That Sad Phase

"Sometimes it feels better not to talk, at all. about anything, to anyone."


I found myself crying in the morning. I found myself getting hurt for a petty small taunt by mom. Later, when dad screamed that the girl has gone mad. Both didn't know of what was going in me deep. I got ready for college. And then I found myself shedding tears in bus too. Seriously what has gone terribly wrong with me. A month back I was awesome. Barney awesome. It's just of the 24 hours we get in a day, I am able to give only an hour to home and family. And sometimes not even that much. Even mom is having a hard time in school but she is the mom. She manages everything. And I know it's her right to expect and shout, it brings you on the right track but I am helpless presently. I have no idea how to manage my day more well than what I am doing right now. I have no idea how to make people understand my current situation without blaming me. 

Past few days have been so rough on me. Especially when I realized, I hardly share my day with anyone. I was crying and I didn't know whom to call or text to. For me its college which eats up my hours, with no output, except for the fun I have with classmates which is equally important. Then I have to have to hit the gym, that one hour to body in the whole day, may whatever comes, isn't a very selfish thing, is it? Editing is always in the list, there are constant shoots by God's grace and constant client calls for pictures and the need to keep facebook page up to date. So editing is a must, that's my work, I get paid for that, there is no way skipping it. College assignments and tests hardly matter but you need to skim the syllabus at times, it's normal. Weekends are booked for shoots and meetings. Meeting clients, meeting and maintaining the social cobweb that got netted all through these years. Sleeps on an average consume 6hours on daily basis, else I usually fall sick either physically or mentally. I have even stopped watching TV, finally realized the Indian drama isn't  worth your time, at least not when you are fighting for few minutes for yourself in the entire day. Guests are a regular affair at my place with mom needing my help and if not that, the presence. See, I don't want to sound very weak and feeble and I don't want to blame time, but I am working on how can I give everybody and everything a part of my 24hours. Like any other human I constantly need a cup of coffee with friends to keep me going and to keep me happy. I don't want to miss out on those outings which only comes at this age and enjoyed at this age. I don't want to compromise when it comes to traveling be it anywhere. And I don't want to do all it with a guilty heart. Before people I love are in different parts of the world, before it becomes more tough to catch up, I fancy to build up as many memories as I can. I want to have stories to tell. I know leaving Indore will change the scenario completely. Especially for mom and me. Both of us will learn to live on our own, living without each other's presence. But until that, I wish a magical spray.

I don't know why I post my diary entries in public. Whenever I am going through something, I write. I blog, because this way I feel, at least I am not forcing them on to anyone in particular. People are reading with free will. And it makes me happy. Because if I am asked to pinpoint whether I know a person who would want to hear my sad stories, I guess I will have a no for an answer. They can want me for fun, for stupidity, for clicking their pictures but none for a sad note. They can empathize for once but nobody I know can really feel it or who won't get tired of the dull and cranky me. I seek for the later. I don't want to waste my mood and energy on people who will feel they just rotted off their time with me. There are moments when there is literally nothing to share but a wish for big wide hug and to be wrapped up in arms that can feel my pain, to be not thought as the girl gone senti-mad but to be in arms that care. To be asked, if I am alright or if I feel any better even when I lie I am. To be respected even when the sad me sounds a total nutcase. 

I wish a magical spray. 

Pakhi 

Women's Day.Happy?

8th March, 2015. International Women's Day. Facebook is flooded with wishes for Women's day. There are status updates and inbox messages. I did one as well. Boys and girls all have googled some decent quotes and shared on their walls. Today Newspaper reads "Happy Women's Day" In bold. But Yesterday the story was different. Yesterday Times front page read, "another Nirbhaya  case seen in Gujrat", tomorrow again, I am certain, more Nirbhayas will be produced. Sick. It's disgusting. Walking alone on a street swamped with males, isn't a very pleasing experience. Has never been. Those eyes, scrutinizing her boobs and ass, rating her down and commenting as she passes by; and that alone isn't enough. Some whistle, some make noise as if they have already had their dick into her vagina. If the girl isn't his desired figure, then god save her from those displeasing comments. And here I am not only talking of those illiterate men who come up from small towns in search of jobs and betterment and are appalled to see women drivers, women waiters, women doctors as compared to a veiled woman hidden in their homes. I am talking of the other half as well. The other educated half who are not ashamed to show their middle finger to a lady passerby. Who show no signs of guilt even when caught leching. And who then on social networking site wish a Happy women's day decorated with emojis. Who themselves are tripling on a two wheeler, driving rash and faced accidents yet are insolent enough to place remarks on the woman driving the next vehicle. Born with an elephant size ego, they can't accept a woman overtaking them even on roads, leave  jobs and rest. Even in this 21st century, I, a woman, is scared to walk alone on empty streets. Scared to ask for help from a group of boys because they don't appear humans that will extend help to a fellow human being; but thirsty animals hunting for a prey to fall into their trap. I am scared as shit. Every day they hurt me for my looks. They hurt me for what I do. They comment on me for being too girly or too boyish. Emotionally I am bruised. My heart aches as they rate me day and night and I can't raise my voice. Because mom says, Let them, or you might welcome scars that might never fade. Let them, keep shush. Let them, else society will talk. Let them otherwise the next moment you will find yourself fighting for your life. Let them. You keep shush...

Is it really a Happy Women's Day?
Pakhi 

Picture by my favorite Nirrimi Firebrace