Quote

Woe-MEN

WOE-MEN1

Women should rather get start being called WOE-MEN.

Since they’re no less than a suffering to men  around. Why it is so, what heinous crimes have they committed, how did they do this? These are some of the million dollar questions which probably won’t be getting answered till the ends of the Universe.

Just Wondering, How do WOE-MEN hurt Men? Maybe it is their Breath that makes the air poisonous for other dogmatic Males to breathe. Or is it the cacophony they make all the time while the Men are making spaceships  which makes them go erratic. Or is it the sluggishness, their indolence which makes the aura ill. Or the weirdness, making it really hard to be around such extraterrestrials. Not only that, Woe-Men are all the time trying their ways to woo Men, who by the way are ‘realistic and unromantic’.

WOE-MEN

The insecurities of women for their bodies, hair, dresses are all ways of pretending. Even the hormones—Estrogen and Progesterone that happen to bother women and cause mood swings are all a sham.

The looks so charming, the touch so healing, the heart so warm is all a lie, that maddens the men to the core.

No wonder WOE-MEN will be a pain in the neck as long as they take ‘Women Empowerment’, ‘Gender Inequality’ for granted. These words have richer meaning to what is usually interpreted. They’ve a deeper connotation which had never been given the right weight it deserved.

All the women need to come in the front and need to walk towards the brighter side of the tunnel. The dark tunnel can’t be crossed by one or two, but all. When they accept nothing but the true Social, Legal, Educational, Political, and most of all ‘INDIVIDUAL EMPOWERMENT’. When they’ll understand how valuable, privileged they are to be born in this gender. When they respect and equally get it back, when their opinions and decisions are welcomed, admired and considered without any prejudice.

That’ll be in a true sense- “Women Empowerment.” Period.

Quote

Ban Insecurities not Makeup!

Black

I was born Black but I didn’t know it. I was my Daddy’s cute little girl. My Daddy! He loved my hair, he used to arrange them every day, be it ponytails or braids. Tickling and games, my childhood was all about it. One word can summarize my childhood and that is Happiness.

I never saw a Mirror, never needed to. I was the prettiest and the most beautiful girl as my Daddy called me. Then I became a teenager, the time of tonnes of changes, biological, physical, mental, loads of them. The time of fragility and abysmal confusion. The people started commenting on my looks, told me that my skin was not white, not pure.

I never knew the difference between the white and black skin. The only way I could distinguish people was their acquaintance or relationship with me. There were people I know in one group and the ones I didn’t know in the other. That was it, there were no further classifications with their color, class, religion, caste as a base.

With each day, the number of comments was rising, I was becoming a mess. I got confused between the notion of Daddy and that of the society. Daddy called me the prettiest and now people were eyeing me and calling me Black. He was not there anymore, couldn’t ask him too.

black1With new and different comments, weird and awkward stares, strange insecurities were being born in me every day.

I couldn’t believe it, I didn’t want to believe that my black skin was not pretty. However, bit by bit, the strange insecurities about the skin, color, lips broke the belief. The belief of being the Daddy’s Most Beautiful Girl broke.

I got to know the difference finally. I became uncomfortable in my skin. I was ashamed of being black. They forced me to be ashamed of my black skin. Each day was a sin after the realization.

I started to put makeup, layers of it. Primer, concealer, foundation, highlighter, kohl, mascara and tone-enhancing, fairness creams and what not at night as well. I thought it would be okay. I felt good in the beginning when my kith and kin complimented me. It gave me a satisfaction, a feeling that I was accepted. I felt happy. Months and years passed. My obsession for makeup also rose. I couldn’t picture myself without makeup anymore. It became my identity, the outer one at least. I got dependent on it. It became my drug.

But one night, I was removing my makeup, I removed the Kohl first, it got smudged and smeared. Then I took the cleansing wipe, rubbed it on my lips. The bold red lips became dull, lifeless at once. I panicked a bit. I folded the wipe, started to clean my face. I could see, stroke by stroke, the two juxtaposing skin tones. I was horrified. I can’t explain the feeling, what I felt that very moment, suddenly there was a tear in my eye. I wiped it, cleansed and washed my face and went to bed. I tried to sleep but I wasn’t able to.

I was confused about this incident for many months. I was losing my sleep. There was this identity crisis in me after all of it that I was neither able to embrace my natural shade, be comfortable with it or wear it publicly nor I was able to be happy in my artificial shade, I was wearing it to work but I wasn’t feeling myself anymore.

Then to worsen it, one day, while I was checking Instagram, I saw a white women’s post. It said-“BAN MAKEUP and FAIRNESS CREAM”. I was angry, sad, happy, worried, optimistic, and pessimistic in a single moment. Can you believe it?

