In the ideal world

People who work hard should get their dues. People like me, like the few of my friends who actually work crazy hard should get what they are working for. The world is far too competitive for its own good. It is just so difficult to focus every day of every week of every month. It is difficult to make plans in the evening when the rest are inviting you to go partying, without having to worry about the unfinished multiple choice questions. It is difficult and therefore, I demand to be duly repaid.. With a good college, with a promise that my work will pay off and pay off well enough to keep me happy. Because, if I’m not happy…none of this is worth it.

It is tough to kill my Id and let the Ego and Superego take over, so tough that Freud would have been proud. I wish I could just glance into the future to see what it’s like and make it work like a positive motivation. I wish I had a ginormous brain capacity where I was a prodigy like (I can not think of a name). People say they wouldn’t change a thing about their life. I would. I’d keep the same people but I would definitely make a few changes. A little dab on the unwanted here, a small erase on the unnecessary there.

Sigh. Back to solving MCQs.



Choices have to be paid for

There is a price I have to pay for the choice of my career is that I find it impossibly difficult (and expensive) to go abroad, for education or work which is one and the same thing for me. To go to any country, I’ll have to go and repeat a part of my curriculum which completely negates my work in the home country. Besides, india needs me more, right? Yes, the US has a better life (better being a relative term) and the UK has the best life. And Naples has better food, and Germany has better cars, roads and basically everything is greener on the other side of the border but why should I have to pay for this decision with my heart? Every person I’ve liked, be it my best friend, a fellow I met a few months ago who’s turned out to be one of my closest, my crush or my romantic interest… everyone is going abroad. This leaves me in a very peculiar fix. I can blame this on the stars and call it a typical Piscean trait. I’ve forever been torn between what’s practical and what I want. It has never been both, and I’m using the word never liberally here. Doctor vs creative profession. India vs abroad. Staying at home vs staying away.

I’m tired of losing people in the proximity terms because I choose to stay back. This decision is fairly certain because more than anything, it takes a lot financially and i refuse to pay another country revenue to make me a citizen. The only country I’d go to is Denmark, and I see no way of that happening.

I’m tired of having to choose someone to like based on where they’ll be five years from now. I’m tired of Skype calls and viber. I’m tired of the Internet encroaching on my friendships, and social media replacing heart to hearts, because “OH yes it popped up on my news feed and I liked it.”

I hate a dilemma.

Knowing me..

If you would have known me even a little bit, you wouldn’t have said that I live in a bubble. You wouldn’t have said that I consider this world as MY world. You wouldn’t have said that I think I can never be wrong. You wouldn’t have said I analyse the nitty gritties. You wouldn’t have said that I’m not the person I am because of where I am right now, and you wouldn’t expect me to change (for your better) when I moved out. IF I moved out.  You just wouldn’t have.

Because in my world, as you so pompously said, I always think I have something to learn. I always forgive, and if indeed it was my world, I wouldn’t have had my heart broken by the people I loved and I wouldn’t have waited for those who don’t care; my world should at least follow my rules, don’t you think?

And analysis? I wish I had time to sit and wonder about what you meant when you said something. What I actually do is simple, I take what you said and infer the exact literal meaning, instead of analysing. If you say I irritate the living senses out of your mind, I would infer it as just that.
What you ‘say’ is what you reap. Always. Well, at least that’s what happens in ‘my’ world.

If only you knew me instead of expecting me to change. I am not going to change as a person if I change my place in the world, geographically! That is just so juvenile! It was never supposed to be a liability, being a friend. It was supposed to be light, like whipped vanilla cream, and pretty like tulips?

Knowing me is easy, if only you had tried instead of assuming.

Has it?

Has it ever happened where you start your day off in a medium high note and waste part of it watching crappy reality shows which seem interesting because the alternative is to study and then, when you do drag your bum to the table, open your books and start the tedious process of studying, a certain someone calls or texts you and you have a fight and then the rest of your day goes like it was dropped into a pile of shit?
Wow. That was one long sentence.

Anyway, I had a crap day. I’ve been sleepy throughout and not at all hungry. Days without hunger pangs are always bad days because food makes everything happier. I have an absolute zero number of friends who are as free as I am. Yeah yeah, I have my finals in 20 days and I am supposed to be the busiest but I am…not.

I’ve locked myself in a room now, deactivated facebook (I don’t know how, but that helps, lesser people to deal with, I guess?) and I will study now. My head is splitting with this odd burning sensation and my brain refuses to comply but I will make it. I am it’s master, not the other way round, no?

Wish me luck.

I’m not cool and I like it. I’m not hot either.

