Z : Zestfully yours

Zest for life is important, I feel. It's a rare quality. Not everyone has the enthusiasm and excitement to lead life with full heart. And it's one of the qualities in a person that I admire. It's not easy to be cheerful and positive. It's not easy to not worry. It's not easy to just live. Like you are enjoying every minute of it. Very few people can do that. Really enjoy life. My mom can. A can.  And so can my friend Sayan. All three of them, are generally very happy people. They know how to live! They enjoy every moment. It's inspiring. 

My mother is enthusiastic about anything she takes up. Be it teaching, tatting or making stuff with beads

Sayan is so sure about the great future I will have that every time he says something good about me, I feel encouraged. He is generous with his compliments. And knows people well. His words are meant to praise and encourage. He does that with such elan. 

Even my mom is like that. She is a step further. She is the one who can see silver linings in any situation. Her words come like a ray of hope. It's as if she knows, that after the bad time the good time is  round the corner. As if it's peeking and waving at her. She says she is not worried about me. She says she knows I will do well. 

Because she has this enthusiasm for life, she is also generous. She is the kind of person who will never refuse to help you. Whoever you are. 

A has the ability to adjust to any situation. Which is on of the things I admire in him. He too always manages to find a way to be happy, satisfied. 

And so is Sayan. Content. Yet he knows he wants more. And  sure he will get it. Which is one of the best things about him. 

It's encouraging to have such people around you. It's nice to know that one can find happiness in the smallest of things. Like making a bracelet with beads. Or discussing what kind of life you want with a friend. Or telling someone not to worry. It helps, you know; to have people like them around. It's as if they know no other way. And that's how it should be, right? Enjoying  each day, as it comes. Living life like it's meant to be lived. 

Y: Yes, you know it

You know you're  a hostelite when...

• You believe that more detergent means cleaner clothes.

• You try to find ways of making the hostel food more interesting.

• You glow when you recieve a parcel from home.

• You would eat anything your mother cooks when you get back home.

• Going out to withdraw cash is an event.

• You start comparing prices of  everything you buy.

• Sleep is the biggest luxury of your life.

• A month before  going home, you start counting days.

• You need to 'shotgun' a bathroom every morning.

• You shift places to get the best network.

• All  phone conversations take place in the corridor.

• You periodically   borrow ketchup, pickle, maggi, earphones, shoes, clothes, laptops and everything else from anyone who is willing to share. 

• Your room is sacred. Your bed, even more so. 

You know you're a hostelite when you are a hostelite. Even though we crib, at the end of the day it's not that bad. 

Update: 5.2.2014 I have a guest post by Amateur at this on what you learn when you relocate to a new city and experience hostel life. It's a fun read on gaining independence and learning new things. Read it here  

X:Xcuses, Xcuses.

X-rated. No this post is not x-rated. But that's the first thing I thought with X. Then I thought of X-mas, and X-factor and XL.  And then X-men. I don't know what to write about with these words. I  also thought of X-ray. Honestly I have nothing to say about these things. So I decided to look up the net. Well, the result was that  I wasn't  inspired by the words I found.

I think I am going to end this post. There is no point. And oh if anyone likes scrabble and wants a list of words starting with X, here's the link


Any suggestions on what I could have written about? 

P.S: I promise I will do better tomorrow. There are only two letters left. Tough ones. Wish me luck. 

W: Wit and wisdom

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

Having knowledge is not enough. Reading and memorising and understanding thousands of books may be  one of  the key to intelligence. But  knowing where and when to use  that knowledge that makes a person  wise. 


What measures intelligence, though? I don't think I.Q tests and other psychological tests can measure intelligence accurately. 

Someone quite wise had once said that the true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination. I don't think that's true . Imagination cannot exist without knowledge.  Ignorance can never fertile ground for an imagination to grow.  I think it's a combination of both knowledge and imagination. What it knowledge if you can't use to well? If you can't create something worthwhile with it?

Wisdom apparently 'often requires control of one's emotional reactions'. I dont know about that as I am not paritcularly wise. Nor do I personally know anyone who  is wise at all times. But people around me do have what  they call 'moments of wisdom'. 