Angry! As why a white woman is posting it, she’s not black, she doesn’t feel us then how did she get the right to post it.

Sad! As I was already disturbed about my skin. I was worried if should this happen, what would I do without makeup? How would I see myself without these products?

Happy as at least someone thought of it, a woman thought of it despite she’s white, she cared enough for others. She wants others to feel beautiful with whatever God has gifted them with.

Worried! I was worried how will I go out, in such a dull and lifeless skin. What would others think of me if they see me like so?

Optimistic! I thought maybe if there are no products, everyone will eventually accept their natural beauty despite the differences and the diversity. After all, we all are the same, all humans, we all have eyes, ears, mouth, lips, brain, heart etc. Maybe the world will embrace the black and white alike now.

Pessimistic! What if this all was a bubble, my bubble of hope. What if this all was my imagination while the reality might be unfavorable? What if the world refuses to believe in black, denies their rights and opportunities. What if we’re all left out.

black1Yes, all these thoughts in a couple of seconds. My head was all about it, and it started to pain because it was a Brain War.

I was messed up beyond words that night. I took a pill and tried to catch some Zs. I slept with a wet pillow. The pill put me to sleep.

Luckily, I had a good dream that night. In my dream, there was a different world, an animated and a really beautiful one. I saw chocolate rivers, colorful trees. Some trees had candies hung on them. Some had cupcakes while others had star shaped fairy lights hung on them. On one side, there was this huge fall, from which strawberry shake was falling. The people’s face were teddy like, had a cherry-like nose. There were big mansions made of waffles which also had noodle shaped curtains on their glass panes. There were statues of chocolate, ice-cream filled ponds. Pasta shaped ducks and all cute little animals. Surprisingly, all the teddies looked alike. A huge bell rang in a while, at the center of the beautiful Garden. Suddenly all the teddies sat on the green grass for lunch. They held each other’s hand and made a big circle, leaving no one behind. All sat and had lunch circled by small puppies and kittens, they also joined for lunch.

The speciality of this very time was the way they all sat for the feast. Their regular meal was a feast each day. They were so happy and joyous. Each one of them started to feed others with their plate. Each one was filled up with not just food but love. The cute animals were not left alone either. What an adorable scene that was! I wish I could capture it on my phone. Suddenly played the Beep! Beep! My alarm played and woke me up.

I woke up with a smile on my face. I remembered each scene of my dream, so clearly and vividly. I was in awe of it. I was happy about it, the dream fed me some positivity, and a long lost one. I went to the park, bathed, ate my breakfast and got ready for work.

I did not wear makeup that day, it was hard but I didn’t. I tied my hair and went for work. Some colleagues questioned on why I looked so dull. To which I replied—“I look real.” Some appreciated while others chose to whisper and laugh. I won’t say it was easy. It was bold, you know, doing something, unafraid, indifferent to the consequences. I did it or maybe I didn’t. This was daddy’s pretty girl who did it.

The wicked and surprised eyes disappointed me a little at first. But the impression of the dream were enough to keep me strong enough to not be hurt by the stones pelted at me.

Instead, the second time I chose to fire back at the ones who came and commented on my skin. I chose to bomb kind words wrapped in sarcasm with a smirking smile on my face. I could see them almost dying as they couldn’t make me insecure anymore. I saw that dissatisfaction in their eyes when they saw my proud eyes. I wish I knew this cycle in my teenage. Comments if not answered turn into our own insecurities while also powering the perpetrators.

I was not looking for an acceptance anymore. I accepted myself entirely that day. Isn’t there much more to me, my life than the shade of my flesh?

Problems never last so does satisfaction. I was pondering over a cup of java that what if I had not seen that Instagram post that day? What if I had not cared for my dull lips and different shades that day? What if my daddy never called me beautiful? What if I hadn’t had that dream morning?

I could be happy in my flesh once again, the way nature made me, the way my family loved and accepted me. But what about the others? Who are as black as I yet with golden but fragile hearts? What sequence is designed by the nature to make them believe in their selves again? What if they don’t see that post or have that dream?

What ifs are tonnes but so are the what now’s. We all should be that human to at least someone that betters their life directly or indirectly. I want to inspire many by this small tale. But I’m not going to say Ban Makeup or Ban Fairness Cream.

I would go and shout out loud—“BAN THE INSECURITY”. I would teach the trick to silent the commentators. I’m going to teach the blacks to educate the racists and pity their limited thinking.

I would teach the teenagers how the color palette is incomplete and somehow blank with just white and alone without the black.

