Walk Into My Web

Open Letter To My Childhood Dream

2015-12-18T15:28:00.000+05:30

I've been meaning to write to you for a long time. I think I was just constantly trying to convince myself you weren't important enough anymore. I've been in love with you ever since I was 7 years old. And who can blame me; after all you were a pop star who had it all. With a flawless voice and the ability to hit notes which even dogs could hear, you were my hero.

Things were looking up for us. You could find me singing to myself pretty much all the time (as long as no one else could hear) and I'm not embarrassed to admit how many hours I'd spent practicing my Grammy acceptance speech in the shower. I know I was never vocal about our relationship. I'm sorry I wasn't courageous enough to be open about it. I was a clumsy little girl with no confidence and a self esteem to match, and you, the exact opposite. You were everything I wanted to be. People would laugh at me if I told them I was hoping for a future with you. No one would understand.

I hate to think you would be assuming that my obsession with you was merely one of those ephemeral childhood desires that fade away just as quickly as they are conceived. There was nothing insincere about my fervid declarations of our love, I promise you. How would I know that life would soon conspire against me – against us? Of course, my self-esteem refused to help me when I turned to it for comfort. I was so certain that I was not good enough for you. I could have sworn that you thought I was an incapable novice with no chance of improvement. My fascination for you slowly begun dwindling until I tucked away this part of me in the depths of my heart.

But my love for you never completely disappeared. I still left all the windows open and all the doors unlocked, hoping you would come back; after all, we were bound together by those tenuous threads of passion which refused to snap. In hindsight, I believe I should have fought harder for us. It was thoughtless of me to have given up so abruptly, and not a day goes by when I don’t think about it.

Nevertheless, I write this letter to you not just to make amends but in the hopes of getting back together. The windows are still open and the doors still unlocked, and even though you’ve changed, I hope this time you’ll come in and stay.

Busting BuzzFeed's Buzz

2014-03-22T21:43:00.000+05:30

Now, I’m not one to shell out unsolicited advice to anyone. However, here are a few words of wisdom that might take you a long way – kindly do not make life decisions based on the flobbity-jillion BuzzFeed quizzes taking over your Facebook profile nowadays.

Yes, apart from providing us with a comprehensive list of GIFs for every occasion, BuzzFeed has also started introducing quizzes for online users. So while I was snuggling in my blanket watching the Oscars and fangirling over the much talked about selfie that instantly went viral, a few of my Facebook friends were posting results to the plethora of personality quizzes. I too quickly jumped on the bandwagon and was bowled over by how awesome these quizzes made me think I am. (Which Beatle are you? Psychedelic John Lennon. Which Queen of Comedy are you? Ellen DeGeneres. What city should you actually live in? Paris, FTW!)

I did not care that the algorithm was actually quite messed up, or the fact that the person who made the quiz probably has no qualification to assess which flavor of ice-cream I am or what super power I should have. I did not understand that in all likelihood, nobody on my Facebook list would really care about these results. I was obsessed and fell into a downward spiral of quizzes. And more quizzes. And more quizzes. Until I came across this.

This launched me into contemplative zone.

If BuzzFeed has to decide which haircut I should go for, then it’s time for me to step back into reality. Why was I so addicted to a few questions that would ultimately just accommodate me into some categories? Why was I letting myself be analyzed by a few algorithms? Why did I want to know which celebrity butt should I have unless it's Darren Criss' on a plaque for me to keep in my cupboard next to the jar of James McAvoy's eyes and Chris Pine's face? Why did I have such creepy thoughts? Why were my brain cells deserting me? Why do I care about which cookie I am? When will I ever get a life?

So, these wondrous moments of epiphany were followed by my going through a list of super absurd quizzes and trust me, I saw quite a few.

WHAT’S YOUR INNER POTATO?
WHICH POSSIBLE ILLUMINATI MEMBER ARE YOU?
WHICH FAMOUS BUTT SHOULD YOU HAVE?
WHICH CONSPIRACY THEORY SHOULD YOU BELIEVE IN?
WHICH CHEMICAL ATOM ARE YOU?
WHAT KIND OF PASTA ARE YOU?
WHICH FACIAL HAIR ARE YOU?
WHICH OF HARRY STYLES’ EXES ARE YOU?
THE GROSSEST THING YOU’LL EVER DO ON YOUR PHONE?
HOW MUCH DO YOU LOVE PIZZA? (You think this is a joke?!)

THESE were the quizzes that I had been waiting for my entire life. Taking these quizzes is the only way to know the answer to all of life's essential questions. Who cares about finding a high paying job and worrying about getting good grades in college, if according to 'What Grade Are You Getting In Life?' you get an A+? Honestly, how do you expect to go anywhere in life if you don't even know which rockstar you should hook up with, or which fast food chain you are because obviously, your entire personality can be summed up as “Subway”. Plus, now that I know what my inner potato is (french fries FTW!), I think I have successfully unlocked the greatest unanswered questions of life.

Image Source: www.buzzfeed.com

Road To Oblivion

2014-03-04T19:18:00.003+05:30

There is something about the way the autumn leaves fall. From their graceful flight to the ground to the way they arrange themselves on the concrete, almost perfectly. Graceful, yet tragic.

But there was something tragic about winters, wasn’t there? Autumn is probably a reminder, a warning that a ruthless season lies ahead.

Lucy detested winters. As she walked down the narrow path trampling upon the withered leaves, which rustled beneath her black suede boots, she began thinking of all that lay ahead. Like all other winters. With all roads and highways that would be closed due to the snow, she would have no choice but to stay in her house. Witness it all. There was no escape for her.

She couldn’t discreetly drive away to her best friend’s house. Or have a summer job.

Yes, she preferred waiting tables.

But with a few months left before she would turn 18, Lucy tried to tolerate. Just four more months and she would become an adult and graduate. Move away from this one horse town and call her own shots.

She brushed aside the lock of light brown hair that she had inherited from her mother, took a deep breath and started walking towards her home a little more confidently. She crossed Gemini Diners and started missing her summer days of serving people shepherd pies.

She wanted the money, but more than that, she wanted to forget about her life and wanted to chat and joke with other waitresses or get people food.

That wasn’t so bad, in fact that wasn’t bad at all.

As she continued walking back home from school, she reminded herself of talking to Molly to convince her mom to get her a part time job in her café. Lucy was certain she would be willing to help her, even though business was slack during this time of the year. Winters in Wester Hill was a time when everyone spent most of their time snug and cozy inside their houses with their families, sharing the warm feeling of simply being around the people they loved most.

But all Lucy hoped for was finding a new way to escape the hellhole she was supposed to call home.

Immersed in her own thoughts, she suddenly caught her reflection in the glass door. She liked the way her gleaming wavy chestnut hair fell on her shoulder. Her lips pink and delicate. Even though she didn’t like to think of herself as attractive, sometimes she thought she really was.

With a slender figure and a height which did not require her to wear heels all the time, she thought of what Jo told her the other day. “It’s like you deliberately want NOT to look too good. Wait till prom and I will make sure every millimeter of your face is covered in makeup!”

At that moment though, her eyes, soft vivid blue, twitched and recalled something she could never run away from.

Her father.

She tried dressing down in front of him, thinking that it would help. Like tying her hair in a boring ponytail, or wearing sweatpants and extra loose T-shirts at home or always going to school dressed in a pair of jeans, but it never helped. She could never decipher how to avoid it. It was then that she felt her eyes burning with tears welling in her eyes, threatening to roll down her slightly freckled cheekbones. She blinked furiously, rubbing her eyes with the back of the sleeves of her jacket and continued walking.

*****

“You’re home early!”

She unlocked the front door and saw her father in the kitchen.

“Yes, honey. Guess I missed you, eh?”

There he did it again. THAT smirk. Emotions were running high. She felt like bursting into tears and crying and screaming and throwing things that were in her way. But no, she asserted, she wasn’t weak. She'd resist. And she'd object. Like each time before. But this time, she would succeed.

She looked at him with repugnance, not wanting to be caught looking weak. Pushing her hair out of her face, she quickly turned back to go upstairs and shut herself in her room without a second thought. But somewhere in the back of her mind she was certain she couldn’t escape. No matter how much she wanted to.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

A sound of hurried footsteps followed her as her father came from behind and grabbed her with a force so strong and powerful, she could barely breathe, let alone resist it. His arms were now around her waist and his breathing was harsh and rugged in Lucy’s ears. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and she winced as his facial hair rubbed against her cheek. She felt her body shiver fiercely under the clutch of his hands, and then a terror seized her heart.

She gave in. Whom was she kidding? She WAS weak. And powerless. And helpless.

*****

Lucy blinked awake the next morning with an ambiguous understanding of what happened yesterday. It was like one of those moments, where just for a millisecond, you don’t remember why you ever felt so weighed down and tormented. That time when you forget what’s wrong with your life.

Oh, yes.

It all came rushing back.

That man, violating her again. Muffled screams of pain and agony.

She was still curled up in the corner of her room against the wall, sunlight seeping through the windows of her room on her glowing skin, now purple with bruises and enveloped in scars.

Her face was pressed to her knees, and her eyes still throbbing with desperate, angry pain. She had spent most of her night silently crying in the corner of her room. And like every time, she swore to herself that she wouldn’t let this happen to her again. She swore to be strong enough to not give in the next time. She swore to be courageous enough to run away. She swore to never let there be a next time. Like every time, she swore.

She didn’t eat anything that day. She refused to speak to her mother who persisted in bringing her little comforts like soft blankets, her favourite food, but Lucy just looked at her with tired, tears stained eyes and continued to lie there.

When she refused to go to school her mother, too, snapped at her instead of consoling her. It was she, after all, who taught her to be in denial, to endure the suffering, to lie or better still, to remain “silent”.

___________

Dear Diary,

He ISN’T my biological father. He can’t be.
But I can’t break down right now. Four more months to go and I’ll escape.
I wish I wasn’t born into this world. I would have ended my misery sooner. But a voice inside my head keeps telling me, “FOUR MORE MONTHS.”

Maybe I might move away when I get into college.

Maybe I can begin my life afresh.

___________

Disappointingly for her, she couldn’t hide behind the comfort of knowing that the man wasn’t related to her by blood and that if her biological father existed all this would have never happened and she would have lived a normal life with a normal family who loved her.

Because he WAS her biological father. Also an abusive alcoholic, but only behind closed doors.

Their two story house, built in Victorian style with a drive way and a small front lawn, looked like any other house on the block. But nobody knew of the horrific incidents that had been taking place inside the walls of this beautiful house.

Her father was also, a well-respected real estate agent who no one could ever imagine would be sexually abusing his only daughter.

Lucy was repulsed by men. Any male. Even if it were a five year old boy, because she knew what he would grow up into. After what a man whose genes she inherited did to her, she wasn’t to be blamed.

She was afraid. Perhaps this was the reason why she never came out to talk to anybody about the abuse. But it certainly wasn’t the only one. There was guilt and shame which accompanied her fear. Her mother chided her when she mustered up all her strength to confide in her. Her mother feared that he would end up abusing Lucy all the more if she confronted him. And Lucy feared rejection. She feared being labeled as an “outcast”.

Lately though, her father hadn’t been keeping very well. And Lucy didn’t really mind that. She tried to feel guilty about feeling “relieved” because of it, but she couldn’t.

Those days, she felt liberated somehow. Her friends noticed the change but couldn’t gauge the reason behind it. She caught up on her pending homework and started enjoying cheesy romantic comedies. Consequently spending lesser time over thinking about her “secret” or what her life would turn out to be.

“Hey, I heard your dad was hospitalized yesterday! Is it something serious?”

“Well, the test results aren’t out yet. So no one knows. But I don’t think it is anything serious. It’s probably just a flu.”

“So, it means we’re on for the movie tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.”

It was a little strange answering Molly’s question about her father. That was the time when reality finally hit her hard. Her father would soon get better, and then everything would go back to what it was like before. Or not.

She walked home and went up to her room feeling inexplicably exhausted after the thought of it all. And that was when all thoughts were severed from her mind.

___________

Lucy,

I am scared. Scared because I don’t want to be alone in all of this. No, I do not expect you to forgive me after a wave of epiphany; neither do I hope that you will understand the situation. I want to be as pragmatic about it as possible. Yes, I know, I have pretty much ruined you for any potential relation you will ever have – friendship, marriage or motherhood. But I have problems, Lucy. Problems lie in my own head, and the battles that I have been fighting for the longest time still persist. You are my child – my ONLY child and I would never have a vendetta against you. The monster is in me, and I think I have to accept it.

I am not seeking an apology. I am trying to find an outlet. Because I feel so much more disgusted with myself than you do. And at least there is one thing we both are sure of – in a matter of days, we both will be liberated.

-Dad (if you can call me that)

___________

Lucy was stumped, and re read the note continuously until it made sense.

She couldn’t fathom what prompted this sudden realization from her father. Sudden inundation of emotions began flooding her mind. The note was an apology…sort of. She did not comprehend as to why he had to write this letter with such ambiguity. Some parts couldn’t even make sense to her.

And the parts that did – well, that left her all the more disgusted with the man who was supposed to be her “dad”. Did he really think it was THAT easy? Write a crappy note for permanently scarring her soul – for turning her into this cynical person who always thinks a million times before trying to trust even her closest friends? She read it again. If he wasn’t seeking an apology, he was certainly trying to invoke pity in her heart for himself.

No, she could not forgive him. She did desperately want to get past this trauma, but it wasn’t as trivial as this. Every time her father blatantly ignored her shrieking pleas to leave her, every time she woke up after the indescribably painful act feeling more disgusted with her father and herself- those were the times she promised herself to not to forgive him. Ever.

A few hours later, her doorbell rang and she anxiously opened it.

“Lucy, we need to talk.”

“Yeah, but tell me where were you, Mom. I was worried sick over here. Were you still at the hospital?”

“Yes. Honey, your dad’s test results, they were out this morning.”

“Oh. So where is he?”

