Men & Women

Today I write about men and women,

About men who think they dictate the world,

And women who think they’re weak,

About women who think that husbands are gods,

Women who think they’re meek.

I write about men, who love her body more than her soul,

I write about women, who carry their hearts as if it has a hole,

Women who keep it all within their heart, and carry the burden around,

And when he sleeps they tiptoe so that they don’t make a sound.

The men who hit and fight and hurl abusive worlds galore,

But the woman decides her destiny is nothing but more.

The woman is weak I feel,

When she sits at home by the fireplace,

She cries her heart away,           

He comes and a smile she fakes.

She cooks and feeds and washes and weeps,

But then joins him in his bed,

She satisfies him again once more and the smile is still there.

She wakes up and she’s spoken to,

As if she was a curse,

But she smiles that they were words,

They could have been worse.

Her life passes and one day she’s lying in her grave,

Her man talks about their love in a manner so charming and suave.

Oh, this woman is the weak one,

The one that is silent and calm,

She should actually be like a flaming forest!

Like a loud fire alarm!

The one that screams and shouts in pain,

The one that hits back and fights,

The one that feels her being in the world

Is more than just a kite.

A kite whose string is in the hands of a man,

Who thinks he’s full of strength and might.

She should be a woman of class,

A woman who knows how to vent,

A woman who can walk upright,

She need not slouch and bend.

A woman that leads that walks side by side of the man,

The woman who doesn’t dominate but feels like a part of the human clan,

She doesn’t need protection if there’s nobody to hurt,

All she needs is a place where she doesn’t feel like dirt.

Where she isn’t looked at, as a vagina that talks,

She wants to be seen as a woman,

Who thinks and dreams and walks.

Don’t be the weak woman, who is tired weeping and pale

Be the passionate loving dynamite who can position her own sail.

Because there are men in this world,

Who are actually so kind, those deserve a strong woman,

The one that that has her own mind,

They want her to walk besides them,

Not a step behind,

Because men and women is what comprises of mankind.

Graduate

Graduation.Gottalovethis.Gottawriteaboutthis.

Lets quote:

“I don’t know if I will have the time to write any more letters, because I might be too busy trying to participate. So, if this does end up being the last letter, I just want you to know that I was in a bad place before I started high school, and you helped me. Even if you didn’t know what I was talking about, or know someone who’s gone through it, you made me not feel alone. Because I know there are people who say all these things don’t happen. And there are people who forget what it’s like to be sixteen when they turn seventeen. I know these will all be stories some day, and our pictures will become old photographs. We all become somebody’s mom or dad. But right now, these moments are not stories. This is happening. I am here, and I am looking at her. And she is so beautiful. I can see it. This one moment when you know you’re not a sad story. You are alive. And you stand up and see the lights on the buildings and everything that makes you wonder. And you’re listening to that song, and that drive with the people who you love most in this world. And in this moment, I swear, we are infinite."

― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

GRADUATION. 3+10+2+3 YEARS. 

Yes, It was a big day. It was big not because of the beautiful black robes and hats. 

It wasn't big because of the certificate or the trophies.

 It wasn't big because we were done with college. 

It was big because it was a day that connected the history and the future.

The past and the coming is what made it so worthwhile.

It was the people we met, the lessons we learnt.

It was more about the exams we failed than the exams we excelled.

It was more about the Projects we did that make us proud of ourselves.

It is about looking through pictures and memories and seeing how we've grown up.

We see a change today. Something that brightened the sparkle in our eyes.

It was the entire process. It was about scraped knees, falling off the bicycles and crying in school because we missed our mothers. It was about the Alphabet which changed into words and then into sentences. About sentences that taught us how to be meaningful. About syllables and words and speech and conversations and about art science geography and history. 

Its about the people who loved us. Its about people who hated us too. 

Its about best-friends made and lost and friends here and forgotten.

These years taught us about people and subjects and love and life. Its from zero to fifty. 

About petty crushes and Boyfriends that probably made us realize that Love is anything but mediocre.

About respect and inspiration.

It was about Projects. The ones we did heartlessly and the ones that actually made a change. 

Its not just an academic degree.

 It feels like a degree of change. To tell us that we've gotten somewhere and maybe we don't know where we're going, but we're on the way. 

Yes, This day is the Goddamn TIME CAPSULE. Its here, its beckoning, its moving swiftly past the seconds. Its taking us through the memories into the future. It is nauseating yet so pleasurable. 

