What's your age again?

It came as a shock to me when my 9 year old cousin and his friends found a song with profanity 'funny'. Aren't they too young to even know what these words mean. I had no idea about curse words when I was that young, it took me couple more years, and I was not a goody goody kid either. 

But my cousin is not the only person who is not acting their age. Teenagers are so worried about their love life and relationship status that they change it at least once a month on Facebook. I can say this because I am not a teenager anymore. But really I haven't changed my single status from past few years, only because I am too paranoid to be in a relationship. 

Alarms in my head rang when my friends got involved in a live-in relationship and my sister got married. This can't be, everyone is with someone and I am on my way to afterlife alone with no one but 7 cats surrounding my deathbed.  Next thing I know I am watching Sex and the City in my room with a tub of ice-cream. 

I am kind of like my 9 year old cousin. If he can understand the meaning of those swearwords then I can too watch woman twice my age moan about men and botched botox. 

If Justin Beiber can sing songs about break-ups and Willow Smith can have the same stylist as Rihanna, maybe the relationship between age and sex is not what it used to be. Actually, drop the 'maybe'.  

Turning 20

Yesterday (12 Dec) I turned 20.

Yes, I am not a teenager anymore, so I guess it's time to stop being bratty? Probably not. Some people are ageless. 

Saying that, I would miss the advantages of being a teenager. I feel like it's easier to get things done when you are 19. 20 feels boring. I'll work on changing that. 

There is another event taking place at my house, a very important one and I feel deprived of attention I usually get. But of course, I can't always be in limelight. I am not Micheal Jackson. 

I told my family to not give me any gifts and donate the money towards charity. Obviously that did not work, I still got gifts. I realized even though I have become less 'materialistic' over the time, or just that my priorities are not my barbie dolls anymore, my parents have not grasped that idea yet. Not that they are materialistic, they are used to spoiling me. 

I have all that I need. If I needed more, I'll simply ask. 

The thing is, I am picky. If I don't like a gift, then I don't want it. I know! ' a gift is a gift' blah blah.  But I don't want it. That should count as something. 

And that's why I feel it's much better to invest that money for the good. It would have made someone very happy, could have changed someone's life. 

I told my mother, if you want me to do something for my happiness, join in my purpose. Help me spread some light and love around. I think she got it. 

Obviously, everyday should be so. But birthday's are just special, aren't they? 

A Cuppa Tea

It is a known fact (among my near and dear ones) that I can get very cranky. Usually when I get cranky I throw my sensibility out of the window and become a self-important bitch. Sad, but true.

That is one reason I didn't feel like blogging, why bother writing when I am unsure of my own self, battling with such mood swings that would even embarrass a bi-polar at their worst.

I admit, I have been a cranky meanie baby today. I have sent back my tea two times. I sent back the first cup of tea because I  felt it was an injustice to look over the fact that my cup is only half filled just because there are guest in the house and they deserve all the attention, then I sent it back again because the tea tasted too liquidy. So a fresh batch of tea was made.

I could still hear Sensible Self  (the one I tried to murder by throwing it out from the window) saying in a broken and faint voice that I was being stupid and all this imperfections are in my mind. Apparently it had survived the blows from my mood swings.

As I sipped the third batch of tea, it was still not perfect. It just didn't feel right. I wanted another batch. But I gulped it down anyway.

"It's not the tea, it's you", said my Sensible Self.

So I stopped at the third batch.

Also, my family has been extremely kind to me by enduring my mood swings, if I push them too much, they will eventually decide to kill me off and say it was an accident.

PS : Currently my Sensible Self is still a little wounded and is in recovery. A trace of bitchiness may remain for few days until my sensibility is up and working.

Writer's Block

I am suffering from writer's block.

I guess I need a break to collect my thoughts and get it sorted. I don't know how long this break will be, maybe a minute or a week. Hopefully not more than a week or my writing ability is as good as gone.  Right now my thoughts are too random to bring it out in the open and actually make sense.

It's not like there isn't any inspiration. There are plenty, I just lack the capability to put them into words.

 "This too shall pass." Hopefully.

The Mirror

Every part of my body is giving up. Twelve hours of flight makes me cranky and now my next flight was cancelled, nothing seems to be going right and I need a place to escape. The only place I could think of is the bathroom. I open the door and the strong scent of toilet cleaner makes me sick. A wall of mirror had been lazily cleaned, I can barely see my silhouette.

I rush towards the nearest full view mirror trying to ignore the stink coming out of open toilets that needed serious repairing. An Indian woman is standing in front of the mirror. I hate this woman, why can't I just have this mirror to myself? Put that cheap lipstick in your bag and get out of my sight.  