“He’s not here. Lucy, I want you to sit down and listen to me carefully…”

*****

“Lucy, you can’t lock yourself up in your room the entire night. You should know we’re in this together. If you don’t want to talk to him, it’s fine. But you have to go the doctor first and… ”

Words were unable to escape her mouth when she stormed opened her bedroom door and saw Lucy… lying in a pool of blood… with self-inflicted cuts.

Sorry, Mom. There were a lot of ways I thought I could get on with my life. None of those ways included this. I could live with a sexually abusive father. Or a voiceless mother. But not with an incurable disease. So no, I don’t forgive him. And I don’t forgive you either.

*****

Note: This story was originally written for a short story contest which you can find here.

Inner Monologue of an Introvert

2013-11-28T19:29:00.000+05:30

Dammit, I have to go to Rhea's birthday party today. Wait, that means I'll have to change out of my pajamas! What are the chances anyone's gonna notice what I'm wearing anyway? Pretty high, actually. Crap. I'll just throw some jeans on and leave, she said she's only inviting a small group of people.

Geez, why is the metro always so crowded? Don't these people have anywhere else to be? I can never find a place to sit in here. OH FRIGGIN' FINALLY! A spot right next to the door. Now I can just sit and listen to some music until I reach my station.

Oh crap, everyone's here already. And look at the number of people! What are we doing, filming Lost? How can one person possibly mingle with so many of these people?

This place is too loud. Why did I say yes to coming here today? And why won't this woman shut up already? No seriously. How does one even manage to concoct such utter nonsense to talk about?! Well, let’s see where this conversation is headed now.

“God! I spent the entire day looking for vintage dresses. Those are my latest obsession!”

Okay, I have an upper limit on conversation and noise, and my cup is currently overfloweth.

And I thought it's only girls who come up with useless crap to talk about...what is up with those himbos right around the corner? I mean, I’m all for an interesting conversation - it doesn’t even have to be intellectually stimulating, but why do you have to be SO freakin’ stupid?! You are a bunch of grown up adults for Heaven’s sake!

Great, I’m stressing already. I should eat something to calm my nerves. OOH, look at that, there's cake!

I need to chill. And be positive. Positive vibes. I did not come here to sulk and mope in a corner. I should initiate talking. But how do I just “blend in”?

That guy looks nice. Maybe I should talk to him. No, that'd just be awkward. How does one even come up with small talks? All I can come up with is a huge vacuum of awkward silence.

And these people are utterly boring anyway. I have more fun talking to my own self than them. No, that’s not a weird thing to do. I can only rely on my own self when I’m need of an intelligent conversation. And my two closest friends. Dammit, why aren’t they here?! It’s such fun when we hang out. After all, you have to have a certain comfort level with a person before carrying out long conversations with them. These knuckleheads would probably even start talking to a pole. Ugh. Does nobody understand the concept of “alone time” anymore?

Oh shoot. He’s smiling at me. Oh my god, is he coming over to me to talk? Crap. Gotta do something. Think brain, think! Oh yes, my phone. I’ll just pretend that I am on a call. Oh yes, works every time.

*OH HEY TANYA! -How have you been?! -Me too! -Seriously? -No way! Hahahahahaha!*

Okay. Danger averted. Those were some seriously awesome acting skills I displayed. This could be my alternate profession. Could I put it on my resume?
-Acts tremendously well in order to avoid social contact.

Maybe not. I pretended to talk on the phone when in reality I would just let it go to voicemail. Somehow, a ringing phone feels like a ticking bomb in my hand. And again, I’m NOT weird. The rest of the people are JUST as weird or else no one would have ever come up with the wonderful option of “text messaging”. It’s a blessing, I tell you.

Now, let me think of how to get out from here. Should I just stealthily sneak out?

Nah, I’ll just make up an excuse. I’m not feeling well, have to head back. Always works. Before I get introduced to more “friends of friends”, I should execute my exit strategy.

All this socialising has left me with people-overload. Damn, I can’t wait to snuggle in my blanket and watch Doctor Who. Now THAT’S how you spend your Friday evenings.

Image source: therapeutically.wordpress.com

Guilty Pleasures: Got No Shame

2013-10-17T21:42:00.000+05:30

Everyone's got one, even you.

Don't lie, I know there's something you do that you're not exactly proud of.

Even though my list of guilty pleasures could go on for…well, days, I’ve decided to share some of them today. And I find so much joy in doing most of these things, that even though they made it to my list of “guilty pleasures”, I’ve never felt a single pang of remorse.

On a rare occasion I'll be too ashamed to admit that I like something that I know most people don't like, but I am usually pretty outspoken when it comes to my guilty pleasures.

And it’s time we glorify and celebrate our ridiculous life choices AND own it. So, shove aside those self-proclaimed hipsters and admit that you right there are ah-mah-zing. *now snap your fingers in Z-motion and turn your sass on*

A lot of people are ashamed of being honest about what they love just because someone else might not find it “cool” or “rad” (although if you use that word in 2013, chances are you are neither). And who gets to decide if something is “cool” or not anyway? Is there a list which declares what’s hip or lame? Or that you must be ridiculed just because you like every Sandra Bullock movie or read unhealthy amounts of fanfiction?

I’ll admit that my first reaction when I see a group of teenage girls crying hysterically and freaking out about a One Direction concert is probably to make fun of them because I’m just a mean person like that, but I respect the fact that these people aren’t afraid of what others think of their weird obsessions. They love it and they own it!

Now is your chance to reveal yours to the world, or at least the internet, or at least to whoever reads this blog. Anyway, I'll start:

1. Glee. This show is stupid and cheesy and weird. And I freakin' love it. (Especially Klaine). And it’s not that fake high school kind love which you get over in a week. It’s the real thing. I still watch it every time I can even though I’ve seen every episode more than twice. Such gooey drama and lovable characters. Who could resist? Not me!
Yes, there are parts of the show which have poorly written and repetitive plotlines, but I’m going to say it again just to put it out there. I STILL LOVE IT.

And Glee sing-alongs? Best thing ever.

2. Rocking out musical numbers in the privacy of my own home. I do this all the time. It's impossible for me to not shift my shoulders to the guitar riffs, and the drums beats. But no, I don’t sing in the shower like normal people (which is a shame since bathroom has great acoustics!), I just do it when I’m alone in the house. I even go through the pains of Google-ing song lyrics so I can belt them out perfectly. Sorry neighbors!

3. Reading fanfiction. In my defense, it's oddly addictive, and I think it's very under-appreciated by the world at large, specifically the writing community. It’s so creative and seems to be an outlet for some very gifted writers. Clever people with talent that I can only dream of. I do admit the fact that there exists some terrifying crap out there which might scar you for life, not because of the writing quality, but because why would anyone in the right mind write fiction built around Voldermort and Darco Malfoy in a romantic relationship? But there are creative writers out there too, who can make you fall in love with those beloved fictional characters you drool on, all over again. So yes, I read fanfiction. Not only that, but sometimes I write fanfiction, too. And I’ve only ever told one other person about it.

4. Watching trashy reality tv. *hangs head in shame* Okay, first of all, I can feel you judging me. Second of all, I know they are terrible and obviously staged, but I love the drama. It's so much fun to watch men and women who have no idea what they're doing live together and listening to their mindless chatter about the "bitches" in the group. Of course, this is when they're not unashamedly trying to flirt with each other. That just makes me want to throw up. People make fun of me for this one. This is of course before they point and laugh at me. But sometimes a bit of mindless entertainment is the perfect precursor to zoning out after a long day.

5. Sleeping till noon. If you're anything like me, your mornings begin after 12pm. I don't know if I have acquired some sort of a sleeping sickness, but I tend to sleep like someone who just returned from a day of enormous manual labour, when in reality I hardly even get out of the house. This particular guilty pleasure might get me fired from any potential job in the future but hey, I'm not complaining! Twelve hours of sleep is simply divine.

6. Cheesy 90’s boy-bands. I guess we all know that the 90s was an awesome decade. Okay, I might have been only 5 years old before it got over, but you don’t get cute boys doing jazz hands and singing about how much they love the girl anymore (no, One Direction doesn’t count!). So yes, my playlist includes Backstreet Boys, Boyzone, Westlife and what not! I love the music, I love the boys and I love the lyrics. And you can judge all you want while I go and listen to Westlife's greatest hits. No, I’m not ashamed.

7. Unusual laziness. One of my guilty pleasures is displaying acts of such unusual laziness that would make the mere mortal lose faith in humanity. I bat an eyelid and get tired. I throw myself on the bed like I just returned home from war. In reality, it would be a miracle if I am even able to carry myself to another room. I use my toes to pick things up and would rather push stuff under the bed than get up and throw it in the dust bin like a normal human being. Also, right now I'm sitting on a bed filled with food crumbs. Toldya I was weird.

8. Eating Nutella out of the jar. I do this way too often and at the same time feel guilty about it. Because when I tell people they look at me like I'm a crackhead who steals children's candies. It's not -that- bad okay? I’m pretty sure a lot of people do this.
I love it so much that I actually prefer eating it on its own, without bread or any other accompaniments. Seriously, it's like heaven in a jar.

9. Watching sappy romantic movies. And crying. Every time. Not only do I watch these movies, but I watch them over and over again. Yes, to the point that I can quote them. Watching them so many times usually results in emotional breakdowns, but I CAN’T STOP WATCHING.

“Hey, wanna see A Walk To Remember 80 times?”

“Done that!”

10. Celebrity gossip. If there is one guilty pleasure that I'm massively guilty about, it is this one. Yes, I admit that I am obsessed with the daily snippets of celebrity gossip. Sometimes, I open laptop and find myself casually checking out E! Online or PerezHilton.com. I find myself unhealthily drawn towards finding out Taylor Swift's latest beau or wondering why did Kim and Kanye name their baby North West (seriously, why?!). After watching award functions I go online to fawn over the celebrities' gorgeous dresses or get some dirt on the after party gossip. Yes, I too am thinking of getting a life.

11. Darren Criss. I'm not sure if I'd call this a guilty pleasure, per se, since well, I'm pleasured by it, but I’ve never exactly been guilty about it. With those honey-hazel eyes, adorable smile and the ability to work even pink wayfarers like a boss, I would let him take advantage of me anytime, any day. It’s not just the fact that he’s supermegafoxyawesomehot that makes me turn into a lonely little puddle of drool whenever I look at him, but also his incredible acting skills and unparalleled awesomosity. Shrines should be dedicated to him! And if you don’t already love him, then I suggest you watch A Very Potter Musical.

12. Whipped Cream. I deeply love whipped cream and not in some creepy or perverted way but I genuinely adore it. I couldn't care less if I put it on top of everything I eat or spray it in my mouth right out of the can. It is like riding a Unicorn underneath a rainbow in the month of May. I put it on chocolate chip cookies, waffles, pies and even in my coffee. No kidding. Ergo, I think it's time we all agree that whipped cream makes everything tastes better and simply makes life easier.

13. I have a filthy mind. This is true. Try to beat me at "That's what she said". Go on. I dare you. It never gets old. I can’t believe I’m as old as I am and still find it funny. And I'm not really sure if it's something to be proud of, but who doesn't love an atrocious mind? Apart from my parents, I mean. I feel dirty just admitting this. Though it does feel good getting it all off my chest. (That's what she said.)

14. Watching lame sitcoms. I am guilty of watching the lamest, cheesiest and the most nonsensical sitcoms ever created. I am yet to fathom what takes over me but once I am in my pajamas snuggling in my blanket my IQ diminishes to -10. I cry at the corniest moments even if it means breaking into tears when the guy stops the girl at the airport and decides to declare his love. These sitcoms never really get renewed for another season but that never stops me. Yes, I might be a little pathetic. Please don't judge.

15. Putting on pajamas as soon as I get home. No matter how early that time may be. Even if I head home after college at 1pm to spend the rest of the day at home, I am in pajamas within moments of walking through the door. I don’t care if I have to get redressed in an hour, or even 5 times that day. They’re comfy and one of the easiest guilty pleasures out there.

16. Listening to music which is deemed sucky. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I just never matured when it comes to music. Sure, I like some nice artists whose music doesn't make me want to hang my head in shame when I admit to liking them, but I listen to mainstream music more than anything. Go ahead, laugh it up, but don’t tell me you’ve never loved it yourself. No matter how much you hate it at first, it’ll end up playing on the radio station you listen to a flobbity jillion times and more till you finally succumb to its audio prowess and can't help from bobbing your head after the first beat and attempting to do a series of ridiculous dance move by the time it's finished.

17. Pizza. No, wait, food. Any kind. As long as it tastes good. Anything at all. It's not that I eat too much. It's just that I don't exercise enough. I know it's important to pay pretty close attention to what you eat, but sometimes I just like to take a step back and think WHY? Life is short and food is good. One of these days I'm going regret eating that extra slice of double cheese burst pizza and pay for eating those 6 chocolate brownies, but for now, I'm going to enjoy the hell out of them.

18. The Vampire Diaries. Before I begin explaining this one, let me just establish the fact that I’m not a fan of vampires and neither am I intrigued by werewolves. I certainly do NOT find someone making a meal out of you and reveling in drinking your blood fascinating or romantic. Having said that, I ask you to watch the first episode of this series and you would definitely say, “Damn! That’s interesting… I want to know what happens next.” Nobody sparkles, a vampire creepily stalking humans is barely minimal and there is an actual plotline. Beat that, Twilight!

19. Taking extremely long showers. I’m the worst water conserver on this planet. Even if it takes me just 10 minutes to wash my hair and soap down, I just HAVE to spend at least 10 more minutes to simply stand under the shower and enjoy the spray. And maybe preen myself in the mirror for another 5 minutes after that. Judge away!

20. Starting new projects and not finishing them. So this usually happens because there are just so many creative things that I want to do or make that I simply don't have the time to follow up on the things that I started before. No wonder my “to-do list” is never ending. And the worst part is that I continue feeling guilty about it and still don’t make time for it.

There you go. Those were some of my guilty pleasures and although a lot of them are embarrassing, they’ve helped me make it through the day more than once.

So, share your guilty pleasures! Shout it from the rooftops. Give yourself permission to be proud of what you love and enjoy every minute of it. Tell people about your crazy obsessions, no matter how lame or cringe worthy they are. It’ll just make you one step closer to learning to love without the fear of judgment.