And then there is the future that it connects us to.

The future is what brings fear. Uncertainty is so exciting. 

Uncertainty is what teaches me faith. The faith that its all going to be fine. 

There shall be days that will be hard but they will pass. 

There will be days that will be extraordinarily brilliant but those will pass too.

Faith is but a beautiful thing! 

One moment you're at a peak of a mountain and you decide to take a plunge because you know that the parachute will open once the free fall is over and it will take you too the plains, the sea or wherever you want to be.

This day needs us to have faith in our future in our tomorrow.

This moment is big because of its transition. Because its that moment where things will change and Change is beautiful! 

Graduation - Batch of 2013

Thirteeen.

Like I said, I'm going to use my blog to ramble, mumble and stumble sometimes. This is one of those.
No Thirteen does not mean Im a teenager and NO! I am not even one of those number thirteen evil fanatics. 

This should actually be a new year thing but this is now a fall to fall thing. 
I CANNNOT function without lists. Also, making a list and not completing it hurts my ego.So here, I upload this list on my blog and let it out to the world so everyone of you has the right to beat me up, judge me, call me a tree(because they just stand in one place and chill), call me a donkey, call me an infested minded frog,Whatever.Point being come home, and leave me a personal hate letter but I NEED TO FINISH THIS LIST IN THE NEXT 365 DAYS.
I need to get out of bed and shake the laziness out, I need to stop scurrying in and out of restaurants, I need to stop my favorite afternoon siestas and get my lazy but working.

• DRIVE CHILD DRIVE! Stop being terrified of trucks. Be terrified of Sharks, I know you are but Take the bloody U-Turn. You're bloody 20 years old.DRAAAAAAIVE.
• Complete that stupid Web-Designing Course you started! You need that certificate to make your CV Flowery.Stern remember? 
• Learn to Dance. If you want to go to Amreeka you need to atleast know how to move that stiff body, a little? You can't be going around telling people "I sing."with a big wide grin.Get that idiotic smile of your face and MOVE. Let go of the inhibitions. Make the 2 left feet move. Stop fantasizing and making your mind goddess happy by belly-dancing in your dreams. You do not burn calories in your dreams. 
• Get rid of the Paunch. NO, you're not being hard on yourself. You love meditating and yoga and all. But DO IT. Go for a run pleaaaase? Your best friend is losing weight now. BE INSPIRED, CUT THE POTATO OUT. 
• SING. You've stopped singing. You need to stop finding the stage. Sing for yourself at home.Upload videos on youtube.Its not crass. It needs guts which you lack.
• Learn to cook a Gujarati Meal. The father wants it and you're going to want it one day too. Learn to make Daal Bhaat Rotli Shaak. Necessity my child. Aglio-olio, Gnochhi, Risotto, Pad-Thai and cakes get boring in a while.
• Last but not the least PLEASE learn to swim. Its sad that you're lazing in one corner of the pool when everyone's swimming and playing volleyball. You need to stop taking piggy-backs from the boy in the deep. There are NO SHARKS in the pool.Also there are LIFEGUARDS. 

Im not in my right mind when Im writing this. Im being hard on myself. Very hard. pmsy also actually. But if this is growing up - BRING-IT-ON.

Sapiosexuality

Definition of sapiosexuality :. 1. (n.) A behavior of becoming attracted to or aroused by intelligence and its use.

"I do not care what car you drive where you live.
If you know someone who knows someone who knows someone.
If your clothes are this years cutting edge.
If your trust fund is unlimited.
If your an A-list B-list never heard of you list.
I only care about the words that flutter from your mind.
They are the only thing that you own.
The only thing that I will remember you by.
I will not fall in love with your bones and your skin.
I will not fall in love with the places you've been.
I will not fall in love with anything but the words that flutter from your extraordinary mind."
- Anonymous

As a teenager whenever I was asked what my knight in shining armor would be, I always wondered. I didn't know what type I liked. Rather, I couldn't put it in words. I didn't like the typical footballer; cocky; green-eyed boy. I knew I was more than that. I didn't like the boy who came to school in fancy cars either. I mean I did, but not because he came in fancy cars. I did not like the cuss word type, with the piercing either. I once liked the druggy type with a goatee, but that was because of his extraordinary verbal usage and guitar playing ability.
Basically, I often liked the typical boys but for the weirdest reasons. 
I liked Boys I could have a real conversation with. Someone who I could be real with. Someone who had the mental capacity to look beneath the layers and decipher the kind of a person I was. Someone who could understand why I prefer Love Stories to War movies in an unconventional manner and someone who I wouldn't be embarrassed to discuss the Female Reproductive System with (Trust me, It was a BIG DEAL then : The P word was as bad as the F word.) That was then.

