tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80089956127497955002024-03-19T01:07:43.438-07:00Rants of an Average Girlplain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-12539455896377679822016-04-04T11:29:00.000-07:002016-04-04T11:29:13.560-07:00To an imperfectly lovable batch<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, nostalgia is catching up to us. Last month of the Last semester has begun. It's odd, how the years flew by. I remember the me who came to college, and I see the me who is leaving. There is an immense amount of difference. And it is because of the people I was with.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Cse batch of 2016 is easily called the saddest, lamest, weirdest batch (or so I have heard :P). But for me it is the most special one. I know most of the people in the batch really don't care about what's going on with others (sorry about the brutal honesty, but it is kinda true isn't it?), and I also know most of the people in the batch couldn't care less about the classes. But that's the only time I see you guys. That's the only time I know we are a batch. That's the only thing we have in common. Otherwise we are just groups. The smart-yet-nerdy ones, the dude ones, the awesomely-intelligent-yet-cool ones, the we-rarely-come-out-of-the-room ones, the Axis-Aarohi ones, the nerdy-invisible-girls, the rightmost-row-girls, and so on. All of us, the popular and the unpopular, the visitors and the regulars, the going-places ones and the just-getting-out-of-here ones, we make a batch. We make an amazing batch. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You will laugh it off, I know (coz I know many of you :P) But each and every one of you, has made me a better person, unbelievable right? Well, we are a sweetly annoying batch. We surprise ourselves when we show up to celebrate what we have as a batch. We don't get along a lot of the time. We hate each other when the backs are turned. But somehow, amazingly, it all fits. All of us fit together. Like, even if I hate some person, but if they weren't around, I would miss them like crazy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Yes, we aren't as close as some of the other batches or departments. That's probably coz all of us come with our own quirks. But seeing those quirks, and seeing all of you extremely comfortable with those quirks, made me comfortable in my own skin. This was a place where being weird wouldn't come with odd glances. And if I am weird enough to write this, I am definitely very weird. :P</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I know so many of you wouldn't even read this, many would laugh. But it doesn't matter. I didn't have a perfect college life, like they show in the movies. I had a quirky one. With lots of learning, mostly not of the academic kind :P. I made a few friends, who I honestly don't know whether will bother to remember me after college. But I have neither regrets nor complaints. Because, I am taking with me memories of a college life that is easily more than I could have ever asked for. Had it been perfect, it would have become mundane. Had it been any other set of people, I would probably have missed out on something. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I know there are still people I haven't talked to in the three years, but I will try to change that. I know that this would mean little and less to most, but this batch means the world to me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfJs_jwZM1h0QK37YsW5KydbILj9IklAJlHMgGivERNUX-bIfG5_hyphenhyphenck9PVRN1CdTqoexDdiIgcfGFHjkJhrPZifXvl3Ew-gW9k9yfu-aD-793_gkAykfraitNcecNU2bA9ttCPnsqbet/s1600/cse+vnit+batch+2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfJs_jwZM1h0QK37YsW5KydbILj9IklAJlHMgGivERNUX-bIfG5_hyphenhyphenck9PVRN1CdTqoexDdiIgcfGFHjkJhrPZifXvl3Ew-gW9k9yfu-aD-793_gkAykfraitNcecNU2bA9ttCPnsqbet/s640/cse+vnit+batch+2016.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-54450604054275099792016-03-31T05:24:00.000-07:002016-03-31T05:24:26.963-07:00Because all it takes is one small act<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, I struggle almost every time with a topic. What is important for me and relatable to other people, because those two things almost never match.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well this one is a little different.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The other day, I was walking down the street and I saw a woman struggling with her two wheeler. She couldn't get it started. The owner of a pathetic Activa myself (because it is old and not well maintained, no offence, Honda), I know the struggle all too well. So I had seen her from a distance, while I could not gauge the exact problem, I knew I could help. But I kept looking and thinking what the problem was. I passed her and I realised I should have stopped and asked, yet, I did nothing to turn around and actually help her. I just kept walking and thinking how it was wrong that I had walked away. Five minutes later when I came back on the same route, someone was there helping her. I felt better. But it was empty consolation.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9fOWFYxpTrAi3XNLvaYycs_K6vksUO8hNJF_u5omu5Eg0EmvvClUfHyI4owE78I0Grwhta4sR3E-MgA_vpkV0iG9_5sUwiP2bzJNB_okyI-QlE40pGRwhc_9XUI4w86xs5W5Vx8i_e4Yr/s1600/Indian-busy-street-and-traffic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9fOWFYxpTrAi3XNLvaYycs_K6vksUO8hNJF_u5omu5Eg0EmvvClUfHyI4owE78I0Grwhta4sR3E-MgA_vpkV0iG9_5sUwiP2bzJNB_okyI-QlE40pGRwhc_9XUI4w86xs5W5Vx8i_e4Yr/s400/Indian-busy-street-and-traffic.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I knew I could and should have helped her, but I didn't. There has been not one, but many instances involving different things where I could have been of help but chose to walk away. It's shameful. There have been instances when I needed help, and nobody volunteered. I guess that's how the circle goes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe we don't have to help every time we see someone in distress, but if we do it every 5 times of 10, Maybe those 5 times will come around for us out of every 10 times that we need help, and if we manage to get help 50% of the time in this crazy world today, I would be proud that we have still humanity left in the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It could be the smallest of things, like helping your grandmother find her way about her new smartphone, or helping your mother bring down a heavy box from the shelf, or running an errand for your dad, or helping some random stranger kickstart her scooty. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhczk6YnD8c4PgT1mlSYS-xoXpPy16U96JH0iW4o9PWYQ3qdPjSulsEY3gPg3XDLwWSJa7Fxz4RZ7ZvWZfHY32nmzvm3zlvb0UpuVjV1pj-O4PEEm-lnBXLtT8e95xu97k0s0V-IWqU1MH9/s1600/26402_hd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhczk6YnD8c4PgT1mlSYS-xoXpPy16U96JH0iW4o9PWYQ3qdPjSulsEY3gPg3XDLwWSJa7Fxz4RZ7ZvWZfHY32nmzvm3zlvb0UpuVjV1pj-O4PEEm-lnBXLtT8e95xu97k0s0V-IWqU1MH9/s320/26402_hd.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">source: goodnet.org<br /><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If anyone anywhere needs a little bit of help, and we can give them that, then we add a little bit of human into this increasingly machine dominated world. </span></div>
plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-6286778438543600392016-03-11T10:21:00.000-08:002016-03-11T10:21:07.515-08:00Why sometimes backups, and not dreams, should come true<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, have you ever had your dream come true?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I never had too, I always had my backup come true, like when you want to study in IIT but get NIT, or how you want to be the Head Girl at school but end up becoming smaller fish with lesser power. Like when I aimed for the first position but always got second in dance competitions. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Backups come true, all of them :D</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But then I look back now, and see the good in all of them, I know I am being holier-than-thou here, but just look at things this way. If I hadn't gotten second every time and only first, I would have stopped making the effort. Being second best in my formative years taught me what prolonged effort is. How you don't give up and keep working towards what you want to be. How to persevere, how to stay focused.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Being a deputy of something and not head, taught me how to get work done, and how not to wait around for credit. It gave me freedom to do work my way, and have somebody else be responsible for it. It gave me time to explore other things, without taking away the importance associated with a position holder. It taught me to multi-task, and manage all deadlines. It taught me whatever the position, only will is needed to make a change.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Getting NIT instead of IIT was simply the best God could have done for me. I mean I was a stupid kid, I still am, but was even worse back then. Protected child with no clue how the world worked. I would have collapsed had I been in IIT. When I left home for college, I barely could talk to guys properly (yes, even at this day and age, girls with low self-esteem can't talk to guys straight up). So, while I was unhappy that I couldn't get my dream, I know now, that I wasn't ready to live it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What I didn't know then was that, eventually, I was getting prepared to actually live the dreams I would be aiming to achieve henceforth. Each and every one of my backups came true, none of my dreams did, but the one thing I did right was to never give up dreaming because of it. And all my backups taught me enough, to be strong enough to live my dream once it did come true.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And one day, it did. My dream. My one singular dream for two years. I literally would have dreams about this one thing I wanted. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQdUXdqnV76HyYnZfDevl6Nt4Jc5ZY-yNg9KahHJHgI2hM_YsEwXPi88vh9Oh2AFyIl9qOTIHQ5vSk3VH48HQZYk22BrYZCoVjELj8YMq4oOPL5enjPANDz7rcLEZSuyirBHHGNpTQVVwD/s1600/make_your_dreams_come_true_by_lostgfx.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQdUXdqnV76HyYnZfDevl6Nt4Jc5ZY-yNg9KahHJHgI2hM_YsEwXPi88vh9Oh2AFyIl9qOTIHQ5vSk3VH48HQZYk22BrYZCoVjELj8YMq4oOPL5enjPANDz7rcLEZSuyirBHHGNpTQVVwD/s400/make_your_dreams_come_true_by_lostgfx.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And I know now, that I am moving towards the life I always imagined I would have. I know all this sounds very fairytale like, but it is true. Because paths are lighting up for me as I look towards them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The mantra is, don't give up, not for one second. And don't be disheartened, not for one second. Accept gracefully what comes your way and make the most of it, eventually, all your second options and backups will pave your way to the path that leads towards your dreams, the real high ones, not the believable and easy ones. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oh but all of this doesn't come automatically, you have to work, with whatever you have and whatever you can get, towards what you want. Whatever little you get, make the most out of it. I know I am being condescending, but that's how it works, only if you constantly move. Only if on days you cant get up, you will yourself to get up, dress up, and show up. It's all in the will.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's will that pushes a bulky person so that he dances nimbly. It's will that pushes an injured athlete to finish the race. It's will that gets you out of addiction. It's will power and your ability to dream which will take you places. Just trust me on this one. ;)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPEQKPEvexN73miICMx8XDVy_IMRg-w4huJtfQm6CUfkix-3N-XGxEFqA4y2zMRGAC-KFKgSyc8IzT0_wPgFQDh1cUsQATlZNKGYzYZXiKwhpmS_5RmNY54aOSjnlzaCWu6FiXmFToiSxB/s1600/having-time.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPEQKPEvexN73miICMx8XDVy_IMRg-w4huJtfQm6CUfkix-3N-XGxEFqA4y2zMRGAC-KFKgSyc8IzT0_wPgFQDh1cUsQATlZNKGYzYZXiKwhpmS_5RmNY54aOSjnlzaCWu6FiXmFToiSxB/s320/having-time.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-29345655333395787202016-03-07T07:49:00.000-08:002016-03-07T07:50:25.790-08:00The Unsung Heros<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, I fell sick recently, and had to go to a doctor. It was
the usual drill. Get an appointment, go at the designated time, yet end up
waiting an hour or so, then the doctor gives you a look and diagnoses you and
you are out. For all the build up there is, this kind of comes like an
anticlimax. You aren't satisfied. You feel there should be more one to one time with the doctor. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I call up my doctor saying the medicine isn't working, because well, it has been 4 hours since I took it and I haven't healed. Many times I also call up my doctor because I have forgotten the doses or the medicine. My doctor answers all my queries very patiently, whatever time of the day be it. But that's the part of their job description isn't it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZDAOCdSQqLR0_DfZR99yoQ3Lq8woA3hVdk0EhyphenhyphenkZCVLkzp8tUR4E7gQCOK-YC-82OvIyhhnlYAXXoF36ekU7uBn0T1SGQDJamY5W_TfElM9RNqTqe8IG56Jov5nc7ayj7o8hoOlb5Rvbb/s1600/20154025971_58ea106135_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZDAOCdSQqLR0_DfZR99yoQ3Lq8woA3hVdk0EhyphenhyphenkZCVLkzp8tUR4E7gQCOK-YC-82OvIyhhnlYAXXoF36ekU7uBn0T1SGQDJamY5W_TfElM9RNqTqe8IG56Jov5nc7ayj7o8hoOlb5Rvbb/s400/20154025971_58ea106135_o.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What if I told you there is a flip side to this. What if I told you, that doctors are actually humans too. They fall sick like everyone else. They love shopping and watching movies. They love to go for holidays. And yes, they also get tired. But doctors never complain of not having a 9 to 5 job description, that is because they know what a commitment of saving life really means.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I come from a family of doctors and everyday I see, the sacrifices all the doctors in my family make, to retain their commitment to their profession. My mother is in a private practice, and she was working when she went into labor when I was about to come into the world. And a week later, she was back to work. She did not get a maternity leave, because she had committed to cure other babies of sickness. And I couldn't be more proud of her.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZxkcj5qB12sOMSuyiFM-X5xMSvbp0TE978tmVWJMuUYhKIwxHWLJpTICkLK-3QtClDBYa5vSGXC-RG3ZZlE5Z2ukARkRADeyDqHOlojO51tn6YecVCi36h0BzKuItG1rZcOyN6ayASho9/s1600/burnout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZxkcj5qB12sOMSuyiFM-X5xMSvbp0TE978tmVWJMuUYhKIwxHWLJpTICkLK-3QtClDBYa5vSGXC-RG3ZZlE5Z2ukARkRADeyDqHOlojO51tn6YecVCi36h0BzKuItG1rZcOyN6ayASho9/s320/burnout.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My dad missed so many annual functions and PTA meetings because of emergency operations which cropped up. And I couldn't respect him more. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">He would stay up half the night operating on some head injury case, and would still wake up at 6:30 a.m. to drop me to school.