An open letter to all men

Dear men,

I have been planning on writing to you about this for a while now. For the majority , its still a taboo to even say the word  and you stick to saying “Ah, that time of the month! “ or nod your head like you understand it and rush out of the room. Yes, it’s about periods. Though the sanitary ads  show us jumping and having fun on those days without a worry, if we use their product, its not always the case. Sometimes, we are just down with an abdominal ache that’s too severe to even let us even absorb the surroundings. And its  not just the physical pain that we have to endure. Even before the menstruation hits, we  suffer from PMS(Pre Menstrual Stress). We cry for trivial reasons like ending up with a spotted banana or that our sandwiches are not stuffed well or for no reason at all. Some of you might have grown up with sisters or sat by your girlfriends when they go through it, so you might know what to expect and what to do.

If you are just a boy in your teens, and you see your female classmate go up to the teacher to silently say a few words and get the rest of the day off, quit envying her. Or if you spot a small stain on her uniform, don’t make a hullabaloo out of it.

Unlike you, we don’t need to get high on alcohol to get insanely excited or to fall into abyss of depression. Our built-in hormones take us on a emotional roller coaster  every month. If you are living under the same roof with your sister or girlfriend or wife, keep track of the cycle so you wouldn’t be caught unawares by the sudden bouts of depression that hits us. We may be crazy, mad or even murderous  out of the blue and with your precise math, even if you figure out its just PMS, don’t gloat  to us that you know its just the hormones acting up and that we are perfectly ok. That just pisses us off even more and aggravates things. Well..you see, we might just not be interested in listening to any reason or advice right then. So, even if you are right, save it for a later date.  When we say its painful, even if you can’t hold hands or give a shoulder to lean on, atleast refrain from advising that pain is part of the process or lecture  whatever you know about it. You are not in our shoes to empathise!  When we cry out in front of the mirror about our figure, just distract us if you can’t bring yourself to lie or convince us that we look good. Don’t bring up topics that always end up in arguments. Don’t demand that we cook your favourites that are time consuming.  Order  a take-out or a home delivery if necessary. Share the household chores as it seems like a mountain of a task in those days.

Know the brand of the pads that we use or just ask us what we need. Don’t  just buy random stuff off the counter just because you are too scared to ask for it directly. As I mentioned already, we are a little too sensitive on these days and might show you that we are not happy with it in a not so subtle manner.

There is no use trying to shy away from it or hope that it doesn’t happen. Only if they are not on time when expected, it means there’s a problem. Relieve us of some work, show more care and be sweet, and you will find us looking at you in open admiration and secretly considering ourselves to be having the best brother/boyfriend/husband in the world. All we are asking you is to be a little extra nice, after all, we do put with your whims and fancies and demands the rest of the month.

Regards,

Just another woman 

Bangalore mornings..

Focusing on nothing but the distant Red Volvo bus, I screw up my eyes to read the bus number. I glance a few times at my fastrack watch registering only the fact that I am running a bit late than usual. Hopping on the bus, I claim an empty seat and run my hands inside my bag in search of the tangled once-upon-a-time-white brown earphones. Finding it nowhere, in dismay, I turn on my phone just to watch the screen warn me of low battery before shutting down. With nothing to do and an hour to kill, I glance around.

It’s a colorful sight bevy of ladies with a subtle hint of make-up and men in corporate attire with ID card tags in different colours around the neck and yo-yo s dangling from the belt loops. The ladies dab on some powder and apply some lipstick as they shake out their damp hair to dry. Everyone though present in the same 12.3m * 2.6m bus, they live  in an entirely different world of their own. They lose themselves in their 5”or 13” displays. Some moving their fingers deflty over it typing paragraphs in seconds while others choose to plug in their earphones to be locked out of the world. One is barking instructions into his Bluetooth…  Once in a while, two people smile at each other in a sign of recognition before going back to their world and to maintain that impassive straight face. I wonder what  happened to those endless random bits of stories and political banter that one usually hears in a bus.