And if someone still makes fun of you, pity them. They clearly have never felt real passion.

Image Source: nkayesel.wordpress.com

FAQs To An All-Girls' School Woman

2013-09-17T20:00:00.000+05:30

I’m a freshman in college who studied in an “all-girls” Christian school. Inevitably, the inundation of absurd questions follow suit. And trust me; the questions get increasingly ridiculous each time. Also, heartbreaking as it is for me to mention, those questions are primarily raised by girls.While I am building up the fortitude to face the intensified third degree, I undeniably admit that sometimes I wish to sit on a rocket and fly as far away from this world as possible.

I understand most people think that girls studying in a single-sex school must be from a different species altogether that are yet to adapt to social conventions and learn how to carry on a normal conversation without coming across as “overblown”.

However, as someone who has seen both the worlds, I can assure you that experiencing the ambience of a single sex school should definitely make it to your bucket list. I find it exhilarating to be in a place where there is no one to judge you and your actions do not exactly depend on the person whose attention you are vying for. You don’t care how you look because your crush isn’t sitting next to you and you can freely act like a chimp on steroids because there will always be others to join you.

But before I could explain all this to people, they shoot the following asinine questions at me.

“Ermhagerd! Girls are such b*tches! How did you manage to survive?”

If only I had a dollar for every time I was asked this question, I would hire people to dig up a hole to the very core of the Earth and shove those sexists in it! I understand that dealing with countless puberty-stricken girls is not the argument that I would use to help my case, but dealing with hormonally charged girls AND boys? No, thanks. Adolescence is already the most arduous time of a girl’s life. If you exacerbate this situation by adding boys into the equation then it would imply having to cope with my insanely raging hormones ALONG with trying to look pretty in order to impress my crush. Honestly, I would pick relatively less painful ways to die.

Neither would I ever want to vilify my own gender by calling every girl a "b!tch". In my fourteen year long school life, I have come across people who made life a little more grueling for me, but I wouldn't blame the entire female species for that. I would just blame it on the fact that some people are inherently not good persons. Because I have female friends and they are the best things that ever happened to me.

“Are you an over-the-top feminist? ”

Before I begin elaborating this particular point, I would like to say that I could never gauge people’s animosity towards feminists. A few days ago, a girl in my class proudly declared, “I like talking about women empowerment. Oh, but don't worry. I’m not a feminist!”And that’s exactly why I get worried. It rendered me quite disappointed to hear a girl say this, especially in a country like India where the onus of “ghar walon ka moonh kala na karna” remains tied to your gender. Et Tu, Brute?! Feminism is not a movement to slander the male species but it is a movement about advocating equality. That is what single sex school does to girls – it makes them celebrate feminism, not disparage it. Yes, we happen to like the color pink. No, we are not interested in becoming “tomboys” because we are too busy having fun being who we are. You would never find a girl from a single sex school say, “I have more guy friends than girls” or “girls are always jealous of me!”. Loyalty towards your gender is embedded in girls hailing from a same sex school. There is nothing better than that.

“Don’t you feel so much better studying with DA BOYS?!”

This is such a controversial topic. I had interacted with “boys” many times before, I had friends with boyfriends and yet there were people to pester me with statements like, “you have to experience the atmosphere of a co-ed institution”. While I did certainly want to “experience” it, I had never braced myself for what came next – which was a big, fat nothing. I still don't comprehend what the fuss was about. You might spot a handful of cute guys and might finally understand what having a "full-time" crush feels like. But if you're anything like me and have your heart set on a fictional character, then it is futile. Today, I only long for the times when it was alright to fix my clothes in the middle of the hallway or not shave my legs. Things that used to be the least of my concerns are currently my most crucial ones. I can no longer declare fearlessly why my stomach hurts or why I don't want to get up from my chair or why am I in a horrible mood. (There is only one reason for all of these three things).

“Um, do all girls studying in a single sex school turn into homosexuals?”

Firstly, I do not comprehend what would be so objectionable even if someone is a homosexual. Secondly, it is a ridiculous question which states that single sex schools promote homosexuality. If people think that a person would change their sexual orientation according to their convenience, then they seriously need to work on their IQ. If students study in a single sex school it does not imply that they have never seen what a person of the opposite sex looks like. Unlike what some people might think, such schools are not prisons wherein students are confined for life. They have lives outside schools where they meet and interact with all sorts of people. Somehow, I found this question disturbing and derogatory on so many levels. Often, the people asking this are ignorant and homophobic and, well, I have a serious problem with both.

Having cleared the air surrounding same-sex schools, there are still a few things I have to mention. No matter how impish or awkward you can act and get away with in an all girls’ school, reality is despondently different. In the real world, you have to mingle with people of the opposite sex who sometimes happen to be intimidating or incredibly good looking (or really creepy and repulsive), thus causing your confidence to dwindle. Which is why the greatest years of my life were spent in a place where I could look my worst and daydream that perfect guys who are akin to my favorite fictional characters do exist out there somewhere (they don’t).

Good luck surviving in the real world!

Image Source: theguardian.com

Open Letter To My Best Friend - Part II

2013-08-20T23:42:00.001+05:30

Dear best friend,

Since I couldn’t really DO anything brilliantly special for your birthday this year, I thought I’d write you another letter. (Maybe this could become a birthday tradition, eh?)

And I’m feeling particularly sappy, so I get to tell you how much I love you a million times or in a flobbity jillion ways and you can’t do shit about it. *sticks tongue out*

There are multiple reasons why writing this letter seemed like a perfect gift (the best I could come up with, anyway). 1) I’m broke and unemployed, 2) I enjoy writing, and 3) You deserve to know how awesome you are every now and then.

You’re special. I’ve never really had a lot of people I feel comfortable talking to. So every time I was low or upset, I usually resorted to ignoring most of my problems instead of figuring out where things went wrong and attempting to make things better. But we met and became friends. And for some reason, I thought you could be the person I could confide in. After being friends for over a decade, sharing the craziest of dreams, stories and fantasies, my trust in you has only grown beyond light years. You’ve made me realize the importance of having friends, and maintaining relations. You’ve helped me value my relations. So much of who I am and how I think is thanks to you.

I may not have been the kind of friend you wanted me to be. I may not have been there to share the best moments of your life, or the worst. The highs or the lows. But I promise to do the best I can. You’re one of the pillars of my strength. And I promise to always try to be one of yours.

Sometimes I wonder how you know me so well. I’ve always had a handicap of expressing my feelings verbally. But you know things even before I tell you. (Seriously, what kind of sorcery is that?) You know when I am upset. You also know when I just need someone to sit with me to share the silence if I don’t want to talk. Or when I’m just being stubborn. Somehow, you just know. But you never give me the luxury of being in denial or get fed lies. It's one of the reasons why I'm indebted to you for life.

I promise to tell you things. Express my love and fears. I’ve been working on it for a while now.

I love you. There’re not a lot of people I’d take a bullet for. I don’t think I tell you enough.

There are so many words that I could use to describe you -generous, helpful and implausibly caring; but out of all of the adjectives that you are, I think the one that is most accurate is kind. It is a type of quality that makes you irreplaceable. And no wonder being friends with you all these years has made me someone I’m proud to be. Your kindness is unrelenting and I’m certain it will bring all the awesomosity in the world that you deserve.

I promise to always be here, somewhere in the background to remind you every day, lest you ever doubt it.Words are insufficient, but you need to know how awesomely awesome you are, so they’re going to have to do for now, anyway.

You’re smart and intelligent. And no matter how lost you feel, I know for a fact that wherever you find yourself, will be the right place. It breaks my heart to think of you struggling, because I know sometimes you do. Because, I do, too. I know it feels like the world is being a jerk to you sometimes, when people are mean, or when life is changing and everything is just way too overwhelming, but I know you can endure it. You’re tough. Even if you’re exhausted or busy or mad, I know you make time for the people you love. And we have known each other for a long time. Maybe that’s how I know you’ll be able to deal with difficult and annoying people easily.

I promise never to leave you alone, not because I am incredibly creepy or annoyingly clingy, but because I love you too much to ever let you go.

You care. Everyone else bails. To be honest, I expect them to. Times get rough and I’m not fun to be around when that happens. People don’t like being around in times like these. It’s a burden. But you stay. You stay even when things look bleak. You let me talk and cry and never make me feel guilty for needing you. You’re selfless and loving. And it surprises me because I’ve never known caring like this. You’re inspiring.

You deserve so much more than this little letter, but since I don’t know how I could ever repay you, this is an attempt to do just that. I promise to return the favor even if it takes a lifetime, because I’m not going anywhere.

You and I grew up together. You and I learned about life together. We’ve seen each other move from clueless pre-pubescent kids with coloring books and crayons to teenagers with embarrassing obsessions and truck loads of school work. Trenched through disappointments, heartbreaks, regrets, only to wind up on the other side so much stronger.

I promise to be there to see you become stronger as you move past hurdles, tumbling and falling on occasions. I promise to be there to be your personal cheerleader and applaud with every ounce of my being when you win all the battles.

Among every promise I make today, I think there’s a need to include an apology. I’m not perfect (I know, shocker, right?). For all the unnecessary drama, utterly pointless rants and the hullabaloo that I created in your life. I’m sorry for ever taking you for granted, doing and saying whatever came to my mind with blithe disregard to your feelings. You never hesitated to call me out on my immaturity or let me get away with it. You can be brutal in your opinions and advice, and yet that brutality is laced with all the affection in the world. I am sorry for being self-centered. But I am getting better by the day; or at least trying to be. And the journey from being immature and selfish, to a better person has been has been a learning experience.

There are times when I do not like you too much, because sometimes I think you care a lot and I don’t deserve it. As trite as this may sound, I strive to be a better person because of people like you in my life.

So, I promise. You have given me an important place in your life, and I promise to always value it.

You complete another year of your sheer awesome existence in this world today. No matter how far we've come, how busy we’ve become or how much we’ve matured, nothing can change the care and the affection that I have for you. I am thankful I met you in the 2^nd grade. Because life without you would’ve sucked.

Happy birthday, woman.

Love, always.

P.S. Of course I cried while writing this. Of course I did. We're saps.

Image source: memecenter.com

Tumblr Talk

2013-05-31T20:23:00.003+05:30

If you think that the internet is a labyrinth of endless “Sups”, “LOLs”, or “FMLs”, it is time you crawl out from under your rock and wake up. Because the internet has transformed and how! We’re witnessing the rise of fangirls and dim-witted morons and it ain’t pretty. The internet, as we all know, is constantly evolving. As it turns out, keeping up with the latest internet lingo is hard, especially if you have a life. Nevertheless, if you still want to be sucked into the black hole of imbecile internet jargon that portrays you as a 13 year old, worry not! Here is a list of internet terms doing the rounds in cyberspace lately.

1. “SHIP” (short for “relationship”)

Before I begin, let us first stop pretending that we are too cool to be fangirling about something, because we aren’t. All of us are a part of a particular fandom, no matter how lame. I know many of you readers must be Gleeks, Directioners, Potterheads or sadly, even Twihards. When die-hard fangirls like us want a pair to end up together, so much so that we are even ready to organise a homicide if that’s what it takes, we “ship” that particular pair. How to identify that you’re a shipper? These simple symptoms would suffice. Obsessing over couples like Klaine, Finchel, Klaroline, Romione, MerDer or regularly checking out Tumblr and compulsively reading fan fictions. You don’t need to fret, though. Shipping two fictional characters and desperately wanting them to end up together is perfectly normal. Getting into shipping wars, sending out hate tweets to the show’s writers for not listening to you and issuing death threats to whoever opposes your pairing, however, isn’t. Also, if you’re a true fangirl, you belong to the latter category.

2. “YOLO” (You Only Live Once)

You Only Live Once, or commonly abbreviated as “YOLO”, is an internet slang first coined by the band Suicide Silence and then popularized by rapper Drake. Also, it might just be the dumbest internet term that, as Sheldon Cooper might put it, makes us weep for humanity. Ah, the future of human race never seemed more uncertain! All thanks to a few stupid knuckleheads, who probably would be passed out, doing drugs and living “da thug life”, because, well you know, YOLO. It has, in fact, become an inane justification for this generation’s moronic acts. Dyed your hair blue? YOLO! Got a speeding ticket? YOLO! Arrested for shoplifting? YOLO! I just want to see these morons purposely jump off some sixty feet tall building, because, well - YOLO.

3. “ Asdfghjkl”

Contrary to what you might think, the point above is not some imbecile piece of gibberish. Actually, well it is, but that’s fangirl talk, y'all! If anyone of you has ever been on Tumblr, you would be familiar with this term by now. Though it is a pretty indescribable feeling, let me try to explain it to you. You know fangirls’ tendency to go rabid at the drop of a hat? How they might be flapping their arms, squirming or howling while coming across something that stimulates the fangirl brain cells inside them and gets them, well, a little TOO excited? Those are the times when they are hopelessly unable to explain the myriad of emotions they go through and mere words just won't do! That’s when randomly punching the keys of their keyboard to come up with something as inane as “asdfghkl” comes to their rescue. And yes, this IS how fangirls communicate, EVERY TIME.

4. “SWAG” (Short for “swagger”)

“SWAG “is probably the most formidable opponent of “YOLO” to top the list of the most annoying internet slang. While no one is completely clear on what this term actually means, it is generally a reference to a person’s style, attitude, wrongly placed hats, pulled down jeans and how much they lack brains. It is popularly used by some brain-dead teenagers wanting to describe how “cool” they are. “Txting dUrInG cLaSs cuz I got Swag!” or “Tried smoking today, full of SwAg!”. Now while today’s messed up generation might be using this word to convey how “hip and modern” they are while carrying themselves, the sane ones just pray to God to hopefully give them some good sense someday. Also, if a person overuses “swag” to describe himself, chances are, he hasn't got any.