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My mom would make me go to sleep and finish my project work, then would again be woken at night to resuscitate a newborn baby and yet she would wake up before me and pack my lunch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Even today, the only calls allowed on the dining table are those from patients. Sometimes I get irritated and ask them to shut their cell phones. And they say, it is our duty to save these people, and while not all of them are dire, to everyone their family is precious and people tend to panic when they are at risk, we are their only hope and support. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">How do you argue with that? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What I am saying here I guess is, that doctors sacrifice a lot, to do what they do. They work more than any normal human being can and yet they are patient and courteous and supportive towards all their patients. I have seen so many cases where people abuse doctors for long waiting times or unavailabilities. In fact, one person used abusive language with my mom for having to go for one of our school events. He said, "If you wanted a personal life, why did you become a doctor?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There are so may people who fight for fees or preference while in queue, and so many who use foul language with doctors. So many who try to commercialize the noble profession and so many who try to buy health with money.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">To all those people, Doctors are humans too. They are also someone's mother and father, someone's son and daughter, someone's sister and brother, someone's husband or wife. If they charge you something for their services, it is not for greed of money, but for their own sustenance, it is just like you having a job for sustenance. If they have a huge queue, I guarantee you that they are more tired than you and yet patient, because they know that someone has to be more selfless. If sometimes they are unavailable, it is because they are trying to have a semblance of normal life with their beloved family and friends. Because for each hour they spend like a normal human, they give 20 being a superhuman. And they don't even expect anything in return, they don't even expect a thank you, they don't even expect you to understand what they are doing for you. They just want to do the best they can, in the time they have.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim24tdaPP4tgd66t2roTDg4obtNPEe50ryhbJZpx9butFYjHh59lafwPP8XLgT7LZRmOIrSiuvtP6vmyRNR0QMwifXWAD44gQR2CR2tvSZkk7uBrjC6uRyTu8w-SDAwvrsVZGpKk4PEXhh/s1600/doctors+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim24tdaPP4tgd66t2roTDg4obtNPEe50ryhbJZpx9butFYjHh59lafwPP8XLgT7LZRmOIrSiuvtP6vmyRNR0QMwifXWAD44gQR2CR2tvSZkk7uBrjC6uRyTu8w-SDAwvrsVZGpKk4PEXhh/s320/doctors+day.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> They want you to live happily and healthily, and never fall sick again.</span></div>
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plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-57469193028567223502016-01-29T02:10:00.001-08:002016-01-29T10:16:47.142-08:00Indian classical art forms: because they aren't uncool, just misunderstood<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I recently attended a classical dance performance. It was after a really really long time, and I went reluctantly because it was cold. But I had to go, one of my closest friends had asked me to come with her, and I just couldn't refuse, you know. Boy! Was I thankful I went.<div>
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<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCtmSzkoVVx_O_dHI73rgO387fL5Q5fz6c2PFOVyKdAJTvLFm9vwsVHFsloljfmrB-6ospfTZS-QcxFLqAMOiQ5NLavsnWWJLw1sv0DRdHnvUDvmNE12U6tFlDiRVpmhMY-W6Zex5guHS/s1600/Dancing-popup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCtmSzkoVVx_O_dHI73rgO387fL5Q5fz6c2PFOVyKdAJTvLFm9vwsVHFsloljfmrB-6ospfTZS-QcxFLqAMOiQ5NLavsnWWJLw1sv0DRdHnvUDvmNE12U6tFlDiRVpmhMY-W6Zex5guHS/s320/Dancing-popup.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rama Vaidyanathan performing one of her dances</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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That night, sitting in audience of the cold open stage, I fell in love. I fell in love all over again. I was reminded of what was that thing which drew me towards it initially. Dance for me, is like a drug. And after a really long time, I felt that high. It's a high like no other, it's a high where you forget everything else, it's you, your dance and the music. Now I don't do the usual bollywood stuff, I am no good at that, I am hardcore classical, but then that's my genre. The enchantment is strong, and the intoxication is long.<br />
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But what I noticed there, the only sad part, <b>was the audience.</b> Or the lack of it, I should say. I have come to realise this of late, that people are just unaware of the beauty that classical is. I don't say that other dance forms are bad. All dance is meditation for the dancer and treat for the eyes. What I do say is that classical is slowly becoming a forgotten dance genre. Bollywood movies promote western music and lyrics, and to the uneducated, catchy music is all that matters. People want relatable stuff, where they can sing and dance along. They don't want stuff that asks them to sit and watch, to absorb and explore in their minds, people want familiar. But then that goes for every single thing in life. We want and like things which seem familiar to us.<br />
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What if, you explored something new? what if you sat and watched? what if, we paid attention to what is really happening on stage?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL7iQQorGSEkii3wmw6fgLsN9umhy3ULdtHIIDaUZwie0tCFfKBQ00_miKYqkV3Fszys35VjXVcpl6nxtyh7c_OrwSy6PIz-mo1NIAmb2q8Mi_WOUjkpXlWCyHqkwjuh_x2SsgVHQ30Q_8/s1600/541015-moksha-2015-kalakriti-the-indian-dance-competition.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL7iQQorGSEkii3wmw6fgLsN9umhy3ULdtHIIDaUZwie0tCFfKBQ00_miKYqkV3Fszys35VjXVcpl6nxtyh7c_OrwSy6PIz-mo1NIAmb2q8Mi_WOUjkpXlWCyHqkwjuh_x2SsgVHQ30Q_8/s400/541015-moksha-2015-kalakriti-the-indian-dance-competition.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Maybe, just maybe then you might be able to see something incredible. Maybe you will see the grace of every hand movement. Maybe you we see the intricacies of expressions portrayed by the dancer. Maybe you will notice the power of the leg movements. Maybe you will see the ease and expertise with which the dancer moves. Maybe you will understand how music and dance complement each other and maybe you will realise how beautifully they become one. Dance is music, music is dance. Expression is dance, mudra is dance. The sharp eye movements are dance. The lights are dance, the backdrop is dance. The stage is dance, the atmosphere is dance. The dancer is just the medium. Everything becomes dance once you really look. <b>It becomes divine, and God becomes dance.</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8sULOKXZaiibH02kvRPGxtWcXwCBIt_7UPQceneipBKRUcSTlg4nqUerTVhHM5LZpLq0VDw-lN3guQ0pcprZWJR2tkaQlJFNydo5RYXixp95F3XRHK_BClUTv1pabf9c9RUaGSzqK6li/s1600/Miyan-Tansen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8sULOKXZaiibH02kvRPGxtWcXwCBIt_7UPQceneipBKRUcSTlg4nqUerTVhHM5LZpLq0VDw-lN3guQ0pcprZWJR2tkaQlJFNydo5RYXixp95F3XRHK_BClUTv1pabf9c9RUaGSzqK6li/s1600/Miyan-Tansen.jpg" /></a>Yeah, I know all this sound very romantically painted, but classical dance is the most mathematically constructed of all the dances, with all beats complementing each other. All instruments playing in alignments which bring out the best of each instrument, while never overshadowing the other. How each time of the day has a specific kind of music and a specific kind of dance. How each season of the year has it's own set of chords. It wasn't magic that when Tansen sang Deepak raag at court the atmosphere became so hot that he was about to die of heat exposure, so much so that he had complementary singers singing Miya Malhar to bring about rain and save his life. It was science. The science of frequencies and vibrations.<br />