I’m awkward where I’m supposed to be cool. I don’t really know my stuff around the most happening pub, neither do I wear the hippest clothes. I don’t gulp down alcohol because it may be free, hell I have enough at home to be a drunk for a week and still be left with surplus. I don’t listen to songs which ask me to first take a selfie. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with instagram. I find twitter boring. I refuse to use hash tags and I would rather watch an art film in my native language than watch a flop Hollywood movie because it has machines in it.

But, I’m one of the first to visit a good website if it uses good words to frame the expressions. I’m the kind with a bookmark in three different books at the same time but read only one at a time. I gauge my men the way I gauge these books. I start several at a time but linger over the one I like and complete it. If I like it a lot, I don’t pick up another book for months, even if that book (chapter; good analogy?) was over. I’m the kind who’d wear high heels for five days a week or sneakers at a party and still be okay with it. I have only recently bought coloured trousers and the colour is teal. Mustard is really not my cuppa, neither is a red. I’m the kind who knows what good coffee tastes like but wouldn’t know jack between a lager and an ale. I like like the occasional nonsensical songs, but my play list has classy numbers. Well, most of them..
I click photographs because I want to. I look at them while sitting huddled under the duvet during the half-time of the world cup going on at Brasil. I don’t want the entire world to know what I ate for lunch and I have repeatedly been reminded to ‘instagram’ the image I took. And, then I oblige, sans any hash tags, of course. I don’t tweet because 140 characters couldn’t possibly be enough! I blog. I scribble. I draw.. I went 12 kilometers away to buy rosemary, thyme and sage leaves for an art work I’m planning!

I’m not cool by a lot of your definitions. I don’t smoke up. I don’t smoke. I can’t accessorise my outfits because I seem to look like a villager when I do, I guess, but people have claimed otherwise. I cut my hair short because I could not bear the heat and, that it was enough with the cliché of long hair on my head.

And you know the best part? Those things really don’t make anyone cool.
You’re cool if you’re cool. If you need beer to make yourself interesting, you have major issues. If you need beer to make me interesting, well, why are we friends again? My snap chat score doesn’t determine how popular I am. Hell, I had a display picture of Ozil and Muller on for three weeks and it got one like, and a slutty picture with my neck showing seductively gets 99? The world has serious issues.
I love my books and shoes and weird out-of-place-ness. I don’t care if I don’t look hot or even if I look ugly to you. If I think I am doing fine, I am freaking pleased and will trot out *toktoktok* in my favourite stilettos.

This is not a shove on those who do these things. I’m just tired of everyone judging themselves by these bars. So many kids feel like they just have to do all these cool things to be cool and hip and accepted and popular.
The world doesn’t really need to know where you are at this moment. Everyone’s seen that heart warming video, shared it too ironically.. bloody well time to practice it?

Ew (read: you)

Correctly said: Ew.
Why can’t you be happy and not make a big deal out of it. You don’t speak to me for days and then after I ask you, you send a ‘hey’ and then call a day after at 12am to ‘talk’. Why? Cause it is your holiday. Oh ho, I forgot.. your holiday means my holiday. Such a happy world it would be. If only…

I stay up till 2, talking to you over the phone, because lets face it- every time I would want to hang up you would try and act cute and not let me. Finally, I sleep at 2.30am after brushing my teeth and straightening my hair. And then, I wake up at 5 am and head straight to college… why? Cause it is NOT a happy world and your holiday is not my holiday and your moods are not synced with mine. Sadly, I am an obstinate, stubborn, headstrong, ass of a person who currently places her academic and personal needs above all else. The primary reason for me to not have many friends or a boyfriend or any major personal relationship or even try to do so, is this. The last year and the following one and half are solely dedicated to initially academics and then, to myself.

I need my peace of mind to be mine. I can not have another person rob me off it just because she or he can do so. I do not give anyone that power, not right now. Having someone hurt or angered because of these decisions of mine irritate me and rob me of that peace of mind because I do not like having someone pissed at me, it unsettles me. So, right now… I’m going to be all zen and not let it get to me. Thus, the writing. Catharsis.

Time to sleep cause we don’t want to stay up too late, do we?


Demons within yourself.

Up until this day, I used to feel that the competition is always ex-situ, motivation comes from wanting to be better than the rest of the world. What I used to think was that the need to be something, to become someone stems from being better than the others. But I was grossly mistaken and couldn’t have been more tangentially off target. I had barely touched the tip of the titanic iceberg and was blissfully ignorant of the amount of tortuous competition I had stored (manufactured?) within myself. Till now, I wasn’t competing with the girl who might topple me over in school or the girl who is prettier than I am. What I realized today was, my battle has always been with the image I have of the future.

