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.

This Feeling….

“Over the last couple of years, the photos of me when I was a kid… well, they’ve started to give me a little pang or something – not unhappiness, exactly, but some kind of quiet, deep regret… I keep wanting to apologize to the little guy: “I’m sorry, I’ve let you down. I was the person who was supposed to look after you, but I blew it: I made wrong decisions at bad times, and I turned you into me.” 
― Nick HornbyHigh Fidelity

This is exactly how I feel today. Sometimes, I feel terrible to see what I’ve become, to be a failure in my own eyes, not that people think of me as one but this feeling of helplessness makes me cringe with a pain in my heart.

Why is that the “could have been, would have been and should have been” hurt so much? Why do I have so many regrets in my life and why can’t I ever overcome them? Why is it so difficult for me to let go off the past and build a new future?

Lately I’ve realized that I’ve too many WHYs in my life…and I’ve answer to none.

The (Almost) Lost Writer

It’s been a really really long time and yes I’ve used “really” two times here to emphasize on the fact that it’s actually been a long time since I wrote anything, be it here, in the new diary I bought after joining college, or in the last pages of my notebooks. I haven’t written anything since I joined college, except of course my class notes. And since the whole point of this blog is to be honest and real, I’ve one confession to make, I didn’t write my last post, the one on my first anniversary. I asked a blogger friend of mine to write it for me. I badly wanted to post something here that day but however hard I tried, I couldn’t find my words. I cheated, and I felt so much guilty about it later. I had to get it out of my system and so I am writing it here today. Sorry folks…I messed it all up. I don’t know if people who used to read and appreciate me like me anymore or not. I still log in everyday, go through your posts, read, like and comment but I don’t feel the urge to write. There are so many things in my mind, old memories, struggles, triumphs, stories of love, loss, school, society, each intermingling with each other, difficult to filter, compress, or forget, each story wandering in my mind, too personal to write, too hurtful to ignore. But I just can’t write anymore.

I think I’ve lost that writer in me, if I ever was one. I remember the time I started this blog, that first (and thankfully the last) post of mine which I wrote in sms lingo. I was so immature and childish back then. I remember my first like, and the first comment, the moment when I realized that some person in this world has actually taken out few seconds of his life to appreciate me, my writing. I remember my enthusiasm and my desire to write more, the time when I would take minutes to finish up one post. I was so good at it. I was this anonymous girl, who had all the time in this world to write, confess, say things I couldn’t say in my real life using a false name here. I didn’t care about my language, my grammar, or the spelling mistakes I made. I was like that over enthusiastic, over imaginative little kid, who had learnt to build blocks, or to hold sketch pens. I wasn’t scared to draw crisscross, meaningless figures. I didn’t care about what people would say about this particular piece of writing, or a rhyming meaningless verse. I was fearless, and that made me a good writer, although not so creative but an honest writer. My own experiences, my own life were my inspiration.

 I think I’ve lost that fearless, childish me, somewhere to acquire praise, fame and respect, I’ve lost that girl who was capable of writing anything and everything. And this is what happens with life in general, in the process of pleasing others, we lose ourselves, we lose the meaning of life. In the process of building a perfect future, we forget to live our present. That’s what I do. That’s what I see people do. We unknowingly force ourselves to be something we never wanted to be. We turn into greedy, selfish individuals and lose our innocence. I don’t want to be that. I was going the same way, but today I’ve understood my real purpose, the original one. I may not be able to write well, to get likes, or comments over the shit I write, but I’ll write, I’ll write whatever comes to my mind, because that was actually the whole point of starting this blog, to just write and let it go. This is what I wanted to do.

This is the ugly truth you know, deep within ourselves we always know what we want in life, we just complicate our needs, and desires with the way other people see the world. We are all just scared to be “ME”.  We must not do that. Life rarely offers us second chances, by the time you realize you are not what you intended to be, it’s too late to go back again.

I don’t want to be a grown up writer, I was good as long as I was childish and foolish. I should better be that.  It’s too stupid to try to be someone else when all you need to be happy is to be YOU.