What do they mean when they say someone is wise beyond her years? What has age got to do with wisdom? Probably nothing. Except for the fact that age is supposed to bring with it the wisdom of experience. But sometimes it does not. And sometimes, even the young like us show wisdom; not expected from us. Sometimes that wisdom is discarded. 

One is not born wise. Wisdom is acquired. Likewise it can't be spotted easily. 

Intelligence on the other hand is more easily catagorised and pinned down. Psychologists claim it can be measured. I would rather it was not. Because intelligence is of different kinds. And should not be compared. 


Wit, on the other hand is a different thing altogether  I  admire anyone's ability to say funny yet clever remarks. Here too, knowledge plays a part. A  knowledgeable person will be able to play with words. Will be able to twist them  and use them to his advantage. Will be able to sound more knowledgeable than he is. And that is  a skill worth admiring. To be able to say what you want to and to be appreciated for it is an art. I would treasure it. 


But the person I would treasure the most is the one who has the knowledge and is willing to share  it. That's why teachers deserve all the respect and love they get and more. 

V: V-day

Valentines  Day is SO not my thing. Neither is candlelight  dinners and red roses. I am not into the conventional idea of  romance. I have never celebrated V-day. This year I tried to make other people's v-day special. By selling them chocolate. 

It's not as if I don't like romance. I love it. But I can't follow the herd. I find romance in letters and love-notes  and in books gifted to me by that someone special. Flowers wilt. Chocolates are eaten. One runs out of sweet nothings to whisper.

Knowing what the other person would drool for is romantic. If A would have ever bought me a "cute little teddy" I would accept it graciously but wish he knew me better. 

I find romance in laughing together. In singing stupid songs on the phone. In A coming up with the idea of giving adjectives for each other with all the letters of the alphabet. In listening to each other's crazy ideas. In accepting that A will rarely stay up late and chat. 

When I think of romance I think of poetry and beaches and the full moon. Or a lighthouse. Or looking at train schedules. Or  sudden 'boos' and mid day hellos on whatsapp. 

I am not the most romantic girl you come across. I don't like cheesy lines. I am not impressed by expensive gifts and meaning-less words. I enjoy watching all that in rom-coms. It looks good on screen. But what I want is different.  What my guy does for me should be done just for me and not because other guys do it for their partners. I am just lucky I have that kind of guy. I don't need Valentines day to celebrate romance. 

P.S: This post is dedicated to A as he came up with the idea for it. He is after all my idea-man. 

U: 100 words: Ultimate power

Ultimately she would have her way. He would be hers. He did not love her. But he would. Sooner or later. She had her charms. No man, had ever been able to resist her. And she knew that.

She wanted him. She knew he didn't love her. She wasn't sure if she did. But she was definitely attracted. No man had ignored her before. This man had dared to. Had the power to. She would strip him off this power.

He would fall hopelessly in love with her. And then, she would leave. Shredding his heart into pieces. Like always.

T:Today there is a change...

Today I ran down the stairs. I was not as fast as other people are but I did. It felt good.  I am going to run  down again  tomorrow. And the day after. And after that. 

It’s an everyday thing . Running down stairs. But I can’t. It’s not as if I have faulty limbs. Some of you know this already. I am scared of running down stairs. It’s a phobia. I am not exaggerating.  Whenever I have to run down stairs I get nervous and really scared. An uneasiness sets in.I can’t explain it. My feet refuse to listen to me. I just can’t run down. If I am in a hurry I hop. I never run. I have tried, before. And failed. I always end up hopping.

But today, I tried. And succeeded. Because I finally decided that I want to get over my phobia. Today I wanted to do something unexpected.  Actually, it’s not just about today. I want to stop doing what is expected. I don’t remember when I started doing that. I was never the sort to care about what others thought of me.  But now I do. I need to stop caring about people’s opinions once again. What others think of me is none of my business.

“The best of us must sometimes eat our words” Albus Dumbledore had once said. I am not the best but I think I have to eat my words. Which is okay. Who said that I can’t change my opinions? Who said I have to remain the same? I was scared of changing. Scared of eating my words. Because I had gotten scared of being judged. No more.

I want to run down stairs without feeling scared. Anyway, I  bang myself here and there ; every now and then and  trip over stuff on a regular basis. Why am I scared of falling then? What’s the utmost that will happen? I will fall and hurt myself and get a bruise or two. 