Today I know I'm a SAPIOSEXUAL. Obviously It isn't  a big deal to discuss the Female Reproductive System anymore and my standards are higher.
Sapiosexuality is the behavior of being attracted to intelligent (& HOT) men and the way they use their so called "Intelligence." Trust me, There is a minuscule population in the shallow sea so you have to go fishing in the deep. That statement obviously increases my haters but then again those who's egos I hurt don't matter.

Point is , If you're are a woman who is high on EQ and with self esteem you deserve somebody 
who 
READS BOOKS, Doesn't just listen to Music but understands its nuances, who can write to save his life and who can argue but not fight. Somebody who is sensitive yet SENSATIONAL. 
A man who isn't vain in his greek beauty.Somebody who doesn't act hard to get but IS HARD TO GET. Somebody who has an open mind and can come to terms with the weirdest thoughts of your deep dark mind. Someone who can critically appreciate and appreciatively criticize. Someone who doesn't wear nerd glasses and braces to act intelligent but can carry his intelligence with a swag B). Someone who uses www.google.com like his dictionary.Someone who is constantly in search of knowledge.Someone who speaks eloquently and maybe plays an instrument. If he doesn't play an instrument he could at least create something that is HIS. It could be a computer code or a painting or an origami work ; Something that is produced out of his mind. Somebody who might not ace the class and have good grades but somebody who can actually put that knowledge to use. Somebody who can Love with a combination of his brain and heart. Somebody who wouldn't want to leave you because he loves your mind and not your body. 

This is when love can last a life-time because trust me, you need to have conversations when you're 90 and your back is broken.

This isn't a checklist. Making checklists to fall in love is mean. It is just a small little paragraph on what it takes to love ; because true love maybe blind but not brain-dead.
People say eternal love does not exist ; how would it if the spark of lust goes away?
That is why there should always be a brainwave along with the little spark of lust to keep it going. 
Great conversation is a long-term satisfier ; Sex wears away.

The Stage

This thought stemmed when I was watching a typical Bollywood Award function ten minutes before I started writing. For the record, I love Bollywood, I am a typical filmy Indian girl, Just gotten out of my teenage. I criticize the movies once in a while and act all cool but deep down I breathe,eat and thrive on Bollywood. Mindless comedies make me giggle, Ranbir Kapoor makes me go red, Old songs make me cheesy and Yash Chopra movies mesmerize me. I love the Kapoors and the Roshan and I loathe the certain Mr.SRK. I think dancing around trees in white sarees is sexy and yes, Sarees are sexy. Showing less is more and more is less. Love, Sex aur Dhoka darlin' is a part of the deal and nothing in this world beats a cheesy Karan Johar MostlyROMTryingtobeaCOM.

Yes, I went offtrack. I was talking about the stage.
I remember a quote- the usual,popular,over-used quote by THE William Shakespeare "All the world's a Stage."
It is, it actually is. Because you feel alive and kicking and you feel like yourself when you're living and you switch from one role to another; you cry and shout and love and kiss, there is passion and anger and glee and you try to justify every role you play, but somewhere down the line we forget to take it all in, the happy and the sad and get stuck in the rut and that is why there is A STAGE.


THE STAGE; THE ACTUAL STAGE. The Auditorium, The Wooden Dancefloor Stage, The Echoing Musical Stage, The Theater, The Broadway Stage, The Theater in the Round. It could also be a Canvas, A paper, A book, A stone or a cloth.
These little Magical areas of the world are one of the reasons I look forward to life. These surfaces are what makes me bear with the rut. I have been on stage an average of 10-14 times a year, and those are the moments when I FEEL ALIVE.
I wonder why people fear the stage. Everyone Fears the stage, but fear is always of the unknown and that is why you have to start seeing the stage as a familiar known friend.
The first 10 seconds, you are a jittery-tongue-tied ball of a gazillion emotions but once those 10 seconds pass you are a Space-Ship that takes you to a world far away.

