When Peer Pressure Makes You Feel Like A Failure

For the most part of my life, I was least bothered about what people think, or how I should be, to appease the society. I didn't bother about my looks, or the way I dressed - I used to have a very limited wardrobe and repeating clothes was least of my concerns. I have even worn slightly torn, shabby clothes and have even looked like a beggar, but it didn't matter to me. All that mattered was my happiness. Until I entered the mighty 30s and social media subconsciously made me compare my worth with others' achievements. 

I started working when I was 22, right after college. It was a content writer job, with decent pay and I was happy. I stuck to that career, through freelancing, even when I did random jobs. I never had any career goal or finance goal, and I think I was also surrounded by people who were equally struggling like me. So it didn't even matter. I was enjoying my life and that's all that I wanted. 

But today, all those who struggled with me are doing well in life. All my friends are well settled, earning in millions, if not billions... And here I am, still that struggler. When they talk about their achievements - both materialistic and otherwise, I feel left out. Like the odd, rotten apple. I feel terrible. I question my decisions and choices in the past. I have started becoming conscious of things, and feel like a failure. 

I admit, I am sometime jealous of people, and feel inferior, which might have contributed to me choosing to be a full-blown homebody. But I am not necessarily bitter. I am only bitter towards people I don't like :D

Anyway, I spoke to my mom about how I feel like a failure. And she gave me all the validation I wasn't even looking for. She mentioned that I was financially independent, ignoring the obvious privileges. But, I can't tell you how relieved I am. I think that's all I wanted, even though unexpected - the validation, that I am not a failure, afterall. 

So, I guess, it's time to change the narrative. And look at myself differently. The truth is, despite these thoughts, I am, in general, extremely happy and peaceful in life. So, may be, I should focus on just that - the good things, the achievements, the positives. 

So yeah. That's that. 

Why I Am A Feminist

Growing up, I was this typical tom-boy, not by physical appearance, but traits. Again, not exactly at school, but most certainly in college. I was closer to boys and lurked around the all-boys department - mechanical engineering. I'd tease girls with boys and had also participated in mild, harmless ragging with them. I felt it was quite cool to be that guys' girl. 

I found women 'dramatic', unreliable and quite sensitive without really understanding I was all that too. I tried to suppress my feelings because you know, I don't want to be a mood killer. I wasn't really a pick-me girl, not a people-pleaser, but I found dissing women, and talking and behaving like boys quite cool. Any girl who spoke about feminism was 'overreacting' 'pseudo-feminists'.

I don't know when all that changed for me. I don't really have had a life altering experience from men to change my perspective to be honest, but I think internet and reading helped. Eventhough not voluntarily, I started reading stories of women, the unfair treatment in the society and the sufferings - not really books, but mostly anecdotes on social media platforms. Befriending a few strong, no-nonsense women also helped in understanding the other side of female friendships. 

Eventually, things changed. The male-female ratio of friends in my life altered without me knowing. I found it more peaceful to confide in women - they won't put you down or pass a sarcastic comment while you share your trauma, for instance. I started understanding the power of sisterhood and what it can do to you and the society in general. My perspectives totally changed. It pricked and pained when I read a #MeToo story each time they appeared on my screen. Some were devastating. 

I started relating myself to women more. Once, I was a staunch supporter of Deepika Bharadwaj. Today, I find her the most vile woman - someone who is trying to shame entire womanhood by placing stories of certain men. Ofcourse, their problems also matter, and feminism ideally is about equality afterall, but if you look at the ratio of sufferings of women since time immemorial - well, that's a discussion for another day. 

Anyway, now I can also relate to all those "pseudo feminists" I hated once. When a woman and a man tells me the same story, I tend to believe the woman first. I have also started appearing to be 'irrational' to certain people. That's when I realised, I have totally become a feminist!

Today, I know the real meaning of feminism, the cause and everything related to it. I proudly call myself a feminist and can only be friends with people who atleast try to understand what it is. 

I am a proud feminist, and I will always be. 

