Her Kohl smeared eyes

Her kohl smeared eyes.
Tired, ghoulish. Hollow from a hard day at  work. She was the only bread winner, the working horse of her family.
With five mouths to feed & a crippled husband.
She’d work day and night, Put on a brave face and fight.     
With the demons in her stomach that snatched her sleep away , with the acid churning upside down, she still worked day and night. To earn a few pennies for her children. To let them  build  a future she was deprived of. To send them to college and see them become successful ‘afsars’ (officers) .       
She dreamed of a future: A future where she was living with her children in a garden of wonders,   soaking in the sun  free from all the responsibilities of life.
And she built bridges from her present  to her future ,  bridges that were built out of the prevailing darkness and sorrow.

Her kohl smeared eyes.
Tired, ghoulish.
Hollow, from a long day’s wait.
The only one remaining in the house : A house with a dead and crippled fate. Once the  horse of the family, now defeated and tied down. Old age.
With 5 pair of hands that should have helped her and a dead husband.
She who worked every day of her life  To fight against the demons in her stomach, to feed her flesh and blood. She who  educated her children and seen them become successful ‘afsars’ for then. The same she , now waits  for long dreaded hours with  hope that someone would come and take her away from this misery.
She’d pear from her dead beaten eyes.
What a futile thing to do, she’d tell herself : They  would never come for you. But her heart was never ready to give up.
Now, she feeds on the mercy of others.
A few pennies from here and there.
Even after a fate like this , she still  smiles cheek to cheek:  a cup in her hands , jingling coins and  blessings on her lips for the passerbys.

NGO diaries.

Okay so I did a thing.

And that thing is joining an NGO. Yes nothing rare. Nothing stupendous. But its a new thing for me, a step further, in doing something selfless. So , I joined this NGO 2 weeks back.

A couple of my college friends and I visit this NGO every Tuesday. Basically we have to spend 20 hours with these kids, of all age groups.  Kids who’ve lost their parents, kids whose parents work as labourers, kids with problems in their family. Financial and physiological.

Kids. Beautiful kids. Curious kids. Zealous kids. image

We play with them.

We teach them.

We share stories with them.

We let them share their stories.

They give us loads of love

We make them feel loved.

And as it happens, the first day of our visit , we were welcomed with the utmost warmth of these tiny bright children. With a smile on their face and a cacophony of “namaste ( greetings in hindi) teacher” You cannot even beat the feeling of warmth that creeps into your heart and the smile that creeps onto your face when you’re welcomed with such wide open cheerful arms. No materialism can give you a pleasure greater than this.

And then it began. The introduction session.

Some kids uber excited. Some a little shy in the beginning And some crying , to go back home. What a wonderfully balanced environment! And as the time passed by, I learned a few names, and a few stories from one or the other, and of course what each of their favourite fruit was!

“Didi mujhe aam accha lagta hai”

“Didi mai gaana sunaoon?”

“Didi mera book lo”

“Didi let me now tell you a poem”

The level of excitement in each one of them took me off guard. What I had though of my first session to be, and what my first session was..were completely opposite! The best thing about them was their hunger to learn something new, and their eagerness to tell off what they had learned. These kids have the spark in them, to grow as a learned person, to learn of more things in life. Which got me thinking, that if in such dire conditions they don’t lose hope of success, why do we, the people with every possible infrastructural means fall behind..in dreaming out of the box, and in trying something new. Something away from the monotony. Why don’t we take risks? What is stopping us ? They have nothing to lose, neither do we.

Transitioning.

I’m still , unable to understand the idea of “changes”
And I’m still unable to decide whether it rouses me or instills a sense of fear in my mind.
Change in once life is like a vicious cycle of happenings that never really stop happening.
It is the only thing , apart from death that is inevitable. But death to us, only comes once.
Change…is constant.
Irony.
Wise men once said “if nothing ever changes, there would be no butterflies”
But
What if the caterpillar did not want to evolve into a butterfly ?
What if, it did not want to be a thing of beauty ?
And what if it the idea, of it being chased around for a pleasure to the human eyes was absolutely ridiculous for it?
What if, all it wanted to do was
Crawl around the leaves and
Make cocoons
And sleep forever
And live like a tiny green worm
Seldom noticed
With absolute ignorance from human beings.

Do we really need changes ?
Do we really need to be pushed out of our cocoons to a different , less homey, more challenging world , because it is seen as a norm ?

Why can’t we live as caterpillars forever ?

What would you want to be born as ?

It is said that, cats have 9 lives.
I hope the same applies to humans, because if a choice of being born again is placed in front of me, I’d gladly want to be born as ME.

I’ve on numerous occasions been asked this question “what would I like to be, if not me ?”
And each time I come up with the same answer.
I’d like to be born as me.
Many people would prefer to be born as some one else, someone famous, someone richer or someone prettier. But do we ever realise we’re looking at their lives from  rose tinted glasses? We wouldn’t know what all they had to go through to get to the pinnacle of success. We wouldn’t know about their struggles or their sacrifices.
Then again, I believe we all must have the blithe of experiencing everything for the first time. Therefore, I’d be like to be born as me. Because I want to work hard to reach my goals, and I want to see the world develop into a better place where feminism is not seen as a boon to humanity but readily accepted, where terrorist don’t kill in the name of god and defame a religion, where the human rights prevail.
And I believe one lifetime to experience all this will not be enough, and this is why if given a chance to be born again, I’d like to be born as me.

Vent post.

I’m
Plunging
Deep
Into
The
Pits
Of
Darkness
And
Misery
And
I
Feel
Breathless
And
Terrified
Because
Nobody
Can
Hear
Me
And
Nobody
Tries
To
Pull
Me
Back
To
The
Light
As
I
Fall
Deeper
And
Deeper
And
Farther
And
Farther
Inside
This
Self
Made
Hole
Of
Melancholy.

“You’ll be okay”
Will I ?
“Learn to be happy”
Can I ?
“Your problems are nothing”
Are they ?
“Stupid teenagers trying to act cool by posting sad shit”
Are we ?
“This tumblr generation is filled with whimsicals”
Okay.

Don’t feed the world with your problems.
Let then die inside you.
Bit by bit.
Like you die inside the world.
Bit by bit.

“Happiness is a state of mind”
But what if the state of mind is fucked up?
Don’t be happy.
You are not obliged to be happy.
Don’t smile for the world just because it’s rude otherwise.
You want to be sad? So be it.
Be mad? So let it flow out.
Don’t kill what’s boiling inside you. Flame it further.

I’m okay. I’m happy and content and blessed and joyous and I’ll be fine.
I’m a wreak and I’m crumbling on the inside.