 I don’t want to be scared anymore. That’s  why I will run down the stairs everyday. And increase my speed, gradually. Until I can run as fast as everyone else can.

S: Spas and smells

Spas smell weird. I entered one near our hostel in the first month of shifting to Mumbai. A friend wanted to check it out. I could not stand inside, even for a minute.  I came out. I have an aversion to strong smells. Colognes that are too strong give me headaches and I can't enter a room that has been sprayed with perfume. I even had this phase when I felt like sneezing whenever I smelt something too strong. And spas are a mix of too many strong smells

And then I am not too much of a fan of massages either. I don't like  head massages and  I am not too sure if I am a fan of body massages. I know I don't like weird oily stuff on my body.   A spa is certainly not the place for me.

Talking of smells, I love the smell of coffee. It gives me such a high. It's not as good as actually drinking coffee but they say one is not supposed to drink so much coffee. So I make do with smelling it. 

Another smell I love is of the gandharaaj flower. I don't know what that flower is called in English. But it smells lovely. There was one tree, in the lane of our old house. When we shifted to our new place, that was one of the 1st things I missed. 

Old books smell great and so do babies. Ac rooms smell good. But I can't stay in them for long coz I feel cold. 

I don't like the way banana smells. Or the smell of ciggies in a closed room. Or oils. I don't like how coconut oil smells. Probably one of the reasons I hate oiling my hair. 

Smells are an interesting subject to explore. It's fascinating that certain smells uplift our mood and certain smells repel us. What a meal smells like affects its taste too. That's why it's important for food to smell good. And that's why people with a cold ( and a blocked nose) do not feel like eating. 

People say smelling lavender is beneficial. I bought  lavender incense sticks, recently. One of the weirdest things I have done on a whim. Specially because I used to be allergic to them. And yes, they do smell good. Don't know about the beneficial part. 

Since spas were created to provide us with a relaxing environment  spa owners should come up with customised options. Give me a spa which has my favourite smells. Without the massage and dim lighting part. Add in  a few books and play my favourite musicians on repeat and you've made my day.  

R: Randomly talking

Random Oneliner # 4: I hate being so dependent on facebook. I need facebook. To share and re-share cool articles and pictures promoting feminism. To keep in touch with my group. And most importantly to share links of my new blog posts. I hate needing facebook so much.  And I hate the fact that I love using it. And that I miss it when I don't log in.

Facebook is a habit I want to grow out of. Or maybe not. 

P. S - My Oneliners are never one liners and that's why I cannot tweet. 

Q : Queer turn of events

Queer. Interesting. Unpredictable. Memorable. Fun. 

Those are the adjectives I would use for today. We celebrated Traditional day at Sophia Polytechnic, today. We were therefore supposed to dress up in traditional wear. Most of us really made an effort to dress up. After giving a stupid test in the morning, we all hung around; some of us clicking pictures, some of us roaming around. At 1, the whole polytechnic assembled at the basketball court( or should I call it the temporary dance floor?) And danced like crazy. It was so much fun! At three, 5 of us left to watch Barfi. A lovely movie, no doubt.

But here comes the queer part. As soon as the movie got over, it started raining. Cats and dogs and bulls and cows. There was no way we could step out of the mall without being drenched. Three of us are  hostel-ites and  have a curfew and  had to reach our hostel soon. So we braved the rain and set out. And got drenched immediately  Now we had to look for a cab. Four- five cabbies refused us before one guy agreed to take us to our destination. 

We had a lot of traffic. And then the cabbie decided to drop us half way because the place was flooded. So we waded through water; not knowing where the footpath is; almost tripping. Holding hands, we walked through muck. Wondering whether to giggle or whine. Thank God, we reached our hostel in time. 

We rushed to the common room, kept dinner for ourselves and went for a shower. And now here I am. In the common room. Blogging. Surfing the net. Craving for a hot mug of coffee. 

Yes, It has been a day to remember. The day we dressed up, danced and got drenched. 

P: Preserve your memories

People have forgotten how to take photographs. Its now about how good a picture looks and is it upload-able on facebook. Its now about posing and giving the perfect smile and wondering if you are looking good. Its now about getting a great angle and sufficient light and the right background.

It was supposed to be about capturing memories. About giggling and everyone coming together for the "kodak moment".