There is a strange silence inside punctuated only by the steady punching on the keypad and by the voice of those who haven’t yet mastered the art of talking on the mobile in a low voice and feel the need to shout to be heard. Occassionally, a radio tuned into a local channel is played.  In contrast, whenever the door hisses open, I hear the commotion of the hundreds of vehicles, the continuous honking, the rising dust and the exhausts from the vehicles outside, people cursing the ones blocking the way, the distant ambulance siren and the yelling of the conductors announcing their route and destination.

The outside reminds me of my ever-cluttered messy desk. Vehicles of all sizes awaiting the green signal form a maze that the two wheelers try to get through. It’s amazing to watch some of them maneuver through it. They bend their heads, tilt their bodies and bikes to an angle, change the direction of the mirrors, drive on the pavements … anything, just to get in through the small gap to reach the front. The helmet or the bandana covers their head revealing only the eyes that are concentrating on the road looking for a small opening ahead. The colourful scarfs safe-guarding many a woman’s hair and nose from the pollution leave only the kohled and mascara eyes to be seen. Backpacks of all brands for the laptops and handbags in different colors and sizes demand attention from the onlookers. Tupperware lunch boxes sheathed in bags fitting their size swing from arms and bike handles making me wonder where those good old stainless steel boxes from my high school days that leaked a little bit  and let everyone around know what your lunch was, have gone . Everyone is in a hurry. To cross the road, to catch the bus, to get a seat, to grab something to eat or to reach their destination. Each oblivious to anything and anyone except what’s blocking their way.

In all the hustle and bustle, I suddenly find myself staring at a boy of around 5-6 years. He wore a red and white striped T-shirt and stood in the front, in his dad’s scooty, a carefree happy smile on his face as the cool pleasant wind whipped his hair back, staring ahead into nothing. A peaceful look in his eyes as he enjoyed the weather as his father whizzed past. Living just the moment with no worry about the future or regret about the past. As I get down, I take a few seconds to appreciate the pleasant weather before going my way,  hoping that, atleast he wouldn’t grow up to become part of  “the IT crowd”. 

You will be remembered

It’s almost time. Time to let go. But then, I hold you tight with both my hands. One more time. One last time. A thousand memories flash across my mind.
You were a beauty once. Now, others viewed you as just another, of the older generation. Even with the lines that are now permanently etched on you, you are beautiful to me.

You were there for me day and night. Through thick and thin. You knew the darkest secrets that I shared only with my best friends. You knew the people whom I loved and cared for. You knew about the annoying ones that I tried to ignore.  You knew about my fumbling fingers whenever I texted my crush. You were privy to the list of people, I secretly stalked. Even when you were low yourself, you held out for me and patiently put up with my woeful tales. You have seen me at my best and at my worst. You had held my tears during those miserable nights. The class gossips, those misguided rumours, those useless banters, you patiently listened to them all. When my brother tried to make you spill the beans, you protected me by letting out not a single word. But now, with your memory now entirely gone, I wonder whether you remember all those days.

Though you were never physically strong, I felt safe when you were with me. In those dark alleys with the jeering men, those nights of long travel, I just held on to you tightly. You helped me salvage my relationship with my loved one. You were the constant buffer between me and my mother. You helped me mend many a fight with her. Though my mom knew that you were a necessary part of my life, she thought that you spoilt me a lot. She never had the love for you that I had. Well, She’s old and she will never understand our special bond. She told me that relationships wouldn’t be the same after marriage. You told me that I can always reach out to my friends and proved her wrong.

I could see that you were getting older. Having been with you for a while now, I could see the white lines that have started showing up on your face. You had seen many a bad days and put up with many a bad tempered people. Even when you had hit the rock bottom and no one expected you to survive, you came back, just for me, I believe. I promised myself to take better care of you. But then, soon your memory was no longer enough to hold every change in my life. When I complained to my parents, they told me that I have to accept you the way you had become. You had become dependent on the life support system. We tried replacing a vital  part to extend your life expectancy. But then, in few months, I knew it was all in vain. That your end was near. Others may take your place in my life, but you will always be remembered. Goodbye Dear Sony Xperia Neo V, my first-ever smartphone.

