Monologue?

Dear kitchen appliances, doormats, aunties,

This one is for you, no, I wouldn't like anything to eat, I just want you to listen to me. Yes, I do know I have lost my complexion, it's just an extra dose of melanin that's showing on my body, don't worry it's not the end of the world. I want you to liste- no aunty, I am not studying to become a doctor or an engineer. There are other occupations in this world too. No, my parents won't start looking for a suitor in three years time, when I think of the future, leaky nappies and squeaky toys isn't what I imagine. I intend to do much more than be oppressed by my husband, I intend to have as much as voice as him. It must be unladylike, but if that's what it takes to break away from social norms, be it.

Aunty, I don't want to be you.  I do not intend to learn to cook and clean for my husband who comes back from work, tired and waiting for his tea. I do not intend to worry my hair off in the tender age of 25 about what baby food my child will like best. I do not wish to gossip in sorority parties with other people of this kind, about who spent more money on what. I had an education not to keep my diploma framed on my bedroom wall, intended for my eyes only. I had an education, a very good one for that matter because my parents realized the need to be self-sufficient. You do not have to look down upon me because I wear what I please, if I am disrespecting my religion it's my problem not yours, your pseudo-worry is as fake as the smile you plaster when I tell you that I want to be independent. You do not have to worry about my lack of religion, for I see God differently from how you do. Your condescending voice that nags about modern women loosing their hold on traditional values, do not affect me. I do not want to be just a show piece in my husband's sleek house, I do not want to be the doormat that is designed to take everyone's mess. I desire individuality, set free from these chains of obligations and expectations.

There there.. that look again, no this is not the reason why my sisters are being raped. Primitive dogs that can not keep a hold of themselves are the reason why. Well obviously, men can't be blamed, Indian society has been designed to worship a Goddess and degrade your women. Men are superior and they shall decide, women are their play things and they should very much stay that way.

11 Promises To My Best Friend.

1) You will always be the first person to know about my wildest ideas and most important decisions.
2) I shall duly stand by all your stupid doings, laugh at you while you get humiliated and punch anybody else in the face who laughs at you.
3) I'm glad you make me hate all the people you do, laughing at them is so much funnier when its with you.
4) I shall hate all your boyfriends cause I honestly think no one is good enough for you. Especially the present one, he really is a jerk.
5) I promise to share Zac Efron with you when I get him.
6) I will never let you forget all your embarrassing moments and boyfriends, cross my heart and hope to die. :)
7) Your bachelorette party will be a night you don't remember but won't forget.
8) I'll be the most kick ass Maid Of Honour and even better Godmother.
9) I'm ever grateful to your convincing capabilities that got me into doing some crazy shit.
10) I am glad we met, cause I would cease to without that video of you getting your first tattoo.
11) I promise that you will always be my first love and confidante as I will yours.

 

Attention Span Of A Peanut.

The book is out in front of me, my precious highlighted notes stare at me.

I take a deep breath, in fact I do some yoga, just so that I'm ready. 

I look at all my supplies, do I have what ever I need to do this? Oh no, I don't have my lucky exam board, let me just grab it. 

Now that I have that, am I ready? Wait, I need water, just to be sure that I don't die of dehydration.

*wheeew* That was close, okay, now I am mentally prepared.

But no, I need to take a leak, all that water that I drank!

Finally, I can sit down to study, no more messing around.

Let me just check Facebook, WhatsApp and Instagram for the last time, just so that I know there's no nuclear holocaust coming my way. Now that I have my phone, might as well check Tumblr, Twitter, all sorts of things I don't even care about.

Gee! Look at the time, it's an hour since I took my phone already! Okay, phone away. 

Unleash the laptop, I think I have had enough of history already, I'll do some sample papers online. 

Google Chrome is already open, along with mycbseguide.com, I guess a Facebook tab wouldn't hurt. 

Oh no! An hour again? Let me just close that tab and put my phone away, serious study it is!

Damn, I can't figure out this sum, let me just look it up online while I slyly open my YouTube account too. The solution on the internet is too complicated, let me ask my friend on WhatsApp.

(Fifteen minutes later) Okay, serious study now. Let me just switch on the music on my phone.

Yay! I almost figured this su- the song's boring now, just a quick switch of tracks. Well waddaya know, I have to reply to these Snapchats and WhatsApps. 

(Half an hour later)

Oh no, the books are waiting for me. Let's conquer this! Do not get tempted by the constant blinking of the green light on your phone, even though it means you have notifications. I'll do this paper and then-- ah what the hell, after this sum I will check.

(Half an hour later)

Okay, let's do this paper. It's this late already? Oh well, better luck tomorrow. 

Well, I'd be damned.

A Great Brick Wall

When your words are stuck,
Poetic sense is out of luck,
When you can't express what you feel,
Lo behold, here is your Achilles' heel.

That's writer's block,
That writer's flow, is stopped by a rock,
The disability takes you by shock,
That's writer's block.

When your words fail to satisfy,
And your vocabulary can't imply,
You know your struggling to break that ice,
But now, simple struggle won't suffice.

That's writer's block,
Your creativity is in under key and lock,
Your imagination has been held on a dock,
That's writer's block.