5. “Butthurt”

This term had to be included in the list because the way it is grossly misused and widely misinterpreted almost every time an argument breaks out in the social media. It was once originated for the different class of people getting irrationally infuriated or offended over something seemingly harmless. However, today it seems more like a twelve year old coming up with an asinine reply to an argument because he is too dim witted to give an intelligent rebuttal. Any belligerent internet bully thinks that using this term makes him superior and lets him win an argument. No, they don’t understand how inane and daft they come across. A quick look at the internet and you will find out this term is used on numerous ~~occasions~~ arguments to justify homophobia, sexism or racism. Probably an insult of the highest order, many people refrain from jumping into a heated argument because of the fear of being known as “butthurts” by the cool jocks.

Yes, I too don’t want to live on this planet anymore.

Image Source: iwastesomuchtime.com

Was School Really So Cool?

2013-03-31T20:14:00.001+05:30

To all the 18 year olds, or soon to be 18 year olds standing at the threshold of life, your state of ambivalence is probably shared by fresh high school graduates all around the world. Daydreaming of stepping into a new exciting life sounds about just as fun as the idea of having to live a life without mom and dad cleaning up your mess sounds miserable. But hey! We won’t begin with the cheesy old cliché- “Oh! High school comprises the best years of your life! I wish those years never ended!”

No.

Certainly, though, this phase of life will be missed. Texting during classes, doodling on notebooks, inane talks with our best friends or imitating teachers at every chance we get will surely be missed. Having said that, however, we definitely would want to grow out of this phase of our life of embarrassing fangirling, which we ~~have already begun to~~ will later regret (I’m seriously concerned that my obsession with Darren Criss will one day ruin my love life), correlating all of Taylor Swift songs with our life and crushes, or sleepless nights before the exam when we are desperately trying to finish our syllabus.

Yes, school is hard.

It’s not even remotely similar to High School Musical where you can break into dance numbers in the middle of the cafeteria, randomly start singing in unison or put sports and relationships ahead of school work.

This is why we do not mind a time where the “cool kids” or the nerds, both have to start afresh their own lives. Hence justice prevails!

So here we are, with our own list of why high school WON’T be missed.

1. Math Classes

“I LOVE Math!”- said no one ever. If they did, they are probably sent by evil forces from outer space to study and destroy mankind. Because high school Math is no fun and games. Occult like symbols behind every number or studying a topic like Algebra which funnily enough has nothing to do with numbers- yes, Math is THAT annoying. And you say Math is required in everyday life? Yeah right! Because that’s what EVERYONE does in their daily life, solve ridiculous inequalities or integrate stupid numbers or find the vertical angle of a cone in a hemisphere circumscribed in a sphere inscribed in a cylinder. I would rather summon the Grim Reaper! This is why bidding farewell to school also implies bidding farewell to Math classes that I have deeply detested for so long. I’m unable to recall ONE Math class which I sat through without doodling/not paying attention/not wishing for the bell to ring/not wanting to tear the pages of my book/pull out my hair or plant a nuclear bomb in the class. So yes, I’m a Matheist, and if you’re not and you actually enjoy differentiating this 78xy^2e9+48yz_elog(xyz⁸)=4790xye^x, then I just feel sorry for you.

2. Waking Up At An Insanely Early Hour In The Morning

If your school starts at 8am and your bus reaches the bus stop at 7am, then your life is doomed. Getting up early every day for school had rendered me lifeless and frail. Because even if you’re a morning person, the fact that you have school and the first period starts with you scribbling down to finish your incomplete homework and taking tests is enough to put you to sleep the entire day.

If there is one thing I would deeply cherish doing after school, it would be catching up on my long lost sleep.

3. Morning Announcements

*BEEP**BEEP**BEEP*

Good morning, children. Please maintain silence as I read to you the meeting timings for a bunch of clubs you don’t care about. The auditions for the Drama Society will be held in the Basketball court-cum-area-we-use-for-every-other-school-activity during recess. The last day to submit your application forms for the quiz no one is going to attend is Tuesday.

Then Mrs. Mukharji will tell you how much you’re being overcharged for the school trip this year. We would also like to inform you how badly our school’s Basketball team lost in a match last week. Now, the Sports Captain will tell you the importance of team spirit because she likes to hear herself talk. And since we’re celebrating Christmas week in our school, we’ll all sing a song about Santa and his sleigh. Thank you.

*BEEP**BEEP**BEEP*

4. Homework

I’m pretty sure homework was invented by some teachers attempting to explode their students’ minds even when they’re at home. Homework is supposed to be a reinforcement of the concepts and information that we’re taught in school and I’m actually happy to do it if it’s mentally stimulating. But sadly, most of the work given as homework involves writing down the same things written in our textbooks in another notebook in a good handwriting. The real problem begins when you spend more time doing homework after school than the time you spend -in- school. Never ending projects, crazy long assignments and finding time to study for the class tests is the reason why we end up sleeping during class.

Teachers: “Why do you look so tired?”

Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I stayed up all night trying to finish the assignments you gave me!

Homework can not only be a waste of time, but it also takes away from the time we actually STUDY at home. And to be honest, I’d rather throw myself in an eel pond than write pages about why “management is called an inexact science”.

There are plenty of other things that I won’t miss like the obsessive checking for uniform defaulters (how does it matter if my hair clip is black or brown?!), the terrible canteen food, that girl in my class who is only capable of talking about the latest Vogue cover, and the fact that the world “love” is tossed around like a hacky-sack no matter whom you talk to, but rant’s over for now. Ciao.

Image Source: memegenerator.net

Open Letter to My Teenage Self

2012-12-23T14:09:00.003+05:30

Honestly, I’ve been sitting here for the past half an hour with the laptop buried in my lap trying to figure out what to say to you. We’ve known each other for a while now and I feel like we’ve reached a steady plateau in our relationship where we can talk about things that you need to know. But here I am, struggling to find words that I wish to carve into your memory so that you may never forget them.

But before I begin, I have a few questions for you. How are you? How did you ever survive being 16? Did you finally manage to act your age and move onto to something bigger rather than spending days curled up in your bed trying to ransack your brain for answers and finding your voice in this world? Because I’ve had enough of the drama now. I’m getting sick of it!

I know you’re at a point in your life when you’re vulnerable. Of course, this doesn’t make up for walking into the glass door of a showroom in the mall yesterday. Neither does it justify you falling from your chair in the classroom. (No, not stumbling down the stairs like normal people, but falling from a freakin’ chair!).

But I’m not here to cruelly remind you of every time you felt embarrassed and humiliated (I’ve lost count honestly), I’m here to tell you of how you’ve become everything you vowed never to be.

Time for some tough love.

So what the hell happened, bro?

I know it all seems difficult at this stage –growing up, getting good grades so that you can at least get into a decent college, and trying to fight the urge in school to stab a few people in the nose with a ball point pen. But you know what? There are bigger things in life to look forward to.

Do you remember telling yourself to not dwell upon what others think of you? Do you remember promising yourself that you will never change who you are? What’s wrong with your ferocious mood swings like a giant oscillating pendulum? Is this some sort of a teenage bipolar disorder? And there are not just the mood swings, but also mood slides, mood see-saws and mood bloody jungle gyms.

Feeling all foolishly happy like Santa’s stoned elf and then come crashing down to ground like a heartbroken and deceived Hindi Movie heroine. Well, SUCK IT UP!

I do not, for the love of god, understand why you’re turning into such a Devdas in life. What exact phrases and paraphrases do you want me to preach to you that would stop you from whining and brooding over how strenuous 12^th grade is for you all the time?

Today, finally being thrown out in the spotlight, I beg you to hear my voice which you most often choose to ignore. Everytime you felt broken, or just too weak to face the reality, you sent me off to the world as your savior, hoping it would make things better. In an attempt to fight the disappointments or the brutal words of other malicious beings, I was created –your dauntless alter ego, hurled into the world to slash all those who tried to hurt you. But you know what? I’m not doing that anymore! I’m tired of being the Superman to your Clark Kent.

As a teenager, yeah, you’re still immature, but I know you always try to be self aware; be responsible. And to be honest, I’m genuinely proud of you for trying. But right now, your attitude towards life is worse than a teenage boy adding obscure bands in the list of favourite musicians on his Facebook page to come across as "cool".

I know you hate putting yourself out there because you’re afraid of failing miserably and embarrassing yourself. But let me tell you something, even if you fail it wouldn’t matter; because we’re still just teenagers trying to make it in the little game.

Do you remember the time you were awfully chipper and jovial that people turned to YOU for advice? What’s with this sudden feeling of isolation like the weight of the entire universe is upon your shoulder?

You, my friend, have lost the reason that made you jaunty and happy. The constant feeling of being underrated. I know, it sucks. But brooding over it isn’t gonna help, is it? I recommend you to join a club of well, ALL teenagers! So don’t start with a pity party where the theme is how hard it is to survive as a teenager.

Now I could be evil and let the most awesome years of your life pass you by. But since I care about you so damn much, I have to stop you.

Yes, these years are amazing. Way better than worrying about ~~growing up, earning your own money, not having to depend on Mom and Dad for it, no deadline for your bedtime, doing whatever the hell you want to…~~

Okay, wait, I kinda lost my drift there.

But it IS better than worrying about jobs, promotions, presentations, marriage, kids (ugh, those nasty brats!).

Don’t you get it? You don’t need to be rescued. You don’t NEED a savior.

This is the year of the future. That future we spent dreaming about every night this year. Now is the time to turn those dreams into reality. Now is the time when I can see you work hard towards the goals you set out to achieve. Now is the time when I can see you struggle to free yourself from the bars of conventionality, fighting your way out with the strongest of blows, and being your own savior. Now is the time to finally find your own voice. And now is the time when I bid you farewell because as you cross over the obstacles thrown your way, tumbling and falling, bruising yourself with every step, you become stronger –stronger than me.

So Carpe Diem, woman! Soak in every minute of awesomeness that your life is. Celebrate how you never gave up even when you wanted to (even when the reasons were dumb enough). Be proud of not losing the sight of yourself and sticking up to your beliefs.

You may or may not be the most popular of them all that a thousand people would want to add you on Facebook, but you WILL always remain this beautiful, sappy li’l weirdo that you are. Your family and friends know it. And that is all that matters.

Don’t worry about me, though. I’ll still be here when this is all over; somewhere in the background watching you; cheering and applauding with all my might, when you have successfully conquered this battle. Or to pull you back up if you somehow manage to act like that Humpty Dumpty retard and fall over the edge again.

I’ll write to you again someday. To remind you of who you really are lest you ever forget. And to show you that you can achieve a lot more than what you’ve settled for. So, keep calm and love yourself, because despite everything, I know I do.

Image Source: knowyourmeme.com

Hey Bully, What's Up?

2012-12-10T14:11:00.001+05:30

Lo and Behold beloved readers, for the moment you all so long and desperately waited for has arrived. Yes, we know the ordeal you must have been through. The desperate prayers, sleepless nights and furious anticipations, and finally, Acrimonious Snob has returned. But we didn’t give you a complete dry spell, did we? There was a guest post written exclusively for you, which surely doesn’t make up for our two month long hiatus, but the ordeal that we went through was pretty tormenting too.

So, what sucks about being a 12th grader apart from Boards? Pre boards. We were away studying for these exams, which ultimately proved to be futile since they went horribly, our lives were sucked out of us and we wonder how we even made it alive.

But since we did, here we are with our very first blog post after a long gap. And in case you start wondering about the nature of this post thinking that the drudgery of exams has rendered us melodramatically and extravagantly severe and solemn, well it has.

But that’s not the reason we chose to write this post. The reason is a little more personal.

So, why would the otherwise cheerful and sanguine blogger suddenly choose to write about something as serious as bullying? Because I have seen it happen. And as a high schooler, it shouldn’t be much of a shock. Except that, it was, because I never imagined a friend so close to me, whom I’ve known for around five years, could ever be a victim of it. It’s been a year, and I couldn’t admire her resilience more than I do now. Even though it’s all over now, I still remember all that she went through.

Though her enmity with a certain person begun over something quite petty, probably some argument leading to an ugly fight, she surely wouldn’t have thought it would lead her to where it did. There was name calling, UGLY name calling, flinging out abuses wherever she went, the girl and her accomplices following her and jumping at every chance to insult her.

And then, they fell really low. There was a time when my friend used to wonder that any unknown caller could be the girls trying to harass her. And then there was text bullying, which was all the worse. Of course, being her friend and sticking up for her, I bore the brunt of it too. But she bore the most. And thanks to Facebook, cyber stalking and cyber bullying was another way to tease her‐ fake accounts and snide comments.

But despite all of it, never once did she dignify those name callings and abuses with a response. She knew it would worsen it all the more. But moreover, she knew she wasn’t that person. And if there is ONE thing she retained through it all, it was her self-respect.

I deliberated a long time coming up with a sentence that would hopefully complement the gravely sombre and widely relevant subject this is. So here is it y’all –bullying sucks.

I’ve had the misfortune of knowing many people having the personality of a breadstick that when you meet them in real life, you wouldn’t believe they are the same people that they come across on Facebook. They aren’t half as “awesome” as they claim to be. And they take on the internet to complain/whine/grumble about everything gone awry.

And while Facebook just made the life of stalkers and bullies so much more convenient, the worst part is that when something is out there on the social media, it is for the world to see.

The controversial case of Amanda Todd that ended tragically met the wrath of thousands of irascible internet trolls. Nobody condones her actions and whatever she did to face the inevitable consequences that she had to. But the fifteen year old girl is dead now. Can’t we show a little more respect to someone who died?

Or the less controversial case of Balpreet Kaur, who chose to give a placid dignified response to the man who clicked her picture and put it up on some social networking site, mocking her for her looks. Even though her reply made me want to stand up and salute her, it also made me shudder to think that girls live in a world where a bad dressing sense and not sticking up to conventional good , "girly" looks could land their pictures up on the internet for the world to have a good laugh.

Sure, there are many empowering songs and stories of people enduring bullying and emerging out of it as strong individuals. And the victims can always try to make themselves feel better by telling themselves that they will survive it, and all their bullies “are ever gonna be is mean”. But does it really matter?