The world is also the color palette of the Lord whose colors are white, black and so many others and his arts are equally colorful. If God wasn’t partial to his color palette, who gave humans the right to criticize his art pieces?

Quote

What if those Brazen Women were never born on this Earth?

What if the Brazen Women werent bornAnd what if those Brazen women were not born on this earth? How would I smile and how would I write? How would you study and how would you live a life?

Despite the few biological weaknesses, they are the gender, whom god chose to give birth to his children, the gender—the gentle and worthy of giving life. It was the sex as equal, as important as Adam’s when lord made it. But with the rising people, equilibrium began to pathetically become a disaster.

The world was a better place to live in when the biological differences in the bodies of both the gender didn’t create any mental friction between them. But gradually negativity spurned!

The truth is that women was never the weaker sex. It was made to believe that it was the one. It was made to believe that it was the weaker sex by some brokers of the male gender, the negatives, the dominants.

Not every male thought this way but a bad idea and a rumour is always initiated by few and then spreads faster than a fire in the bush and is readily absorbed by all.

Earlier there was no problem, women were as equal as men in anything. Respect, work, money, status but with the advent of the dominates, things were changing for worse.

The gentle gender was snatched off their respect, credit, love, wages. I don’t know if they rebelled or not, but then on, gradually, situation got worse for women each day.

Earlier the privilege to be born as a women was envied by men, the gender was awaited to be born in the families and considered as a symbol of the Goddess. But then on, it became a sin to give birth to a girl, Female infanticide began.

 

Then later, female infanticide stooped due to the medical advances which bought even worse, female foeticides.

The girl who are as pure as a goddess is considered a debt and a burden and the girls who in ancient times were given liberty to choose men at their will from the group of the best bachelors called ‘swayamvara’ (Hindi word for the marriage in ancient times where the princess would choose her husband from the most suitable kings) were now married off early at the age they barely understood anything.

Before periods, a fragile feather as she is, filled with deep fears and blank about the sexual world, far from the true reality of sex and life as well.

She began to get married anyway and was just told two things – “Compromise or Die”. The woman absorbed the thought like a sponge which absorbs anything its dipped in. Woman are always like a sponge; they are taught to absorb just about anything- clean water or dirty grease. It’ll just absorb like a robot who knows to just follow the order, who just knows what to do far from the reasoning on why it should do that.

But why are we taught all this? Why aren’t we taught to be stubborn, take a stand and not lessons of calm.

Anyway she is married as fast as it could happen just like a debt, the faster you get rid of it, the better. And when she’s married, she is assumed to be as shapeless, formless as a fluid. She marries a man and takes the shapes he asks her to take. Her fate’s notebook is overwritten by her husband because he married to control her anyway. She has to be what the husband and his parents want her to be. Why can’t she be what she always was, what her parents made her till the moment, just before she took those seven rounds. Why she has to change? After Wearing that red attire, she changes as a person, becomes whatever is asked out, but, why cannot she be accepted in the way she was, originally. However changes she makes in herself, she always remains a stranger in the house she considers her home, her family.

That’s the law of the society, a woman is married, has to change, is forgotten by her family and isn’t accepted in her husband’s family. She just becomes the door between any two places. She knows both the places exactly well but knows neither too well.

And the husbands who are working hard for money have alibis that they have stress, they are tired and they never pay attention to the phase their wives always have to go, even if the attention is given, they suggest them to ignore and choose not to say anything and do the same too, they think the ignorance is the right answer.

Then the husbands also have their own way of de-stressing themselves. Beatings, BDSM, forced sex, violence or anything like so. It should just satisfy their wants, needs and ego, period.

They never realise what a woman thinks, wants, or how she feels when they beat or hurt them. Or when they are too passionate, do they even thin k it for a moment if she’s ready to have sex now, they just dig in when they think they should, when their body demands.

The women who so brainwashed in love that it’s easy for them to believe that it’s their fault than accepting that wrong is happening to them. She just closes her eyes that are capable of seeing the reality and chooses to think of the good moments.

Good moments, are their pill to forget the drama, all the domestic violence, affairs that their husbands have privately or publicly. The man who was married to take her care hurt her in the worst ways possible but she just won’t question him because he told her that he loves her few days back or took those seven marriage-rounds or ‘saat-pheras’ few years back. They choose to believe their husband who says that they are unimaginably under stress that is blinding them to hurt her and she believes him after all these wrongs.

But there were some women, who were as normal as all but sassier than each one of us as well. These women just didn’t give a shit to the obstacles in her path. These women were stones, were so stubborn, denied to be soft sponges, were full of enthusiasm, anger and determinism, an attitude that they made sure nobody could even get close to shake off.

