem our attitude towards sports or the lack of one? If only more young men and women were pushed into this art and more coaches were supported financially and with better infrastructure may be Piers Morgan wouldn’t really have a chance to tweet what he did.

With 2 winners, 2016 should be a year of start of incremental improvement in our sports system and outlooks until we fly to Tokyo.

And sure lets address how WOMEN shone out bright as they wrestled the shaming of Indian status and emerged and saved the day. Suddenly all of us value the “girl child” even more. World take a hint already. We are here.

Not only did the bharatiya naari shine, but all the women who struggled to get on the field, the track and the mat and finally stood amidst of the supporters, they won. They won when everyone wasn’t rooting for a man or a conventional sport, but when faces were painted in the honor of a sport other than cricket or football.




And the myriad girls who will be inspired to enter the gym despite of all the boos and raucous laughs. Their hearts were won. That’s when we all won; we are one step closer to the pride of being a woman. Carolina Marin.

 Israel. 2 bronzes, with half their delegation women. Yarden Gerbi.

If you don’t know these names, keep up. We are moving ahead too fast.

And oh I m proud of all the athletes who won and made their country proud. Men or women. But as far as india is concerned, I m going to be biased and say it.

Our ladies seized the day.

Image Courtesy:

Friday, 5 August 2016

My Un-ladylike Chronicles- Part 2

All I am is a mess. Sometimes I choose to not do my eyebrows or wax my arms or leg and let that hair grow in all its glory. And sometimes it isn’t even a choice, it’s just my state of being; unkempt, messy but yet that’s when I’m my happiest. But the thing is I like looking good, hair combed and skin smooth and basically I love “killing it” but it kind of discourages me to do so when I’m told to do so.
There is no better way to say it; considering how societal pressure requires us to look a certain way. Slim, but not too skinny. Healthy, but damn you got to work on those rolls. Hey why you got that mustache? Are you sure you don’t want to get waxed? That dress is short you know.

No salon lady, I don’t want you inflicting more pain on me.

And why do you confine into these expectations? Because we are average humans who want to fit in. And girls have been raised to obey and execute whether it makes sense to them or not. Sure, I realize that being a well behaved, beautiful and poised woman isn’t all that bad, but the consequences of these generation long habits and ways are very obvious. We prey on social media looking for bench marks and boundaries we can fit in, not consciously but we are always looking for trends to follow, to compare ourselves with and to judge ourselves into believing that our confidence comes from how we look.

It comes from how you feel.

I might be wrong, but I got to say nobody is encouraged to be strong, non-confirmative and smart. Because then you are labelled as stuck up. Honestly that’s better than being easy. It’s sad how we have been taught to grow up and behave for the pleasure of men or our families. But never told that you have to “look good” for yourself or get educated for yourself.

This is where feminism comes into picture.

It is an encouragement for woman and men to be equal. For everyone, mothers, fathers, everyone to believe that each of us are as equal as another. Except it deeply concerns me it is creating the wrong role models. Lashing out of social media because a dude expressed his opinion isn’t feminism. Criticizing companies and brands for advertising a certain body image isn’t feminism, while you still use their products. Feminism isn’t totally shutting out public opinion, which could be constructive, and shaming everything and everyone as being anti-feminist or woman or woman rights. Just no.


Feminism is actually going out; working. Efforts. Realizing that to be equal you cannot rely on the structures that protect woman and provide exclusive treatment. Geez it means going out in the real world and proving your worth, showing your capabilities and standing up for what you truly believe, and not sitting at home and firing away on social media. And it’s not about the right to wear anything you want. That’s not about it.

Social media is just ONE medium of spreading the true essence of the concept. Definitely use it, but that shouldn’t be your only contribution.

And to be honest I realize that the issues of body image affect men too. Especially now when women have become so picky and want a whole package which includes those shiny abs and arms. And to be honest, even though we know most guys out there are better than shiny Joe here, we still wants Shiny Joe to like us.

It’s an endless loop of stupidity.

I think we should realize is that how we feel is in sync with what others think of us. We would probably not have problem with our cellulite or not so flat stomachs if nobody told us it is not very attractive. Hell nah! That is attractive if you don’t mind it. Love that fat, it’s always been there for you. We would not have a problem with how we look or bodies, probably only if we were told it doesn’t matter; what matters is what’s in your mind, your principles and idea. But guess who believes that anymore?


So if tomorrow if I am without eyeliner, a pimple or looking more bloated than usual, don’t hesitate to ask me about it, because of course it should matter to others what I look like.

I feel good.

Few words: Yesterday Ashley Graham was trolled for looking too thin in one of her Instagram posts. HELL what? first she is too fat and then too thin. wow.

Wednesday, 27 July 2016

My Un-ladylike Chronicles. PART 1.

I have been not posting on my blog for a while now and it’s shameful for I feel brain dead. I can’t come up with ideas and I feel like I have betrayed the few readers I have.

