What’s love but a second hand emotion.

Oh, What's love got to do, got to do with it 
What's love but a second hand emotion 
What's love got to do, got to do with it 
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YqWkFF-TbMU

I have never been able to understand the intention of Tina Turner behind singing this song. Why in the world did she call love a second hand emotion when it is nowhere to being second in our minds?

Is it Second hand emotion in the sense that it can be used for everybody et al. As in, people do use the word “love” when they want to show their affection to their parents, to their siblings, friends and ofcourse the girlfriends, boyfriends, spouses and husbands/wives. So it’s a word that appropriately fits in whenever you want to show good kind of emotions to any kind of person.

Or is it a second hand emotion because well… you do “ishq wala love” with multiple people before finally settling onto that particular one, if you settle at all that is. To describe in a way that man is polygamous by nature. So there’s first hand love, the second hand love… and infinitely carrying on the same progression till the last one. So we have the word “love”= second hand emotion.

Or is it a second hand emotion, because love is something that can be used and reused, for what, as an excuse? An excuse for physical intimacy, an excuse for sexual cravings, an excuse for the weird, lost state of mind, an excuse for cat fights and dog fights, an excuse to avoid everybody questioning your sanity, or the absence of it otherwise.

Has the use of word “love” been overdone to describe all existent teenage problems, the reason for people failing in making a career. Has it been exploited too much to give a reason for sad days, depressed nights and stupid suicides? And what when this same word is used to describe the reason behind acid attacks, rapes and infidelity, is it still not misused?

So probably love IS stupid afterall, and probably more so because of all the peer pressure and focus put onto it. So there's this whole Bollywood industry running just because this word exists, and twitter feeding millions and millions of tweets because love exists, or does not. And well, isn't it the reason for this STUPID blog as well?

But again, I ask the question. For all of the above mentioned

Oh, what's love got to do with it

What's love but a second hand emotion

The Dumb A(ss)xe effect

So, a boy, just out of shower, his towel still around him, sprays tonnes of Axe deo on himself, and waits for women from around the world to run/fly/ ride or just drop from the sky and hit on him!!!

I say what an advertisement sirjee…. Because you think that women all over the world are more dumb than that guy in the advertisement, dumb enough to pull their pant(ie)s down just because that guy smells “oh so aw(ful)some!” and probably doesn’t bathe daily.

And this is how, Sir, you have succeeded in demeaning women publicly…

The anger is not with that looser of a guy in the add, it’s neither with the maker of that add, neither with boys who spray axe in the hope that girl might actually drop from the sky for him. The anger is with the thought that people worldwide have accepted that add, and that they find nothing annoying with it.

On the other hand, I wonder if the makers of the add have succeeded in cashing on the mentality of the society.…

I remember a friend mentioning how he wanted a girl with “all hearts and no brains”, and yet another one mentioning how a girl “with brains” is the family wrecker than a maker. So they’d rather have a girl who can easily be seduced by their charms and chatter, or even big moustaches rather than by IQ, EQ , killer guts and instincts and etc etc. (I seem to have defined what entices me!!).

I am surprised how the above mentioned add or the incidences clearly are the echo of the trend in our society, that how women are (or are supposed to be) the “Brainless” objects, typically to sit at home, wait to cook the menu that their husbands order for, then clean up after he eats, later make his bed and then sleep with him. Only if it ended here, she then goes on to bear his children, who will bring fame to HIS name, feed them, nourish them, only so that when they grow up, to be asked “aap beech mei mat bolo, aap ko kuch pata bhi hai?”

Its almost indecent (I consider it demeaning too ) how traditionally women are considered to be just the objects of beauty, to be showcased by the armchair of the king, or the head of the family. How they are supposed to accept the husbands their marriages have been arranged with, and oh of course “Your man is your God” type preaching. It’s strange that they are taught not to speak in a male dominated discussion, and to take a pallu, and to cover themselves in every way possible. Not to mention that they still get raped (even after they are covered from toe to head), and then are solely responsible for their own rape.

Why yes, the men are never at fault. Afterall, their gender gives them full right on every woman that they can man-handle, any woman they can rape. Women are, like wealth, their properties, theirs to keep, theirs to protect, theirs to sell and theirs to use.  Women must not, rather they don’t have any say on the matter of who must touch their bodies, who must live with them for their lives, who must they love and who must they fuck.

People might argue the situations are changing for good now. I totally agree, now many (Not all, mind you) men, instead of forcing themselves on us, will try to entice us with stupid attributes like chocolaty smells, because even now, women might be willing to overlook their dumbness, idiocity and brainlessness, just because they smell good.