Kochu Kochu Santhoshangal!

So, in the previous blog, I had mentioned that my father is a patriarch. Well, I won't blame him entirely for that. I mean, I don't think it is fair to judge a 70+ year old man holding on to certain ideologies in a society where it is the norm. In his book, man is the provider, woman, homemaker. However, even being a strong patriarch back in the day, he didn't consider us (my sister and I) as burdens, gave us the best of education and everything that was possible. He also taught us to value money and stay grounded, and even when we get married, he assured us that, if things go wrong, he was there for us. Ofcourse, his ideologies and mine didn't match in various matters - one of the main reasons why we would end up arguing.

He was also a very short tempered man, I used to dread going near him as a child, because I didn't want to get beaten up for trivial things.

But over the years, I have noticed that he stays calm when he isn't occupied. A

So, basically, his job was keeping him stressed, and he would throw tantrums at everyone around him. That gave me the idea on how to deal with him. 

Also, I learnt to accept my parents the way they are. Only trying to change them by imparting knowledge calmly, without arguments. This trick worked! By then I started working on myself too, with mindfulness and therapy, so that I could control my emotions as well. That also worked in our favour! 

And one last thing, that kid in the neighbourhood, also brought the grandfatherly affection in my father, making him less angry, more cheerful. 

Today, I can make jokes on my father, call him "kelava" as and when I like, and talk to him peacefully. We share a beautiful bond now and things are so much better. Our relationship is getting better each day and I am so grateful to the universe. 

And I wish and hope this stays, forever. Touchwood. ♾️

Be A Rebel!

I just saw a tweet on Twitter aka X, by a 20 year old girl, where she says, she still has to take permission before stepping out of her house, even after considering herself and independent woman. Another 30 yo seconded this! This made me ponder... What about me?

Honestly, my parents never agree to any of my plans. Even today! When I am 37! But, the only difference is, their 'permission' does not matter to me, they know it too, and I achieved this position only because I stayed a rebel all through my younger days. 

I come from a typical South Indian middle class famil, where women are considered inferior to men. My father is a patriarch, and is respected by everyone we know. And as a child, I used to dread him, for his short temper. However, I had also maintained that little brat image, which continued even during adolescence. 

Once I got puberty, my father because even stricter, restricting me for various things. I have never had a sleep over at a friend's or a movie night with family. Everything needed permission and he would always say no. And to be honest, I wasn't even accustomed to that kind of a culture, so I obliged. On top of that, I was obviously financially dependent on my parents. 

But, during college days, I started thinking differently. I befriended boys, I started hanging out with them, so on and so forth. My rebellious nature grew multifold and my temper hit the roof. Because, for me, all of that was quite normal! So, eventually, I stopped asking permission. I chose informing my parents that I'd be stepping out, and even when they said no, I'd just take the scooty and leave. 

This led to many fights and arguments and home was never a happy place. I just wanted to escape this mess, and I did, after college. But, whenever I am home, I continued being the person I always used to be. 

Cut to 2024. My parents have eventually changed. Thanks to them understanding that women aren't inferior afterall, and I want to take credit for getting that idea into their heads. They still say no to some of my plans, which is mostly solo trips, everything else is sorted now. 😅 I just make plans and tell them before leaving, and also give them a heads up about when I'd be home. Late nights are still a no-no, but I think I can live without it. 

So yeah, took me more than a decade to reach here, but ultimately, all of us are at peace now. We get what we want. And everyone is happy. The end. Hahaha

How Touchy are You?

Well, I don't know about you, but I sure am, but only on certain things. 

For instance, let me be very honest. I am very insecure about my writing skills. I mean, back in school, or even in college, I never showed inclination to writing or reading for that matter, didn't even try! But, here I am, earning my bread through writing!

I think I had mentioned earlier too, I started writing for the sake of it. But, a few of my friends said I write really well, and I totally believed them and started writing over and over again. It never occured to me that it was all amateurish. Until I received a very mean comment (anonymous) under one of my blogs. 