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It’s Been A Year

365…It’s a three-digit number which when kept aloof can’t mean anything. But when brought closer to a word called ‘days’, changes perspective of all sorts. One year is a long time to pass by. How much does one year changes a person? Again the answer depends on the perspective looked from. It is mixture of a lot of feelings. Love, hatred, anxiety, pain, ecstasy, excitement and a million other feelings fighting each other every single moment.

But that’s not the reason I am writing this post today. Today is a day special for me not just because of a date but it’s about celebrating a moment. Exactly on this day I chose blogging as a resort to vent away my sufferings and my feelings. It listened to me patiently when no one else could. I found a route. In this beautiful anonymous route I chose to make a separate identity of myself. A person who could face all the roughness life dared to throw at! A person who could smile, a person who knew she had support through her bad times and people to celebrate when her happy times came round the corner.

Today I can proudly tell that I am a much more confident person in real life than I ever was. Life didn’t stop throwing difficulties with me, but I never stopped to embrace those. I chose to be strong and face them. I did cry, I did whine but I knew I had to move on. I met such amazing persons and heard such beautiful stories that I could never have been able to experience if I didn’t choose to blog. I shared with them and they shared with me. One of the biggest reasons I am happy today is because of this blog. I got a medium through which I could tell people what I really wanted to be.

 I will wrap up this lengthy post. Thank you guys for always being there. I never met you in person but I do know in each of your lives there is a beautiful story hidden. And someday down the lane when you choose to share your story to your loved ones and if somehow I find my mention, Pseudomona will smile as slowly and gradually the real Mona comes to existence.

 You have got only one life. It’s funny how something hidden teaches you how to live. Cheers to life!  😀

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Image from here.

Off To A New Start

I started this blog almost a year ago, and from that day I constantly babbled about being stuck at home, being jobless and idle all the time. I wrote depressing posts, I cried, freaked out, abused God, my luck or my family. I prayed for nothing but to get out of this place and get into a new college. Today that day has arrived. I am off to a new college. After spending the last two months appearing for interviews, exams, counselling all over India, I’ve finally been selected to a college in Bengal. The last two months have been hectic for me. I was constantly travelling, through trains, flights, buses and what not.

I am not writing much these days, but after torturing all you guys with my depressing posts all through the year, I thought you all deserve to know that I’ve finally got what I wanted. A college, a hope, and a way to do something worthwhile. I just hope I don’t miss this chance, repeat the mistakes I made in my previous college here, and start taking life seriously. I’ve learnt many things in this one year, sitting at home, reading, writing, starting a blog, witnessing true success stories, I feel I’ve finally grown up.

I still can’t believe that I am actually going to be a post graduate in the next two years. I’ll be the first one in my entire family to join PG at such a young age.

Well, the other news is that, yesterday my sister gave birth to a little, cute baby boy, and that makes me a maasi (aunt). I am really lucky that she delivered a day before I had to leave for college. He’s the first baby in our family, after I was born exactly twenty two and a half years ago.

Hmm…Post graduation and an aunt… I feel old. 😦

My cute little nephew, few hours after he was born... :)

My cute little nephew, few hours after he was born… 🙂

My First Rejection

It’s been a week, a whole week since I faced my first rejection, you know the feeling when you don’t see your name on a list and your heart shatters, the moment when are waiting for a miracle only to realize that miracles are nothing but a myth. Well, to be honest I wasn’t that shattered after facing the results. I kind of knew that I won’t be able to make it. But it would be wrong to say that I wasn’t hoping, we humans have a tendency to expect miracles, expect something out of the blue, and I was a little disappointed after waiting for hours and hours only to not see my name over there, especially after seeing the beautiful campus of IIT Madras.  One dreams of going to a college like that, I even spotted a deer in that campus, and it was an awesome experience.  Anyways, I am okay now, especially because the long, tiring trip is over.