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At the time when we are embracing western culture blindly, we tend to overlook the fact that we have a few gemstones of our own. Classical music and dance is one such gem. It is in no way lesser than the dances popular in the west. While they have their charm, classical too has it's grace. Maybe we need to see where we are going with this westernization thing. Maybe we should remember our own heritage. Maybe we shouldn't laugh and downplay classical, but treat it as our own, treat it as we would other dances.<br />
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Classical is in a very bad shape today. everyone wants to play guitar, nobody want to play the veena. Because it takes longer to learn the veena. But the harder the path is, the greater the reward is. If you know classical, you can venture into any other genre. There is a reason we don't get singers like Rajan and Sajan Mishra, or Shankar Mahadevan or Sonu Nigam, or Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhosle today.<br />
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Outside India, people are doing special trainings to learn Indian classical art forms. When they realise how rich and plentiful our forms are, why do we stay blind to it? Why do we shun everything <i>desi</i>? Maybe, this year, let us all try to love our heritage and culture a little bit more, be more accepting towards what we have, instead of finding faults with it. Let's try to understand classical and give it a chance. Let's all be a little bit nicer to what is our own.</div>
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plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-31163603723176320522015-10-17T05:54:00.000-07:002015-10-17T05:54:36.851-07:00Don't let go of your Angels<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
All of us are running, everyday, from morning to night. Running after something, or in some cases, after someone :P. While the second might not be a healthy practice, the first definitely is, since it gives an essence to our life, a purpose, a path.<br />
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While on this path, we tend to meet people, good people, bad people and amazing people also, horrible people. To move forward smoothly, we need to take care of all these people, adjust them into various roles which they play to make our life complete. Everyone has their own very specific role in our life, big or small, positive or negative. Then there are those people, who are the constant presence, the people who make up the support system I talked about in the last post. These people are the ones who take care of us, while we take care of all the others in our life. What we sometimes forget is that these rocks of our life, need to be taken care of too. They need and deserve our attention. And most often it is these people, who are ignored by us, forgotten because they are taken for granted.<br />
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Sure sometimes we don't like certain qualities they possess, they might be boring, or always wallowing, or irritable or judgemental or any other quality which you might consider a kill-joy. But they stand by you always, however irritating you might be to them. These people shield you from all things bad, they help make your life worth living. They kick bad influences out of your life and knock sense into you when you start going wild. They keep you feet on the ground so that you can keep your head in the clouds. They are your own personal angels, If there is a God (and I strongly believe there is) he sent these people as our own royal guard. And in just the same way, you are theirs, because in life, there are no one-way streets.<br />
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The biggest mistake we can do is, not give these people there due, because after a limit of ignorance by us, they might just decide to leave us to our fate, and if such a person is lost once, they are rarely gained back.<br />
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I never realised I was doing this very same mistake, till I got a taste of my own medicine. There is this person, who was with me during my most difficult times, and I started taking her for granted, when I finally realised what I had been doing, I knew no amount of words would be enough for an apology, still that is all I can do, and hope that it's not too late to make amends. Because when you do find out who your angels are, you should never let them go. </div>
plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-60334522718426895702015-10-15T10:13:00.000-07:002015-10-15T10:13:19.011-07:00Who Show Me My Rainbows<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Navratri started two days ago, it is an Indian festival where we get idols of goddess durga and perform pooja and be all religious. It is a festival which leads up to Dussehra, a symbol of good winning over evil.<br />
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Anyway, this is not what I really want to talk about, and as it is, I am not an expert on festivals either. So, I saw the procession when the idol was being brought to where it was going to be kept for the next nine days. It was in a big truck kind of thing, I don't know what it's called. From the distance I could see, a beautiful idol, richly dressed and smiling all around. Standing tall amidst the procession even with all the lights flashing. I was awed by the majesty, the beauty, the power. I stood there entranced, unable to take my eyes off of her. All the while, the truck kept coming closer and closer. When it was right in front of me, I noticed two people, one on the side and one at the back, holding the idol steady, the jerky movement of the truck was making the idol oscillate violently and these two people were standing there precariously maintaining there own balance and supporting the idol.<br />
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What I am trying to say here is something which is much more relevant to our own lives.<br />
You can't stand tall alone.<br />
When you wish to do something big, or for that matter when you wish to do anything small also, you need support, you need people you can lean on, people you can trust, people who stick around with you. You need people who are willing to bend over backwards to help you, to support you. You would think, "yeah! who is going to do that for me? As if there are people in this world you can trust".<br />
My response would be, well, look around. Do you see your family? In the fringes of your life somewhere, your family is always present. Your mom, your dad, your significant other, your siblings. You may have a thousand fights with them, you may not get along a lot, one or the other or all of them hurt you or ditched you sometime,but when one ditched you, the other had your back. They may not always be present, they may not always treat you right, but hey, they are your go-to people. They will stand by you when all else fails. Not all of them, not all the time. But at least some of them, some of the time. All of this can be applied to friends too, if you are lucky enough to find good ones.<br />