Shattered dreams

With dreams and hopes I walk in
Only to have them shattered within
My imagination was locked out
As the huge door closed shut.

To me, he was the guy next-door
With long dialogues that were never a bore
Though he was witty and smart,
He had many a fault.

But now, a faultless superhero he was
With only one-liners to toss
Though his six pack was a visual treat,
He wasn’t the guy I wanted to meet.

His hopeless love for her I knew about
Which due to his pride, he lost almost
I had shed quite a few tear
When they finally got together.

But now, it seemed like pure lust
And he was just so damn arrogant
Now it was just another
No –different, hot and steamy affair.

Then, the explosions weren’t this loud
Even when I was covered only by my hood.
Then, his enemies weren’t dumb and gruesome
And even they were worth my time.

I empathized with him
When he lost his near and dear
I laughed with him
When his laugh was loud and clear.

But now, I was just a stone-cold observer
Right in the middle of nowhere.
I had fallen for his character
But now, our connection was lost forever.

I ran home to my book,
Which lovingly, into my hands, I took.
It was just another movie,
That didn’t do justice to the masterpiece!

A Foodie's agony

“LOSE 15 KGS IN 6 WEEKS!!” The ad on the page shouted at me until I could no longer ignore it.With sheer curiousity, though a part of my brain knew what it was going to be about, I clicked it. Once my eyes moved past the hot models in skimpy bikinis with the perfect curves and the flattest abs, and read further, I saw that it was about following “A Special diet”. I let out a sigh and logged off.

Foodies and diet plans are eons apart. Still, there is nothing more inspiring than a cousin’s wedding around the corner and when ,even tummy-tucking can’t  get you inside the dress picked out. The nightmarish images of aunts who are going to meet you after months only to tell you that you have gotten fat or the wedding albums in which only you’ll be the pumpkin, does the job.Left with no other option, I take up my diet plan that's hidden away inside my once-upon-a-time-favourite T-shirt that had shrunk over time( or rather the one I have grown out of!).I cringe when I see the rotis and sundals replace my curd rice and vada pavs.

Sticking to the diet when the whole world around you is gorging on yummy, delicious food isn’t easy. Even when walking down the footpath, the bollywood posters with six pack heroes and size zero heroines lose their charm, as the delicious smell of the spicy mashed potatoes, the oil soaked bajjis, the crispy pakodas and vadas , the greasy chicken and the ghee from the sweets waft through the air. Especially,staying in a city where two pani puri and vada pav stalls are closer than the bus stops, following a diet is equivalent to living in hell!

 Staying locked up inside the house and logging into the social media to distract oneself from the salivating mouth or the rumbling stomach doesn’t help either. The news feed turns traitor and it is full of pictures of biriyanis and Manchurians from first-timers or the offshore guys who are just too excited that whenever they cook anything Indian, they can’t  wait to share the pic with the world. Even when then the dishes don’t look that appetizing, their comments make them sound so. Then again, there is this other group on fb that started with updating their location whenever they visited a new country to be later followed by every place outside the town they resided in. This group later moved on to spoiler alerts whenever they were lucky to land up with tickets for the first day show. I can forgive the spoiler-alerts, but when they update where they are eating what, it’s the final straw! Damn you ppl! There are others out there chewing steamed vegetables, telling themselves that its all for the greater good!

And then, there are those “best friends” who  decide to throw a treat only during the small period of the year when you are on a diet! Even when they are timezones away, they make it a point to elaborate about that awesome restaurant that they visited and find it absolutely necessary to describe every dish in detail. When eating the no-cheese sandwich or the zero-oil phulkha, the brain brings back sweet memories of the cheese overflowing pizzas a, the heavily buttered aloo parathas and the grilled chicken with mayo from a lifetime ago.