Well, on a different note, I learnt a lot many things during this trip. Have you ever felt sorry for other people more than for yourself? I kind of felt that. I mean, I met so many people who were so passionate about their fields of research or education, and they couldn’t make it, just like me, they were disappointed to see the results. But unlike me, they were so much more deserving. I could see the passion in their eyes, the desire to create something new. There was this guy who knew everything about cells, he was insanely passionate about the cell cycle, the way he was talking about cells reminded me of the way I talk about dance, or some social issues. And yet, he wasn’t selected. There was another guy, whom I knew from my college days, and who has done many projects under cancer research, has scored 98 percentile in GATE yet he couldn’t get through IIT. All my college life, I hated that guy, I found him rude, arrogant, and proud but that day, the moment I saw the gloom on his face after seeing the result, I pitied that guy.  For the first time in my life, I felt sorry for him. He deserved better things in life, more than me, more than anyone I knew but life is cruel, and so he has to struggle.

On my flight back to Delhi, I met this guy who was extremely passionate about design. He was working in an IT company but was trying hard to get out of that place to pursue a design course. While we were talking about our lives, and our struggle to find a place in this competitive Indian education system, and the role luck plays in it he told me an interesting thing, he said that someone, at some point of time must have worked hard for those people whom we call lucky today. Isn’t it true? We say that this fellow is very lucky, he is rich, he gets things easily blah blah, but someone, his father, his forefathers would have worked hard to bring him to this point. They would have struggled to make money, to set up businesses, to be well enough to promise a comfortable future to their generations ahead. And if we are struggling now, to find a way, to create something, we are probably doing so to secure the future of our upcoming generations. We can’t get lucky without hard work, someone has to work hard, either us, someone from our past or one from the future.

These words from a stranger and the fact that I am not the only one, who is struggling, made me feel better but somehow, the trip left me feeling uneasy too. I met, these passionate guys, who talked so beautifully about things they wanted to do in their lives, they talked about ideas, their struggles, their strategies, I, on the other hand was the one without any plans, there was nothing I knew I could talk so passionately about. I found myself to be an aimless, passionless person.

I still don’t know what I want to do in my life. I am lost, and I’ve no desire to find a way. Is it normal? I am waiting for something to happen, I don’t know what is it… Just something, that makes me feel alive.

Is it wrong to say that I am on the pursuit of somethingness? What do you feel?

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Image from here.

Chennai Calling…And Spider Bites!

I had applied to many colleges after I got my GATE results. Apparently my rank wasn’t good enough, so I’ve got calls from only three colleges till now.And among those three I can only report to two as  two colleges have tests/ interviews on the same date. Tomorrow I am leaving for Chennai, although the test is on 20th I’ve booked my tickets for 17th as weekend tickets are generally more costly. After getting rejected from some colleges I’ve realized one thing that,  only gate results don’t matter, you must have a heavy resume to be shortlisted for interviews and in my case, my resume sucks, adding to that I’ve spent the last year doing absolutely nothing. Why is this world so competitive? Sach kaha hai, ye ek rat race hai, agar koi 2 minute bhi aaraam krne baith jaye to ye duniya use phir kabhi mauka nahi deti! No one wants to know your state of mind, your personal problems, you have to be the best, because is country mai jo average hai, wo hamesha average hi rhega. Use mauka nahi milta kabhi aage badhne ka, even if he’s willing to sacrifice everything for it. I don’t have any reasons to explain why I wasted this one year of my life, or why I wasn’t serious till the last year of college. I am officially screwed.

I am scared, mostly because I didn’t touch my books from the past four months. Why I did that? Well, I really don’t have any answers. I was way too frustrated, I was lazy, I was bored, I had given up, I wanted something easy…reasons like these come to my mind, not exactly, but something close to these. I don’t have any hopes to get through the written tests/ interviews these good institutions take. I don’t even feel like travelling this much to get rejected. I gave up when I was almost few meters away from my dream.  I should have studied, but trust me, I didn’t really know how, I was so dejected, so frustrated with everything. I wrote GATE,  I got a rank, that was it, I was saturated beyond imagination. I know I am making stupid excuses now and I am the reason for all my miseries but seriously I just can’t study anymore. If somehow, I get into a college, for free, without writing more exams, I am happy with it. I just don’t know how to fight anymore. Moreover, I really don’t know why I’ve to be the only one who has to fight so much, why can’t I get anything easily.