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You know why it is difficult to find good friends? Because the people can't accept one another as they are, they wish to look for something perfect, I think that's the reason marriages so often fail. Accepting people as they are, is the key to lasting bonds, where you don't judge, you just love, not the imperfections, but the tiny little perfections in a person.<br />
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So, coming back, you need to recognise the group of people who are supporting you in your jerky truck, and you need to value them. Value them and support them right back. Because I don't think you would want your support system to become sloppy.<br />
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People will say, I don't need anybody, I can do things all on my own. They couldn't be more wrong. I spent a lot of time trying to do just that. Couldn't have been more horrible a failure. And then it struck me, while I proclaimed that I was doing everything on my own, it couldn't have been any bigger a lie. Because I had my family right beside me, and I didn't even consider them people! They were my support, and I didn't recognise it, I won't be able to take a single step without my support. Because it is easy to say I can manage on my own when things are going good or even okay, it's when the waters are troubled that you can't manage on your own, when you need you support.<br />
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To reach the top of the pyramid, you need someone to be the base, you need your equipment, you need your stabilizers. Alone, you are just a drop of water, with others, you can fill up a bottle (come on, no one has a support system as big as an ocean :P )<br />
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You need help, you always will, you just need to find out who the people are who are those pillars who hold your roof, who are the shoulders carrying you to a pedestal, who are the prisms giving you the rainbows.</div>
plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-58820162244035641282015-10-11T11:34:00.000-07:002015-10-11T11:34:42.274-07:00The view from my bus window<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There are few things in life which are so difficult to understand. They are complex and they are present everywhere, which makes it easy to just look past them, to avoid the mind-boggling.<br />
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During my internship, I took the city bus to work everyday, and that was all I needed to see one very very weird phenomenon. The phenomenon of progress. That city is supposed to be one of the most progressive in India. If progress means everyone owning a cell phone and using it to listen to their favorite songs during commute, then yes, there was progress. But if progress means everyone sharing an ideology, a changing ideology, that everyone has access the same set of resources which have been made available to the people, then I can't say there was progress.<br />
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The 'supermarket culture', as I like to call it, where everything can be found at supermarkets and people do not look beyond that, is limited to some people. The people with a higher strata of income, the people who live in housing societies and bungalows. There is another section of people, a significantly larger one, for whom this remains something beyond their reach. The resources available to the public are of two kinds, the ones influenced by the increasing western culture, monopolized by the jeans wearing population and the other being traditionally Indian, belonging to the older ways.<br />
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I don't know which kind is better, and it is not for me to decide either. But what's observable is the social disparity led by an economic disparity in India. To one side of the road is the big superbazaar, to the other, a sabzi-mandi and some privately owned shops. This is not where the problem lies, the problem lies in the fact, that the people using one do not use the other, they cannot or would not use the other side of the road. We take our 'supermarket culture' from the west, but we don't take their equality of people. In the west, even the hired help of a supermarket buys from the supermarket.<br />
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Progress does not only mean new investments and big brands. Progress means that new whatever is available, is available to everybody. If we don't take the entire nation forward together, there is no point to progress. it is like taking your head somewhere leaving your body behind. And you know what happens when you do that, your body falls apart and dies.<br />
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What I am trying to say here is that what all is reality for some people, still remains a dream for others. What is basic necessity for some people, still remains a luxury for others.<br />
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And when analysed, everything boils down to one thing, population. So many people, so many mouths to feed. Surplus human resource, but no manager. Services provided by one, are given cheaper, by another.<br />
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I don't know what the solution to this large scale problem is, but I think more people should pay attention to it, because it is known to everybody, we just choose to ignore it, thinking, this is not my problem alone but if it is your country's problem, aren't you, in some small way bound to help solve it?<br />
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All this, I could see, just sitting in the city bus during my internship, the professionals see this everyday. Well, it's time everyone had a really good look around and try to make a change, towards a less unequal country, towards a more progressive nation. </div>
plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-52330498213850009792015-10-07T05:15:00.000-07:002015-10-07T05:15:18.887-07:00Dear Girls<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Dear Girls,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I have some very cliched advice to give you. Be yourself. Everyone
today is telling everyone else to be themselves. You would think, what's the
big deal? So, I be a little fake, who isn't now-a-days. I would say, truly
said, but it's that fakeness precisely which is holding you back. Holding you
back from happiness. Because when you are fake, people can see it, they can
tell you are not being yourself, and trust me, that causes a lot of misery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I know this girl, she is the kindest, sweetest, most intelligent
girl I have ever met. She is very beautiful too. But she is a tomboy, or tries
to hide behind it. She would love to dress up and look good and be appreciated,
but she doesn't. And sometimes you can sense that that's what she wants but is
scared. I think she is scared of not being taken seriously as a person if she
does that. I don't really know the reason, but I can see that she is holding
herself back. If she just is herself without fear and guilt and whatever else
she feels, she will probably blast everyone and every stereotype out of her way
and be the happiest and most content person around.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Because when you are not being yourself, you are scared, not
confident, shy, and then you try to hide behind someone you are not, and that
is bad for you, really bad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">There is this other girl I know, she really is herself all the
time (well, most of the time). She is her own kind of person, with elements of
tomboyishness and girlishness. She can speak for hours on sports and she has a
great fashion sense. She is not scared of who she is, or of not being liked.