O: Oh my hair!

Once you decide you need a haircut, you just can;t wait. It always happens with me. Yesterday I decided I need a haircut and went to the parlour near my hostel to ask the rates. Her rates seemed fine to me and I decided not to wait till going back home, to get one. I would have got it done right then, had I been carrying enough money. I asked her if she was open on Saturdays and she said she was.  So today I decided that I will go out at five and get a nice new haircut. After more than 8 months, I must add here. At  5.!5 I left the hostel and in 5 minutes I was there. Guess what? It was closed. Disappointed, I came back. I am feeling restless now. I want a haircut.

As I said, now that I have decided that I need a haircut I can see loads of problems in my hair. Suddenly I can see split ends which I didn't bother caring about all this while. I suddenly do not like the shape of my hair anymore. I just need to get my hair cut. Soon. Tomorrow. It's been ages now. 

I have never really experimented with my hairstyle, since I took the reigns of how to get my hair cut in my hands. In std 10, I decided to chop off my waist length hair and get a cool new style. The hairdresser called it "steps" and it really suited my curly locks. 

A few years later, another hairdresser suggested I try layers instead of my steps. So she gave my hair layers. Which looked good too. And the next time she gave me a combination of steps and layers. To be honest, it did not look that different to me. 

Last year in January I got my hair cut really short. The shortest I have had in a long, long time. It was a sort of  bob cut designed for curly hair. It looked cute. I didn't have my "soft curls" for about a month. Then my hair grew and my curls came back. 

I think I want to the "long hair" look again. But my hair still needs shape and so I still need to get it cut. 

Most of us get hysterical when given the wrong cut. That's why we don't experiment much with our hairdresser. I had changed my hairdresser once and she messed it up. Even though I explained to her thrice, what I want. 

I think I have second thoughts about getting my hair cut here, in Mumbai. But I just can't wait another month. I really, really want it cut. Fingers crossed,  the person at the parlour  does it well. But then, why even take the risk. I might as well as wait and ignore the nagging feeling that my hair looks unshapely. I don't know. I am confused. It's my hair, after all. I want it to look good. And nothing can save a bad haircut. 

I love my curls. I love the colour of my hair. I do love my hair. And if I get a haircut, it should be good. Otherwise, all hair may break loose. 

N: Not the same

Now a comment about the male species. They may not come from mars but  that does not make them easy to figure out. This is not an extensive research as guy behavior is not something I have been dwelling on. With only a measly few years of experience I came up with some observations about guys in general. Remember that this is a generalization. No way am I saying that all guys are the same. But they have a few key quirks which are common.

Guys like explaining things. They explain the smallest of things in great detail, specially if it concerns them directly.  They also assume that you know nothing about the subject. For example;  most guys assume that girls don’t know much about gaming. Another thing they love to explain is sports. Any sport. And they go on and on. Infact they are know it alls. They just like to explain. Even if they know nothing about the subject they pretend like they know. It is both amusing and frustrating.

Also, once they are depressed they go on being depressed. Maybe because they don’t believe in eating chocolate. Or dancing alone in a room to their favourite music.

Guys  do think a lot. They think about everything else except feelings and emotions. And when they do think about an emotion they just don’t know what they are thinking.

Their egos are easily bruised.  These bruised egos hurt as much as physical pain does. I do not understand why.

I think most of them sometimes get scared of the woman they know. Even the grown adult ones. Woman seem to intimidate them. Maybe coz they don’t understand us.

Getting over a broken relationship  they were intimately involved is difficult for them because they do not talk about their feelings with anyone. Guys in relationships sometimes talk about what is troubling them; with their partners. But, that too is rare. They don't want to to think about it more than they have to. I think it's  a defense mechanism. They don't even want to ask for help. It's the ego thing again. The biggest issue they have.  The natural thing we woman do to comfort someone is to ask them what's wrong. Right now I am talking to a friend who is upset and I am asking him why. He refuses to tell me. He is telling me to bunk it but I can't because I am not a guy.They just don't talk.  They just beat around the bush.  I wish they did but that's how they function. 

Guys  just don't want to grow up. For them, the world is still a playground. All the guys I know, once in a while say or do something really kiddish. And it's not once or twice. They just randomly come up with ideas that make them sound like 5 year olds. Two of my friends, do that quite often. 