They were the woman who believed in leading by example than following her husband or her parents or her in-laws. These were the woman who decided to carve a niche in the wall of fame that madly flaunted portraits of male leaders of the world

Rani Lakshmi Bai, Mother Teresa, Indira Ghandi, Oprah Winfrey, Michelle Obama, Florence Nightingale, George Sand, Marie Curie, or in the very past, Cleopatra, Hatshepsut, Joan of Arc. These are just the few names out of the list as deep as ocean.

Rani Lakshmi Bai, who bravely fought till her end to save her motherland. She could have lived by giving up but why would she> she chose to be the stronger version of herself. She chose wat everyone wishes deep inside.

There are plenty of names, plenty faces and also plenty those who are missed out in the list but are the true heroes too, just because they chose not to bow down and to listen to their callings by not giving up

Why can’t we all be someone who’s hidden in us, who’s battle-ready, the real battles of the world, any smallest of the problems in the whole world, someone’s who is holding a flag ready to wave it to celebrate the victory, even a small one.

Be the woman you were centuries back, a queen, who was proud to be a woman, who proudly and humbly ran the world. Not the ones the dominants made out of us, the suppressed, depressed.

Be the woman who can fight for right than who chooses to just see with eyes wide shut, listen with ears closed and speaks with a mouth closed.

Be the brazen woman like the ones who chose to be the stronger versions as to rebel against the dictators. Just imagine these brazen women weren’t born, what would be the status of woman today. Would we be getting treated like a pet, who’s called for love and shooed when the masters please?

The best part is there’s a brazen woman in each one of us, just recall and remind yourself of even a small instance where you stood upright, did something very right.

But the worst part is that brazen woman is sleeping, hibernating and waiting for that one moment when we strongly call her upon for even a minor change.

 

 

Quote

Cloudy Sky is as optimistic as the clear sky

The dark sky and clouds are as optimistic as the clear sky.

The Silver-Line above the cloud is optimistic, but so are the black clouds. They’re as optimistic as the clear sky.

The clouds tend to dim the sunlight. However, only these clouds don’t let the sun’s light to spread in the vastness of the sky and then somewhere between the movements of clouds, rarely, you see a bright ray of light as perfect as the lord.

The ray with a sharp piercing focus, beautiful line running downstairs like an angel in white but with vividness of a thousand rainbows.

Dark Skies are as optimistic as the Grey is (1)

Then there is the dark sky that seems to be yelling spells and curses by lightening and thunderstorms but only in some time we are able to decipher the spells when it rains on earth, extracting aromas and auras and spreading it all around. Only the dark skies have the ability to rain on earth and the people. The rain that’s purer than the purest water on the mother earth.

In only the dark clouds, the thunderstorms- when lightning strikes the earth; people are silent and they enjoy nature’s play while they feel the power of it, in awe of nature.

When it rains, the purity of water dilutes all the negativity in the people and fills them with gaiety. They are always joyful when it rains.

It’s just about the perspective. The dark skies are as beautiful as the clear sky.

Quote

Gradually, I’ll surrender in Love

The best companionship’s are the ones where there’s no man or a woman who love each other but two partners who love each other beyond the bounds of a gender, beyond the stereotypical thoughts classifying their works and chores.

I‘ll Rebel each time…and then Surrender at once

Love is great but for a woman, it’s tough. A woman has to change herself to take love to next level and she accepts to change. But I won’t allow you to change me.

I’ll not behave as you would want me.

I’ll not see the same things as you would or might want me to see.

I’ll not be a good friend at first.

I’ll not be taking it forward, giving you signals that I’m into you even if I might be

I’ll not be the even amiable, let alone being flirtatious.

I’ll not go on dates when you’d choose, I’ll decide.

I’ll not let you decide my clothes or let you comment on the way I dress.

Nor I would let you decide the time to go to date or even plan one.

I’ll fight with you or get angry at you at your slightest mistakes.

I’ll not allow you to get close to my self-respect.

I’ll not rebellious at first to know you better, judge you well to find the person in you, the real you.

And when I do find a lovely human in you

I’ll surrender to you, for life, at once.

Quote

Feelings post College

4It’s nothing new what I’m feeling for myself and my friends.
College is ending and we’re just marking these days, can’t cross them on the calendar, because they have been the best days of our lives. We’re all on the verge of making our careers, shaping our lives, yet full of confusion and dilemmas.

I’m determined and worried at the same time, for me and my friends. At one end, there’s certainty that says- we’ll all do well and at the other, a commotion. The commotion to know how the stability should come. It’s all gibberish I know, but that’s exactly how I feel and that’s the peak of clarity my thoughts currently have.