Well, enough of my rant now. Let’s see, what happens in Chennai. If not anything, I’ll at least get to visit a new city. I’ll keep you updated with everything that happens there. This is my life that we are talking about here, so don’t expect everything to be normal, kuch na kuch dhamaka to hoga hi. And the dhamaka has already started, this evening a spider bit me, not at one but two places on my arm, it’s paining and itching like hell. In spite of the pain, I was daydreaming about how I can now turn into a Spiderwoman now. I actually tried to shoot spider webs from my wrist, yes I did that two times, sadly there were no webs, I was disappointed. 😦

A girl can dream right???

A girl can dream right???

Hey bhagwan, agar tu mujhe spiderwoman nahi bana sakta to atleast ek college hi dila de, kya bigad jaega tera agar mujh garreb ko ek seat mil jaye do saal timepass karne ke liye, bol bhagwan bol… !!! 😦

Khair, pray for me, if not college than at least an interview, I don’t want to be thrown out of the place just after the written test. If the interview happens, it’ll be the first one for me. Yes, I want to be thrashed in my first interview. Mai ye jillat seh lungi yaar, bus mujhe interview tak jana hai, itni door jake kaun khega ki mai interview se pehle hi out ho gyi. 😦

Anyway, even if I do get rejected in the written test itself, I am gonna tell everyone that I got into the interview, yup, I’ll lie. Pehle se bta de rhi hun. 

Chalo bye bye. Reading this post, I feel like I am the most stupid person on this earth. Kya karna, chalta hai kabhi kabhi! 

P.S. Spider bites suck!!!

Craving Freedom

What is that one thing you wanted badly in life, a job, love, family, a child, money, fame, etc.?

For me, the answer would be freedom. Yes, I want to be free, to make my decisions, to wander around, to fall in love, to get hurt, to do something adventurous, to sing aloud, to dance in the rain, to fall down, to rise up, to speak, to scream, to laugh, to walk, to run, and most importantly to make mistakes. I want to be free from all these rules, these nonsensical beliefs, the age old traditions, most importantly this fear, fear that something wrong will happen. I want to face wrong situations, I want to get lost, find a way myself, I want to face the fears I have. For once, for just once I want to live my own life. I want to find me, the real me. For once, I want people to understand that I’ve grown up, that I am not the 2 years old daughter they had, that I need to prove myself, that I need to see this world with my own eyes, this world that is selfish, mysterious, troublesome, yet beautiful with all its complexities. I want them to understand that even though they have given me this life; I do have some right to live it my own way. I promise them to be on the right path, but to find that right path, I do need to try some wrong ones.

I want to run far away, to spread my arms wide, embrace the surroundings, to close my eyes, breathe slowly and feel the air…..

I want to live as if there is no tomorrow….

I want to be free…

Just free..

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Courtesy: favim.com

Meeting Old Friends

Dear friends,

I know you all have missed me immensely and that each day in the past three months of your life have passed waiting for my touch. I know how desperately you want me to read you, to mark words,lines and paragraphs with colored pens, to feed your words into my memory. I acknowledge the ways you tried to draw my attention towards you, sometimes even showing your presence in my nightmares. Today, I give up. I’ve realized that you love me, and you are in no mood to leave my side. And that’s why I’ve decided to give you all a chance and bring you back into my life. Yes, I am ready to face you all over again. I’ve realized that I need you the way you need me, may be I need you more. You are the only way, I can thrive in this world. You are my true companion, my support, my way, and my destination.

Welcome back to my world…

Yours truly,

Mona. 😦

I hate you, like I love you!

I hate you, like I love you!