I don’t even want to talk about the burping and farting and scratching their balls in public. Let’s simply not go there.

The male species is very different from us. But that’s okay, right? We like different. And we will learn to live in harmony. Someday.

M: M n Ms

Maida is here to stay in my life.  I think I must have used thousands of kgs of maida in the last four months. In the bakery, whatever we make requires maida. You just can't escape from it. Actually I should say flour, but we Indians tend to call atta flour. Technically, atta is whole wheat flour and maida is called flour. 

Anyway, maida with sugar; maida with butter; maida with eggs. There is maida in everything we make. It's intriguing how one ingredient can taste so different in different recipes and in different proportions. 

I taste every product I make. Before joining my course I have hardly consumed  maida. I have never really baked cakes, nor do we use that much maida while cooking. Except in pasta.  I love pasta. Making and eating it. 

My mom has been a friend for a long time now. I think it was three years ago, when she had accompanied me to Pune, where I had gone for an interview. Those three days I had her all to myself. After a long, long time. Those three days we bonded over cheese spread sandwiches and murku for breakfast. That's when she became my friend. 

I am glad I am close to her. I am glad I can be myself with her. I am glad she doesn't judge. I am glad that she is so generous. I am glad she is my mom. 

Memory is one of my favourite words. We all have a story to tell because we all have memories. And memories matter. What would you be without your memories. Think about it. And that is why Mneme is my favourite Greek Goddess. The muse of memory. I have named my laptop after her. 

Monsoon is my favourite season. And it has hardly rained in Mumbai; this year. It has hardly rained anywhere ; this year. I miss rains. I miss getting wet in the rain. I know, it sounds weird; but I still love jumping in puddles. 

Moody, is the first thing you will notice about me. Ok, maybe not the first thing. But if you know me well, you will know that I am moody. That I have no control on how fast my moods change. And if you are close to me, you have somehow handled my moods pretty well. My mom, my sister I, AK, A, Kaniti have all dealt with my mood changes with elan. Thanks! 

Mixed bag. That's what this post is. There were so many things starting with M that I wanted to write about and I just could not decide. So I decided to write about  all of them!

L: Lists

Lists and me have a long  history. Very few people are list maniacs. Those who are, inevitably end up being compulsive list makers. I am one of them. I have made lists ever since I remember. Lists of everything under the sun. My favourite books. My favourite smells. My favourite words. The ideal guy. Things I need to buy. Things I want . Things I hate. My list of lists is endless. I even have a list of all the lists I have made.

In class 11, I met AK. Who happens to be another list maker. Imagine my joy when I found that out! Infact we made our ideal guy list together. We made quite a few lists together. 

Last year, I reconnected with S (also known as Amateur at this.) She too is a list maker. There are very few list makers in the world and when one finds the other, an eternal bond is forged. 

Whenever I am confused about the oh-too-many-things at hand, I make a list. And feel better. Suddenly the world seems more organised and less like a mass of confusing here and theres. 

We list makers have lists tucked in everywhere. I sometimes make a list of things I want to say to a person, lest I forget. 

I was over the moon when I found Confessions of a list maniac in the library. Even though it's written for young adults, I loved reading it. Just because it was about a compulsive list maker. The numerous lists the protagonist writes made it such a fun read. The author herself confesses that she absolutely adores making lists. 

I am not organised, otherwise. List making is more than being "organised". It's fun. It's comforting. And one of my favourite things to do. 

K: K...not Kiran!

Kashmir. Raipur. Russia. Ahmadabad. Denmark. 

My roomie and I  were playing connections the other day. And yes, it was fun. It had been ages since I have played any game. Or turned to any sort of entertainment that does not need me to switch on my laptop. 

I used to love playing such games. Still do. We played a lot of board games and card games at home; as a family. Rack-O, Monopoly, Uno are some of our favourites. 

Then there is the memory game. Even though I am absent minded, I am pretty good at memorising consequent words. Wonder why I can't mug up boring notes! 

We have forgotten the value of such games. I don't want to sound preachy, but these games do help in bonding. I know I am close to my parents because they made it a point to spend time with their children. They made sure we spend quality time together. Some evenings we sat together in the living room and three of us- my mom, my sister and me sang songs; while my dad sat back and enjoyed the songs. On some days we just chatted about our day. 

