Category Archives: Ramblings

The Skinny Business

People love size zero. It’s everywhere- the magazines, the television. It’s set in our mind that unless we go to the gym and work our asses off to shed a few kilos of fat (that is doing nobody any harm), we shall be shunned by our peers. It’s okay to want to be fit; it’s bad if you want to be skinny. The bad news is, every girl wants to be skinny. I don’t like pointing fingers, but I blame the Amrikans. By Amrikans, I mean western civilization. Their size zero models can go suck it. Being that thin is not a glamorizing ordeal. I know, because I have been a lifetime resident of the “Skinnyville”.

I like being called skinny as much as the fat girls like being called fat. Some people don’t get that. If I were to single out something wrong with their body and tease them about it, now, people would say I was being mean. But when it comes to body size, people seem to think it just fine, even entertaining.
Mean person 1: She’s so thin I thought she was a bamboo pole
Mean person 2: HAHAHAHAHA! That’s soooo funny!!!!!
Me: …

My failed attempt at being a good paint user
My failed attempt at being a good paint user

It’s not easy shopping for a pair of jeans that are my waist size AND cover my legs. I literally cannot wear watches, because my hands are too thin. I simply cannot catch a break! Well nowadays it doesn’t matter as much; I have made peace with my body now. It’s just the rest of the world that needs to shut up.

I have begun to grow wary of meeting new people. Meeting new people is new experience, but when you are me, you start to expect a certain pattern. It usually is really fun, before these people decide to become my personal nutritionist and interview me about my daily diet. “Do you eat enough?”, “You need to eat more protein, eggs and meat.” Honey, take a number and get in line. Seriously, you think you’re the first person to tell me that? Need I set your ten commandments on stone, and dance around it like it is a revelation to me? I’ve been told the same thing a hundred times before you even met me.

Some people are quite nice about it. I like how they don’t want to offend me. “You’re so thin, you should be a model” What a tactful way of saying, “You’re really skinny and I don’t want to be a jerk about it, but I feel like I need to address it somehow”.
It’s not just the new people though. Each time I go to visit my grandmother I give her such shocks that I think if she ever suffers a heart attack, I could be accountable for it. After the initial shock takes the backseat she takes me to the kitchen, where her mission lies- I shall only get up when I am stuffed with so much food, I could just hibernate for a month.

And then there’s the Royal Jesters of the Court. When you are in a group of people, these are the ones that laugh the hardest and speak the loudest. Always on the lookout for a joke, they will take a molehill, turn it into a mountain, and make you laugh at it. “Walk carefully; the wind might blow you away!” Ha, bloody ha. Like I have not been the receiver of that joke since the 6th grade. Originality is a lost cause.

Yes, it is all good and fun. Just in jest, as they say. What people don’t seem to get is that, when we go back home and look into the mirror, these jests turn into monsters. Fat or thin, we all have the same body issues. A fat girl cannot just dump all her extra weight onto the floor and a skinny one can’t just eat a burger and suddenly not be skinny. Things take time, and we certainly don’t need you to keep reminding us what weight we are. We know it better than you.

I don’t expect people to drop their taunting ways any time soon. Being too skinny is in no way more entertaining than being too dark, or too fat. I have fought my battle with being underweight, and it has not been easy accepting me the way I am. I just want the word getting out that even though the magazines may airbrush through the model’s scrawny arms and legs to make it seem something to aspire, the skinny business is not all that is cracked up to be. What’s for dinner?

Almost Angry

“What I am isn’t what you see..I’m still just a Sixteen year old me, forced to turn Twenty..”

It was not until her twentieth birthday that Maya’s life started crumbling. You see, she was a fairly content person. She couldn’t understand why people would run away from their homes. She lived with her parents, Mr.  and Mrs. Jha in the city of Kathmandu.“What do you get from running away from the comfort of your cosy bedroom? What could you possibly fight about that you would want to just give up everything?” As her teenage years were tucked in nicely in the clouds of her yesteryear, she slowly unraveled into the horrors of growing up.

Maya completed her high school in the summer of 2011 with satisfactory results. So the very next day that her character certificate arrived, Mr. Jha declared that he wanted his daughter to become an engineer. Yep, that’s a thing in Kathmandu. You see, you’re either studying CA, BBA, MBBS or Engineering, or not studying at all. No, Journalism is not a degree, not if you want to matter in the society. So Maya selflessly kept her father’s wish and enrolled in a college that promised the exclusive features of this college that, strictly speaking, every other college in the city had.

Much of Maya’s time went into understanding the mirage that was engineering and when she wasn’t studying she was struggling to keep up with what left of her social life. The family somehow expected her to ace her classes, join in on all the family gatherings, help with house chores and still feel like a nineteen year old. Well, she was fairly complacent about all of that. She loved being busy, plus it was just those four years, right? By 2016, she would be free, calculated the young engineer.

But the moment she turned twenty, god bless her, the avalanche of a lifetime swindled her of any peace of mind. Things were different.

“Don’t wear that. Too short”

“Ma, I wore that last year. You didn’t say anything then.”