 Life has its ups and downs. And for women, when they are depressed, nothing works better than shopping or  sharing a cup of hot chocolate and a high-calorie ice cream while bitching about life with a girl pal. When on diet, shopping has its cons too! The KFCs and McDonalds in the malls throw their doors wide open and trust their fried chickens to do the marketing. Even if one can walk past them without a glance, they don’t stand a chance against the street food. On a cold evening, while fighting the way through throngs of people , even if the steam from the pan where the Pav Bhaji masala is heated and the hot  yellow jiggery-dripping glassy jalebis evade the eyes, the loud hiss as the buns are roasted till golden brown makes heads turn.

There is always the occasional “cheat meal” without which surviving a diet is near to impossible. Well… at the end of a few weeks, when the weighing machine shows something satisfactory and the curve- hugging jeans gives a thumbs up, the entire ordeal feels worthwhile. Anyways, the wedding is here and I can finally gobble down some laddoos and jalebis in peace.

Despair not, dear girl!

Brush away that tiny tear
And wake up from despair!
Cos your knight in shining armour
Is out there or just next-door.

Maybe as an introverted,oiled, smart nerd
Or the bespectacled computer geek
Or the adventure-loving crazy dude
He's just out there or right beside...

He might not be Prince Charming
But he sure will be caring..
He might not be adorned in riches
But he sure knows u r priceless.

Around you, he wouldn't be a self-obsessed narcisst
Or, act like a big time chauvnist!
He'll always put you first
Even when he knows your worst!

He' ll let you fly in the air
Only to pull u back a moment later
He 'll put up with your whims and fancies
Not to mention your crazy stories.

He may not say " I love you" everyday
But will show it in his own way.
PMS, periods will scare him a bit
But still, besides you, he ll sit through it.

When you both quarrel and argue
Your tears will be his cue,
To apologize and sort out
Even when he was right.

Despair not and have some faith
For he will be worth the wait!
Cos somewhere out there, near or far
Is your knight in shining armour.

A Tearful Goodbye

The summer holidays were just a week away. I knew that you’d be here soon. Under the pretext of helping out my mom,  I started visiting places you frequent – the malls, the super markets, those small shops beside my home… I knew that you will be there soon. It was almost a fortnight later, when I saw you finally though. When I introduced you to my mom, she thought you were not good enough, but I managed to convince her to let me bring you home.  You changed for the good and she accepted you. Somedays, you were just rotten to the core .Even I  couldn’t  stand you then. But otherwise,you were my elixir from paradise.  Until that fateful day.

As usual, we were sitting at the table after lunch.” Good gracious! Act like a lady! Where are your manners?”, my mom screamed at the top of her voice. I can’t help it. With you, I become a 3 year old. My retort of “Who cares?” didn’t go down well and I was prohibited from seeing you again until I behaved like a lady! I knew she meant it this time and went to others for consolation. But they were not you. They were  all mere impersonators.

 You started appearing  at my neighbours’ place . Dressed in shades of  yellow, you sure were hard to miss. I used to watched you from the corner of my eye. It was just another summer afternoon. The sun was sweltering on my back as I worked on my vegetable patch. And there you were, leaning majestically against the brick wall. Calling me to you. There was no one around. I picked up some courage and slowly walked towards the wall. Inching closer, I breathed in your scent. That unique scent, that I can pick out anywhere. “God! How much I missed it!” Just then, my mom s face loomed at the window and she called me in. I knew that you will be gone by the time I came out again. With one last longing look, I left you.

The holidays came to an end. I hunted for you everywhere and found you in the shadows at the end of my street. I realized that time was running out. I pulled out my savings and smuggled you inside the house. I shut myself inside my room and looked at you lovingly. One last time.