The comment got flagged by Google for some unknown reason, but unfortunately I got it as email. I read the whole thing and the gist of it was that I am a bad writer and I should quit this gimmick. I was shattered. It made me go back and read all my previous blogs and wonder what went wrong. I just couldn't bring myself again to write, and that comment lingered with me and haunted me... Well, haunts me to this day... That it started affecting my work. 

Everytime I get a new client (I am a content/copy writer) and they share their expectations, I panic. I start believing that I can never do it, and eventually end up dropping the project!

Oh, I forgot to mention that eventhough the comment was posted anonymously, I knew who was behind it and I confronted that person. They said they were just pulling my leg. Little did they know how affected I was. I confronted them recently as well, they apologised, but the damage is already done. 

I am so underconfident, I just cannot pitch for new projects. And the worst, I live with the fear of losing existing projects sooner. It's a touch life. Lol

But looking back, I'd like to appreciate that 22 year old's efforts to be seen. And this 37 yo's efforts to atleast TRY. 

All I want to say is, let's all try to be kind. These days, things are so bad, thanks to social media, cyber bullying has hit the roof. I think we should learn to ignore and move on, rather than bullying people for the sake of few laughs? I sure laugh at other people's expense when I see delusional people on the internet, sure, I share them with my friends to laugh too, but that's that! Commenting mean things is going to affect people, man! Let's don't be assholes. 

Chicken Fried Rice

As a child, even though I have been a foodie, my exposure to various cuisines were limited. We ate mostly home-cooked meals and my father would buy food from restaurants once in a while, and that would either be Biriyani or Porotta chicken. Nothing else. We also ate out very rarely, not because my parents couldn't afford it, but, my father didn't encourage eating out. 

Things are different now, we have plenty of restaurants and cafes around, and could order in, thanks to online delivery apps. Anyway, that's not what this blog is about. 

I was thinking of the time when I first had fried rice in my life - ofcourse, the Indo-Chinese one and it was indeed a funny story. 

I think I would have been in 7th grade and my classmates and I were discussing what we did during that vacation. For me, it would have been, as always, a 2-3 days stay at my maternal Grandma's place and nothing else, so had little to share, but other girls (it was a convent school) had too many stories to share. And one girl mentioned about going for a movie or something and her father buying her "Chicken Fried Rice" after. I was intrigued. 

What's chicken fried rice, I ask. Something very tasty, she responds. 

Do you fry your rice, like chicken fry? I ask again. 

No, it's not fried in that sense, she answers. 

So, wouldn't it be dry? What would you have it with? I ask again.

You pair it with chilly chicken, she responds. 

What if I want a veg fried rice? I am still intrigued.

Never tried, but may be, you serve it with Sambar, she ponders. 

So that day, upon reaching home, I ask my father to buy me chicken fried rice. My father, oblivious of what that thing is, rejects the idea...

I throw tantrums. And my father finally gave in. Since it was a bit of a task to convince, I never mention the chilly chicken. 

Next day for lunch, he buys fried rice for all of us. 

You can imagine a 12 yo's excitement right? 

I put one whole fried rice onto my plate and take a bite. I spit it out. It certainly was the worst thing I had put into my mouth until that day. And I didn't touch it again. My father was furious. I blamed him for buying something that's not fried rice. 

To be honest, until, probably last year, I wouldn't dare buy chicken or mixed fried rice even when I could buy it myself. I would always buy veg fried rice along with some meat side dish, that's how I enjoyed a fried rice. 

Now, I am finally accustomed to that taste, but I still remember the disappointment my entire family had when we are fried rice for the first time. 

Same story goes with Maggi. My cousins and I fought our parents to get us maggi and when they did, we hated it. All of us. :)

So yeah, that's that. 

A Thousand Splendid Suns - My Thoughts

 I just finished reading Khaled Hosseini's 'A Thousand Splendid Suns' and wanted to jot down something that I felt.