When I went for my first singing performance I was just 9 years old. It was a tiny me, on a big red stage  and an audience of about 500 people and I was supposed to sing a classical Indian Song based on Raaga Malhar.  I climbed up the 4 stairs and as I stepped onto the red wooden surface I had an electrifying experience. I felt alone and I had goose-bumps. I shivered as I looked at my Guruji and he gave me a reassuring smile. That is when the 9 year old Me, opened my little mouth and there was a voice that was much more from the vocal chords.That's the first time in 9 years when I felt effortlessly happy.

This structure is to feel Alive, not just exist. It is to feel the blood rushing through your veins, The fluster, the excitement, the agitation, the thrill : It makes your heart beat at thrice the speed. This structure is to create something new, to make a legacy, a dream come true. It is to spread your wings and fly in the vast skies of art. It is to tell a story that touches hearts, breaks a few, makes people fall in love and the ones who listen also feel alive. It is to sing with your hearts glee, and dance moving every muscle of your body and say words and sentences that touch souls of people.
Its to display the power of the Human.It is to speak about Emotions and Insecurities and Dramatize the Sapiens. It is to display works of science and literature. It is to rhyme and create meaning from mere alphabets and speak about infinite topics. It is the DNA of Art. It gives Art the energetic spark to create an unstoppable fire. It is to display paintings and sculptures and Great People. It is to give you your 5 Minutes of greatness. To make you believe that you have that spark in you; the sole reason why you exist.

The stage can be personified as the Human Body. It is the Human Body; and the Art is the soul. Without Art, the stage is lifeless just like without soul the body is dust. When the soul is full of passion the body can go to any limit and that is the case with the stage. When the art is from the veins of passionate human blood the stage is set in fire. The lights and the crowds are the mere objects that are attracted to the energy of this wonderful place. And that is why when the body, the soul, the stage and the art come together it is that moment in time when every other person around revels in the energy.




That is THE STAGE.

Music is what emotions sound like

This was a story I had written for my creative writing paper. The story had to connect An object, A stranger and an animal/insect. It started as a vague concept but emerged to become a little story (:

The story is not a based on a true incident but it reflects my childhood .

-----------

I was eight years old. Tiny, pigtailed, frail and bony. One could totally lose me in a crowd. The only thing that one could probably notice in me was my eyes. No, they weren’t exceptionally beautiful or brilliantly colored. They were a normal pair of eyes but they always had a humongous question mark in them.

People thought I was lost and quiet but my mind was very talkative and excited. It was always running and exploring the nooks and crannies of the small little universe I had formed in my head. I wasn’t a curious annoying child who would keep asking her parents 50 questions in a minute, but if my mind could talk it would surely be annoyed by the questions I was asking. Probably, it hated me.

I had lost my grandfather that year. My grandfather was my world at that point of time. He used to take me for ice cream every day after school and we had a secret pact not to let my parents know. He would teach me art and music and he was the one who made me identify the different colors that make the world so beautiful and the different notes that seemed so pleasing to the ear. He had a hidden dream for me to become a musician. However merciless it sounds I felt happy the day he died because I remembered him telling me that when somebody dies they are free and reborn. I was happier about the fact that he was a child again, just like me, somewhere in this world.

That day he died I went walking by the street. I live in a lane at the turning of the market. It is serene, away from the hustle and bustle of the market and has lush green trees. The day was beautiful and I went walking thinking about the beautiful memories I had with my daadu, that’s what I called him. I stopped outside a bungalow.

It was old looking, but huge and absolutely beautiful. It reminded me of fairy tales and it had a charm to it that made me feel like I’d find a treasure house of jewels inside. The curious self that I was, I walked into the bungalow. It had a huge lawn and a verandah. Suddenly I started hearing music. It sounded beautiful to my ear. It went from the sharpest of notes to the mildest of tones and something about it reminded me of a butterflies journey from flower to flower, and suddenly I saw a butterfly. I went closer and saw an old man who looked like my grandfather sitting and moving his fingers over black and white keys on a giant brown wooden box. Yes, I didn’t know that was called a piano. I stood behind a pillar absolutely amazed looking at him create sounds that seemed heavenly. My tiny little fingers itched to touch one of those keys to see how it feels. I felt happy and chirpy to hear his melodies. Suddenly, he stood up and saw me hiding behind the pillar. He called me towards him and I got frightened and ran away home. All day I caught myself humming the tune he was playing. It slowly became a ritual for me to hide behind that pillar but then I started losing my fear and he gave me a candy every time we met but we never spoke. That is how our relationship began. Short and sweet. Everyday I saw the yellow butterfly in his lawn, everyday I heard him play and everyday I was given a fruit candy. Then one day I started humming and singing to his tunes and then we had a relationship of me singing and him playing. He smiled at me acknowledging my voice and I always sang louder and better when he did. We had a relationship far more than the boundaries of words. We had a relationship of music, because I started making a language out of the music he played out of the magical wooden box. Few notes made me smile, while few alarmed me… there were few that reminded me of colors n few that matched the evening so perfectly…but then again there were few that were so low and so serious that they made me sad. I hummed a melody with aah’s and ooh’s and he smiled. Nobody knew that half an hour of my life. A year passed and the first thing he told me in a broken, fragmented yet very clear voice was “Child, your voice has the power of bringing emotions. When you sing no words are required”. I said “Thank you”, took my candy treat and walked away. I never realized what the butterfly meant but I was happy seeing it fly around every day. I felt like how I enjoyed his music, she must be dancing to it too.