 I let the sticky juices flow down my arms as I bit into the juicy yellow pulp. I said to myself- “Screw manners! This is how mangoes are meant to be eaten” . As I licked my lips in satisfaction, a small tear left my eye, knowing that it will be months before I see you again.

In search of the Incredible - What will you do when you can see without being seen?

It happened on our excursion to Kerala. We were sipping toddy in the coconut grove playing “ Truth or Dare “ – the game that’s best played when drunk. The dark clouds that we were intentionally ignoring till then broke out to a heavy downpour. We ran towards our resort. No one saw my mobile slip from my pocket. The thunderstorm raged for 2 hrs. I came back with Latika to look for my phone praying that it was water resistant as they claimed and that it had survived the thunderstorm. The coconut tree under which we had been sitting had been struck by lightning and my phone was nowhere near. Just when I was about to give up, Lathika found it with the display ‘battery low’.

Lathika ‘s my best friend and roommate. We knew each other’s worst secrets and stood for each other. Lathika’s the feminist, the college adored.  When she believed in a cause, nothing on earth could shake her. She took classes for the poor kids in the neighbourhood  on  weekends. Her only weakness was that she believed people easily. She couldn’t judge a person even when they showed her their worst. A week later, back in Delhi, we were getting ready to go out for our late night “Vada Pav”, when it happened. I turned on the flashlight on my phone and waited for Lathika to show up.  She came out and started looking around calling my name. When I asked her to shut up shouting at the top of her voice as I was right beside, a look of horror came on her face. She turned to sped back, but I turned off my flashlight , held her hand and asked what had happened. She stammered and I could vaguely make out that she couldn’t see me anywhere earlier. Attributing it to her poor sight, we started walking. When the flashlight was turned on again, she screamed. She said she couldn’t see me. Now even I couldn’t see my legs. After a few  minutes, we figured out that whenever I turned my flashlight on, it made me invisible.

Running back to room, we began analyzing my phone s weird behavior. We concluded that probably when the lightening struck, the phone had absorbed its power and that when the flashlight was used, this could be utilized. The lightning is so blinding that its beginning can never be seen when it strikes. Also, looking at it, one can never see anything else around for a while.Since it used the lightning’s power, the souce, the phone couldn’t be seen and the wavelength transmitted is too high for normal eyesight to observe.  Also, when switched on, it makes only living beings within its 1m radius invisible because of the thermal radiation emitted and anything covered in white- White being the colour that reflects light, refects it off the surface and hence even other objects are made invisible. We decided to keep it our little secret. Soon, we were having fun.

We would conduct magic shows for the kids she taught, sit quietly and listen when the gossip gang gets together, bunk classes  after giving attendance (leaving the teacher confused whether we were actually there)… We were up to date on the latest gossips and everyone’s dirtiest secrets and considered ourselves to be the coolest. Lathika, meanwhile ran for the college Student body Presidential Elections. The tide was in her favour. One of the major opposition was Rohan Sinha, the minister’s son. Everyone secretly hated him for harassing and bullying other fellow students but no one had the guts to stand up to him.

We were all preparing in the eleventh minute for our final exams the next day, when Lathika got a message from Rohan to meet him to discuss regarding the election manifesto. Having slept right on my book,I woke up to see terror stricken Rashi s face. She stammered that Lathika had been  raped a few hrs ago and was now lying unconscious in hospital. I rushed to her only to find that she had been beaten and had bruises all over her body and that the police had no clue regarding the culprits responsible. I searched for her phone to use it as an evidence against Rohan only to find that it had been smashed into smithereens.  I was overcome with rage.

Dressed  in  a white salwar, I used my phone s invisibility mode and entered Rohan’s room. He was boasting to his gang that he had taken care of Lathika and that now his victory will be unanimous. After a few drinks, his friends left leaving him alone in his single room. Using the Mimic App that imitates a person ‘s voice whatever be the text typed, I called out his name in Lathika’s voice. He floundered around the room trying to get sober.  I used the knife on his table  to give him a cut in his arms to prove he wasn’t dreaming. I told him that I’ll make him bleed to death. He ran out like a maniac and went to the police who were investigating below and confessed to the rape and submitted his mobile as evidence. I saw them take him away from Lathika’s hospital window. Her blood pressure was slowly returning to  normal and the doctor assured us that she will be alright soon.