“It’s different. Don’t wear it”

She put her knee length skirt back into her closet. No, she wasn’t angry, it’s just, parents can be a bit kooky sometimes.

“Don’t bring your guy friends over. They don’t sound like nice friends”

“Baba, Jeevan’s been my friend since I was nine. He just came over to give me these notes for next week’s test”

“You take notes from Tina, no. Such a sweet girl she is.”

She wasn’t angry. She’ll just have go to Jeevan’s place instead from now on.

The worst hit came when her family suddenly realised it was now okay to talk loudly about her wedding.

“Does Maya have a boyfriend?”

“No, Pushpa aunty, he’s just a friend.” Truth. She was way too busy to go on dates.

“But then, who are you going to marry? Or Arrange marriage huh?” Another distant relative chimed in.

Annoyed, Maya swallowed a bitter comeback.

It was bad enough that each of these relatives would later just bash their own husbands for being lousy husbands. Yeah, all the juicy details about how he didn’t buy he that expensive saree, and how he just doesn’t care anymore. But no, Maya had to find a suitor, one with lots of money, then bear children, shower her undying love to the family and then martyr her hard earned money to kids who “think money grows on trees”. Never mind that there are children dying of disease in Karnali, she had to have a wedding reception so people could make believe she found her fairy tale ending. Maya was a fairly content person, but right then, she was beginning to be almost angry.

published in sausociology.wordpress.com
http://sausociology.wordpress.com/2014/03/24/what-i-am-isnt-what-you-see-im-still-just-a-sixteen-year-old-me-forced-to-turn-twenty/

Ten Days Of Silence

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I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I didn’t even know who I would be sleeping next to later in the night. I just knew that what I had signed up for was nothing like anything I had ever done. I had to go there. I just had to. My mind was full of hate; diseased with anger and plagued with past memories. I had these voices in my head, and I had to mute them. I had to change.
The day I packed my bags, I was unsure of how I felt. Well, yes it was exhilarating to be going away from home, kind of like an adventure, really. But then again, I had never been on my own before. I have always been a sheltered mouse. I have never nibbled through a sack for myself, and here I was heading to what is said to be the hardest trial of one’s resilience. What the hell is wrong with me?
It was my birthday. I would turn twenty that day. And instead of blowing twenty candles like most people my age, I hurried to go to a secluded place where I had no company but those voices in my head. Oh, and one other voice, S.N. Goenka. I didn’t know then who or what he was. I only knew he was the one that promised peace of mind. As I reached my room, or rather the room I was to share with seven other women I didn’t know, I panicked. I wouldn’t be allowed to talk to anyone of them. Not even a glance, not a touch. No communication, noble silence. “It’s not too late to go back, you know. Tell them you suddenly remembered to do something. This place is NOT for you” cried a voice in my head. But I had already stopped listening. It must have been the air that blew away the worry. Something told me I would be just alright. To quote a fictional IITian, “All is well. All is well.”
Days passed quickly. All that I was asked to do was to sit, close my eyes, and concentrate on my breath. Phsh! What blasphemy! I leave the comfort of my home and the company of my friends and come to this barren secluded place to think about my breath? I wanted out. Two days passed, and I could not have been more impatient. But the funny thing was, those irritating voices were suddenly getting smaller and smaller. My heart wasn’t so unsure anymore. I hated this place, sure. But I was starting to love the silence.
On the fourth day, we were to be given the ultimate teaching. Oh, I was so ready. But my stomach had a different set of mind, apparently. Half an hour before S.N. Goenka was to give us Vipasanna teaching, I suddenly felt the urgency to take a dump. I looked at the time, certainly I could go and come and no harm would be done. So, I did. The problem is, I am a bit of a constipation patient, and generally it takes me about twenty minutes to complete my job. So, yeah. I barely made it in time. Anyway, I huffed and puffed through five minutes of Vipasanna, and by the time my breath slowed down, so did my mind! I was to concentrate on the different sensations that I felt as I went through each part of my body. Smooth sensations or crass, didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I felt them. I was not to put any desire of affliction towards the feelings. Such is life, we let materialism ruin us. Put our heart on the line, bring out desire when something pleases us and cry of affliction should anything pain us. What Vipasanna taught us was to calm down, and notice that everything that comes must go. Change is constant, and we must simply observe and not entangle our hearts to the illusions of eternity. I was beginning to see how wrong I was.
The rest of my stay was blissful. I was not homesick. I was happy. I was not thinking about the miseries of my life. Somehow they were not miseries. I saw them, I felt them, but I did not feel affected. I was happy, but it was not stagnant. I was enjoying the splashes of joy, as the river splashes stones with its water. I was living.
The tenth day arrived suddenly, and I was not prepared for the farewell. We were allowed to speak now. The strangers that I had been sharing a room for nine days suddenly had names, and I had things to say to them. I was not hiding in my shell anymore. I was talking to people I never knew. I was not mumbling, moreover I was proudly talking!
On the eleventh day we packed our bags and arranged to make our way back home. I was yet to process where the ten days had gone to, because it felt like yesterday that a damsel had entered these gates. Yet I felt completely different, like my clouds had suddenly cleared up, and the rain wasn’t damping me. I felt nothing, yet everything made me smile! I guess my twentieth birthday was a funeral in disguise; the nineteen year old helpless girl I had buried in the foothills of Budhanilkantha.