(I assume that woman makes love only to those she loves, and not to anybody and everybody who comes their way.)

I changed when….

Once upon a time I was a girl, a charming one people say. I changed into a teenager when the air of love flew in. Sweet smelling and strong, it helped me built the castles of dream on it. But those castles were built in the air, they broke.

I changed into a conscious and careful girl when they broke.

The conscious teenager entered into the big bad world outside school, and the air was now that of politics, mistrust and danger. Worries for future and expectations from parents infiltrated it. Along with it I could smell the play of power and the filthy game that it leads to. I was an aware but an insecure just out of my teens girl. I was now rebellious, desperate to make it out of this filth and into a prosperous world. With love-life put on hold, friends gone astray and college coming to an end, the air had become difficult to breathe in.

I changed when God gave me another chance, I changed into an optimistic girl.

 I now smiled, and made friends again. I had now come to trusting people again, sharing feelings was considered to be okay again. An acceptance had come to me that everything that happens is always for the “greater” good.

But change had to come again, I changed when I made a choice to leave that position of comfort.

I changed into a business woman when I traded that world of friends for a world of stretched limits, clever businessmen and new opportunities. People say it is a world where, you study the world and you study the self. You accept the weirdest, and question the simplest. I changed myself enough to fit into that world.

I am changing now, again. I am learning to do things for myself rather than to keep others happy. This learning has brought back the long lost sense of security, a sense of pride in self.

This change is the first of its types, which I have welcomed.

It has brought the belief that life was never meant to be fair, but that's why it is beautiful. I have realized that people will leave you heartbroken, not because they are ruthless, but because they never understood what you expected out of them.

Oh what a relief it was to realize that Its okay to cry for the ones gone. Its easy to move on when done so without resentments.

Resentment is good too, only till it doesn’t break you down into pieces. Its okay to be selfish, it’s okay to be weird, and want things that others never dreamt of.

Its okay to let go of the rotten past. I realized, in the 6 years that I have feared my future, the past never mirrored the future, my life has never shown me days I have always been worried of. And my failures of the past have not crept into the present yet.  

I guess there have to be new beginnings every time season changes, there are new friends every time old ones are lost, the heart always finds new loves to toy around when the ex’s break your heart, there are new bosses waiting to dictate new terms when the old one throws you out.

He always has the Plan B for us if one doesn’t work out, or maybe it’s the way we are, that we figure out new ways to make everything right.

I am just looking to making everything "right" now, and writing this has just put everything into perspective.

And hence leave you with this wonderful song.. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a4VEAh1-kpU

When all things dear in the world were lost

There was a world where tying rakhies to guys not our brothers was easy.
There was a time when friendship happened with just a shake of hands.
There were days when crying for the one you love was not a shame.
There were days when asking for help was done without much fretting over.

Calling friends, going to their place, dancing, eating chocolates, everything was just so much easier to do. There were no second thoughts about one’s intention, no doubts about anyone’s willingness to help. Hesitancies had no place in friendships. They were the best in the world, hell they were the world. 

I remember playing pakdam pakdai with them, the game of posham pa and hide and seek. The playgrounds were the world we would conquer, the collected chocolates would be the prize money. Doing each other’s home work, sharing the ghost stories, watching alladin and ginnie cartoon series together in the evening. All was done along with friends, in their company.

These are the days I remember today, when I have grown tired of losing friends. Today, when trust comes after a lot of effort, and where intentions have to be cleared at every point.

I say that the sense of sensibility that we grown ups have is very sad. A help given, which was not asked for is doubted while advice is paid for. Talking to shrinks is far easier than calling someone close by and sharing with him. Paying to talk to someone seems like just the thing we needed in life.  Saying sorry is so much more difficult than texting it/ mailing it. Neighbors are the first strangers we know. Smiley’s are the most free form of expression today. I so hate this world of grown ups.

At this point of time in night, I can count atleast 20 people I would like to call right away and talk my heart out with them, but I am not supposed to do that because I am supposed to behave like grownups.Trust me I could give away so much just to meet the people I am missing right now, clear out all the air, and gossip with them for hours, the way I remember I use to do with them.

But I guess this is why derp once told a kid not to grow up, said it’s a trap. Growing up is a trap where office is filled with politics rather than with friends, love has become synonymous to sex rather than the surprise gifts, coffee shops and evening walks. Going to nani’s is not a fav holiday destination anymore.