Do we really think that these bullies themselves feel empty and crushed inside, which is why they act out? That they are the actual losers in life who end up alone in a ramshackle trailer and repent all they did? Well, maybe the loser cyber bullies on the internet would. Maybe not.

But the ones in schools and colleges don’t.

For a high school kid who thrives on popularity, being alienated and left alone is the worst. It is the time -kindly excuse the cheesiness that would follow- when we are yet to figure stuff out, enjoy even the silliest of things, laugh like a hyena, fall for a fictional character or an out of reach celebrity, hope to live like F.R.I.E.N.D.S someday, daydream, have crushes, stress about how we’ll fail the exams or how we passed the deadline for homework, discover ourselves, screw things up and fix ‘em back with no worries about anything because we know that it is all we’re gonna get in a few years (or months). But certainly, it is not a time where we begin self-loathing, worrying about things we shouldn’t be worrying about.

But I have hope. So if someone does drive a person over to the edge to cause them to have this outlook towards life, then yes, you may become rich and successful, or not, but surely all you’re ever gonna be is mean.

Image source : thepunch.com.au

The Haircut Hypothesis (Guest Post)

2012-11-25T15:18:00.002+05:30

As a 12th grader whose preboards are about to commence in a week, it has been pretty difficult to find time for my blog. And even if I somehow manage to squeeze out a little time by giving up on watching an episode of Modern Family, which has become a part of my schedule now, I just don't wish to put up something on the blog unless it's something absolutely brilliant to make up for the fact that I haven't been posting enough lately. And so I drop the idea of posting anything at all, because to be honest, I'd rather be lazy than stupid. And since I love you too much, hypothetical reader, to not put up anything at all, here's something that I managed to bully my brother into writing for this blog. :)

I try to pull a Ranbir Kapoor from Anjaana Anjaani, who stands resting his back against the wall. The office workload and the pseudo post breakup grimace on my face; I act it out perfectly while in the shower, trying to look as serious as Alok Nath with four widowed daughters. I let the water pour on my head and trickle down my cheeks to mask the tears which I wish I could act well enough to secrete naturally from my eyes. My heart does a bit of a jig inside, telling itself that its abode is a brilliant actor. I try hard to not let the scene break, and enjoy the beauty of an act like that in a hot shower on a winter morning. With some experience in theatre, one tends to push it further and overact a bit. So, I decide to tilt my head further back into the wall and then crouch down silently, gliding my spine on the bathroom tiles to my way down. That is the plan. Ah, let’s do it! And as soon as my head decides to obey my command and places the tip, the little circle that makes a whirlpool of hair on my scalp, against the wet tile, I feel a tender cold touch on my head. It’s a nice cold feeling. I begin to wonder why I never experienced it before. I wonder why I couldn’t feel it at the lower back of my head when it was touching the bathroom wall for the past few minutes. Oh wait! The scene breaks due to a brilliant realization right in the middle of a Bathroom Oscar winning performance.

I immediately move away from the edge of the bathroom, and my fingers run to the top of my head. They pat around violently, in a state of confusion, stomping the finger tips on my scalp trying to imitate Sunny Deol’s foot movements in the song where he does this pulling out a hand-pump from the ground step. (Which song was that?) I throw a towel on my head, rub it furiously and then reveal my dried hair to the mirror. I’ve had a receded hairline for quite some time now, but I don’t think one can look at the back of my head and point out that I’m balding. Y’know, how Saif’s hair has styled itself since Race hit the theatres some four years back. But my fingers suddenly feel cooler on the scalp, right on the tip of my head. I figured how I didn’t wish to try crazy hairstyles like Akshay Khanna to hide the soon to appear bald spots, so a trip to the barber was planned. “I’ll keep my hair cropped short. Short is neat. It’s neat in a suit, nasty in a leather jacket.” *chewing on a twig smirk, baby doll*

I walk into the barber shop and see the seats occupied. I really hope that the guy who I like getting my hair cut from gets free before the other two hair dressers. I always feel a little sad when put in a situation where I’m invited to a chair, but have to heartlessly deny the offer ‘cuz I don’t want to be attended to by the not so experienced barber. In my defense, whenever I’ve thought of being a nice guy and giving the youngest barber a chance to cut my hair, the session has always ended with me wanting to ask him if even his sister would ever think of dating someone whose hair has been cut like that.

I decide to wait on the couch and flip through all the pictures in the Filmfare and Stardust lying on the table in front of me before it’s time for my turn. Deciding on the speed at which one flips pages is a gamble, here. I don’t want to be done with looking at just half a magazine till I’m called for my turn; nor do I want to finish flipping through them too early. It’s just like rationing the portion of subzi on your plate to match with the morsels of rotis on your platter. (It’s a bloody middle class analogy, really. But whatever, I do it all the time.) I try to read an article in the magazine, and call it a coincidence if you may; any article that interests me is next to a full page lingerie ad. Every effing time! Now, it’s ok. I’m at a place full of men. No one’s gonna judge me even if that page is blaring into everyone’s faces right in the middle of the “saloon”. All the uncles sitting around will probably thank me for holding on to that page for that long. “Ah, it’s all chill. Read the interview anyway”, I tell myself. And then in a minute, I start to feel really awkward about the tubelight reflecting on the glossy paper with a picture of a red laced bra. “F***, is it weird that I’m still reading this?”… “Um, I think I’ll just turn the page.”… “Uh, no. I think people know I’m grown up enough to be ok with this. Let’s just read on.”… “F*** it, I’m turning the page”.

I’m soon called by the guy who normally cuts my hair, and I thank my stars for not putting me in the I’m-not-getting-a-haircut-from-you situation today. I sit on the chair and he puts the blue cloak around me. It’s not one of those fancy barber cloaks that has a velcro collar. It’s like one of those cheap polyester bed sheets that he’ll furl in the air like a matador after the haircut, and make hair rain in the room. He knots it around my neck, uses his spray gun to wet my hair and then asks how I’d want it cut. It’s funny how he asks that every time, when I’m not someone who orders for a mullet once and a mohawk the next time in the past seven years of letting him cutting my hair. So I tell him to shorten my side-burns while keeping their volume intact, knowing well enough that he’ll crop the hair around my ears really short again. “Baal chhote kar dena”, I tell him, also specifying that I want it short enough to not be combed and long enough for it to not stand like baby porcupine spines on my head.

He starts snipping, while watching either Zee Cinema or Star Cricket. I can tell from knowing him through all these years that he is a big fan of Govinda and Ajay Devgn. It kind of scares me at times, since these are the only two actors whose movies’ rights Zee Cinema can afford to buy. And then there’s a bit of a Govinda look alike in Sehwag, too. It scares me ‘cuz then he gets distracted, running his fingers through the holes on the scissors, while keeping his eyes fixed on the TV screen. My fear vanishes in less than fifteen seconds, when I start finding the dialogues interesting and try to look at the television set from the mirror in front of me. What follows is a push of his hand on my head to tilt and get the right angle, countered by the thrust of my head against his hand so that I can enjoy a few minutes of a ‘90s Govinda starrer through the corner of my eyes.

He finally stops and asks me if I think the length of the hair is fine. I just nod in silence, knowing that no matter how good or bad a job he does of cutting my hair, it’s all eventually in the hands of mother nature. He holds up a mirror at the back of my head and I see my hair thinning. It breaks my heart a little too much and I ask, “Baal kam ho gaye na?” He replies like a Haryanvi Shahrukh to Preity Zinta in Kal Ho Naa Ho, saying that it’s all gonna be fine. He gives me a nice head massage to relieve the tension off, knowing that I’ll tip him extra for that. I gladly get up after having let my head be treated like a percussion instrument, and pay him a little extra with a smile.

It’s effing gay how towards the end, this is sounding more like some deep connection I have developed with my barber over a haircut, and less about my thinning hair. But anyway, it’s a sign of growing up isn’t it? Pessimists call it ageing. But, growing up it is, and I think I’ll let my new hairstyle grow on me. (Bad, bad pun.)

- by Sarthak Ahuja (on special request)

You can check out Sarthak's blog here.

Image Source: ihfun.com

It Was Midnight

2012-10-20T21:56:00.001+05:30

It was midnight. Lucy lay languid in her cosy bed, waiting for sand man to pour in just that extra grain of sand to make her forget the harsh truth and slumber once again. The fickle finger of fate had driven her into this traumatic phase of her life.

The past week, Derek, the love of her life was run over by a truck. On her wedding day.

Dealing with anguish of losing someone without whom she could never imagine her life had crippled her mentally. Maybe that was the reason behind those recurrent dreams…

Or maybe because her mind was too exhausted by dealing with the loss. It was harder when she revisited old memories, quietly to herself. It was not easy to bury them, and she couldn’t make them disappear. They were a part of who she was.

She watched Derek being run over by that truck, a Red Volvo. She watched his life float away, his blood spewing on her snowy nuptial attire, she watched him struggling and trying to enunciate words he wanted to say, but his eyes revealed them for him. She watched him take his last breath before he closed his eyes forever.

It was equivalent to being pricked by a thousand needles. Only more painful. Especially because she wanted to help him. She had seen the truck and she ran after him, calling his name. But she was late. 10 seconds too late. He lay in the middle of the road and there was nothing she could do about it.

And those indelible stains of his blood –they were there. On her wedding gown. As if to never let her forget what had happened.

But why she had those dreams remained a mystery for her. She did everything she could to run away from what had happened. She did not attend Derek’s funeral. She couldn’t. She was staying at her parents’ house for a while. But it seemed like she could never hide from the reality.

That night reaffirmed this. She was asleep, perhaps praying to her subconscious mind not to encounter any “dreams” that night, but wishes hardly ever come true…

She saw a figure, presumably that of a young girl, walking towards the altar in the vacated church where Lucy was to marry Derek. Her vision was foggy and everything around her seemed hazy. She struggled hard to scan the area around her; the figure of the little girl walking towards her in the dimly lit church. It was dark outside and inside wasn’t any better. Everything seemed to swirl around her, covered in a veil of ambiguity. Finally when the girl emerged out of the murky darkness and approached her nearer –she gazed at her, flummoxed. The girl wore a wedding gown and clasped a bunch of white jasmine flowers in her hand. She remembered how long she had deliberated before settling down to pick out the flowers for her wedding. There was something pristine about them. She felt an innate sense of tranquility by the sight of those flowers. Like nothing could ever go wrong. But everything had changed now.

The girl, about 8 years old, spoke in a gravely severe voice. “Remove the blood stains, Lucy”.

“They shouldn’t be there. Remove them, from your wedding gown. You don’t know what lies ahead. If you don’t do it within these two days, you will be faced with the consequences you’d have to put up for the rest of your life. Consequences far beyond your imagination.”

She woke up with a startle, aghast. She wanted to know what the dream signified. What was the reason behind those dreams? The next morning, she confided about everything in her mother. But she whisked it away. She told her things that annoyed Lucy.

“Lucy, you’re too caught up with whatever happened. But it can’t be undone. It is time to let go; to look ahead. Once you do that, those dreams won’t bother you anymore.”

How could her mother possibly expect her to look ahead? And more importantly, how could she brush this whole thing off like that? She saw it, that girl, clutching those flowers that SHE had picked for her wedding day.

Who was that girl? Why did she want the blood stains to be removed? Questions were weighing her already stressed mind down.

However, the following night passed peacefully. Sans any “dream”. She was surprised she finally had a peaceful slumber. Maybe her mother was right after all…

But her thoughts soon contradicted the reality when her mother rushed to her room, distraught.

Lucy’s mother had that dream. That girl, the church, the flowers –she had the exact dream which had haunted Lucy all along.

One thing was certain. Those dreams WERE real. Not a manifestation of Lucy’s imagination. It also implied that it was the only way out for Lucy was to get rid of Derek’s smeared blood on the wedding gown. And Lucy did exactly that.

Lucy was frantically washing off those smudges of blood of the person she loved the most. It was evening, but the stubborn stains of blood had refused to die. The redness of those stains had diminished, but not gone. It took her all day but the outcome was futile. Lucy felt incapable and vulnerable. She found her hands covering the stream of tears rolling down her face. She did not want to feel this way anymore.

Lucy put the wedding dress back with no intention of trying to remove those red patches of blood.

“I’m done”, she said to herself. She couldn’t care about any sort of consequences anymore.

“There could be nothing worse than losing Derek.”

The following night, she saw her again –that girl, in the dark vacated church. She warned Lucy that it was the last day to remove those blotches of blood from her dress.

Lucy woke up with a shudder –terrified. “It was just a dream” she thought, trying to console herself. It was still dark. Cold beads of sweat ran down the sides of her face from her forehead. She looked at the luminous alarm clock in her room. It was 2:50am. She tried to get out of her bed, but was entangled in the sheets. After struggling for a little while, she carefully got out of bed and slid her feet into the downy slippers that were neatly placed beside the bed post. She dragged herself to the bathroom door, whacked it open, and switched on the light.

She had spent most of her nights curled up in a corner of that bathroom and crying herself to sleep, in the past week. But this time, she did not cry. She wiped away the sweat on her forehead with her hands and washed the smeared mascara that had cracked and settled in the little wrinkles under her eyes. She noticed the icy terror that had grabbed her heart swirl away as she unclogged the sink.

She stood there and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She stared at her eyes. Derek had always admired the way her eyes lit up whenever they spoke about their wedding; and the way her nose wrinkled when she smiled. Those almond shaped eyes which once exuded sheer joy now looked mournful.

She knew it was the last day for her to remove those dark red splodges of blood from her dress which was supposed to be as white as a freshly washed linen cloth, convinced that it was the only way she could escape the ”consequences”. But she was too tired to try. She didn’t like the feeling of being alive in this world without Derek, anyway.

She shut the bathroom light and walked back to her bed. She despised the darkness…it reminded her of the dream too much. And she was too exhausted to think about it right now. She dived under the covers and tried to go back to sleep. But more she tried, the more she found herself falling into a semi-conscious limbo where the “dream” still haunted her.

