Four Years Later: They Are Dead And I’m Not Thinking Enough

                      Four years ago, I happened to lose a good friend to a fatal road accident – and this is more or less a diary entry; someone, somewhere may just identify with this experience.


A lot happened after the day I, for the first time, experienced the feeling of losing someone who was around you when you went out for a coffee (whilst being in school, that was a privilege unheard of), or hung out for a considerable time of a random, good evening. Hollow the feeling as it could be, what is interesting to me now is that a lot has most certainly changed – and that sort of backs up a lot, formerly enticing a state of depressed behavior.

We tend to grow out of instances like the death of someone, may be not fully in some cases, but we do. There also came a time when I almost never thought about this aforementioned friend and when I did, I immediately felt guilty about being too self-absorbed and not caring about my dead friend more often – annoyingly, that time still persists. And I don’t think I should be the guilty party here. Post the death of my aforementioned friend in 2011, another close friend died in another fatal accident two years later and sort of limited my emotional base in case of deaths, which I now take as an inevitable natural process. Again, I tend to go through the entire guilt-tripping process of not thinking or caring enough for my now dead friends and the thought literally pulls your stomach apart.


I recently came across this television story of a celebrity getting together with another man, two years after the death of her then boyfriend – and such instances provoked me to think of how the society (ourselves) reacts in two ways; “good for her to have found love again” and “what a shame”.

HOPE (?):

I happened to speak with someone who has experienced the loss of a close one and guilt-trips as often as I do (rarely) and what we deciphered from the understanding of such an emotional condition is – we move on. The world which is inhabited by us humans and runs at the speed of flash for every little thing, along with new innovations and ways of mixing with another people in more then one way at the very same juncture is, pardon me, a batshit insane pace of indulgence!

Harping over the loss of your loved ones till the end of time will do nothing but stunt one’s growth in almost every way of life; that is like crying over spilled milk.

It is okay to be healthily selfish, sometimes.

Find Your Moon


Never be static. Be a toon. Animate. Be an Impressionist in your lone time; Renaissance has only slaughtered, killed and destructed. Do not let a moment pass, the one that has fellow humans put you down, in all individuality.

Remember: Your social life is like an ocean; the humans involved like sand particles, situations like the ever-flowing waters. They all keep drifting, floating away – few stay and even fewer come back. So must you cease it all, out of the fear of conflict?

Let me ask you.

Does the cycle stop? Do oceans cease to exist? They do not.

And that is when you begin to find your Moon.

The Fat Shaming Indian

Namaste! I am a citizen of the world’s largest democracy. I also am the stereotype you see on American television. I could be that touchy Mamaji, the gossipy NRI aunty or the disciplinarian Papa.

My world is actually really small – just like my stealthy, little mind. I judge people for the sheer reason of my eyesight; don’t want to be judged? Get away from my vision or stop existing, then. Interestingly, I also try to be a little sensitive, but that sort of behavior is reserved for events such as the death of a relative. Also, I could be the hot cousin with whom you think of a future with due to your distant ties and I also could be the struggling brother, trying to declare himself an engineer whilst working in a McDonald’s outlet in the USA.

And guess what? I will judge the flying saucer out of you today. I will body shame you.

Just the other day, as I was getting home from work, I met this sweet young girl in the elevator. A pleasant young woman, I was straying my eyes all over her (judging, duh) when they picked up the color of this fancy-looking plastic bag.

“What’s in there, beta?”

(Beta is the safest keyword to utilize and not to not come as judgmental and pathetic you actually are as a person; I think I am going to be a double standard aunty here.)

The girl smiled and replied that those were the yummiest little cupcakes she’d ever consumed.

My mind boggled.

No. Not at all. How could she indulge herself into something so normal?! Cupcakes? A 19 year old wants to have cupcakes?! She is about 29’’ inches at her waist! I could not fathom the guts of this young lady, I mean, how was she even going to find a suitable husband in the EXTREMELY near future? Okay, her parents would find a groom, I get it. I had to kill her enthusiasm, I just had to. She needed help.

“What? No, do not have those. You’re fat.” And we reached my floor and I went ahead with my chores.

Of course, I didn’t realize the negativity I just planted in the happy girl’s mind. And why would I? I had important things to do; like discussing last night’s Ekta Kapoor drama soap and what to expect today from the same. I also totally foiled her day and did not let the silly girl consume her tiny cupcakes happily. She was fat and she needed to know that, but I think she is too stupid to realize! I keep telling her that every time I see her!

I am comfortable in my body hugging kurtis that let all my flab wobble at odd places. I also am comfortable with my tight leggings that highlight my thunder thighs and line my innerwear indecently. But, my point is that how can a normal, food-loving 19 year old eat whatever she likes and ‘swell’ up to a massive 29’’ inches of waistline?! Is it not 36-24-36? Come on, the last time my Australia-based sister’s 12 year old was here, I made it a point to remind her until she went back to the country that it was necessary for her to lose weight. Australia is too modern with little to no sanskriti around, and she’d probably see someone by 16 and that is just 4 years to go! Who will even look at her if she doesn’t lose that chubbiness? Please, just let the baby fat remain with the babies and not 12 year old girls and I honestly don’t care (or know) being called that ‘annoying Indian relative’ by the girl’s friends as soon as she gets back.

Kareena, Alia, Priyanka – if Bollywood is so easily available to you then please make sense of your existence and don’t become fat; follow fads and crash diets by these fit, thin celebrities. Anything over 48 kilograms is fat, remember. I may just probably call you a grain-filled gunny bag.

