S-C-R-A-B-B-L-E

In 1998, she was in her second grade, too young to understand the complexity of the term she read. Like every average student, unable to dissect the word or understand the etymology.

She must have seen it on the morning newspaper and when she saw her English teacher, she scribbled the wrong spelling that contained Ts, Rs, Is and Ms. The good teacher, corrected her spelling, made her pronounce it correctly and told her the meaning of it.

“I don’t think I will need or use this word”, she concluded. The teacher smiled at her innocence.

But she did, and so do all the kids in this world, since the beginning of their time.

The word was TERRORISM.

A 20 Something’s Guide to Parenthood

So let me first add a disclaimer that this is a blog belonging to my emotions and situations, so I do not prefer people judging me but even if you do, do it in your brain I would say.


 

I love being proved wrong. Not because I am a pessimist, but the fact that every time I am wrong there is a lot of scope of remembering what is right for the lifetime.

I was born and brought up in a family that called loved calling themselves bounteous.  I should correct myself, because often these things back fire on me, I should say, I was brought up in a family that loved calling themselves non- conservative. I am 23 years old and I know precisely what both the terms mean. And let me tell you they are neither.

I am an Indian girl and for most of the families here, being non-conservative doesn’t mean being progressive, it means being conservative but not showing it. I don’t know whether they are in denial or something inexplicable but often they just need a catalyst to prove that unfortunately I am right.

I am 23 years old. Old enough to be called an adult; check. Old enough to cast a vote; check. Old enough to go to a pub and have a drink with my friends; check. But what I am least expected of, is to behave like one, and worse, when I expect the same from other as well, in terms of treating me and being treated in a similar way, there is often this point that after a certain age your parents behave like your friends. I don’t want that. I want my parents to be like my parents and not try to be something they are not because in an attempt to do so, they ultimately get to this point where they are neither. They are too concerned to let you go and too, so called, non- conservative just to let you stay which in turn makes them look more like a show off and makes them a hypocrite.

I may not be making any sense at all, but honestly, I don’t really care I get at max five reads in a day, so I am pretty infamous to be understood by millions.

Over the years this hypocrisy has taken a toll on me, so badly, that I am hysterical to get out of these metaphorical bars my family often tries to make my brain hallucinate, that it doesn’t exist. And above all, I am one of those unlucky people for whom every time I would say no to something would be the thing that I would need the most in my life. I have come to terms with it and I have accepted this lack of luck from the core of my heart.  Now what would that mean? You might ask.

When I was little, but then I think this is applicable for most of you even now, even a slightest thought of losing any one of my parents would make me quiver and even make me cry. But fortunately for me and unfortunately for my parents I turned out to be a pragmatic person who always wanted to consider even the worst things of life, not that I mean that pragmatic people are pessimists but it is true that one should always consider the worst case scenario, and find out ways to get out of it. I honestly tell you today, I have thought it thoroughly, what I would do if something were to happen. I know I am supposed to be careful what I wish for, but actually, I am not wishing for anything. I am just being practical and a lot of people cannot tolerate that. In fact most of us don’t even want to think about such circumstances but let me make this clear it will come to all of us for some of us sooner than the rest. We live in the ostrich society. Ostrich, because when it sees the danger and thinks it’s going to be alright by just shutting it eyes and sometimes I feel like I am the only one who has kept her eyes open to see everybody else get slaughtered.  

I am no longer that little girl who will be lost without somebody guiding me. I no longer require the exaggerated concern one would have for their young ones. I know that for every parent, no matter how old the kids are, they will always be little. But do they know that most of the time that is the only repelling factor.

Now after knowing my situation or what I feel some of you would even say (or in some cases don’t say but mean it) that you do not know but you should feel lucky that you have parents. You do not understand their value and you take them for granted, how can you be such a selfish daughter who doesn’t acknowledge the fact that her parents have given her so much and thinks that if they expect something as simple as a concern in return is unavailable from your end.

I have to tell you, in fact I am writing this so freely in my blog because I know that my parents would read it too and we already had this chat that I so feel lucky that I have parents, whatever kind they are. I am very lucky. But it’s their IDK-luck that they have a daughter like me. And honestly, even I am in this big dilemma that is it not being so attached with them, exacerbating the situation?

Let me be clear. I do not take my parents for granted. I just do not agree with some of their thoughts, at all; because over time, and because I have my own brain and intelligence, I have realized that I can process my own thoughts on the basis of what I have perceived and comprehended and I have also realized that my parents are what I have already discussed.

You might be wondering why I am telling you all this, what must have happened. So here it is, the first time I told my mother, I wanted to solo travel the world, and we ended up in a big fight. And unfortunately, I always thought that my mother knows my ambitions and wishes, but this came to me as a shock which led to me saying to her that she just like to say things for their face value, she doesn’t mean them.

I would also like to tell you that there have been similar instances with my father, and also the fact that he is a racist, casteist and now that I am spending some time at the house, which I have suddenly realized was rare earlier, have proven that our frequencies are different on so many levels that it makes me wonder if there is thing called parental incompatibility. (Or maybe I have just grown up too much and my thoughts have wandered beyond my father’s imagination.)I don’t hate my father. I hate his views, and maybe he hates mine.

But ultimately, does that mean I hate my family, my parents, no I don’t. In fact whenever it appeared to me that my parents have lost all hopes about what I might become, I just have to say that all that we have been through together, they need to know that their kids are not going to settle for anything less than we deserve. And if I cannot tell my parents how the hell I feel, who on the earth am I supposed to? If you are one of those kids who are too afraid to tell their parents what they feel, there is food for thought.