I am competitive person. Comparison coming from within drives me to be better. Now, comparison by someone else to someone else will tick me off, however the same notions, if they sprout off my overactive brain, will work in just the opposite manner. Honestly, I don’t give two hoots about my current scenario- what I do, eat, think, read, listen to, wear, write- none of it has any implications on the Me of today. Look at it objectively, nothing you do now will give you anything, other than a few moments of joy and some great photographs. I agree,  these things are essential. (I participate in the mass hysteria called Facebook as well, uploading photographs and letting everyone know what I am up to, in case someone wants to document my life, they could do so by glancing at my page, and this holds true for most of us.) But why do we all do what we do? Frankly, I do it for the future. I’m studying now so that I can be successful later, I eat good food because I don’t want to regret it later, I listen to good songs, ’cause well, everyone likes doing that (!), I read so that I have a good knowledge of books, I wear what I do cause I know everything is leading up to something. What “something”? I do not know. Our entire life is like a build-up to something. Something in the future. And I want to be well dressed (prepared?) for when that happens!

The plus and minus of the future is that it comes one day at a time. So when that ‘something’ actually hapens, you won’t have a clue that it came, stayed and went away and all you were doing was pose for a photograph. Your best moment might have already passed right by you and you were too busy day-dreaming about the future. How’d that be for a bummer?


Anyway, I went way off topic. Competition is what I had started off with. I’m only building a self of today for the self of tomorrow. Everything I am doing right now was initially motivated by a source from outside and I realized that everything that I am or have been doing, has actually been a competition with myself in the future.
I have an image and I am fighting everyday to make sure I reach it. I have been competing, till date, with myself at the age of 35 (or 30, or 40…you get the drift). Does it really matter now if I top my university? I will have a huge ceritifcate proclaiming my past achievement, and yet my clinic might remain empty. On the other hand, I might do well enough now, have fun and work hard and then have a life full of kids and a husband who works, and therefore live the usual (happy?) life or I do what I can right now, top or not- I learn my science- and leave everything up to the way things pan out. Let’s face it, things will pan out whether I want them to or not. What I can do now is make choices, take the decisions which need to be taken and then, as the Beatles said, Let it be, (they knew everything, didn’t they?) all of which would be with a certain image in mind. And, it is this uncertainty of whether we will reach that social standing or economic status, that we all compete against. None of us want an unstable base. No one wants to wobble around after a certain point in life, so we make do with where we have reached, which in turn depends up on what we did earlier, which effectively leads you back to the choices you make right now. See, a cycle it is, vicious or not, is how it all pans out…in future.


We all compete with ourselves from the future, trying endlessly to bridge the gap between what we will be and what we want to be, or even worse, what we could have and what we have become.

Who wins? Muhahahaha.



The skin around the Vag.

I am a regular S.B.S.T.C bus traveller and I shuffle to and fro between two places, twice or more in a week. A lot of people have depended their livelihoods on these buses. 54 people, with a sleepy journey ahead of them are often more liable to purchase newspapers and magazines, amchur and whatnot. There are dozens of children who beg and mothers who cry. The stand is dirty, with a strong stench of urine and is laden with fruit leftovers, cigarette butts, strewn papers and every other kind of waste that the human kind has invented.

Anyway, what irked me enough, out of all of the above, on this fine day is this: an old man, possibly in his 50s, is a regular newspaper peddler in this area. He is the only one who sells all the English dailies, apart from the regular vernaculars. I never read newspapers on the bus (or elsewhere, unless something catches my fancy), call it the smart phone blessing in disguise. I merely know the man by face and his typical shout out to his buyers.
The man sitting behind me, in the bus today, purchased some newspaper. So, the paperwallah rested his huge stash of mewspapers on the seat beside me, which then, was vacant. As a reflex, I read the headlines in some bengali newspaper. He saw my interest and in order to sell me something the question he asked me was ridiculous.
Should I hand over a Femina to you? Or maybe interest you in a Stardust or Filmfare?”

I was infuriated. Moments ago he sold newspapaers to men and asked them if the want magazines like TechTalk or something.

Why? Does my face remind you of the cover of Femina or is it because I’m a girl? Can I also not be interested in the news? Non-gender centric news?”

I don’t blame him for this prejudice. We have created this belief system. Girls are the ones who are conscious of their looks and boys will play sports. Our ancestors have made the difference between the pinks and the blues. What is the old man to do, if majority of his female buyers ask for Beauty Magazines? I am educated, hence I know better. I am not condoning the women who read such magazines, they’re very informative. I, for one, read, Cosmo long ago but that’s a whole other blog-post. What we have to make men like him realise, is that, the world has progressed. A woman who reads a Femina can also be the CEO of a company and shake men to the core. There has to be a balance. There has to be a scale by which the balance will be measured. I felt immensely sad.

What is the skin around the vagina called, you ask me? Why, rest of the body!