On Sundays, we all read newspaper supplements after breakfast. We subscribe to 4 dailies so there are a good number of supplements. My dad is big on telling jokes. My sister and I know most of them so we take turns in delivering the punchline. He calls us his shahgirds. This word is sort of untranslatable but loosely translated it means that we are his disciples. His able students. And we will carry forward his legacy of making people laugh. 

I dont' tell much jokes here. Probably it's a father- daughter thing. Like singing countless songs is a mother- daughter thing. 

My parents have given us a lot of freedom. Both of us can voice or views, debate, argue, discuss. We have talked about so many things with mom and dad. Intelligent discussions. And learnt a lot. Such openness has broadened our horizons. 

We should all take time out from our laptops and smartphones, from our TV and our social networking, from gossiping and cribbing; to spend time with our loved ones. To talk, to play, to bond. 

J: So J

Jealousy is  an inevitable sentiment in any relationship. It’s funny when your friends get jealous if they see you close to other people. It’s cute when your boyfriend is jealous when you talk too much about this cool guy who happens to be a friend. But when jealousy turns into possessiveness, it’s time to see red.

There is a very thin line between being possessive and being jealous. Many a times,  it is not apparent that  the line has been crossed. Possessiveness sometimes translates to having the desire to control the other person’s action and the need to dominate. Often it is the result of deep-rooted chauvinism .

Possessiveness is something I cannot tolerate.  No one can control my actions, no matter how much he or she loves me. Possessiveness is not a sign of love. It’s a sign of a desire to own someone. In a romantic relationship, one partner may show a desire to decide what their partner wears, a desire to know where their partner is going, who he or she is meeting; there is a need to know what their partner is doing at every minute. In extreme cases, there is a desire to dictate what one’s partner should do; all the time.

In many cases both partners are possessive. In most cases(here I am citing straight relationships) the male is possessive about his partner. His partner may not have male associates, friends; his partner may not decide what to wear or where to go on her own. In such cases of extreme possessiveness violence is also involved. Obviously, such relationships are unhealthy.

In cases of parent-child relationships if parents are too possessive of their children; it will hinder their personal growth as an individual. After a certain age it is necessary for children to learn to make their own decisions. If they are not allowed to do so,  it will lead to clingyness and unhealthy dependency. Such dependency will again deter the person from being able to move on and learn to live if and when their parents expire.  Such people fail to have normal relationships with other people. They also may need counseling or psychological help.

Jealousy on the other hand, does not do much harm. Unless ofcourse it’s envy. The green eyed monster. Though envy is a synonym of jealousy, it is a more intense emotion. Envy. So many things have been written about envy. So many poems and plays are based on this emotion. Woman are said to have mastered the art of being envious. A very stereotypical view, I must add. It’s a lot of things. Resent. Spite. Even hatred. Jealousy seems, less complicated, less harmful. 

Semantics define jealousy as the base emotion which may give birth to possessiveness and envy. Its like a river with two distributaries.

It's fascinating that one emotion can imply so many different things.  They have different undertones at different times they are used. Emotions are complicated, ain't they? And language is an amazing thing. 

I: It is not that tough

It’s the weekend and I have a lot to do.  Journals to complete, pending work to be done. And I am feeling lazy about it all. Such a long week and such a short weekend.

In the hostel we can’t fully enjoy the luxury of not having to wake up early for class. If we don’t want to be cribbing of hunger, we need to wake up and keep breakfast for ourselves. What I usually do is, get up at 8; keep breakfast; brush my teeth and then sleep for another hour or so. It’s luxury, interrupted.

My roommate Tallu is up early on a Saturday, for the first time. She has to go to her piano class; which was rescheduled. It was my duty to wake her up at eight. I attempted. Let’s just say that her bed loves her too much; it doesn’t want to let go.

I am sitting on my bed; trying to decide what time I should start working. To post this I will have to go to the common room and connect a wire to my laptop; only then will I get access to the net. My bottle of water is empty. I will get up soon to fill it; again in the common room. And now I have finished my breakfast and I have to wash my plate.  I have to go to the common room. It’s inevitable.