Not Sonakshi Sinha, though. Do not even think of being THAT fat.

Oh, and did I hear Huma Qureshi? A good actress, is she? Good for her, she still is fat.

Be anything, I will strive to destroy and depress as many people as I can; if not in this lifetime, then the ghosts of my past ridicule will most certainly haunt the memories of the ridiculed.

Yours most ridiculously,

A Fat Shaming Indian (Aunty)

Where Love Often Gets Lost


    While all of my Facebook time line shines with rainbow display pictures, it certainly does feel like there is hope for humanity.

I smiled my brightest at the historic decision of the US Supreme Court declaring that any human may marry another of their kind, with thorough disregard to one’s gender – the LGBT community has never shone so bright! But back home in India, there is a lot of work to do. Humongous, even. And I will not even begin with ‘how can we get Section 377 down’.

The United States of America, no denial, is a super power. Mention the country and the first thing we picture is Hollywood and the second, absolute freedom of expression. As a matter of fact, legalizing gay marriage is probably a tad bit too late for the States – but they are free now, and that is commendable. While I browsed through my Facebook time line, I wasn’t surprised to see a large number of my ‘friends’ on the site merging their profile pictures with rainbow colors. Everybody did that – the middle class, the upper class and most biased communities and the people within who can afford ‘basic’ technology today. I did not; and I am not homophobic. I think gay men have a brilliant sense of style and confidence which I will probably not ever achieve.  I think gay women are really sensual and transgenders are pretty hospitable – I am drawing all this from experience, of course.

But let us take this particular situation in an Indian context.

While it is true that India is modernizing, there stands another definable fact that we still face the problems of dowry, patriarchy and loss of free will, especially in the choice of a groom or bride in this very context. Thus, changing your display pictures to a rainbowisque hue does shout out your rational mind and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that at all – but what we, as Indians, can try to achieve is the feat that the US has. The colonial Section 377 needs to be taken down and as India, alongside the world, celebrates humanity with the USA today, a movement of acceptance must be ideally revolutionized.


The other undeniable fact is that a major change as the freedom of the LGBT community in India is something which will not occur in a fraction of a deleted law; open expression of free love will most certainly disturb many just as it will make many rejoice. Thus, switching or rationalising the state of the orthodox or uncomfortable mentalities is what we need to begin with.

As I spoke to an elder yesterday of India embracing the larger LGBT community, I was replied with a not so surprising answer.

I don’t know, but isn’t that not natural? I don’t have a problem as such, but I am not really sure.

And this is precisely how half of the ‘most of homophobic’ India thinks; so much so, that such people are way too scared to even speak of a slight acceptance for the LGBT community.

It indeed is saddening to realise that humans need to make special arrangements to create awareness about the will of their own species.

Also – next time you are travelling in an auto rickshaw/cab – do look carefully at those abandoned ‘chakkas’ who ask you to give them some money and leave away with their head held high.

And if possible, talk to them.

The Lost Soul of Love


The significance of a person, be it your better/other half, a close friend or family creates a sort of hollow throughout the persuasion of the current life – the feeling experience you experience right at this moment.

Losing a human being who cherished your dreams as you did comes as a setback;  especially when you lose them forever in the oblivion of the unknown. I refer to death, here.

It has always been a ride, death has been. Of course, the process and concept of death tears the strongest of people apart, limb by limb; yet, growing in the comfort of improved development is a drug, if you can help yourself.

The time I lost three really important people in my life, back then, called for a ride. I fought with each one of them the last time I met them – disagreed, rather. How the moments break me every single day is a process of itself, altogether. I would not wish even a negatively sworn opponent to feel that despair of repentance.

I truly reckon that life goes on through such setbacks,  some which are massive to some people with the only bread earner joining the greatly mysterious regime of non existence on this planet. It works out differently for different persons, thus showing subjectivity.

And that, means a lot more than it intends to showcase – there is hope. Every bad, most miserable circumstance shines with a ray of enlightenment and endless hope at that point and one must, to whoever it presents itself to, must embrace it.

It does go away, after a while, but what stays with you are the memories and most importantly, the courage to make it.

Shine On ★

One Starry Night’s Rush

      They had scheduled to meet on the terrace. She waited for him with bated breath. They would be in trouble if they were heard; so, very carefully, he walked up to her and took her into his arms.


“I have missed you.”
“And so have I.”
“Lets go.”

The ten steps that led to the open of the terrace consumed more time and strength than ever today. A hue, a cry of sheer happiness to have found the person holding her hand was what she wanted to let him know with; she knew that he knew, but she also knew that he must know. Such was the practice of expressions they seldom dealt with.

Arriving at the scene of a sky full of stars and a planet, or it was just Sirius, the freshness of every intake of oxygen was detoxifying to the state of mind they both carried among themselves.

A stone bench, with it being completely stuck to the wall at one side, was all they could lay upon. A little laughs shared, a few giggles spared – when you know you have found the one, you just know and keep self-assuring. That juncture of being at one’s silliest best and not being subject to offense or wrathful reaction, is what glues a bond of love.

Laying on the stone bench on a starry night, searching for the right star, looking for galactic answers, spotting outworldly space vehicles was their love. Entangled fingers, hiding faces into each others embrace. They looked up into the night sky, they let each others imagination flow.

Stealing glances at random and catching the other watchful of the latters stunning features was a pass time.

Such was their love. Simply simple.