Does that make me a one of those kids who are ruthless, selfish and don’t care about their parents and their emotions. I guess not, because it is very well said that always perform your duties and don’t worry about what the results might be. As, if the duties are performed rightly, the latter is bound to happen in your favor. But the problem is what does this performing the duties have to do with parental skills. I tell you, no person on this earth, no matter how good they are with their skills in this department should be concerned, as every parent has a different child, with a different psychology so automatically no one thumb rule is applicable. I do not expect the readers to understand what I am trying to say, but what I really mean is, my parents are fulfilling their duty to be concerned about me and so, it is unequivocally my duty to share my problems and my emotions with them as that is what they care about and what they deserve to know.

Finally, All I can say is I may not be right, but over time I have learned, that your parents are not always right either. They are also humans ultimately and they also make mistakes so don’t follow them blindly. In addition to that there is only a pint of things our parents can protect us from, in this world full of gallons and variety. 

If any one of you who is reading this is a parent or about to be a parent, kindly understand and respect your children’s thought process. And please treat them of their age, and if they behave like they are grownups then behave with then accordingly, cause if you try to suppress them or their thoughts, it an insult that stays with them for a really long time. Moreover, always encourage your kids and support them on their quest for happiness, mental proximity is greater than physical one.

P.S.:  I know that the ostrich’s behavior in hostile conditions an old wives’ tale and totally untrue but it’s popular metaphor

Mother’s Day = Not Today

She stared at the clock it was 10:30PM. Her eyes were visibly sleepy.
Before her husband could open his mouth and ask for something else, she pushed herself into the bedroom; locked it from inside; picked up her mobile and plugged in her earphone, pretending to be listening to a beautiful melody, which was in fact, the melody of silence.
As he yelled her name from the living room and asked her for a glass of water, she sat in the chair, sweating from all that hard work pretending she couldn’t listen.
He yeller harder again, and yet she didn’t give a response.
“Mummy.” yelled the kid urgently.
“Yes son!” She yelled within the next second.

Mother's Day card 2

The Song Connection #2

Once, I took this stupid test on Facebook called “song of your life”.

“Viva la Vida” was the answer.

Like every other music freak I knew the lyrics and then I put some thought to it only to realize that the lyrics had no relevance with my life.

If somebody asked your describe your life in one song, what would it be?

For me, the song of one’s life is a song that brings the happiest memories, not because for who would want a song for their sad endings but for the fact that cherishing the happy memories while moving on  making new ones is what makes us learn and grow and that’s what makes us who we are.

When I think about the songs that can sum up some of the major events of my life, my graduation from school, my college days and my graduation from college the only song that comes into my mind is Time of your Life by Green Day. No song, I’ve ever come across that suits better to the farewell setup.

For some the song of their life is a song that inspires them to have new experiences or to fight against what they have suffered and come out of their closet. (Then song for when my thesis ended was “Dog Days are over” by Florence and The Machine)

Not every day is a day that you feel nostalgic or feel determined or sad; when emotions change, the song of the life changes.  Every day is a new day and every hour has a new song to fall in love with.

If you think about it, they made songs for every aspect, emotion, situations of life. The thought is astonishingly scary.

When it rains, Umbrella.

When it’s sunny, Pocketful of Sunshine.

Well, I don’t think that I can ever find the song of my life but if I did, would I enjoy it? Nah! For my mood changes with songs and songs change my mood. That song may or may not be my favorite song. It may or may not talk about my achievements, heights or lows of life. It may or may not remind me the love of my life. But what it surely does is effect my environment.

Here is to, all the songs that give a background score to whatever situations we are in our life.Here is to all the people who make music for all kinds of souls, to lighten and brighten up our day. YOUR SONGS MAKE MY DAY.

Now all I need to do is find a song for this moment, when I hit publish.

 

The Song Connection #1

….This will be my last confession I love you never felt like any blessing, Ohhh….

I woke up with just this sentence ringing in my head. I couldn’t remember where did I pick it from, but I have to tell you the tune of it was remarkably catchy, so I didn’t stop myself from singing that one line over and over again as I finished my morning ablutions and headed out of the door to run some errands and was looking forward for my spa day ahead.

The journey to the mall was yet another ordeal as the taxi driver wouldn’t stop playing the stupid songs that were just breaking my concentration to figure out what that song was. I tried to deviate my thoughts from that song and decided to ponder on something else which gave me nothing more than a headache.

By 4PM I couldn’t tolerate the sound of any other song playing.  This was the first time that I was grumpy all day not because something bad happened but because I just couldn’t’ remember that stupid song.

For going to the spa you need to get into the mood and the mode of it, which I already lost. It felt like Chinese water torture, that one line was driving me insane and so I decided to play it on YouTube. But to my horror, my phone’s internet had exhausted and so was I, mentally.

(I can tell you that mental exhaustion is worse than physical, in case you haven’t ever experienced it.)

I dropped whatever plans I made and came home in a hurry. I goggled the only line I remembered.

I remembered that a friend of my recently tagged me to listen to this it, but I haughtily neglected it. I am not a person who would listen to songs that somebody thinks I would like. Sorry but it’s just in my character and that line was the only thing I heard of that song.

When I heard the song I wanted to hit my head onto the wall. I remember that I asked her to transfer the song to my pod and I had it with me all this while.

The song that I am talking about here is “Heavy in your arms” by Florence and The Machine.