Gupshup-3

1. I love sleeping. It is undoubtedly the best thing in this world, along with food of course. If you had met me 2 years ago, you wouldn’t have heard me say this. All my college life, I hardly slept. It felt like a waste of time. I spent my time either talking on phone, or watching movies or gossipping all night with my friends. I used to feel like I would miss out on other things if I wasted my time on taking a nap. Coming to this day, when I would give up everything to sleep peacefully for atleast 7-8 hours. It is the only time in my life when  I am not stressed. Life is good only when I sleep.
2. I have my exams from the 26th of this month. 4 days, 7 exams, 3 hours each. Yeah, kill me already! I am not at all prepared for it. And I know I won’t be prepared even if I get another 6 months. Anyway, my only strategy is to fill the pages and not leave anything. Such strategy worked perfectly in college. I highly doubt it’s gonna work here.

3. I am addicted to my phone. And that is so not good for my studies. So, I have uninstalled all the social media and timepass apps from my phone except for WordPress. It is my only connection with the outside world.

4. One of the paper in my upcoming exam is of Hindi language. Now, I haven’t studied Hindi since almost a decade.Yes, it is my first language but all the grammar and stuff is too difficult. It is not the Hindi we use in daily life. It’s a highly pure and authentic form of official hindi language. I am too scared to write that exam. The worst part is if I flunk that, it wouldn’t matter if I have done well in the other 6 subjects. They won’t even check the other papers if I don’t get pass marks in Hindi.
5. Do you ever think that if a certain incident wouldn’t have happened in your life, your life would be completely different? I often think of the day when my mom had a stroke and how my life turned upside down. I know there are people who come out of even greater miseries than that and I really respect them. But, I don’t know why I feel like along with her my life was paralysed right there and then.  Like my whole life is a movie, and right before the interval this incident happened and life never remained the same. And whatever I did, whichever path I took in life, nothing seemed to take me to my happy ending.

Well, that’s life. Whatever happens, we have to face it with a smile on our face.

So, I was reading hindi idioms today and one of them was “ naak ka baal hona” which meant ” bahout pyara hona“. Hehe, so I told my mom, ” mummy, tu meri naak ka baal hai re” I know, too gross!! Par kya karen, yahi hamari bhasha hai bhai! Hehe

A flower from our garden… Just because I wanted a picture in this post.

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Meh…

Sometimes I wish I could fast forward my life. Like I could wake up one day and find a different world. When all these troubles are left behind and I find the answers to all the questions I have now. I am tired and frustrated of this life. I don’t know how to live anymore.

And I know even if I wake up after five years and find a new world, there could still be questions or frustrations but I am okay with that. I do not want a bed full of roses, but I want new struggles, new questions, a new life.

I don’t know where I went wrong with this life. And I know one must look at people who have it worse than you. But what about those people who have it much easier.

I like this quote from one of my favorite books,

“I think that if I ever have kids, and they are upset, I won’t tell them that people are starving in China or anything like that because it wouldn’t change the fact that they were upset. And even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn’t really change the fact that you have what you have.” 
― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

This is what I have and it is hard to live. You spend years of your life hoping that someday it’s gonna be alright, that your day would come soon. You struggle, you cry, you try be a good human, you trust yourself, your beliefs but nothing happens.

I don’t want a perfect life. I just want a hope, a sign, something to tell me that there is something better for me. That this would all be worth it someday.

Someday.

I am going to regret writing here but I need to do this.

Hope…

And you have lost many wars,
in the past ten years,
you have been bruised,
have wiped countless tears.
You have lost some family,
some well known peers,
you have been hurt,
lost the music to your ears.
But you have always had hope,
hope that the clouds will disappear;
hope of a new world, bright and clear;
hope that success would someday be near;
And for now, that’s what matters my dear.

***

Some days are so hard to get by, that every effort to not be depressed goes in vain. A half hearted effort in poetry gives you some rhyming lines. And you wait for sleep to embrace you in its arms and make you numb enough to feel no pain. hope1

Missing Convocation…yet again!!!

Three years ago when I wrote this post, I guess I somehow irked the almighty , because He/She didn’t let me attend yet another of my convocation. So, now I am this 24 year old girl who has two degrees but not even one experience of throwing that graduation cap up in the air. Ok, I am making it sound like some kinda achievement but for me, it actually is an achievement. I got two degrees in a career I never really liked in the first place and after all that torture I didn’t get to attend even one of my graduation day. How unfair is it!!!! That bloody college people changed the convocation date from 12th to 20th December, that is on the day of an exam which all my classmates were going to write. So, our entire class was indirectly restricted from attending the convocation. I just feel so bad you know. I was so excited about going back to college, meeting everyone and relive old college days but that didn’t happen and I ended up seeing pictures of people dressed in convocation robes exactly like the last time. Now every person on facebook has a convocation DP… except me. Hell, facebook is filled with wedding pictures, and I don’t even have that (OK, I don’t want that, but still they have something to post) then there are job updates, country updates, check ins, dinner pictures, daru pictures, all kind of shit and I have nothing. When is God gonna bless me with something to show off. Yaar, I don’t want that, I just wanted to go back to college, and attend my convocation, but I guess it is just not in my kismat. I am actually not into facebook that much, I had deactivated it for years, and only joined it a year ago. It’s just a place which makes me feel like I am way behind people, like everyone is moving ahead, changing careers, getting married and here I am, still trying to figure out what I want from life. I have engaged myself in this long unpredictable journey of a long lost dream while people are running from one goal to another. But I guess this is who I am, and this is the life I have chosen for myself. Nothing and no one else matters.

Well, you know what I am going to do, I am going to invite all my friends to Delhi, rent those convocation robes and throw a super awesome graduation party for us (Of course with their money), and make it better than a real convocation. Yes, that’s what I am going to do. And I am going to be happy.