Fashion! Turn to the left.

Listful Thinking

On Friday mornings, I wake up in a good mood. It’s not just that I know the weekend is coming and that I can sleep in the next day, which means I can drink caffeine in the afternoon like one of those carefree types who can handle the raw power of a 12-ounce can of Coke. No, the last day of the week is a good one because that’s the day my co-workers have designated Plaid Friday. And on Plaid Friday, I know exactly what I’m wearing to work.

Too Much Plaid Hint: it’s plaid.

Monday through Thursday mornings, I dread getting out of bed because I know what comes next. Thanks to my ultra-conservative, conformist office environment, I’m going to have to put on some clothes. The Man is really bringing me down.

I’ve had nearly 24 years to figure out how to dress myself — and believe me, I’ve come a…

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Being “Human” ?

 

I can’t get myself to wake up early. I can’t listen to music if my speakers are not on full volume and I won’t eat my food if it’s healthy. I know I’m being unreasonable. Reckless, even. But what’s life if you can’t live it how you want it? I am a restless person by nature. By staying calm, I’m not only ignoring the unwritten but oh, so unbreakable rules of nature- “Thou shalt not defy the rules of The Nature”.

Like every teenager, I am proudly a troublemaker. I will, undoubtedly, mess up my family’s mental health with almost everything that I do. I will love my friends more than an alcoholic loves a good wine. I will make some stupid, stupid decisions that I will regret for a lifetime.  I will waste my time. I will cry over stupid things, and later laugh about them. And even though I’m growing up, I will continue to be a child. Ah, the sweet irony of life!

I’m too young to let the world decide on me, and the world is too busy to take me seriously. Right now, the only biggest flaw in me is that I’m a learner. And learners are full of mistakes. I’m practically a masterpiece of mistakes, and here’s the catch- I love being who I am. I’d rather make my own follies and learn than to stay cautious and never experience the thrill of living. Yes, I would give up on being perfect. Perfect is way too overrated for a person like me.

Change is necessary. But when change is forced through the five orifices of your body, it becomes a source of suffocation. Just look at Earth! A mere two hundred years since we forced her to chlorofluorocarbons, and now we have global warming to pay for it. So, learn human fools, and let every person be who they are! No one can change you better than the three lettered word: Y-O-U. So what if you come off as crazy? Being Reckless is only Human!

 

 

 

 

well boo hoo!

I saw him today! Him! No, not the HIM him, the other Him. You know, Him, the one who comes your way one day, and decides to fuck up your life, just for the heck of it! Yeah, that Him. It’s been about 3 years since I fell for him, and quickly then figured he was no good for me. He is this shiny phone that makes you want it, but upon a closer look it’s got shitty features. He is the big talker, the show-off, the idiot that thinks he’s got the world revolving around him. He is an insult to the liars all around. I mean, the guy was not even trying to hide anything! He would call me up whenever he wanted to, ask me out on a date and then cancel it the next hour, and would blatantly lie to me. I could catch more than half of his lying. What was the worst was that he had one other girl beside him. I must have been some naïve girl to have dated that piece of shit! Well I broke things between us, and it was really messy. Very messy.  He broke me up somehow. I fell short of respect for myself. I kind of let him have the best of me. I was strong and I never did cry once, don’t get me wrong here! But he made me feel so bad about myself; I still have a hard time trusting anyone at all.

I think things have changed for the better, and that I came out of it a winner in my own place. I’m not who I was, finally. But then, today happened. Well, it’s not like I still like him, or whatever. I don’t honestly give a damn. But when the moment arrived, the gods of “I don’t honestly give a damn” left me alone, a petty prey to the ramblings of my own erratic mind. My friend must have understood when I suddenly took a breath in and stood still.

He was sitting about a foot next to me, his back towards me, and I felt nauseated. My brain told me to get the hell out of there! I couldn’t take one more step towards that guy! He repelled me like garlic did a vampire. I had to take a 360 degree turn, just so I could let my brain take a breather! I felt inhibited, ashamed that I could let the presence of him control me. What was happening? Surely, I was the survivor! I should have had the courage to stand up to him, belittle him in front of his fresh prey! But no, I was unable to even spare him a glance! Oh, the irony. He spotted me soon enough and came up to me & spoke to me. The sound of his awful voice, carved his words into my mind like daggers do a wall, “Hey honey, we haven’t met in a long time!” Oh, I could taste the sourness in his voice. I so wish I could have been one to kick his balls back inside his intestines! I wish I could him given him a cheekier answer. I wish I hadn’t been so timid as to march out of the place, my friend’s hand in mine.

But no, I never let him be the reason for my tears. I am entitled to the pride of having survived his fruity loops. No more of him please!  I so wish that I had done what I couldn’t do. Since I am such a meekly human, this fantasy of kicking his puny ass will remain a dear, dear fantasy. I hope that someday I will give the sick dude what he deserves. And For now, I deeply hope that he reads this, somewhere in a dark corner, and is unable to make prey off of any other girl! Amen!