3

Jobs, Business, Success, Failure, Entrepreneurship, what had been just simple English terms just a while ago when we were laughing in our classes, are going to be a reality, our reality just in a month.

I panic at the fact that we aren’t going to meet every day. We’ll have to plan a week or a month before, just to see each other for a day.

We all would just gossip about anything, literally anything, baseless conversations on phones for hours. Now in a blink, it’s ending.

I wished to stop the time, in the moment of happiness when I just woke you from an amazing dream when we are meeting in the way and heading for the college together. While waiting for one of us, we all are chilling, creating new happy moments together.

But it was too late to try, because the following moment I was awake, frightened and surprised. What I was so vividly enjoying in the last moment was just a beautiful dream and I was horrified too because in the dream, we all called it the last day. I rebelled in my dream too. But the fact remains a fact, an unchallenged and an unchangeable one, indeed.

Each day is creating a new anxiety in me, there are fears unknown, feelings unexpressed. I don’t know what I should say or do—I just can pray for a great career simply for all of us.

Quote

If We were not taught anything, Wouldn’t We just Love?

a (1)

Have you seen a baby, he just knows to love his parents, play with them! Have you seen him hurting anybody consciously? Many of you might say he cries and hurts people’s ears but that’s the only way he can use to notify his parents if he’s hungry or needs some caressing.

As he grows older, he learns anything and everything from his surroundings, his parents. How to behave, talk, speak, walk, eat and love. Yes, Love too. People are made this way, they learn by observing and act the same way.

a (2)

We just learn anything which we see. Most of us are too naïve to actually check and filter things out before learning them. We are too amateur to know what’s right or what’s wrong. Before we learn that, we often fall for the wrong as it’s common and easy.

The kids learn the way their parents walk or talk, how they earn money, how they behave with people outside their family and circle. Our parents are the first examples we have, the first perspective of life that we get.

And then the kids are put in school to emboss the fixed ideas under the skin, the ideas that make the world just a limitation. The Discipline that just is beyond bounds and sometimes leave no open space to breathe. ‘School’ teaches the same ancient stories of prince or princesses or a poor history which is filled with the most important battles. Battles, why should a child know about them?

When the baby’s brain is the most fertile, why is he not taught of the inspiring stories which make him want to be like the heroes who made the world a better place.

Why is he not given a room full of billions of books, paints, music, mic, laptop; Why is he not given a choice to be anything in the damn world? Why is he not given a chance to be just anything? Why is he not given a chance to showcase what he knows from his life? Why is he made to think that there’s a lot more in this world to learn and living here is tough, when he can just be taught to live the life with morality and humility? Why is he not given an opportunity to make mistakes?

Why are we taught so many things when they can come naturally to us? Did we learn to love our parents from anywhere, or to laugh, to breathe, to cry, when it came naturally to us, why are we taught in masses so many same odd ideas that are just not relevant today. The same syllabus fed to each human as if they’re all same makes them an average. For those, whose intellect is not meant for this but for art or anything that the syllabus doesn’t include, he’s made to feel as if he’s abnormal.

Identically for love, a baby who can love his parents naturally, can’t he love his partner naturally too? But as the baby grows, he sees the bad side of the coin of love, he learns about adultery, cheating, selfishness in love and gets perplexed and messed up of the true idea. So what was originally in his heart gets foggy as he grows up.

The truth is within us already but to get to it, we follow a cycle, we have made it a tough job. First, God sends the truth within us, then we have to forget that, then we are taught life-lessons from people around or school and then spending half our life we realize it’s not right so we unlearn it all, and finally, we learn the truth. The thing is- its very simple.

So, why do we make it tough, why do we get taught various things just to find out they’re not right.

Why can’t we just live our life the way we wish, rather than following a template made by others.

Quote

My Modesty is my Pride!

My modesty is my Pride. I am not a modest I choose to be one. I choose to be proud at me in silence than exaggerating or publicizing myself in front of everybody.

My silence is my dignity, my pride. Because I’d be judged if I speak, I’d be judged if I don’t.

So I’d let my silence be the reason of your judgment and your judgments be the reason of my silence and an insight of you to me.

Quote

Love should be permanent!

There’s gonna be Million times when I’ll be right, and millions when I’ll be wrong.

But the constant should be you, I can celebrate being right and celebrate being wrong equally proud if it’s you by my side.

If your hands are there to hold me in the times of not just my triumph but my defeat, there’s nothing more that I’m going to ask for.

Because Victory or Defeat, they’re temporary. Love should be permanent!