P.S. I just realized that it’s actually a very childish post, but I am gonna publish it anyway. Who cares…

New Girl In the City

That’s a cliche title but I really wanted to write on it since the time I saw the movie Wake Up Sid. For those of you who haven’t seen the movie, it’s about a young boy who is clueless about his life, has no ambition and just goes on wasting his dad’s money.Later in the movie he fails in his MBA exams and is thrown out of the house by his dad. He goes on to live with his friend, a girl who has always dreamed of being a writer. The first article that she finally gets to publish is named New Girl in the City. And since I saw that movie about five years ago, I have always wanted to live like that girl, alone in a big city, with a cosy room, chasing old dreams and discovering new ones. For her the city was Mumbai, but sadly for me it is Delhi. So, I moved to Delhi a few days ago, the city I have always hated. I have been here countless times but I hardly ever saw anything. The only places I have been to are the airport, New Delhi railway station and Anand Vihar bus stand. And now I am here, living in this tiny little room right in an old and tall building inhabited by many pigeons.

Delhi is chaotic, with its cramped houses, and narrow lanes, with people running all the time abusing every single person that hinder their way, with everyone in the metro hooked onto their phones, with all the loud aunties and their notorious children and sadly with a starless sky. Sometimes, when I look all around the metro I see that I am the only person without a phone in her hand. It is a good place to observe people, to mentally make a note so that you can later write about them on your blog. I have never been to such a crowded place. I mean Bangalore was crowded and had a pretty lousy traffic but I never got a chance to see so many people at the same time, plus I rarely understood Kannada to actually know the happenings there. I was always intimidated by Delhi girls; they all looked so pretty, with perfect hair and makeup, with stylish clothes and shoes, with their different and confident way of walking and I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude. Earlier for me a ride through metro was a sure shot way of losing all the confidence I had, but in a week or so I have gotten used to it. It doesn’t freak me out anymore and I am really surprised that I feel this way.

Moving to Delhi has also brought about another change in my life, my long distance relationship of five years has finally become short distance. Our friends suggested us to actually live together but I would rather kill myself than do that. I mean long distance to live-in, are you kidding me! It is okay the way it is, we get to see each other almost every other day and that is perfectly fine. I can’t lose my independence for a guy. The transition was something I was dreading for a really long time but we are doing okay.

So here I am, in some ways living the life I always wanted to, if only the thing I am here for turns out to be a success. Wish me luck!

P.S. If you are wondering what happens to that clueless guy in the movie, well he discovers his passion in photography and ends up publishing a picture in the same magazine where this girl gets to write her article. They both fall in love and the movie ends with the monsoon rains and a really nice song in the background.

P.P.S. So today I was talking to my new flatmate and something about blogging came up. I randomly asked her about blogs and she told me how people write political, social, technical stuff on the internet. I was mentally thinking about how someday she is going to end up on my blog (*evil grin). It is great to be an anonymous blogger. I love it.

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Picture from here.

The Tale Of A Broken Dream

As far as I remember I have always seen my mother struggling with a disease or two. Even before I was born, the valves in her heart didn’t work properly. Then there was always the case of hyper acidity and migraine that never let food remain in her stomach (and has been genetically passed onto me). Then came the disastrous paralysis attack which not only left her half dead but significantly changed my life too. Now, there is slip disc, frequent episodes of menopausal hot flashes, constant pain in her legs (reason unknown), and all the side effects of those numerous medicines that keep her alive. I have literally never seen my mom healthy, and I feel in some way because of that I never had a normal life. I know almost every doctor in town, the cute neurologist who looks great in a light green shirt, the I-have-no-time-to-breathe cardiologist, the orthopaedist who talks way too much, the old ENT specialist who has a big white house, you get the picture, I know way too many doctors.

 I stayed in Bangalore for seven years and I visited almost every hospital one could name. Manipal hospital is my favourite because I believe it is where my mother got her second life, even though only half of her body worked but she survived and got better. It was the last year of school and during the last three months I spent numerous evenings at Manipal hospital. I would sit by the stairs and practice mathematics. We would eat dinner from the hospital canteen when my sister didn’t feel like cooking. I skipped school almost every day but my teachers didn’t care much as skipping school was allowed for the “good students” so that they can prepare well at home for the Board examinations. I mostly spent my time watching television because it took my mind away from my dying mother. By the time she became healthy enough to live, I had almost lost everything. I messed up my Boards, all my entrance exams and any chance to have a normal career.

For eleven years from Class 1 to 11th, one would always see me on stage collecting my report card, prizes, merit scholarships amidst claps and cheers but in that last year, the year that mattered the most, whoosh…. everything was gone…. Just like that…. All my dreams shattered. In a flash …

I missed getting into a medical college by a single mark.

Counselling day. Rank number called. With a smile on my face I go ahead. He asks me to sign. I search frantically for a pen. He says, “sorry, last seat thi,chali gayi”. And I start crying.

Seven years have passed by but I go back to that moment all over again. There are so many what ifs in my mind…

What if the attack hadn’t happened? What if the 17 year old me wasn’t forced into a career she didn’t like? What if they had given me one more chance? What if I wasn’t so arrogant and angry with everything?

He gave me my mother…. He took away my dream.

I need to do something for those eleven years, for those years when I knew what I wanted, when I was determined enough to overcome any obstacle in my way to success. I need to forgive my parents. I need to forgive myself for not trying hard enough. As I sit here and see my mother trying to sleep in spite of a terrible headache I need to find a new dream and let go of the old one. I can’t carry the burden of that broken dream anymore. I can’t let it ruin the rest of my life.

I have to move on.

P.S. Writing is therapy. I feel better.