I so wish I could bring that world of ease and peace back. Go there, take along a few souls from this world, mend relations with them, make a healthy and happy conversations without the if’s and but’s. Let them know that I would always be there for them, without clinging to them when they would want their space. And so like hell demand the same out of them.

Maybe this post has been created out of emotional outburst, but I think its more of something that I have been wanting since last 3-4 years.

I lost the Kabulliwallah- my story teller.

“Kabulliwalleh…Arrey oh Kabulliwalleh? Where had you gone yesterday? Why didn't you come? I missed you.”

The girl shouted out as she narrated the story to her friends. The story was that of an Afghan trader of dry fruits, who use to visit a colony in India to sell dry fruits. She told them how the Kabulliwallah had made friends with a toddler, chatting with her in his free time, gifting her free cashews and nuts.  Crying, she also narrated how the time did them apart, the kabulliwallah went to the jail. The toddler grew into a beautiful girl. The Kabuliallah never forgot her, while in the lost time she never remembered him. She then narrated the day when Kabulliwallah knocked at that girl’s doorsteps, and how that girl wondered if that starnger ever belonged to her past! And if he did belong to her past, than did she miss the sweet chats that she had with him.

The story finished, the audience applauded. Some were crying, some were still lost in the world of Kabuliwala.

She, the girl narrating the Kabulliwala story, got praises, felt proud, and confidently prepared for the next round of story.  She always knew what she was…

She was a story teller. A story weaver, who along with words weaved lives of fairies and angels, of businessmen and thieves, of wonders and grieve! She touched people when she spoke, bringing them in synch with her thoughts. She spoke with drama and tears, with the voice of both brave hearts and fear!

The world was a big bad place, which she knew she would not have to live in. She was going to change it, make it as wonderful as the world of her stories. She was going to make it worth living for her and her close ones. Her daddy use to be proud. He was proud when she spoke on stage fearlessly, he was prouder when she became the monitor. He was proud when teachers praised her!

But who cared, she knew she was meant to do more. She was meant to be a story teller!

But sadness happened, she grew up. She came in high school and the standards changed. For Dad, his awesome girl became the usual, he wanted more, he wanted good marks! Along with Dad, the world which she had dejected, turned around and bared its teeth. Its High school kiddo! Its not a joke! Just this one year, and your life will all be set. 

Scared, she listened to them. The story telling had to wait. The situation was urgent, demanded immediate attention! The world was big and the time was less, a lot of it had to be conquered! Lot had to be done to prove to the world that she has it in her what it takes to become what she want to be!

10th, then 12th. They passed in a jiffy. Did she get good marks? Yeah, maybe! But you need a degree for survival, just marks don't get you to money! Dad’s of the world boasted of the luxury and life they gave us, and which she and the likes of her might have to arrange for their kids. And she became nervous. She could do as well as her dad did right? No, she would do better! And hence she set upon the task of proving it to herself that she could do better than becoming “just” a story teller!

Engineers became MBA’s, MBA’s would become fathers and mothers. In the meanwhile, there were loves to cry over and friends to fret for. In the midst of all this, the story teller got lost somewhere. It got lost, lost in that same world it once wanted to change. She still wonders if it were her own choices that made her loose that story teller, that story teller in her? Or was it a sensible grown up in her that made that choice, of consciously forgetting the story teller in her? She wondered if the story teller in her was as weird and vague as that “kabulliwallah” or the “Prince Charming” of the childhood stories. She wondered if it was right for her that that story teller had departed.

The link to the summary of 'The Kabulliwall' in case you might want to know. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0055039/plotsummary

The online pyaar.

They met. It was pleasant. They exchanged numbers, and along with it, the BBM pins and the facebook requests. They thought they had got along well, more than that, they were happy they knew each other now.

For the Girl- He was a friend to talk to. And maybe think of in free time.

For the Guy- She was a friend to talk to. And maybe think of in free time.

They chatted. They texted. In the class, at home, while dinner, before sleeping. They talked about the world, they talked about the work. The philosophies of life, the failures of career, the regrets of past, the plans in future, the neighborhood crushes, the broken heart, friends gone apart, they discussed everything. 

For her- He became the support in life, the ultimate fallback option. She remembered him when even God failed to come in mind to ask for help.

For him- She had become the ultimate rescuer, someone to text and chat with when lonely, tired or even bored. She rescued him from the regrets of the past, she rescued him from the fears of the future.

Friendship had become strong, it now ran in their veins, in their brain. They decided to meet. 

For her- He had filled the missing piece of the puzzle. But she never saw the big picture, never realized that he had become the part of the puzzle.

