I'm special and you are not!

Here's another discarded brain cell from me to you...
I used to think my love story, my life story and my life itself is unique-I still do sometimes cloud my judgement with this illusion but the truth is that we all do or say or think almost the same things at one time or another in our lives. What I did might be different from what you are planning to do but there is always some sort of a connection; so much for being special and what not!

The more people we meet in our lives, the more we educate ourselves about the circumstances around us, and the more we make an effort to empathize, the better people we tend to become. It always helps me to get out of an emotionally stressing bind if I realize that somebody somehwere has either gone through the same situation as me or is going through it right now or will be going through it sooner or later; therefore, I must stop sulking and move on! Nothing like self-motivation.

mom n me

I just realized that the only person whom I can ask to cook for me is my mom. She comes to my room and says 'come on, let's make dinner' and I say 'Go! make dinner mom'. By the time I am done with my laptop or studying or chatting or other miscellaneous deeds that occupy most of my time, dinner is already made.

I have a very complicated relationship with my mom-she hurts me but I realize it's unintentional. The way she was raised molded her values and her attitude, she never challenged those beliefs- and that's what makes her the person she is today. These values clash with mine and it hurts me all the time- I love those moments when I realize it's not her fault but it's just the way she is.

I love her but I hurt her too, I wish I wouldn't hurt her or woudn't argue with her but then that wouldn't be me. It's complicated but it works! It is the only way things could work :)
Strange!

Demons and tears

Overtime her innocence had crumbled, shattered pieces of her heart thrown at her face by the many men she unconditionally fell in love with. Each time she picked up the pieces, put her tact-heart back in place, wiped those painful tears off and fell in love. Failure is not the right word, it's disappointment in love and loss of trust maybe in herself.

Unable to find anybody to console her scared senses, stop those precious drops of pearls from leaving her eyes- she is alone. I have tried telling her many times that I am with her but she can't see me. She cries all the time, I am shouting at her to stop and consoling her, putting my arms around her but she can't feel my arms, she can't hear my voice.

My favorite part is when she talks to me and tells me her fears, I'm the only one in this entire world she confides in. I know all about her- how scared she is sometimes, the moments when she wants to kill herself, how mad her parents make her feel, the dreams of her soul mate that she can't stop dreaming. I want her to one day find a friend or a lover, a real person, who won't judge her but will just listen. She never lets me talk, she told me she wants me to listen and not respond. I love her and maybe she loves me too. We both never pictured her life to turn out to be a bundle of never-ending misery, I wish for her happiness. Her tears make me cry, her sorrows make me hurt, her disappoints urge me loose faith.

If only she knew she is not alone, I am always with her.

A puzzle I can't solve

It's pouring outside at least through the translucent lace curtains I can see the wet roads, my bare feet on the carpet surrounded with the warm air of the internal heating system. He's outside. I can see him, I don't think he can see me but I still duck or move away from the window every time I think his glance is shifting in my direction. He is bent over, one foot pushing his entire body's weight against a small rock and the other as an anchor while he uses a mini version of a shovel to loosen up the soil around the wooden planks he salvaged from the discarded bed. His son suggested him not to use the planks ridden with deep engraved nails and left-over foam and tape from the bed still stuck on them and overhearing the conversation, I sensed his affirmation in following his son's advice. Perhaps that's the reason why this is such a surprise to me. I came out of my room hearing the noise of a hammer-like tool emanating from somewhere near my house. My first instinct was to peek outside to see who was crazy enough to be working in the heavily pouring rain, I wasn't expecting it to be him. Soon he was hammering down the wooden planks in place, stating a permanency in their structure-his son will not like this, I don't like this either.

It must have stopped raining because now he had the water pipe in his hand and he was washing clean the road in front of his house. I failed to see the logic of washing a street that has already been washed clean by the rain and will soon enough be going through another rinse of rainfall. I fail to see logic in a lot of the work he does, most of it seems unnecessary. He didn't have to paint the already cleanly painted walls, he didn't have to clean the garage just to move the messy storage to another location in the house, he doesn't have to start cooking when a hot pizza has been ordered for dinner but he did!

and here we go again

Okay! After 2 and a half years of painful hopes of "we will make it work", "we won't fight again", "but I love you babe!" - I have ended the relationship with the man I planned to get married to one day. It just wasn't working! But what it was doing, was, making me CRAZY! I, for once, found myself on the brink of punching strangers so I could get my frustration out but no more. I'm a happy woman now.

I found his twitter account today though, I'm going to try not to check on his update too much. Of course there's his public blog as well but I can learn to avoid that- far better and productive things to do in life, I mean it.

one of my many grievances

I love travelling and most of all, I love travelling in India-a giant of a nation. Amidst the narrow alleyways and loud music and gawking eyes of men looking at me like I'm a piece of meat ready to be chowed down--life might seem hectic but it is life as usual. The music part is my best, if I could, I will be dancing all day; dancing my way down to college and then down home and then down to work. But oh! my! then the gawking eyes might really presume me to be that fleshy piece of meat...ahem! perhaps, not such a good idea after all -scratch that please!
Life in DILLI is tough for a young woman- no matter how covered you are with your clothing and then a bag and then a big book, you are a piece of meat nonetheless. Wearing a traditional salwar kameez doesn't make you less vulenarable than the girl who is wearing jeans and a short tee; actually what I have noticed is that a salwar-kameez wearing girl sometimes gets a look that says "she's an easy target-traditional type girl, probably doens't know much' "grrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!" that's what my look is saying at that precise moment. I hate this aspect- and stare at the gawking eyes to make my point clear-that I'm non-veg as well. seriously...it IS a dog-eat-dog world kinda...but we are humans...so human-eat-human pathways of DILLI.

I stand against such nuisances of society- if you stare at me, I'll stare back! I might even come up to you and ask what's the matter, not in a rude manner but as if we are pals. Watch out you stinking, crotch-scratching, licking-your-lips-at-the-sight-of-a-girl, making provacative gestures MAN.
Of course, no hard feelings but you must change! India is changing, so must you...