When Lathika bounced back, she was stronger than before. We both knew that things will never be the same. We no longer used the mobile for silly pranks or for listening in on gossips. We knew that using it, we can use it to get evidence where justice was pending, to disguise ourselves and follow guys who lure naïve girls and teach them a lesson, to restore faith by gifting money anonymously to the poor in the hospitals.. I now understood there was a reason,  it was my phone that got the superpower that day.

A Small Adventure in South Goa

Looking up for cheap, yet cosy and comfortable resorts in MakeMyTrip.com,landed us with a resort in South Goa, a few kms from Margao. While the only image in my mind of Goa had been that of the beaches , I was in for a pleasant surprise. Goa gave us the much required change from the polluted air of the city. The lush green everywhere , the scattered  red roofed cottages, each cottage different in its own style, each  blending with the nature like it belonged there , the age old churches..like a place untouched  by noise and other pollution, that we call a by product of urbanization. 

Renting a rickety scooty – the only one available near the resort then – my husband and I made our way towards Palolem  beach that was 25 km away. There were hardly any petrol bunks to be seen and we were asked to buy petrol  from a General Stores that looked hardly any different than a small and messy storeroom. Taking the only road, we started off with a full tank. In a few kms, there were no more settlements to be seen. With only the lush green everywhere, interspersed with a few barren lands , few monkeys jumping in the low branches,  the road blocked in a few places by herds of untethered cattle.. it was similar to a ride through a jungle. With the sun hiding behind the clouds and the occasional drizzle, it was just perfect. 

Due to the onset of monsoon, the usual calm blue sea was instead  brown and the waves lashed out angrily at the shores. The lifeguards shooed us away to safety taking shelter from the rain themselves.  Not too eager to get back, we set off for the Agonda beach 10 kms away using Google Maps. It was around noon and soon we were  brought back to reality by the rumbling of the stomach and nature’s call. Being off season, almost all the restaurants were closed and we were left with no option but to head back to our resort 16 kms away. 

The long route that was refreshing was now un-ending and tiring. Almost halfway back, right in the middle of nowhere, is when we noticed the pointer moving towards “E”. With not a soul in sight, with not even a bird in flight, the whole place was suddenly eerie and scary. It’s weird how the brain works. That same path that was perceived romantic suddenly felt eerie. We sped fast to reach before the fuel ran out, only to end up in a junction that we had never seen before. Only a small dilapidated liquor shop stood there. Inside were a few men hunched over cards.  On enquiring  the elderly  man outside hoping he was sober, we returned back in the same direction as he suggested.

Driving back in the direction pointed for another 4 kms, we came upon a barren land with no vegetation. A lone man in torn shirts and trousers was digging right beside the road. Adrenaline and fear rushed in. The hunger and the need to heed to nature’s call long gone. There was no road to where the Arrow in the  Google Maps pointed. The only option was to head back and take the longer 16 km route the Map showed. Cursing under the breath, we took a reverse and raced. I wondered what would happen if  we broke down somewhere with no settlements nearby. Were the people friendly?  Would  take advantage of lost stranded tourists? A thousand questions came into my mind. When we are scared, the mind conjures the worst imagination and brings every news ever read that were shelved deep inside the subconscious. Every news on women being raped flashed across in few  seconds. The occasional creaking from the vehicle didn’t help things either.

Just when the fuel pointer showed a steady E, and it was running on reserve, we came across a few cottages. There we were pointed to a hair saloon in Bali from where we bought petrol! Breathing out a huge sigh of relief, we took the longer route ensuring we always had some people in sight and reached our resort.Muttering a heartfelt thanks towards the heavens, we attacked our lunch.