For him- She had filled the vacuum. But he never saw that the vacuum was the big black hole. Making her a part of it, engulfing her into self and becoming bigger.

They met, they talked for hours, they drank, like they could with no one else. 

All this happened in real this time. In the absence of apps, text and chat smileys, they realized the heat.

For the Girl- It was the heat of emotions

For the Guy- It was the heat of hormones.

Blast happened, things twisted, equations changed, rejections followed and the tears flew. The elements of a perfect virtual friendship had now rearranged themselves to form a bitter breakup.

For the Girl- She was now #foreveralone . Looking for a new virtual friend to talk about the relationship gone sour.

For the Guy- He was now #foreveralone . Looking for a new virtual friend to curse the bitch who had just turned him down.

And this is how the online love was born and died, leaving behind many unhappy souls and #foreveralones .

The Forbidden Fruit...

The road not to be taken, the room never been opened.

The Mona Lisa smile, the mystery of the grail.

The appeal of a woman, and the glory of the moon.

All that is forbidden, or that that has been put out of reach...

There’s something about doing what is absolutely forbidden. The Harry Potter’s famous Forbidden Forest was a reason for talk due this same unsaid reason. The ‘hidden’ Chamber of Secrets, the though scary, but exciting though of breaking into the Ministry of Magic, Ginny dating the ‘oh so tough to date, busy in saving the world’ Harry Potter, Ron dating ‘tough to beat’ Hermoine Granger.

Similarly, that something which is unreachable is always more desirable. Starting from the mystery that the piggy bank was when we were children, to the A rated movies.
Talking a bit closer to home...the will to “Try” booze, fag and dope is much greater than when you’ve already done those. And that’s where people use the phrase “been there done that!” to boast of their supposed achievements to those, who are beginners.

The IIT, the IIM’s, the IAS is still a dream in every household, while they become just a stepping stone the moment you crack them. Till then those who crack it are aliens, and the objects for intimidation and probably desire to some. *blush*!!

That girl next door, or that hot chick in office is what men will turn and gaze, and maybe even imagine in their fantasies, till finally one day they get to date them. Then they wish they had stayed ‘just friends’ with them, well probably because they are no more forbidden, they are what they have already attained. The mystery dissolved.

The woman outside of the marriage is always more beautiful than one’s own wife. His girlfriend is always sexier than one’s own. The grass on the field of private property is always greener! The dress on her is always more sexier.

For us women too, its commonly known that the desire for the MIB ‘Men in Black’ or for that matter, the ‘Men in Uniform’ is so great that it threatens our respective husbands and boyfriends, or atleast makes them wonder the reason for the desire. The probable excuse being- it’s the doing of the ego. Woman’s ego hurts when they become the second love of the man, the first supposedly being the love for the country or the human race. The “2 take di naukri” song explains it better than any of my above comments, it so truthfully explains the desperation of a wife for his husband in the month of monsoon, who incidentally is loving being busy with his ‘not so paying well job’. That lady, singing so seductively, is still cribbing for her husband despite being wished for by so many other. And here comes in the concept that applies to all the singles of the world, that of “The one we like doesn’t love us, and the one we don’t love is desperate to be loved by us”! Well, that’s the sad and most truest of the vicious cycle in the world of love and lust baby! The unreachable is always the most desirable.

Remember the feeling of wearing a tee saying “I make my own rules” or that jatt singing “assi jitthe bhi jawange gaddi morange, assi saare de saare rule todange”?

Speaking of The JAI of “just mohobbat” tele serial, who broke all the rules, though in innocence. Just doing all the wrong things in life made him so desirable to all the girls of his class... #justsaying.

The reason why Dabangg was such a Dabangg movie and ‘Rowdy Rathore’ seems so promising!

The love for all night parties, the air of thrill about driving faster than the limit allows, the craze in visiting India Gate at night, the air of ‘haawwww’ and the gossips about one night stands, the awesomeness in watching item songs chupke chupke.....

The list is endless, but the reason is only one, well atleast for the likes of ‘rowdy’ or ‘rebellious, stubborn” me.

When a girl was born...

(Ek saccchi kahani par adharit)

Though it was not what we call a marriage of dreams, but it was my marriage none the less. I remember taking the vows of marriage, the promise to give everything to the man beside me, of loving him like I have loved none other, the feeling of absolute love and tenderness, relentless support, and unconditional togetherness. And in return, I knew I’ll get what I will give him, love, support, togetherness and a family. It would be peace, serenity, love and home all around.