________________________

There was a sharp rap on the door. It was only 5 o’clock in the morning. “Who could it be at this unusual hour?” Lucy thought. At first she just assumed that her exhausted mind was making her imagine things. Perhaps it was those dreams. They had seeped deep in her mind, and in her heart, blurring the line between reality and illusion. For a minute she thought she had gone stark raving daft, and ignored the rapping on the door. She pulled the covers over her head, trying to muffle that bothersome sound. But then she heard it again. And again. And this time it was followed by a door bell.

“Okay, so one thing is clear now –I’m certainly not imagining things.”

Lucy leaped out of bed. She quietly tip toed her way to the hallway, lest she woke up her parents who were asleep in the opposite room. She hesitantly walked towards the door. There was another knock.

Lucy felt a lump welling in her throat.

“Hello?” said Lucy “Who is it?”

There was no answer. But she heard it again –the rapping on the door. She could feel the hairs on her neck stand and goose-pimples break out all over her body. The coldness of the brass handle went up her hand and into her heart. Her heart pounded, trying to free itself from her breast and escape the horrifying fright that had took over her as she pushed down the handle and let the door swing open.

Lucy’s jaw dropped. She found the little girl that had been appearing incessantly in her nightmares standing opposite to her. She held a bunch of white jasmine flowers in her right hand and the left one behind her. Lucy felt too incapacitated to speak. Her handicap of expressing what she felt at that moment made her face look blank, like the pages of an unwritten book. She knew her end was near, but the little girl seemed too innocent to be carrying a dagger in her hand. As the girl slowly moved her hand to reveal what she hid behind her back, all the beautiful memories of Derek flashed before Lucy’s eyes, making her zingy and terrified at the same time.

The girl revealed to Lucy what she was clutching in her left hand.

Lucy stared at what the little girl held in her hand, perplexed, as the little girl said -

“Aise daag, waise daag, jaise bhi daag ho, Surf Excel hai na. Ab jasmine ki khushbu mein bhi uplabdh!”

Image Source: www.visualphotos.com

If It's Good For The Goose, It's Good For The Gander!

2012-10-02T20:34:00.003+05:30

Guys can be disgusting and gross when they burp or fart in public with blithe disregard to what others may think. Why do boys and farting go together? It’s because almost all boys enjoy acting stupid. But most of all because they can get away with doing it. They don’t seem to be embarrassed about it. No apologies, no “excuse me”. And if they can trivialize it by saying it’s a natural process and they are only humans, then the same liberty ought to be given to the womenfolk as well!

The male chauvinist misogynist who came up with the notion that woman should “hold it in” or else she would be considered “unladylike” deserves to be slaughtered. Women have to put up with enough shit already. And if guys don’t put a halt to these disgusting habits, then you better be prepared to see your girls do the same in front of you as well.

Are we really still living in a world where women are supposed to be treated as delicate flowers? Frail but beautiful objects whose femininity separates them from normal bodily function.

It is okay for men to belch, have grubby fingernails, snort and snore. This is all disgusting yet totally acceptable behavior for a man. But for a woman, it’s a taboo -Women don’t belch. Women don’t snore. Women don’t snort. And they certainly do not fart.

What women do, however, is pretend to be damsels-in-distress waiting for some He-Man to be her knight in shining armor and rescue her. Sexist? Yes. But this is the notion our ancestors passed on for generations, something nobody can shake off now. It’s too late and it’s just the way it is!

Sitting with legs wide apart or cursing comes naturally to men. But not to women. And even if it does, women have to hide it and have to act like a Barbie Doll up for display in front of the opposite gender. Imagine the misery!

And after having to put up with it, we still cannot be annoyed/irritated/angry? You got to be kidding me! We don’t want to be told “Damn, she’s PMSing!” when we’re pissed off. We earn the right to be effin’ pissed off!

Is a woman loved because of her femininity, the fact that she belongs to the fairer sex or because of who she is defined as a person?

Image source: Garnetchaney.com

Bolly, my golly!

2012-08-29T22:34:00.000+05:30

The Hindi “movie” industry is one in which paradoxically everything else matters, except for, of course, a credible storyline of the film. This includes the right celebrities who can do everything except actually getting down to “act”, a high end production banner, exotic destinations, groovy music and the most important of them all –a ridiculous item song proclaiming how the village belle went naughty (Read: Jalebi Bai, Chikni Chameli , Munni Badnaam, et al).

So if you’re someone wanting to make a Bollywood flick, you just got to have these ingredients in place and somehow build a story around it. And the beloved audiences too don’t really care about being stimulated intellectually as long as they have a firangi heroine for an eye-candy. Oh, and if you’re still worried as to how will you ever build up a story –here comes Hollywood to your rescue! A story that is ~~copied~~ inspired by some Hollywood movie; and you’ll be good to go. And despite all the copyright infringement charges, your movie is surely going to garner enough publicity to make it work at the Box Office. Yeah, plagiarism is a grim reality of Bollywood, but then again, you wouldn’t expect much from an industry who was too lazy to come up with a decent name for itself, ergo replaced the ‘H’ in Hollywood with a ‘B’.

Our Indian film industry might not care much about a good script, but they do care about a few clichés being passed on from generations. Creating a Bollywood pot boiler? You got to have these clichés in place, or you’re not doing it right.

1. Macho-Man + Demure Woman = The Ideal Couple

Despite numerous contemporary movies breaking the mould (thankfully so!), there was a time when Hindi movies just couldn’t seem to get enough of the flamboyant man jisne “maa ka doodh piya hai” who fell in love with the ever so innocent “sanskari” girl blushing away to glory. The male lead is the He-Man of sorts, delivering constant blows and punches on the hundreds of henchmen and inexplicably managing to win the fight. Wait. This is Bollywood. Rules of nature/Newton/gravity do NOT apply here! And the girl standing in a far away corner just shouts “nahi…bas karo…ab chodh bhi do!” while no one pays heed to her wailing. And when the girl puts ointment on our He-Man's wounds after he wins the fight, it is his turn to start wailing. After which they dance around trees, get married and have lots of babies together. After all, life is incomplete if you don’t get married, isn’t it?

2. Two flowers swaying into each other = A kiss

THIS is an industry that once refused to acknowledge any sort of physical contact between the man and woman. No kisses/foreplay/or that-three-letter-word-which-we-are-too-cultured-to-say-out-loud were allowed. Shaadi se pehle galat kaam karna equals to apne maa-baap ka moonh kala karna. That was when some smart-aleck came up with the idea of using nature to propagate whatever is happening to the audience. So when wind wafted two exotic flowers together, it usually denoted a kiss. Today those flowers are replaced by Emraan Hashmi. Honestly, we preferred the former. And to show that the husband and wife slept together on the night of their wedding, the guy just had to bring the dupatta to the girl’s head and lift her chin up with his fingers. Rest is left up to the audience’s imagination. Now go figure.

3. Shahrukh Khan

A young man from Delhi came to Mumbai to try his luck. He went on to become the “King” of Bollywood. And also a cliché. Yes, I said it. The man has become nothing less than a cheesy cliché in every Bollywood flick where he sways his arms whilst lip-syncing terribly corny songs about life, love, love lost and love finally found again. And he repeatedly does it irrespective of whether he plays a superhero or the boy next door. There was a time where it seemed that the key ingredient in every successful movie was SRK. (The horror!). What was more horrifying was that those movies actually worked. There was some sort of SRK-fanaticism floating around which might have started to decline due to the King of Bollywood’s multiple detainments at the US Airports. We are not judging.

4. Synchronized Dancing

Many people perceive Hindi movies as larger than life, melodramatic sagas that always have happy endings amidst bursting into erratic dance routines with random people willingly standing behind the lead pair and moving every limb of their body in perfect sync. They are right. Because everything can change EXCEPT Bollywood’s fascination with turning every intellectual movie into a joy-ride musical. In a typical Bollywood flick, you can walk around a street, railway station, a mall or even a public restroom while singing aloud about your “adhoori prem kahani” and no one cares because, well, it’s Bollywood! Singing out loud about your grief/happiness/anger is only what’s normal. So in Bollywood, ninety per cent of an actor’s hard work and diligence constitutes of getting those dance moves correct. And if you can’t get those right, then you have absolutely no chance of getting into the league of A-list celebrities of Bollywood, my friend.

There are always, of course, other clichés like the rich heroine and the poor hero, kanoon ke lambe hath or the compulsory and inevitable happy ending. Tada! Your Bollywood potboiler is ready. Welcome to the world of Hindi cinema!

Image source: bollywoodbrowser.com

Open Letter To My Best Friend

2012-08-04T23:50:00.000+05:30

Dear best friend,

Just a few more minutes, and it’ll be midnight. You’ll wake up to the day which marks your 17^th year in this world. I’m glad I’ll be able to celebrate it with you this time.

And since I missed out on two of your previous birthdays, I think I might just make you add 2 extra candles to your cake this year.

It’s not very often a 16 year old can claim to have had a best friend for more than 10 years. So thank you, birthday girl, for being my best friend. Thank you for being that one person I can truly trust in this world full of cynicism.

So much had changed when you left. Losing a best friend was something I wasn’t ready for. And when you tragically moved to another city, it made me sad. The kind of sad that makes you wonder if you were ever really sad before –the saddest kind of sad there is. But you never let us get split by lame facts like distance or time. Thank you for always being closest to me even when we were in completely different parts of the country or separate stages of life. Thank you for never giving up on our friendship.

Scooting people as close as you aside seemed like a natural thing to do sometimes— after all, you’ll ALWAYS be there for me. But you never got mad when I didn’t call you for weeks or reply to your message just because I was too busy being someone else’s friend. Thank you for forgiving me for my stupidest stunts and my selfishness; for wearing through my best attempts to drive you away, and refusing to leave my side despite my flaws, weaknesses and failures. And thank you for keeping all the promises that you made.

You taught me what it is to be loyal, and what it is like to share an exclusive friendship with one person. You taught me the beauty of having a friend who feels like family. And even though my life without you would’ve been like a pile of abandoned puppies, I know that I don’t need to talk to you every day; because that would be like checking in with your sibling every 24 hours which would only lead to silly arguments and unsolicited fights.

I know that it’ll probably be really hard to find a more battered, broken, screwed-up person than me in this world, and that I’m not really deserving of the love that I am so freely offered. And a few crazy souls like you, for some strange reason, go on offering it anyway. But their love is often so unglamorous and indispensable to my life that it is almost invisible, and the fact that I don’t thank them more for it is a crime.

So, thank you for taking care of me in every way possible. Thank you for standing by me through thick and thin. For being there when no one else was or wanted to be and when even –you- didn’t have to be. Thank you for always being there to listen when I have something important, or annoyingly inane to say.

Thank you for always being fun to hang with. You made me realize how we don’t need to have common interests in music or movies to get along. I know I can do the most mind-numbingly boring tasks with you, and they won’t suck. You taught me how the amount of fun you have during class is directly proportional to the number of crazy caricatures of your teacher you can make; and that I can –live- on your mummy-ke-haath-ke-samose for the rest of my life, or I could just keep eating them and never stop. Thank you for being that one person whose existence makes me feel less lonely in this psycho, crazy world. And with whom the silences are never awkward.

You know exactly how incredibly immature I can act sometimes. Thank you for not judging me when I did something really stupid, but also thanks for telling me I was an idiot and probably shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Thank you for believing in me when I was too weak and exhausted to believe in myself. Thank you for being there to pick up the pieces when yet another person had let me down. Thank you for being a friend without motivation or desire to back-stab. And thank you for making sure that I’m never really alone, even when I feel like I am.

I want us to be friends when I graduate from college. I want us to be friends when I have my first serious relationship. I want us to be friends when I get my first job. I want us to be friends when I’m married and have kids or pets or a silly potted plant that I get way too attached to. I want us to be friends when I’m going through menopause. I want us to be friends when I’m old enough to have grand children. And I want us to be friends even when I’m sitting on a wheelchair and have no teeth.

So here’s to you, birthday girl. Here’s to you and our friendship.

P.S. Happy Birthday.

Image Source: www.someecards.com

Baal Baal Dekho

2012-07-07T18:07:00.000+05:30

I hated my hair as a kid. My parents would take me to the barber’s shop every six months for a haircut. I’d hate that place. Because every time I went there, my 10 inches long hair would be trimmed down to 3 inches. I had a boy-cut till I was 7 years old and a really short bob for the next 3 years. I’d always wish I had longer hair which could at least be plaited down into cute braids. You see, there’s a certain amount of vanity in long tresses.

By the time I got into the 6^th grade, I had shoulder length hair and I had decided upon growing it even longer. This was the time when the ritualized trips to the barber had come to an end and my mother finally decided to give me the freedom to style my hair whichever way I wanted. I grew my hair for the next couple of years. I finally had hair long enough to be tied into braids. But this was when I realized how unmanageable long hair can get.

Life without hair must be a lot easier to take. People who lose their hair and/or choose to shave their heads would know this.

A man can freely do so without giving it a second thought, but if a girl decides to take this step, she will become the talk of the town. Her bald head will soon become controversial. After all, a woman can’t go against what the society expects her to be –a fragile object of beauty? It just wouldn’t make sense in this society who has taught women to be Cosmo girls who wear high heels, have a beautiful figure, pursed lips, small hips and long and pretty hair. And even though it’s just hair, it says something about the vanity of our culture, doesn’t it? Despite how far we’ve come, beauty and sexuality remain tied to a woman’s hair.

Why does a girl suddenly become unattractive if she has no hair on her head? Is our identity really a haircut away from being taken? What is this global fetish with hair?

Women have always conformed to the norms of the society. If we don’t toe the line of femininity or behave in a way which is even slightly different from the way society expects us to behave, we’re labeled as freaks. Outcasts.

Sure, not every girl will look like Demi Moore from GI Jane or Natalie Portman from V for Vandetta, and some might even look crazier than the bald Britney Spears, but what people fail to realize is that nobody’s identity is molded by their hair, but rather by the content of their character; their morals, their values, their thoughts and their dreams.

And if a woman DOES decide to do this, she will surely be looked down upon. Some people might even stare at her, mock her, think she is stoned or start speculating about her sexuality. After all, long tresses have always looked desirable on women. It is the symbol of beauty and if they are chopped off, people would say a woman has lost her sheen, even her femininity.