The change begins with you being comfortable reading the word Vagina and penis as any other ordinary word..


Misandry, much?

The West Wind.

Everyone I know is shifting to the Western world. West of where I live, West of the hemisphere. Everything is going west and I think it all began with the Tatas shifting to Gujarat from West Bengal! Everyone is moving either to the west of the nation, or to the ‘western’ world, and by that I mean The Posh (forgive my sterotyping) Nations; USA, UK, the shizz. I want to move as well, to a land with more work and less talk. Till the time my life moves ahead of the under graduate level, I will not be able to take any personal decisions. Decisions which girls my age take with ease; I like him, let’s date him OR Wow, I want to go out and I will because I don’t have any parental supervision. Haha, kidding. But what I wanted to clarify is that, till life makes a decision for me and shows me the city that I will be in, after the graduation from the current college, my life is staccato.

I have met some wonderful, truly knowledgable and, how should I put it?, magnetic people through my blog. I have even had the pleasure of meeting a few of them and it is beautiful, what similar minds can do when they are put together. I long to find that similarity with a mind, in a place where it is not a hassle to meet him/her, where meeting someone would no longer raise eyebrows, is something I yearn for. They say, ‘two more years, Zeph and then you can meet the people you want to…’, but I have been listening to that ruse ever since I was in school. Get done with school, and then you can live the way you want, of course, there will be supervision but there will be more permission. Ge done with college and then during your Masters, I’m sure you’ll be better off. It is not the sitting and yapping with friends that I like, it is the birth of ideas with like-minded people who drive me towards conversations. And conversations only happen when one can make time.

Right now, I will curl up under a blanket and read Kafka on the Shore, by Murakami and drift into a world of make-belief and feel as if I am inside a cocoon. while I’m inside the book, I feel ensconced and happy, every time I shut the book for the day and glance to my side or look around, I see the city, the beautiful city and beg for it to let me go. I beg for it to let me go West and to not let my mind go to waste. I am academically proficient, but I want to be holistic. And for that, I need time and freedom and space. And I need it to make sure the other, more creative lobes, of the cerebral hemisphere remain active, and hope that they do not atrophy.

Here’s to one more night of reading, one less night in the city, one more dawn and another day.

Being an intellectual creates a lot of questions and no answers.
-Janis Joplin


It is hard to let go.

Which sex would you choose?

To talk to about your feelings?
To talk about lizards?
To talk about China?
To discuss your boyfriend?

WHO would be your choice, and I am asking this as a girl to other girls. (boys could answer just for fun) Would you call a girlfriend or choose a boy over the so-called fairer sex (although I couldn’t agree less with this ‘name’)? I would choose my best friend, who is a girl. Then, I would choose someone who’s next to my bestie, and she too is, well, a she. And then, I’d look at a guy to discuss some other things.

I’ve been told that guys ae easier to talk to, less of a hassle and more straightforward, with lesser ego issues. So, maybe that is why most girls end up talking things out with boys, or keeping in touch with guys or even have more guy friends. I too have more male friends than female, but the girl-friends I do have are very dear to me. I keep in touch with them as much (and equally) as compared to the guys.

Something has been disturbing me and I cannot voice it out, ’cause I do not know it yet. As soon as I do, I”ll let you know. What bugs me is how someone, so integral to your life, can vanish one fine day. I mean, you know that person is out there, living breathing and talking to other people, but not with you. It isn’t like they are ignoring you, they reply to your texts and ask you what’s up, but you know that the conversations aren’t and may never be the way they were. Why? Because you see them talk and live, without making you a part of it, involuntarily, with no malice or spite. They just slowly eradicate you from their life and you leave, without protest, and that’s your fault and totally your call.
You leave with a hole in their lives, and that hole stays forever cause no one is replaceable.  They decide not to replace you and you thank god for that, but they find new space for new people and those new people start encroaching on your space.

You tell yourself, that it isn’t a competition and that your importance is important. But the question marks come into your mind, seeds of doubt germinate and you look at them in a way, with a view, that you never have before. Did you slip from being a friend to an aquaintance to just another face in the Facebook friend-list? When they like a picture by the newer people, you ask yourself; would they like yours? And then you see that they don’t and your heart breaks just a little bit more. You ask yourself, is this PMS and then you check your Tracker to see that it isn’t.

It is hard letting go, of friends more than anything and it is even harder to see yourself fade out of their life when there was no problem in the first place, except maybe, they found better interests or hobbies or work or worse, people. And it sucks when they are still on your priority list when you have slipped off of theirs. And sucks even harder when you see what or who you have slipped because of. It sucks the hardest when you know you slipped off to someone who they can flirt with, or talk random BS with. You know you’ve lost, and it wasn’t even a competition.