Bottled up feelings, corked up tight,
Your demons for freedom, they fight,
You can't bring out what you want to say,
To express your self, you need some way,
But your words have run away!

That's writer's block,
Your words please you no more,
And that hurts to the very core. 

Traffic Signal Business

Everyone uses roads, don't they? Unless you're reading this in your limited edition Vertu smartphone, while you're boarding your chopper to Milan from your duplex yacht called Naomi. But I bet you would have seen those grey stretches that's been there connecting people, places and potholes. 

But I am talking about traffic signals and how eventful those few seconds are to the vendors that stick their faces on your window screen expecting you to buy those sun shield things that tear on the second day. I am talking about those people, who can make a pretty decent living by doing something productive than bringing a small crying baby with rags on for extra pity money. And the lottery ticket sellers, if they are so sure that there's assured money for every ticket, why can't they just buy the whole lot and wait for the lucky draw day? And my personal favorite, the little kids who sell balloons, yes, obviously, many people would buy an extra flashy balloon to obstruct their view while driving to get to their destinations as soon as possible. 

I understand that I am not addressing to those people, but fellow observers, don't encourage these vendors. They do not realize the harm they are subjecting themselves to by demanding business from customers who won't even acknowledge their presence at their windows. They do not realise that they can get run over, the pollutants can make their own little city inside those lungs and those bad people who would do bad things to little girls or women that are trying to earn a living on such busy streets. The next time someone comes up to your window, smile at them, if they are asking for alms, give them food and then feel better about yourself and drive off to wherever you were going anyway. 

A Passing

For 66 years he lived, for 17 years and 10 months he survived and for 2 months, he existed.

Imagine, you decide that you are to embark on a journey to the tip of this particular mountain, you know the roads, you have certain norms and you have two companions beside you. Now the catch of this journey is, the whole navigation should be in darkness. That is, you know the roads but you don't know what those roads contain. In the first leg of your journey, you're confused because of this sudden change in lighting, then you get used to it and you start liking it. And then you realize you're not alone, you have company. The journey goes on for a while then you start seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, you realize you're reaching your destination, suddenly you realize you don't want to go, you start slowing down, your slow moving is causing punctures. Other cars motion you to advance faster, and then you realize, anyway you're heading to your destination, might as well make the best of it. And so you reach your destination, knowing fully, that your journey was the best part.

Life is a wonderful thing, it is synonymous to existence, survival, validity, it's funny how all of this claims to have the same meaning, but it is 4 distinct realities. Carpe Diem and YOLO is applicable only for a short period. In the end, when we say our final goodbyes, it's our deeds that our remembered the most. Our face might not be remembered by posterity, it is our deeds. So while you're at it, do stuff that people might remember you for. It is upto your wisdom to realize if you ought to do it in a good way or other wise. 

Don't take advice or musings from a 15 year old. You ought to already know this by now. I am nothing but expressing my thoughts because I hate bottling it in. 

Artemisia Absinthium Absinthe

Alcohol, we all know what it is. We all know what it does, we all know how it works and we all know how much it can get to us. No one knows how or when this devil was created, presumably the result of an accident that occured very long back. 

Partying is meraki for many, going with friends, getting drunk, going mad and waking up in the morning with the worst hangover. Oh not to mention post a billion photos on Instagram and a status on Facebook saying how much fun the night was although not many parts of it is remembered. 

Alcohol, is taken as a light subject with the young generation. It's a part of exploration, it's how we learn to have fun, and it's what the cool people do. Alcohol, is apparently a passing phase that you are bound to go through when you succumb to peer pressure. Yes, that's what they all say. Until drinking for the "coolness" of it becomes drinking for pleasure then becomes drinking for sanctuary and finally drinking for very survival. 

Alcohol on it's own isn't that much of a troublemaker, not unless addiction comes in unison to form this unbeatable force of evil that ruins jobs, studies, families, friendships and life as a whole. It can come in like the sly fox it is, slowly creepy into your system like a deadly virus and lodge itself with a firm grip. Then you become it's submissive, you yearn for more of it as it's affect releases you from the choke hold of reality. Or so you think, the high gives you courage to do thinks you wouldn't even have thought of for a jiffy. It gives you a state of euphoria that damages everyone and everything else around you. Then, that becomes the only reason why you live. Every single move in your day is an excuse to relish in it's solace. You find reasons, you are desperate for incentives and before you know it, your world is on self - destruct mode. You brought this onto yourself. 

You paid for the bottle that made you drink till you sweat out liqour, you were sober when you started drinking, you forgot about your family, you forgot about their feelings. You crave for their attention with your vivacity and the chaos you're making. But they chose to ignroe you. 

You realize you're slowly dying a slow death. You lost your friends, you lost your family, you lost all hope and you miss love. With nothing other than that bottle that started this wreckage to accompany you, you tread in a slow pace hoping for a last chance to take it all back and start fresh and clean. But no, you're almost there, you've almost reached your final resting place. I guess it's too late now, you shouldn't have turned the deaf ear to concerned advices, you shouldn't have raised your voice against caring actions, you should have listened for your own good after all.