Come to think of it, shaving off the hair must be liberating. It’s low maintenance too. Going bald would also be more environment-friendly in saving water and the time that people spend in the shower washing and styling their hair. They wouldn’t have to worry about spending money on haircuts or on all those hair products people use to make their hair look lustrous and less stringy.

I’ve always wanted to try this too. But it’s difficult –throwing away something sure about yourself, a quintessential part of your identity. And it takes a strong person to break out from the normal and be different.
So, I guess I still try to hide behind the wall of my own hair because when I look at myself, that is one of the few beautiful things that I see –and I know I have a lot to work on when it comes to my self esteem. I want to know what it feels like to not worry about my appearance. I want to know what it feels like to look a certain way that will ensure that no sane guy would ever hit on me and still be okay with it. I want to know what it feels like to be appreciated as who I’ve put in the time and effort to really become, and not just the body I was born in.

There will always be people who’ll tease me or deride me, but I guess I’ll also be able to find out who my real friends are; people who’ll be willing to look past my face and love the person inside.

I refuse to tell myself that I won’t value the same because I look a certain way. I know my hairstyle doesn’t define who I am. Plus, it’s just hair –It grows back! But I also realize that life would not be the same for me once I decide to do something so extreme. Maybe someday I’ll be able to muster all my courage and actually do it.

I wish I lived in a world where people are not so concerned with superficial ideas. At the end of the day, I don’t want people to remember me by the way I look or dress or carry my hair, but by the person I am.

Image Source: www.liesyoungwomenbelieve.com

Teen Nation Desperation

2012-07-02T18:34:00.000+05:30

If you know a teenager, you would know one prominent and very likely, an annoying habit that is embedded in them – they are obsessive. Dangerously obsessive. You will find them hooked to a particular kind of music, movie, celebrity and they will be addicted to it till eternity. That will be all they would choose to talk about, irrespective of whether you’re interested to hear them out or not. And we’ve all been there, done that. However, thanks to today’s digital era, these obsessions spread like the plague. And teenagers being the young, impressionable creatures that they are, allow themselves to be obsessed and are preyed on by producers trying to sell some ridiculous idea that they are otherwise unsure of. Screw the injustice!

We have the misfortune of having a few such friends who are obsessed to the point of driving everyone around them up against the wall. And they are NOT going to slow down in the foreseeable future. So we present to you a list of obsessions our friends obsess with and just won’t stop – take a clue for the love of god! (Unless you’re sent on Earth by the evil forces and your ulterior motive is to kill us by making us hear your never ending rant.)

1. Harry Potter

If you’re anything like me, you’ve never read a Harry Potter book and neither are you a huge fan of the Harry Potter movies. Being a non-fan of the franchise, the release of a new Harry Potter movie would always make me feel like the only abnormal teenager who wasn’t in awe of this cute adolescent boy who has a lightening scar on his forehead. Watching a story about a young boy with hidden magical powers who is actually a wizard and his constant attempts to kill the ugly nose-less villain is something that never interested me. But as a teenager from an all-girls school, I do have a friend who is obsessed with this wizard and I fail to understand her fascination with him.

With the release of every new Harry Potter book, I’ve seen this fan’s obsession grow stronger. Any mention of Harry Potter makes her scream, applaud, laugh, or overall just become rather giddy. While other teenage girls would want a cute little dog as a pet, this Potterhead begs her parents to get her an owl. And even though people might start to think that she has gotten clinically insane when she calls the teachers she doesn’t like “Snape” and says things like “Wingardium Leviosa” and “Expelliarmus” in everyday conversations, she doesn’t mind being a crazy fan. She’s that one friend who’d always wish to dress up as a wizard or a witch for Halloween and owns several pairs of black robes and pointed hats. She memorizes spells and sorts everyone she meets into “Houses”. She believes she knows more about Harry potter than J.K. Rowling does. And the worst part is – you would expect her to get past this Potter obsession now that the series has ended, but it has clearly worsened it. Damn you, unfair life!

2. Justin Bieber

While many teen pop stars have inspired hysterical behavior, Bieber fans are the craziest. This group of people suffering from the highly contagious Bieber-Fever usually consists of the hopelessly romantic teenage girls and a few pedophilic gay men. The mindset of these fans is something that no sane person should attempt to decipher. They feel some sort of bizarre attachment to this boy which I personally find slightly creepy.

I’d like to make it clear here, that I’m not one of the people who hates his music or finds him annoying. I don’t care if my calves are probably bigger than his, or if he looks like a girl and has a high voice, or even if he swings his hair more often than the women in shampoo commercials. But like everyone, I too have that one friend who’s so completely obsessed with this baby-faced teen sensation, that it makes me wish I were deaf when I’m around her so I couldn’t hear her constant blabber about her love for Bieber. She can only express her fan-girl joy by either screaming at the top of her lungs or crying hysterically at the mention of his name. She’s someone who has seen every Youtube video of Justin Bieber and can dance around outside singing his songs all day long. She checks the newspaper everyday to cut his clippings. And I swear I saw her cry when he recently won an award. If only she knew that more than star-struck, she comes off as annoying!

3. One Direction

It’s a well established fact that all teenage girls are obsessed with songs that sound like pretty white teens singing about “love”. And a certain friend of mine is madly addicted to this boy band which seems like the next Backstreet Boys and is giving our beloved Justin Bieber a run for his money. Remember girls drooling and dying over Bieber’s hair flip? Well imagine FIVE Biebers, all flipping their hair in sync (the horror!). And there you got One Direction.

One thing that is as difficult to comprehend as their British accent is why most (not all) of the mainstream music is total and utter crap. There is no originality and no soul (imagine record labels hiring guys to be writing songs for you, others composing songs for you, a few other auto tuning “your” songs and the rest of the guys making you look pretty on the album cover). Not that One Direction is absolute rubbish, there has to be SOMETHING about them that makes them this huge. The sad part is that often more obscure artistes fail to get such recognition. No denying that some of their songs are quite catchy and they comprise of five cute looking boys, but my friend finding them irresistible and wishing one of these guys would sweep her off her feet and end up marrying her has become a bit too much now. And too much of anything is bad. This is why I’m just one step away from banging my head against a wall.

4. Taylor Lautner

Tanned skin, buffed up body, handsome looks –this is probably what every teenage girl wants in her dream guy. But Taylor Lautner is certainly not the only celebrity possessing these qualities. Then why is my friend obsessed with him? Because she is more addicted to the sexy werewolf, Jacob Black and not the actor playing him.

Apart from her walls adorning Twilight posters where she mercilessly cropped out the irresistible vampire, Edward Cullen, she proudly proclaims she is in “Team Jacob” and has dedicated countless Facebook pages and groups to the same (which makes it all the more terrifying). Certainly, the odds of a Jacob Black making her his werewolf princess are as high as Taylor Swift refraining from singing love songs. But she is addicted and it doesn’t seem like there’s any turning back.
Having a crush on an out of reach celebrity who is oblivious to your existence is understandable (we have all been there, right?), but having a crush on a fictional supernatural character is just pitiful.

5. Vampires

The “Dracula” –once known for venturing in the dark and mercilessly feeding on human blood has now become a butt of jokes thanks to the growing number of writers and producers for turning these evil, scary, mysterious and terribly hideous vampires into vulnerable, sympathetic creatures who not only survive, BUT glitter under the sun. Sure their knowledge about vampires is as limited as Paris Hilton’s brain and the teenage girls who’re drooling over them wouldn’t recognize one if it bit them in the ass.

Who would’ve thought a decade ago that a day would come when young girls would want a vampire to suck their blood? And vampires too, along with having to deal with everyday teenage issues, have to resist the urge of sucking the blood of the otherwise quiet, socially awkward girl, who for some reason seems incredibly attractive to all vampires who also happen to be hot guys. And this vampire epidemic does not seem to recede. My vampire-obsessed friend loves all blood suckers, be it Edward Cullen from the Twilight-puke-Saga, the Salvatore brothers from the Vampire Diaries, or the ones from True Blood. The situation has gotten so worse that now she actually believes that vampires exist. If her obsession doesn’t die down soon, I would just show her Bram Stocker’s Dracula –this movie will prove to her that vampires are horrifying creatures and not wimpy ones.

Image Source:
www.altfg.com
www.people.com
www.fanpop.com
www.teenchive.com
www.prweb.com

Open Letter To Junior Thomasites

2012-06-16T15:26:00.004+05:30

Dear Junior Thomasites,

You enter high school as a quiet loner with hyperactive imagination. You’re all confused. And if you weren’t already confused enough, puberty is bound to screw things up a little. Each year you’re going to be told that the work load of the coming year will be larger. And it will be.

You’ll be expected to start taking your studies more seriously, pushed to get straight ‘A’s, participate in sports events and even run for the school elections by your parents. At the same time you’ll be required to find time for your friends and expected to catch up on the latest Hollywood gossip.

High school can be awkward for everyone. Even if you’re one of the most popular people around or a social cripple. Especially if you’re a Thomasite, life can be relentless, frantic and exhausting.

There will be days when it’ll seem like every girl you run into is a cut throat bitch, even the ones who used to be your friends. And most of the times, it turns out to be quite true which will make you curse your “all-girls school”. There’s always so much pressure. There will be times when you try desperately to fit in among the “cool kids”, but fail miserably. You’d want to be accepted just the way you are, and it might not always work in the cruel world of high school. There will be days when you feel like you’re stuck in a strange place filled with catty teenage girls, and that you’re constantly unappreciated and underrated. These are the years when your self esteem can shoot up or come crashing down within the same time. And considering these are your formative years, a bad high school experience might leave a few of you with pretty bad memories.

You’ll be taught enough equations in high school that will make you want to shoot yourself, but as a fellow survivor of the hell called adolescence, I’m here to teach you a few equations which you wouldn’t be taught in any Math lesson, but are equally important if you want to make your high school experience a little less painful.

1. Koyal Rana : St. Thomas’ ≠ Shahrukh Khan : St. Columba's

We Thomasites tend to be jingoistic about our alma mater, which is not bad, but when we become boastful and borderline arrogant, it gets on people’s nerves. We don’t often realize that we end up bragging about various things associated with our school. We love Koyal Rana, and there are no two ways about the fact that she is probably the prettiest girl to ever study in St. Thomas’. But we hate it when you simply can’t stop bragging about how this Teen Diva is an alumnus of our school. Just the fact that a mini celebrity, Koyal Rana studied in your school, is not something to boast about. I’d like to make it clear here, that I do not any personal grudges against her. But YOU –you annoying little girl who just wouldn’t stop talking about how Ms. Rana starred in the latest commercial for a blackhead removing scrub or how you spot her on every Coca-Cola banner in town make me want to kill myself. It’s time you start creating your own name and place in this world instead of deriving pleasure and pride out of constantly boasting about her. Our school produces wonderful alumni who go on to be pretty successful in their fields. PLEASE seek to be one of them.

2. Bata > Adidas

While we’re at the topic of stopping ourselves from turning into a bunch of braggadocios, kindly refrain from bragging about your black Adidas sports shoes. The white tennis shoes were way better. They were light and comfortable. Walking around in these black shoes is like dragging a giant coffin tied to your feet.

3. Christian School ≠ Convent School

It’s sad that many Indians still believe a Christian school has to be a convent. Sorry to burst your bubble, but no, it doesn’t. We are not ruled by the British anymore. So Junior Thomasites, please stop mistaking our school for a convent. We are not coerced into harsh punishments after the slightest infringement of school rules. It’s a friggin’ Christian school and is NOT run by missionaries and nuns. So it’s a humble request to stop comparing yourselves with other CJMites.

4. Expectations > Reality

Our feet can be too big for our boots. We expect too much than our school can provide. And we’re not far from expecting a fancy limousine instead of our school buses waiting to pick us up at our bus stop and expecting a red carpet entry. We need to get real here. I know you’re ready to spend tons of money for the school trip you’re planning to go to during the vacations, but please stop expecting our school to make you stay in a swanky hotel when you go to Mussourie. It ain’t happening. Our school owns a lodge that has recently been renovated, so I’m guessing that should stop you from cribbing for a little while.

5. Canteen food ≠ Sanjeev Kapoor’s Kitchen

I know when you first walked into the Senior School canteen you expected a skinny, semi-bald cordon bleu chef with a scary mustache like the one we had in the Junior Section who makes food so good, your mouth will have an orgasm each time you take a bite. But you’re in high school, girl. Nobody wants to see you hogging on the canteen food anymore. So by providing food which is no haven for compulsive foodies, they’re just helping you to lose a bit of that waistline. Ergo, just make your peace with it and stop bickering.

6. Girls School Fun > Coed School Fun

It’s our sincere and humble request to please stop wishing this was a co-ed school where you could get to be with boys as well. Let’s face it –boys are, were and will forever remain stupid. Besides, let’s be honest here –a group of girls can have way more fun together than with a bunch of boys! No, I’m neither in denial nor am I a misandrist hiding behind the garb of feminism. The truth is, you might care about missing out on studying along with boys. But the cool part of studying in an all girls school is that nobody here cares about asking dumb questions in class, or looking pretty, or doing something embarrassing. I’m not saying that guys are judgmental; but I know how girls tend to care about what they think. And that can be distracting.

Memorize these equations and you're sure to survive high school and make your experience worthwhile!

Image source: www.garnetchaney.com

Life Is A Sitcom

2012-06-05T15:57:00.000+05:30

I bet everyone would have wondered at some point how life would be like if it were a sitcom. Would you also be perpetually attractive or have a kick-ass theme music or be accompanied by the ever exasperating background laughter when you miraculously come up with a well timed and witty comeback? Would you be battling farce situations while living in a cozy purple apartment in New York City with the comfort of all your closest friends or would you be caught up in amusing circumstances along with looking for the love of your life and telling the same story twenty five years down the line to your children? Probably the best part about it would be the satisfaction of knowing that irrespective of whatever predicament you’re stuck in, after thirty minutes, life would return to its usual normalcy.