I adjust myself in whatever place I can find, cursing under my breath I pull out my trusty hairbrush. I see some of my long black hair stuck in the middle of bristles. Great, this is what I need, a prove of me slowly moving towards baldness. I pull the hair out and throw them away carelessly on the ground quickly but in a casual motion so that it goes unnoticed by the woman in front of the mirror.
Brushing my hair i look sideways to see if she is finished with her make-up so i could polish myself and head out to the get the security procedures done. I look at her, and she looks at me.

Oh! what is that? Is that a smile on her face. I automatically smiled back and then looked at her, with no judgement and pure curiosity. She is beautiful. Her dusky skin is glowing and her dark black hair is tied up elegantly in a bun. Eyes lined with khol and a hint of red lipstick on her full lips. She applied her sindoor, meddled with her Sari and smiled at her reflection looking content. After collecting her things, she looked at me smiling and walked off leaving the mirror and me. Finally the mirror was all mine, I searched for beauty in my reflection, inside and out.

Why did I hate on her before, she seems nice. How many others have I hated and never known? For few seconds that seemed like eternity I felt small and guilty. I walk around with a wall built of my insignificant achievements that gives me the illusion of being better than anyone else. The truth is I am scared of being vulnerable. I am scared of being open and yet I cannot close myself. Even when I try to close the doors of my heart, the winds blow them open, light pours in and I stand mesmerized by the beauty I missed.

Universe, when I get consumed by the illusion around me and close my heart to your beauty, send the message through the wind again. 

Beyond Words

Words are the most unreliable way of communication. And yet it is the most used.

Ancient wisdom teaches that words are powerful, it manifests a sense of reality which thoughts and imagination can't attain by themselves. Words spoken out loud are affirmation to oneself.

When carefully chosen and gently spoken these strange noises seems promising, but they are easily accessible to liars, then how do I trust?

Music and dance can tell me stories. Eyes are the window of soul and silence speaks louder.

Then why do I let these words manipulate me? It leaves me in a state of mental chaos, misunderstood and confused.

The first time I looked in your eyes, our souls recognized each other. In a matter of moments a whole lifetime recapitulated.

And then we let words come between us. They trapped us. Like swords they clashed, tore through my hopes and dreams until I could fight no more.

A dagger buried in my heart has left a wound so deep, it is still healing, oozing dark memories.

 Let is flow. The last of darkness will drip down to nothingness. Let it go.

Image from Google

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players."

Image from Google

Shakespeare was a dramatist, he understood the fact that we all somehow feed from the drama we create in our life. Yes we all are actors. Our thoughts becomes actions and it's our actions that shape our life and of people around us.

Sometimes when I think of 'actors' I think 'fake' but the truth is we are acting constantly, if we don't than we are still, which maybe a more peaceful state of mind, but this is a place where change is inevitable and with change comes the drama. No wonder people who live 'simple life' always seem to be going nowhere and their life story sounds boring.

We get inspired by struggle and pain more, than just a simple and content life. Struggle and pain moves us and we love to be moved, when we move we come alive. Happiness touches us, we love the touch. But contentment can only we felt by the wisest of all, because it feels like nothing. And nothing is the hardest thing to digest.

I hear people whine and moan, they feel life is unfair and cruel but they are scared of dying, they know they sound stupid but they won't do anything about it. Why? Because we love the drama.
Sometimes a little drama is necessary it's a sign that things are changing. When we get uncomfortable that is when we start trying to find comfort, or we stay numb.  And numb is not the way to live.

Let me just say, I indulge in drama. It is fun. I sit and moan about how unfair life is. It makes me feel like a kid. But then I have to stop, too much indulgence is not good for mental health.

As an 'old soul' I know the the consequences of things and it is my responsibility to guide others. Sometimes I am laughed at, but it is a risk I am willing to take. I know when others are laughing, there is one person who can resonate with my words, hopefully they would hear me above all the laughter.

Yes, I still do drama just like when parents become child-like with their kid, because it's the best way to connect with the kid. They don't stop being parents and helping their child to grow, but it helps them to walk a mile in kiddie shoes. After all kiddie shoes are way more cuter and appealing than adults.

Drama is appealing. We Love it. We feed on it. 

Happy Halloween !

How I love Halloween!

Hope everyone is having a good time even if you don't celebrate it. Few years ago Halloween for me was just a Hollywood thing, until  I moved to U.K, and it was all real!

Some pictures to share (not related to Halloween)

And now one related to Halloween -

Made by me and my flat mate Kristy