I had loved his 'Kite Runner' even though it broke my heart. So, I picked this one excepting nothing another heart break. And I was write. Since the protagonists are women, there is more to feel for, more to get disappointed, more to well up. In fact, every time I feel it would get better, it gets worse instead! 

However, the novel ends with a lighter note, it made me ponder about the lives of people in Afghanistan. I mean, have they really experienced peace and security in their lives? Especially women! When this novel was written, Afghan was getting restored to some extent and people expected peace to prevail but years later, Taliban took over all over again, leading to another disastrous outcome. Especially for women. My heart bleeds for them. 

I also think about the world in general, if not my own country. No matter how much we consider ourselves and a safe, democratic, anything can happen anyday. 

I don't want to really put down those thoughts out here, so yeah. That's that. 

I am also thinking of Palestine at this moment. 🍉

Is Blood Really Thicker than Water?

 I grew up hearing this proverb very frequently "Blood is thicker than water" and I ended up believing it too. I thought family (extended) was very important, and even though I was considered a black sheep in the family, I enjoyed and looked forward to family gatherings. But eventually, I learned the hardest lesson - blood isn't thicker than water after all!

As I grew up, I realized that some people that I loved and adored weren't what they portrayed themselves to be. People were around only for the sake of it. And the worst of it all, if you have money, you have more closer relatives. Sad, but true! 

Which made me ponder, why are our parents' generation so obsessed with family and being 'grateful'? I understand, we all need to have gratitude, but should we not call out toxic behaviour too? Just because someone has been kind to us, or have done things for us, are we obligated to keep them close, even though, we are aware that, they are gonna do more harm than good?

I just don't understand this logic. I mean, you can always be grateful, but if someone is wrong, you don't have to be their ally all the time! And that makes me proud of our generation. No shit given or taken! We, well, at least a lot of us, know where to draw that line and also not to let anyone cross their boundaries. And that's how it should be!

I really wish and hope our parents understood this too, and helped us live a less traumatic life.

Old Spice Aftershave

 The other day I saw somewhere on the Internet that Old Spice Aftershave is probably one of the very few brands that hasn't changed its branding in ages. Which took me back to the time when it was the default smell in my house.

Ever since I could remember, my father always used the Old Spice Aftershave. And it became his default smell because he would either shave his stubbles every other day - he prefered a clean-shaven jaw with a thick mustache even today. Or he would apply the lotion on my wounds as an anti-septic. And me, being the naughtiest of them all, always had a cut or bruise every now and then, so yeah, it would be applied generously. 

I can only associate that smell to my father and my childhood and nothing else. I am fortunate to have my father still around, but even when he's gone, I think I will buy a bottle of the aftershave and keep it in my shelf, so that every time I miss him, I will apply it on my palm. The smell would take me back to the time he was near me.

I don't know why I am considering this when he is still alive. May be because I am aware of the inevitable, and he is getting older. 

Today, I will make him apply it on his face, a little bit more and indulge in that aroma and register that memory in my mind... forever. 

Why Do I Write?

 Why do I write?

I always ask myself this and I never had/have a finite answer! 

May be, it helps me lower the burden of emotions a little, and that's all I could think of. 

I am neither a great writer, nor do I have an amazing vocab. Yet, here I am, writing, mostly blabbering. 

I started this blog in 2009 when the world was facing an economic recession. I was just out of college, which means there were no jobs nor did I know what to do with life. 

Then I came across people in my circle writing blogs, so I thought, ok why don't I try too. And that's how this blabbering blog started.

Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. I was not doing it for attention or because I thought I had a flair in writing. I just did, and surprisingly a few of my friends started encouraging me. There were ofcourse events when the little confidence I had shattered, due to some very harsh comments, and not going to lie, they still haunt me.

I haven't written in a while, because I thought, its not my cup of tea. 

And may be because, most of my rantings were due to heartbreaks and there aren't any now and I feel empty :D

But I have started doing this again... again, not for attention or validation, but I feel, may be if I write frequently, this whole mindblock would change, and I could also become a decent writer, if not a good one.

So here I am. Blabbering again! :D