There are days when I feel like I’m a part of a sitcom with these inexplicably stupid situations I keep falling into. And even though Ted Mosby never walks through the door like I could’ve sworn I scripted, I can always find the real life equivalents of Joey Tribbiani, Phoebe Buffay, Monica Geller, Barney Stinson, Leonard Hofstadter and Penny-The-Blonde-From-The-Big-Bang-Theory-Who-Doesn’t-Have-A-Last-Name in my group of friends who’re completely weird, yet lovable in their own way.

I’d kill to have a Ted Mosby in my life (Who wouldn’t? I kill them.) So if you’re a guy who can’t stop calling him pretentious and annoying and make web pages like tedmosbyisjerk.com, then you’re not worthy of reading my blog –GO AWAY. And if you’re a girl who calls him snobbish and whiny, look deep into your soul, woman –you know you have a secret crush on him. He’s sweet, romantic and his occasional douchey moments only serve to make him more relatable. Plus, anyone who’s that much of a stickler to use the word “literally” correctly is okay in my book. And since I know writing about how adorable I think he is would require another post entirely, I’ll stop with this I-love-Ted-Mosby talk for now.

I’m sure if you think about it, you can relate every friend of yours to a fictional character from your favorite sitcom. Like, Jasmine is a cross between Barney Stinson and Penny-The-Blonde, and I am probably a cross between Phoebe Buffay and Joey Tribbiani. Here are the 6 lovable fictional characters everybody can categorize their friends into-

1. The Joey Tribbiani

“JOEY DOESN’T SHARE FOOD!!”

This particular friend is cute as hell, good-looking, food-loving, and has a real talent when it comes to flattering the opposite sex. He’ll make you regret your decision to go watch a movie with him by trying to hit on every hot girl he spots on your way to the movie theater. He’ll insist on buying an extra box of nachos and would shout at you like a chimp on steroids if you dare touch his packet of wafers. He is though, a little thick headed and pretty slow at grasping simple concepts which might make you want to bang your head against the wall and never to sit with him in your Science class. He lacks guile and cannot lie, even if he wants to. Sure, his annoying habits would occasionally make you want to stab him in the mouth, but his humor and an adorable smile would win your heart every time you talk to him.

2. The Monica Geller

"You’re on my team and my team always wins!”

This friend lives to lead and is dominating to the point of driving everyone crazy. From deciding where to hang out this weekend to planning out a birthday party for your friend, she has it all arranged even before you can dare to make a suggestion. And if you even try to question her ways, you might never hear the end of it when she starts lecturing you on why her methods are “best and the most suited”. She’s organized to the point of suffering from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, while many of you won’t understand why that pile of books on the study table needs to be arranged in a “certain pattern”, she might rip your skin off if you don’t. She’s fiercely competitive, turns even whimsical word games into a matter of life and death and never forgets to keep scores. But she also is generously helpful and would offer to clean up your room for you. You know deep down, you can’t do without a friend like this.

3. Penny-The-Blonde

“Newton was a really smart cookie? Is that why they call them Fig Newtons?”

There’s one in every group. The hot but not-so-smart chick. This pretty little lady is the center of attention. Always. She trots around the school with her gorgeous face and skinny legs and is friends with all the popular people, and only when you actually get to know her, you realize exactly how dim she is. She doesn’t seem to care about getting good grades because all she wants to do in life is to be *insert actress/model/anything that doesn’t involve academics*. She possesses well-honed social skills and hits off easily with people. She is messy and unorganized and you’ll find her room to be quite like a pig sty. She is used to getting her way and her abundant good looks make her wooed by many guys who are easily smitten by her and would even offer to carry her books around in school. However what she really wants, like every girl, is a normal life and a decent guy to spend it with.

4. The Barney Stinson

"In my body, where the shame gland should be, there is a second awesome gland. True story."

This friend is the AWESOME one. The ultimate bro. Just like we dread to think how jaded life would’ve been had Barney Stinson not entered the Sitcomville, we shudder to think how our life would have been if this friend was not in our lives, because he’s the one whom everyone in the group wants to emulate. He has a bunch of really cool one-liners and is the life of every party. He is popular even outside your group of friends and has the ability to alter every dreary situation into something fun. He might come off as narcissistic and shallow, is surely a feminist’s nightmare and would jump from one girl to another in the blink of an eye, (and his commitment issues might make you wonder if he’s secretly gay or a raging heterosexual), but you know your circle of friends would be incomplete without this charmer.

5. The Phoebe Buffay

“I just realized something. Joker is a Poker with a ‘J’… coincidence?”

This one is definitely not your regular, everyday, normal girl friend. She thinks and does everything differently. She does not follow the crowd but rather stands out –be it the way she dresses, speaks or even thinks. She is the one with a strange taste in music, movies and guys. She might be the “freak” or the “weird one” in your group, but she has formed her own set of principles that she follows and doesn’t seem to care what others may think. There could be many reasons that make her so unique, but she retains a child-like innocence deep down. She talks of bizarre things like reincarnation so convincingly that would make you actually believe in it. Her chosen profession would be pretty unconventional, just like her. This is the friend who thinks she can sing/act/dance amazingly well, but in reality she is quite a crappy performer, something which you refrain to tell her.

6. The Leonard Hofstadter

“Twelve years after high school and I’m still at the nerd table.”

Every group has to have a nerdy friend who wears geeky glasses and Physics themed t-shirts. He is a wimpy Mr. Goody Two Shoes and is socially impaired. When it comes to picking up girls or asking them out, he is as ineffective as a white crayon, which is why you never consider him as your wing-man. He is the friend who’ll give you hours of lectures trying to explain you a Math problem, the one that aces all the exams and prefers finishing his homework assignments while all his friends are out partying. You wonder whether his stunted growth and prematurely balding head is the result of his geekiness. He doesn’t mind if he repeats the same jacket everywhere he goes and is surely not the most attractive guy around. His idea of entertainment is watching Sci-fi movies and his obsession with comic books make you pity him all the more.

Image source:

www.tvfanatic.com
www2.bc.edu/hannah-cerrone

Spinning The Web

2012-05-22T20:31:00.001+05:30

Many of you must be confused after reading Kashika's post where she went on about how blogging can be such a pain in the ass. For those of you who haven’t read it even after her multiple requests to do so and her pasting the link for the post on every person’s Facebook profile that she has ever spoken to, here’s what I’m talking about-

Expectation is a bitch. Everybody expects something from someone. Like, my parents expect me to wake up by 7:30am every morning even during vacations, my cousins expect me to wish them at midnight on their birthdays and my friend Kanupriya expects me to “like” all her pictures on Facebook. I hate it when people expect things from me. ‘Coz if you’re someone like me, you’ll give your best to not let them down. On the other hand, if you’re someone like my brother, you’ll never stop expecting things from your awesome little narcissistic sister, and force her to match up to them.

Sarthak has asked me almost a billion (yes, with a ‘b’) times to write a guest post for his blog ever since he wrote his first post here, and I’ve always blown off his requests. But every time that I did, I’d end up feeling guilty. And even though I tried writing something for him a couple of times, the thought of my condescending, judgmental brother reading it would make me change my mind. It’s something really sad when you fail to meet someone’s expectations. But since I think Sarthak wouldn’t ever stop begging me to write a post, I thought it would be better if I finally pen something down for him. Atleast now if he’ll be disappointed, it would be over my sucky English and immature style of writing.

I’ve never been good at writing. And to have my writing become a part of the digital world for everyone to see? I don’t think I can ever be comfortable with such public display of my personal thoughts and opinions. Which is why I think being a blogger sucks. Why would I want to sound my innermost thoughts or rant about things in public? Plus, I’d rather watch a movie than be concerned about what I should write for my next post which would probably keep the readers engaged. Being a blogger comes with all these troubles and more. Here are the 4 major reasons why I think blogging sucks:

1. Trollism

Trolls are the BIG BAD WOLVES of the internet. They’re ugly, annoying and mean. And when you’re getting trolled by a bored hater, it ain’t pretty. Probably the main reason why I was so apprehensive of writing a post was this. I knew I couldn’t write a blog post, but having to face a scrounging hater insult me –that would be a big blow to my already low self confidence. And if one day I have to wake up to see some badass hater criticize me and this post, before killing myself, I would kill my brother for talking me into writing it.

2. You Always Have To Come Up With Interesting Things To Write About

There, I said it. No matter how lame it sounds –it’s true! It’s always a big pain in the ass to come up with something fun and entertaining to keep the readers engaged and interested. And let’s face it –my life is no hilarious sitcom or some cheesy Bollywood flick. In fact, it’s pretty boring. Which is why more than half my time was wasted when I sat down to write this post as one question haunted me –WHAT to write about? What on earth would I write about that would keep you engaged and interested?! Like any other teenager, I’m in my own damn world and don’t have a strong intellectual opinion on things. No sire. Which left me with another question –Why on earth would you even want to read it?

3. Blogging Is A Time Consuming Activity

I never thought writing a little blog post would be so time consuming. As embarrassing it is to admit, I spent almost 3 hours writing this post. Blogging is no walk in a park. You have to think of a topic, collect your thoughts, get your content up, promote your blog on Facebook, and spend ages trying to make sure it’s a fun read. Especially for someone like me who doesn’t have a bone of humor, blogging can be a tedious task.

4. People Judge/Expect

As I mentioned before, expectation is a bitch. Being a “guest blogger” here, I’m expected to match up to the level of all the other cool posts Sarthak wrote. If I fail to write compelling content, then of course, I’d be judged. “How can one sibling be such a cool blogger and the other one so lame?” I didn’t want that! “I’m a guest blogger. I have to write something totally awesome to blow people away.” But thanks to me and my critical self, whatever I wrote wasn’t good enough. I’m someone who’s LITERALLY able to have never ending conversations with people. But blogging? Nah! I knew I had to do anything to pull this off –scare you, excite you, fight you –but NOT bore you.
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No doubt her post is brilliantly written and is worth more than just a few laughs. But why has she took to blogging, if she is ranting about how much it sucks and how much she detests it, in the first place?!

You see, when she relentlessly criticized blogging, what she failed to realize is that it has its pros as well, that a coin has two sides. With good, comes bad to accompany it. Which is why, if there is Oscar, there is Razzies. If there is internet, there are hackers. If there is Sholay, there is RGV ki Aag. If there is Friends, there are tons of crappy sitcoms trying to imitate it. Well, I have a truckload of other examples to illustrate my point, but I'm guessing you get my drift. And as far as blogging is concerned, the pros definitely outweigh the cons. So without much ado, let me present to you the reasons as to why blogging –does not- suck.

1. Best Way to Pass Time

Picture this. You're lying on your couch looking quite similar to a dead sloth. The can of soda is crushed and the bag of chips is empty. Your eyes are transfixed on the not-so-idiot box. But frankly my dear, you don't give a damn because THIS is what vacations are all about, bitch! Not until you realize that what you're actually watching one of those Chikni Chameli/Sheila Ki Jawani/Jalebi Bai type of item numbers whose popularity seem to have risen unexpectedly and now form an integral part of every Bollywood flick. Suddenly, everything comes together and you experience a major epiphany –you have nothing better to do than to watch sleazy item numbers all day. The post-vacation blues can make you want to curl up in your sock drawer and sleep for ages, and to keep yourself alive, you NEED to find something better to do. Something fun yet constructive. Blogging is just that! And let's face it –blogging is far better than sitting on your tushie and getting fat while watching sitcoms and chick flicks all day.

2. Platform for Opinionated People

This is probably why the first blogger in the history of blogging ever blogged. The best aspect of the virtual world is that anyone who ain't anything in reality is SOMETHING here. Think of the numerous people we have to deal with everyday. Some whose bursting overconfidence and patronizing attitude is enough to leave a few weaker mortals speechless. Blogging is a platform for those people to finally speak out their mind and stand by what they always believed in. And who knows, while expressing your thoughts and perspectives, you might end up walking on the trail of self-discovery?

3. Overcome Your Fears

Everybody possesses a deep, dark inbred fear. It could range from something like a fear of heights (which I possess) or a fear of water, to even a fear of clowns (if you think THAT is ridiculous, then you better familiarize yourself with phobias like the fear of bald people and the fear of hair. No kidding.). The point is, you can only overcome those fears by facing them. Go to the circus every week if you don't want those red-nosed creatures to make you pee your pants. In fact, in all honesty, even when we first thought of blogging ourselves, we too had a fear. The fear of being judged. We spent a long time trying to convince ourselves that it wouldn't matter what others think of how we choose to express our views and opinions. And after hours of deliberation, we decided to give plunging into blogging a try. We don't know if it's worth it or not as yet. But being uncertain about the outcome and not giving into your fears, and creating your own blog –that requires courage. So if you’re someone like us, blogging will definitely give you the opportunity to get past your fears. After all, Darr ke aage Jeet hai!

4. Blogging Goes Beyond Facebook/Twitter

At a day and age where the position of the trendiest social networking site seems to change every day, blogging has always been here to stay. It goes beyond Facebook and the "micro" blogging site, Twitter. There is no word limit and you're given the liberty to express yourself just the way you want to. You might even end up meeting people with similar interests and preferences. It doesn't matter how "popular" you are or how many "likes" you're able to fetch, what matter are your thoughts, your content, your originality and your ability to appeal and connect to the readers.

5. Exercise Your Creativity

If you're someone who has a genuine love for writing, then there is no better writing medium. Not everyone is a Paulo Coelho or a Dan Brown, and no one expects that from you here either. It's all about conveying your views and opinions creatively. From designing the layout of your blog to actually penning down the content, the whole process demands just creativity. And if you end up interacting with people who possess similar thoughts and help you broaden your horizons –then double whammy! Also, you might never know when you find yourself unlocking ideas in your mind that you never thought existed.

And now here we are, without seeking anybody’s approval or a fear of being judged, with our first official post as “bloggers”. Sure, we realize that committing to a blog is not an easy task, and it is a little scary at first to really put our opinions out there for the world to see, but if our ideas reach the right people, I think it’ll all be worth it.

The web has been spun. Walk into it.

Image source: www.gabrielweinberg.com