She is the most popular girl in her college (goes without saying, doesn't it?).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">See, the importance of being your own kind of person cannot be
emphasized enough. You need to be exactly who you are, without restrictions on
yourself. The world needs originals, copies can be manufactured in factories.
And it's the originals who change the world. And the world needs changing. The
world will always need changing and you can't do it unless you embrace your own
self first. Be unapologetic for who you are, or what you like. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">But there is one thing you need to remember, being your own self
should not be destructive for others. You can say that I identify with being a
burglar, so I am a burglar and I don't apologize for it (now, that would be
something worth watching :P), Your values, your beliefs, your self should be
such that it enhances you without damaging others. Your freedom ends at the
point where another person's freedom begins.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">And you should not just embrace yourself, but also others for who
they are, because there is some magic, some good, inside everyone. What you see
in a person is a direct result of your equation with the person. Even the
Indian Gods,when angered, tend to be evil and irrational. Everyone has their
own brand of good in them, you should try to see it, and let them be, just like
you should let yourself be. Don't judge yourself, love yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Although this is true for everybody but it is more important for
girls because I see that girls have more self-image and self-confidence issues
than guys. Don't have issues with your own self, it's perfect. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Be you, unapologetically.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Love,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">plain_jane<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-86523456139015314232015-10-05T08:18:00.001-07:002015-10-05T08:18:23.409-07:00Parents<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have been struggling with this post for days now. I am unable to understand how to begin, not sounding too cliched yet making my point. This thing that I want to say is so very close to my heart that I don't know if I know the words to do a full justice to it. Needless to say, it revolves around something very uncool, parents.<div>
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Parents, love them, hate them but you can't ignore them. People don't get along well with their parents, specially during the teenage. When parents are the essential enemy. Sure they are irrational sometimes, like my mother and her fears for my safety. Her assumption that every innocent guy I pass during the day is out to abduct me. Sometimes it irritates me, but then I realise she is only being my mom. Other parents have other irritating habits, and we tend to hate them for that. In fact, not fours years ago, I couldn't wait to leave the house for good.</div>
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Do this, do that, talk like this, don't laugh like that, it was getting on my nerves. I thought any place in the world had to be better than this. So, I took the first opportunity out, and boy! there was a tectonic shift in my perspective of things. Without my safety net, my parents, I was scared of everything. And they knew I was scared, so they stood by me and helped me. I had hated them, and they knew it, yet they helped me. They helped me stand on my own two feet and face the world. </div>
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Recently, a friend's father fell majorly ill, while he is on the road to complete recovery and every time the news is steadily better, I saw very closely, the shock, the fear and most importantly the impact of such a life or death event of a parent. It is nothing you can ever think of. Even the thought of losing a parent is earth-shattering. Even if you are not on the best terms with them, they will always continue to remain the most prominent presence in your life.</div>
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As our parents get older, they can't always keep up with the world. They are not what they used to be twenty years ago. And sometimes we think, they are so stupid, why can't they do this, it is so simple. But they patiently taught us to ride a bike and a car, when they thought it was so simple.</div>
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They know what's happening to them, but they won't admit it, because they know we are not ready for it. We are not ready for our parents to grow old. We are not ready to see them incapacitated and frail. Because that would mean the loss of that protective shield, the safety net. We are not ready to let go of the idea that our parents are invincible. But they are not. And love them or hate them, it's time for us to protect them.</div>
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plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-48218686248003069552015-09-23T04:50:00.000-07:002015-09-23T04:50:37.938-07:00Being a kid again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I know my blogs are becoming increasingly about my own life, but that's where I draw most of my insights. So, I tend to be biased and personal in my blogs.<br />
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So, here is what I want to say this time, don't grow up too fast.<br />
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Recently, a list was put up in my department detaining the students having less attendance. There was a process with quite a bit of paperwork to get out of the detention which most people followed, after all, who wants detention?<br />
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But it sent a loud and clear message to the students that the days of their tyranny were over. They had to toe the line and attend classes. Everybody was disgruntled of course.<br />
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For the past few days, my class has seen unprecedented attendance rise. Almost seventy percent of the class has been coming. And surprisingly enough, those three days have been few of my happiest in college. Now, you would say I lead a sad little life to be happy about this but there is something about a full class which makes you forget your miseries.<br />
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The constant buzz, the jokes on each other, the talking to people sitting ahead and behind you, the very mundane things. These ordinary things seem special to me, because they remind me of school. It reminded me of those carefree days where the goal of coming to class was having fun with the people who were inaccessible otherwise (friends staying far).<br />
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Our professors put this rule for their own good reason but what it has done is remind me that I am still a kid. I was so busy trying to grow up, that I forgot to enjoy the few years left to me of still being considered a kid. Once out of college, everyone will be considered a responsible adult. You have to be on time, be disciplined, maintain your own life, earn money, support families. This change is expected immediately after you leave college, so we drive ourselves crazy preparing for it. Filling our resumes with new and important stuff that we do, trying to cram a lot of stuff in our college years to make ourselves an asset to our future company.<br />
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What we become in the process are cynical people, who blame the system for pointless assignments, abuse our teachers for their incompetency, find that attending classes is a waste of the precious time which could be used to strengthen job prospects. While all that is true, their is one essential thing we forget, we are still kids. That going to classes is fun if everyone comes. Yes, people hang out with their friends all the time, spending time with people who mean something to them. But the countless meaningless people who fill up our classrooms are what make the classes fun for us. For many of us sad people, that's the only place a few laughs come from.<br />
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I can see the change is so good, I enjoy coming to class again. it's not the monotonous drone of a professor now, it is a place where I laugh, on others and myself. A place filled with a positive buzz. A place so much like my home of twelve years, my school, where I had some of the best days of my life.<br />