Even though we crib about it, it’s convenient. The hostel, that is. No travelling, three meals a day. And compared to the other accommodation  options it’s pretty reasonable.  I can live with that. It has been four months, already. Next month we have exams. When I gave my C.U finals in April I had assumed that those were the last exams I was going to give, ever. Look at me now, giving exams again. Life can’t be predicted, can it?

In April next year, I will be leaving for home again. It seems a long way off now, but it isn’t really. Before I will know it, it will be April. I wonder who  I will miss. I wonder WHAT I will miss.

It’s almost the end of the year too. One more week of September and then October. The festive season. If I was in Calcutta, I would have been gearing up for Puja. My friends would have been telling me what new clothes they have bought. Lanes would have been partially blocked as labourers constructed elaborate pandals. Right after Durga Puja, Diwali arrives. This year, both are late.

It’s not yet the end of the year and I am reflecting on how 2012 flew by. April 2012 and September 2012 don’t seem like months apart, they seem like years apart. Was it this year that I gave my exams? Was  it only this year that I graduated? It seems like long ago. August seems long ago while December seems so close by. Why is that?

I have decided not to worry about the future anymore. It’s not worth it. Late realisation, I know. But better late than never, they say. One day at a time. I will keep reminding that to myself.  Taking this challenge helps. One letter at a time and I will get there. I know I will.  

H: How, just how...

How does one know what is worth writing and what is not? How do I know what my words will turn out to be when I finish spewing them? How will I know if all is this is nothing? I won't. Until I write it. When I start writing something I don't know how it will turn out to be.

"Writers spend years rearranging 26 letters of the alphabet," novelist Richard Price had once said. I think that's a fascinating concept. What is writing but the rearranging of alphabets and words; playing around with them; till they start to sound as if they fit together.

 Author Jerry Pinto came to our college today to talk about his new book. This is his first novel and the first story he wanted to tell. And he had written 26 drafts for it. I just manage to write one draft and I feel drained. I feel as if I have no other way of telling the story.


There is so much I need to learn about the craft of telling a story. They say everyone should know their customer. I don't think I know who my reader will be. I always thought I write best when I write for myself. But I need readers too. Is it a mix of writing for myself and also knowing what kind of readers will read me? Food for thought for me, now.

How does one know what works and what does not? Do I just keep writing and leave the figuring out for later?

I have so many questions now. And I am not afraid to say that don't have the answer. Yet.

G:Girly and gay

Girly seems like an alien word to me. Not that I am not feminine. But whenever I hear the word girly I feel as if I am not matching up to the image.

Who decides what is girly and what is not anyway? And why do I have to to follow the stereotypical image of girls that everyone has. Why do others get to decide how feminine I have to be? I get to decide that. Decisions about my body ; how I want it to look and what I want to do with it are mine and mine alone.

I don’t like stereotypes. I absolutely hate it when people judge anyone on the basis of stereotypes. Stereotypes about gender can cause unequal and unfair treatment because of a person’s gender.

Society has certain expectations about how we should act as men and woman. Gender is supposed to be neatly divided into two categories. If you are a man you do this; if you are a woman you do this. 

Guys don't ask for directions. They cant cook. They are messy. Girls need help picking up stuff. They like flowers and cheesy gestures.

Our cultures teach women and men to be the opposite of each other in many ways. The truth is that we are more alike than different.

The problem with gender stereotypes is that they are so deep-rooted  in us that we don’t even realise it.  We fall in the trap as soon as a baby is born. It’s as simple as buying a pink jumpsuit for a new born girl and a blue one for a boy. It’s as early as a  nurse announcing “it’s a girl” or “it’s a boy” instead of just saying “it’s a healthy baby.”

Even though it's not  easy to change that mindset, there is no harm in trying.  The few of us who do not believe in gender stereotypes should set examples. Respect people, regardless of their gender, gender roles and gender identities. Point out gender stereotypes when you spot them. Challenge sexist jokes and remarks.  Break out of the stereotype. Do something not normally expected of your gender. 

No matter who you are, what gender you identify with; you should be able to be yourself without being judged. If I am less "girly" than other woman I should not have to  think about matching up to that image. My appearance, my personality traits,my occupation do not need to follow the standard set by the society for my gender. I should not be afraid of  being happy, the way I am. Regardless of what society thinks I should be.