Like all stories end, this too ended. I had my final exams for a week and I was caught up with studies. The day it got over I rushed to his bungalow to sing to my hearts glee. This time I saw the butterfly near the gate, as I went in I saw people dressed in black around a casket. I knew he had reached where my grandfather was. Suddenly a millions thoughts started swirling in my small little head. I was wondering who would give me my daily dose of heaven. I realized it was the end of my singing because somehow the only person I could sing my heart out was him. Suddenly the butterfly came and started flying around me like it wants to tell me something. It circled me twice and then started flying away towards the verandah. It flew to the piano and rested there and that’s when I realized it was a sign. A sign that was probably telling me something .Next to it I found a note which said, “To the little girl who made my world so beautiful”.

That’s when everything made perfect sense. My grandfather’s dream of me becoming a singer, a stranger, a piano and heavenly music were all signs showing me that music was probably the right thing for me. Since then the piano has been my best friend and my songs have been my emotions, and I owe it all to my stranger.

                                                                             

Sabbatical

Shame on me! I haven't posted in days! I promised myself that I'd post once a day, then I altered that to once a week, Its been 4 weeks Gee! But Promises are meant to be broken yes?
Point being, It was Summer 2013. Updates on my life (Not that you want to know) are that I am a GRADUAAAAATE. Then I figured I am a GRADUAAAAATE with DISTINCTIONNNN and then finally with a 81.5 percent and all. Nice things happened and I was in my happy space.
Then came house visits! My cute little cousin sisters, Dhwani and Heli, from the Native and then the Uncle type cousin type same aged person, Nick, From the USA. I was culture shocked! Two different extremes of the world! We went to the caves, got a little tipsy, watched the IPL and hooted, went around the city, Shopped, went to the hills!  What a fun week it was!

But, the point of this blog is my REAL Sabbatical, the highlight of summer 13, GOA.
Ah, the sun, the sand, the sea, the salt air and my sexy nude sunglasses ;).
The bag was packed with sundresses, bikinis, shorts and sarongs. A BIG WHITE SUN HAT :') Tons of Sunscreen(That by the way, did not protect my skin! Neutrogena is a big fat lie! ) And we went!

A dozen of us, 7 Week, Crazy train rides,A Big red jeep, A cozy little hotel with a swimming pool, bright colored clothes, A few tears and a lot of laughter, We sang in the rain as we stood on the jeep, Yelled and screamed on the roads, Lots of wine and lots of Dine, Forts, Beaches, White sands, Yellow sands, Churches, cute little shacks, Long days and longer nights - It rained and got sunny and those moments when it rained and was sunny together were to die for. IT WAS A MUCH NEEDED SABBATICAL.
I'm home now and wondering what I should do next with my life. There is GMAT Prep, and applications and the sixteenth year and so much drama all around but this little sabbatical calmed me down. It took to me closer to myself. It convinced me that I love to party but a little less than how much I love to sit by the beach and stare at the sky. It made me realize that I'm not always hyper and I have those sudden moments of tranquility when I see wonders around me. It made me realize that I'd prefer a watermelon juice to a shot of vodka. Holidays do make you realize the simplicity within you. Suddenly the material joys disappear and something really strong and satisfying triggers from within, it makes you feel happy and content and suddenly the world is such a beautiful place. I had that moment when I stood on the jeep and the wind in my eyes and the rains on my lids. It was perfect. That's what a holiday does to you!