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I don't know what others think, but I think the professors have given me a gift, a gift to be a carefree kid, for the very last time.</div>
plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-13556874697895923422015-09-18T06:37:00.000-07:002015-09-18T06:38:12.724-07:00Home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Home.<br />
What is the definition of home?<br />
What comes into the category of home?<br />
Probably the place where your loved ones are, the ones who stay by you even when you are at your worst. The place where unconditional love is found.<br />
One such place is you childhood home, the place where you grow up.<br />
I recently had a wave of nostalgia when I visited my home, the place where I spent my childhood. Where my school was. My school is still there, but it has changed. The building is same, the people have changed. I don't recognise any face there anymore. That made me sad. No semblance of familiarity remained. The teachers were different. I know my teachers moved to bigger and better schools and I know where a few of them are but that I would never see them again with a familiar blackboard behind them made me feel that something is missing. That part of my life, of me, is gone and all that's left behind is memories. Some memories I wince from, but would never trade anything to forget them.<br />
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My city has changed too. Big roads, big malls. It has always been changing, progressing, but it never felt so stark when I lived there. Things change, sometimes so much so that it is difficult to compare them to what they used to be. My favorite ice cream shop shut down, and my friend who used to live right across from it moved to some other place, got married, had kids (she is much older than me). So many new restaurants and eateries opened up that I lost track. What used to be a single road with a railway line obstructing it's functioning every now and then, has given way to a flyover with cars zooming through it.<br />
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My point here is, things change, and keep changing whether you witness them or not. There is change everywhere, even in us. We keep evolving, that is why people change. Transience is the very nature of life. Trying to grab on to things and trying to keep them that way is futile. Beautiful moments are etched in memory and are beautiful because they cannot be repeated. You find friendships in life and you lose them, because you evolve differently. No two people can evolve the same. If you want to hold on to people you have to embrace the change. And sometimes, letting go is best.<br />
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You will find no person or place the same as you left them, that is why the concept of home is so abstract. It raises the issue, if everything is changing, home will also change. Yes, the people who make your home will change, they will evolve, but so will you, and if the bond is worth it, your home will embrace you and make you a part of their life.<br />
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The day I left home, I stopped being the constant presence, the people left behind fell into a pattern which functioned without me. They didn't need me yet they needed me. They could live without me, but I constituted their home just as they constituted mine. So when I go back, I feel like a misfit in perfect harmony. Because all of us have changed, but somehow we all align perfectly to make the jigsaw complete.<br />
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I guess home is, where you depend on people by choice. Where you trust people completely and where you are always a part of each other's evolution. Where geography doesn't tear you apart. And where it is not a-phone-call-a-day kind of commitment but the I-got-your-back kind of commitment. As someone very wise once said, "Home is where the heart is".</div>
plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-85359511175902114762015-09-09T09:35:00.001-07:002015-09-09T09:35:57.502-07:00My worst enemy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For really long I have blamed so many people for so many things that I have done or felt. Back at school, there was a time, till fifth grade, when I was so confident, so smart, I would get things done, I was not afraid of making enemies, I understood little and said a lot. I was opinionated, I was me.<br />
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Somewhere between sixth grade to eighth grade, I got a lot of new ideas into my head. I stopped believing in myself, started doubting my ideas. The worst thing was, I started believing something horrible. That fat people were not people. They didn't deserve to live like a normal person. That a fat girl couldn't be girly and neither could she be tomboyish. Subliminally, I held on to that belief for almost 10 years. Till now.<br />
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I grew up thinking at I was a different species, someone to be made fun of, someone who could never shine. I believed I was a non-being. I would be scared to spend time in front of the mirror, because who was I fooling? I could never look good. I yearned to get accepted by people, when I never really accepted myself. All through school, I labeled myself unworthy and lamented that people were mean to me, when I was being the meanest to myself. I tried to excel in whatever I did, and was better than 80% of my class in everything I did, yet nobody accepted me, specially the girl inside me. She would always be like, you won't fit-in ever, you were not meant to fit-in, the perpetual failure, the lesser one of the two sisters, you are not even a girl, no one knows who you are, you probably don't deserve to live or be happy.<br />
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I don't know when or how I got this into my head, I kept blaming the world for so long, when the devil really was inside me. I was my worst enemy. Subconsciously, I kept believing that I could never be good enough, that if I wasn't thin like the girls on T.V. and in movies, my existence didn't matter, I would always be a social reject. Worst part is, I didn't even realise that I felt this way till very recently. That I could have avoided all the torture and agony, that it was all in my head.<br />
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But now that I know it, I can change it. I have learnt that most of my demons hide right inside me, that I am my worst enemy and I can change it and be my best friend. Because acceptance is the first step towards change. I wanted to share this today because like me, many people are their own worst enemies, they put themselves down in the worst way possible and don't even realise it. But when you do realise it, you hold the power. When you stop blaming others for the way you are and realise that it has been you all along, you take the power to mold your life, back into your hands. You learn to forgive yourself, you learn to appreciate yourself. You encourage yourself and you motivate yourself because now the voice inside of you is not critical of you, it is supportive of you, because you made it to be that. And in the process, you become your best friend. Your life is all about you, your mind, your body and how you decide to live with it, as it's worst enemy or best friend.<br />
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So, think well and choose wisely, because it is you and only you, which can cause you a life full of joy and love or a lifetime of misery.</div>
plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-81344237048577500382015-09-07T11:00:00.000-07:002015-09-07T11:00:04.339-07:00Worst Day Ever<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Have you ever felt that you are having the worst day of your life?<br />
You wake up in the morning, full of hope and enthusiasm, you want the day to be perfect, you have it all planned out and then Bam! Your sandals are broken, so you say fine, I will wear the ugly ones.<br />
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Refusing to dampen your spirit, you go about your day, every small thing keeps going wrong, you don't get cold water to drink, you are late for class and are picked on by the teacher, you forget the notebook, and much more.<br />