Thus I will try to keep up now. I promise to myself and you all yeah?

NOW getting to the point. I will be writing a 3 part series, calling out to all the women and girls in this world to join me in my long rant, because suddenly the tiny feminist and a big argumental side of me chooses to be ruthless. This was supposedly only a small topic in my head, but while I write this, I can see the scope of this topic!

So here we go,


Sorry mother, I have to be un-ladylike and write this but I promise I will try to be as subtle as possible.

Or not.

I know how my mother is concerned about me never getting a guy, of course she says this deriving facts from my past experiences but guess what, I don’t want one. I don’t need someone to complete me because young Indian girls can survive anywhere without a “good” boy, “good” family and “good” house. Just by the way, I saw him walking out with two girls from a shady dance bar.

“Good” boy.

None of us need a hypocritical dominating man to tell us what to do because in this ever changing society, many women are educated and understand the difference between been a good dedicated wife and being a borderline maid. I think it’s time for men to realize that if you want a nice educated “sikhi hui ladki” you have to let her use her education to go out a work and probably even teach you a thing or two.

And oh it’s on.

Okay just because I don’t agree with a guy’s opinion and can enforce mine, does that make me bossy? Well, that’s not constructive criticism. Don’t use that word for it is not a negative reinforcement. And “what you doing tonight?” isn’t the only question I can answer. Ask me about the stocks, ask me about politics, but don’t even dare ask me can I cook. Mind you my chapati is round as fuck.

I know guys try, they do try to not be sexist, but it just happens, it’s in build. Mummy daddy ne sanskar sikhaye, but you still look at us like we are objects and we look at you as humans. Sometimes, may be, just a suggestion, instead of laughing at my opinion, make a constructive counter argument. J

And even after we choose to date/marry the guys, we fail, fail to show what exactly normal human behavior is. Why do men have to be so clueless about everything? Why can’t one understand that a no means a no and you don’t have to convince me because m not trying to get attention or be hard. 

Trust me am not as angry as I sound, but I feel like this is the only way to express how annoying it is to be labelled needy, weak and emotional all the time while the dude is the one with his endless jealously, and the need to be given everything in his hand while he doesn’t budge an inch from his favorite sofa spot. And oh my god what’s the deal with not understand what the argument is about? Hello, I typed a 500 words essay for you, are you still going to talk to her?

And dating you or marrying you doesn’t give you any sort of consent. It’s not a yes to treat us however one wants. We don’t “belong” to you for taking us for granted.

And to be honest I get how difficult girls can be too. We can be moody we can be annoying. We are stubborn. Unreasonable too and we overthink. But maybe if the world wasn’t so innately partial we wouldn’t be fighting internally and externally to make our place in the world. And if that transcends as unfair behavior to guys, I’m sorry it’s not totally our fault.

But I know this is like talking to a pigeon. It’s going to shit all over me and walk away like it won.

Few words: NO hard feelings men. I don’t truly hate all of you. Except….ugh.
3 more to go!! Stay TUNED.

Sunday, 8 May 2016

Fragmented tries of the ambitious.

Everybody seems to have a plan but me.

With all the craziness surrounding the admissions it seems to me that everyone has forgotten what it is like to take a deep fresh breath and enjoy the sunlight and what a delight it is to actually taste the food you eat.

I probably know this because all I do is…laze around.

Does that mean I’m unambitious?

Looking at all the medicine and engineering aspirants, us, the animals away from that herd feel like our hustle isn’t enough. Well to break it to you all, I am definitely an above average student with dreams to fulfill which are different from being able to eat that last piece of cake in my fridge. I do see myself as a CEO and an empowered woman, but currently it’s just me sitting on the sidelines looking at zombie looking young adults race for those scarcely provided seats.

Reminds me of an enraging thing.

The 9 or so suicides that were committed just because of the JEE mains (First of the many exams to be given to get into IIT) marks were eligible but NOT GOOD ENOUGH. The sudden change in the medical examination syllabus and in the exam itself, two days before the exam, leaving thousands of aspirants preparing since 2 years, totally unprepared.

Our students are trying, killing themselves in isolation and depriving themselves of real practical experiences just to grab a seat in the top or at least decent colleges so that they can secure an unforeseeable future. The ratio of medical seats to students is 1:0.08 (approx.). I think the government needs to be reminded the ration of doctor per patient of 1:50000.

I think it’s time for Indians to be a little more quality oriented and little less result oriented. Our numbers are only increasing because students are killing themselves.

But then this series of surprising events happened. Many IIT eligible kids changed streams to arts and commerce, to pursue a much more involved interest. Well it partially comes down to the society to stop showing medicine and engineering as the most prestigious professions so that parents don’t need to spend so much money and time to bring the child’s spirit to vain before he realizes that’s not what he wants to do.