Marriage happened, but togetherness and love were still missing. All that was there was a vicious cycle. The complaints led to adjustments, which led to resentment, leading to bitterness. The bitterness led to still more complaints, adjustments and resentment. All hell broke loose when this vicious cycle led to manhandling, a few other women in his life and curse words from in-laws.

Divorce was not an option I considered, I still thought of him as my husband, as he was the only man I had loved in life. And further, divorce doesn’t remain an option when you remember the efforts your parents put in to see you get married and settled, the nights they spent in preparation, the prayers they spent in hopes to see me happy, the lifetime of savings they spent to pay the dowry, and all other assets given to me in ‘gift’.

But as they say, a union in marriage becomes stronger when flowers spring from it. The birth of a child from the union of marriage nourishes its roots, and like water and sun together, parents come together to nurture the child, growing fond and caring for each other too in the process.

Therefore despite the weak marriage and broken relationship, I went against my own wishes, threw away the precautions and became pregnant. But I guess they forgot to mention that it had to be a boy to make marriage work. A girl would make the cracks wider still, and be a catalyst in it blasting into pieces.

Lying in hospital bed for 3 days, I waited for someone to visit and congratulate me on my motherhood, I didn’t know then that since I was a mother of a girl child, I was no more welcome in my marital house.

The questions and dilemmas in life have a way. They creep in when you are the weakest, make you think, cry, they keep you awake at nights, leaving you hungerless and powerless. They make you look for someone to talk to. When you find no one to guide you, they make you weaker still, and that is when you are tempted to give up what is right, and turn towards what is easier.

I dueled for days with the idea of leaving my baby behind, in the orphanage, and going back to the only man in life. It would have been easier to do so, forgetting my child, turning away from her, leaving her to the hands of destiny. I wouldn’t then ever wonder what happened to her, or would I?

Or should I kill her, once and for all, and save her from the cruelties of the world. A world that did not love the likes of her. I wouldn’t be guilty of murdering my own child then, or would I?

Then again, when I say that dilemmas have their own way of making you weak, you still have a choice to deny that way, and do otherwise. Do what is easy to do, and it leaves you weaker still. Do what is right and should be done, and it makes you stronger to question the authenticity of such dilemmas in future.

How about if I leave that fruitless marriage, that unfaithful man, that ‘conditions apply’ love, and be faithful to my own child, my girl, who when grows up, may face a destiny similar to mine. Or would she have to face a destiny like mine? Exactly…NO!!

I’ll give you the best in my life and in my death.

If I have to, I’ll snatch n steal the gems of the world for you.

I’ll never bereave you of what you deserve to have and to be.

When you need it, I’ll give you the best in me

You’ll never be weak because you are a girl.

You’ll never be burden to anyone because you are a girl.

You’ll be intelligent, smart and self-dependent women,

The one, which will someday be to the world, what boys can never be.

The Kickass Mornings

Oh Lord! Let today be an easy one,

Let there be a helping hand hidden somewhere

Let there be no tears in my eyes

Let there be some peace in my life,

And let there be some sleep in class!                                                                                   

Last night was that restless one, in which let alone reading, even facebooking seemed like hell of a task. With the beginning of another year, my approaching 23^rd birthday seemed nothing less than a doomsday. There would be added responsibilities, added expectations and added questions. And I confess I am as clueless about life as I was when I was 13.

Add to this the sorrow and twisted emotions for friends who have left us behind and gone on exchange, a fight with sister, bad grades, even worse profile and fear of placement.

Chucking everything, I put some music on and crept inside the quilt. And giving due regards to the fact that there are only two bliss in life in winter (one being the “Gajar ka halwa” and other being the warmth of the quilt) I slept.

As expected, morning happened.

The point here is, that whatever it was that seemed impossible at night, suddenly turned into most silly of my worries. Boys were no more dogs, mother wasn’t difficult, brother was a sweetheart, heights were not too far to reach, karma wasn’t a bitch and life though was difficult to live, but wasn’t clueless to start.

Hasn’t it ever happened to you when you just can’t understand why you were crying last night. The reason for all confusion and a sad heart just vanish. The cob webs of suspicion and resentment clear away. Suddenly there is a solid reason that you understand for why a friend didn’t reply to your repeated calls. And everything, even a maze like career sorts itself out. Just like that!

And just like a warrior wears his armor (and boys take bath) I wore my best clothes and thought

“ Yeah baby!! This is what mornings are about..

About new beginnings

About “ek garam chai ki pyali”

About going for that kill

About renewed passions,

About healed feeling,

And obviously about neat clothes” :D