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Eventually you decide, that maybe today is not going to be that great, so you settle for it being average. Fine, everything can't be perfect. But things keep going downhill for you, you end up feeling lost and lonely, good things happen to your friends and not you, someone else is given credit for your work, someone less deserving gets the big raise you wanted, no one understands you are upset. In short, the day is a nightmare.<br />
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So, you do what comes most naturally, you lock yourself up in your room and cry. You cry and cry till tears come no more. You blame the world for all your problems, nothing goes right for you ever, you shout, you cry your heart out. Your nose is running, you are sobbing uncontrollably, your eyes are swollen... and then you know, that you are done. You have taken the sting out of the pain. The party is over and it's time to clear up after. You are sad, but now it's just a phase, your mind is clear and you know what to do next. Your heart is not in it but your brain tells you to snap out of it. You set about working mechanically when your phone rings, it's mom!!<br />
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You pick up and talk as normal as possible, in a second she knows something is wrong and before you know it, you are pouring your heart out, she comforts you and makes your heart swell with love for her, which dulls the pain a bit. Now you are more into things although you wish the day would just get over. Then when you have lost any hope that something could go right today you get an IM, it's one of your classmates, he says, "hey, I read your blog today, you write well, let me know about further posts yeah?"<br />
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And, just like that, the entire day turns around. Now what's so special about that sentence?<br />
Well it's a nearly honest opinion, because you didn't ask for his opinion, he liked what he read and decided to mention it to the author. A struggling author, with no presence in the literary world. What a compliment means to such a person is beyond happiness. You wish to reach out, and you are able to, it's the best feeling in the world!<br />
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You realise that pain is constant, suffering is optional (borrowed line, apologies for not knowing the real author), you realise you will hurt, but that you will be happy too. And just when you think you are happy finally, it's time for bed.<br />
You look forward to tomorrow. Maybe, it could be the perfect (bad) day you have wanted for some time now. You can't really lose hope, can you?</div>
plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-32286686335350605722015-09-05T10:23:00.000-07:002015-09-05T10:23:21.578-07:00Women who Inspire<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
At home, we have a household help, a woman who cooks for us. I just love the tadka daal she makes, whenever I go home, I insist on she making it. Incidentally, where I currently live happens to be her hometown. So, whenever I am home, she asks about the weather, the place, every general thing that comes to her mind.<div>
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When she got married she came to my hometown, she had a decent marriage I think, I don't know much about that. What I do know is, after a brief period of married life and two kids, her husband died. I don't know why, I never asked my mum, and my mum knows everything about everybody (and doesn't gossip about it, coz she is a decent woman). Ever since I have known her, she has been a widow who works at four places to earn money. </div>
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After her husband died, she took the responsibility of her entire family, old in-laws, an unmarried sister-in-law and two young kids.With her father-in-law's support, she took this brave step and decided to support her husband's family like her own, well, it is her family too, because this crazy thing about marriage is, you end up having two families. </div>
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Her problems didn't end there, in fact they just started, her sister and mother-in-law were vicious to her, like it was her fault that her husband died. They would make life hell at home for her. she wouldn't have survived there had it not been for her father-in-law. He was her rock, he would veto everything in her favor whenever he could, even then they two found petty ways to hurt her. She would work from 6 in the morning to 9:30 at night to provide for those people who made her life hell. At times I felt like asking her why did she tolerate them, she could easily leave them to their fates, but I knew what she would say, they were her family, her father-in-law, her kids it's for them that all this was worth it.</div>
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Years passed and the viciousness diluted some, then one day, she came to my mum, crying. This is the first time I had seen her cry. I found out later what had happened. Her father-in-law had passed away a few months back, naming their house in her name and from that house, her sister-in-law had thrown her out, forbidden her to meet her children and asked her to not come back. </div>
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I was flabbergasted! Was this even possible? </div>
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She being a resourceful woman had found for herself temporary arrangements. My mother told her that if the house was legally hers nobody could throw her out and that she should go and stay there. Eventually, she did that and for once, sized down her sister-in-law a bit, her problems have toned down a little since then while not dying away altogether. </div>
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Through all this, this woman has shown an enormous amount of courage and strength. Everyday she would work with full dedication, never once did she take leave. She smiles all the time, she has an easy laugh which is always on her lips. She has raised two nice kids who are getting proper education, and she makes awesome tadka daal. </div>
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I have grown to respect and admire her. She is one woman who is my hero. She has not done anything extraordinary maybe, neither is she very erudite, to so many other houses where she works, she is just their cook, but she is so much more than that. She is an inspirational story to me. She is in my list of women who inspire. There are so many more in my life. They are the women who worry about me, who want me to be better than what I am today, they are the ones I hate sometimes but also the ones I will always look up to. These are the strong women who are shaping the society more than anyone else. Everybody will have them in their vicinity, homes, offices or other places, because these are the everyday women who make a difference.</div>
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plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8008995612749795500.post-90036446330163088902015-09-01T06:35:00.000-07:002015-09-01T06:35:17.193-07:00Hello World<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hi,<br />
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This is my first post to this blog. I decided to start posting from Independence day (15th August), a great day to begin penning free thought. But disciplined as I am, I couldn't :P . I want to write about everything under the sun. Everything which affects people. Everything which does not. From the orange-blue shades of dusk sky to the current state of politics, everything that provokes thought. Because thought is food for the brain. And thought is what makes man different. Thought is what brings about emotion and thought is what brings about change. Thought is what creates opinion and thought is what defies stereotype. Thought is what keeps us alive and thought is what gives us the drive.<br />
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Thinking is something everyone should do, because that's where brainwaves are born. And so I will write as I think and think as I write, as I gain experience and live my life. This is my first post to this blog and I try to keep it interesting. There will be many more and I hope you think they are engaging.<br />
A big Hello to everyone, keep your smiles on because with a smiling heart beautiful lives are born.<br />
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Namaste! </div>
plain_janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01164538027961007715noreply@blogger.com0