And well, if you are wondering, it enrages me because how stubborn our society can be and how people are pushed to limits from where one can’t even see any other possibilities which could possibly be their calling. And when it comes to me being a little foggy about my future, perhaps I’m not; sure we might not seem as focused as thousands out there, but I think there is a plan for kids like me who just go with what their gut tells them (gut feelings are 100% of the time wrong when it comes to a situation based on chance).

That being said, we can charm our way through. Don’t worry I have given exams myself to get myself in a good place. For now let’s just look forward to the future and the angry mob of parents that might chase me down tomorrow.


Writer's Note: I felt the need to write this; I cant explain why. Thus m sorry this is more like a diary entry.

Saturday, 26 March 2016

Lost and Found (A true story)

Seeing someone reading a book you love, is seeing book recommending a person.
~Mcleod's Tumblr (quote by a Reddit user)

This is story which is really close to my heart. Some of you might find it very basic but the very experience managed to influence me so deeply that my inspiration derives from this man.
In September, amidst the pressure of my A levels and constantly trying to reach the top of the growing pile of word to get done, my only escape; well for a nerd that I am, were the English passages that would, at least for the length of them, make me feel like there was some creativity and art left in this world. Mind you I sucked at A levels English, but I think it was worth the while I spend researching the rest of the passage online.

One lecture, sitting in a class of 10 students, I came across this story by Vita Sackville west. I was thinking about it even while and after going home. The very structure of the story, the storyline, the characters and the dance of words that rained on me were so impactful that I made it my goal to search for this book and read it so that I could be devoured by the magic of her writing.
Sadly, importing it to India seemed to cost my goddam kidney.

In the month of December, I was in Vancouver, walking into bookshops and crawling out under the weight of all the paperbacks I had bought. Let me tell you something about bookshops. They are magical with their leather backs and golden letters on the cold spines on these books that make the whole place smell like a perfume I want to capture in a bottle and take home with me. Somewhere I had decided that I was going to go home with the book I wanted and already loved without even reading it.

On a wet, gloomy and extremely chilly day I was walking down the streets of downtown searching for a place to eat. By now I was used to most streets except this one; I didn’t really expect to find the bookshop that I was planning to visit waiting for me there by the corner. McLeod’s.

Now you must think that this story is about a book. Well that is partially true. But it’s really about this man.

This bookshop was a ramshackle place. With books of miscellaneous genres piled up by the door in tall stacks which could topple over any moment. The bookshelves were tall and were stuffed with books till there were so close that some were actually bending. There were random glass cases locked with shining copies of hard bound and leather books. I walked so cautiously in fear that I would cause an avalanche of books. Yes, the whole place looked like a blanket of dust had fallen evenly over it, but for me this was the most enchanting thing I had seen and I was too tongue tied and mortified to actually ask the old man what I wanted.

I thing its time I tell you that this man I have been talking about, was old and slow. Each movement was well thought out where one looking would think that he has forgotten what he was going to think next. With thick glasses that settled on the bridge of his nose, he looked at everyone who walked into the book store with a scrutinizing gaze that made his crow’s feet look deeper and darker.
I wandered around so numbed and overwhelmed that I literally didn’t know where to start and what to look for. I had totally forgotten what I actually wanted. All I could think of was all the untouched history in the narrow aisles and all the forbidden romances amidst them. All the whispers that were louder than screams and all the footsteps that were anticipating but not in a hurry.

I loomed in each section for so long that I’m sure I was collecting dust.

I finally admitted defeat and approached the old man mumbling the name of the author. Oh. I didn’t exactly remember the name of the book since I had half expected to recognize it If I came across it. I hadn’t anticipated I would be searching for it.

I must have gotten the name wrong, but the man heard calmly and I even accepted that he looked so blank that he probably didn’t know what I was talking about. He seemed to have no clue what I was talking about.

But his gaze shifted and he looked at the bookshelves behind me. Suddenly he was calmly walking towards the shelf and with shivering hand yet rhythmic movements tenderly pulled out the book that bought me to tears. Yes I wasn’t the book with the story I had read back in school, but it bore the name of the woman whose work I was searching for and the name of the books I had dreamt of owning one day. The man who looked so lost and clueless, was actually well versed with every book in the shop. For me which looked like a shabby and old unorganized store was as organized to him. He knew where each book rested and the stories that guarded it. He looked at books like they were all the riches he ever wanted and spoke so passionately about each; I had never seen anyone so passionate about anything in this world which has lost the meaning of the very word.

It wasn’t his extensive knowledge that captivated me but the choice of not forgetting what he learnt from running the bookshop and still loving what he did as if he knew the art would die one day. He was the type of person I knew I had respected and aspired to be, but had never met.
That day I walked out of the store not only tightly clutching my new books but also trying to hold on to moments so that I would never forget this day.

Writers Note: this bookshop is pretty known within the locals. and i just realized that they have a basement which makes the top floor look empty. :)))))))
unfortunately, they have taken down their tumblr.
But here's the store on maps.
Mcleod's Address on google maps.