The life of an Indian girl.

So hello there. This is going to be a bit personal, but I’m going to vent out on the internet because I want views and opinions(I am open to scrutiny) AND predominantly because I am very very frustrated right now. 

As an Indian child, you are expected to act and behave a certain way, and are debarred from doing certain things( certain actually includes ALOT of things you cannot imagine). For children growing in this new generation where there’s such a shift of culture and values- basically children like myself- this “Indian sanskar” is very annoying. 

Hear me out alright, and tell me if you find ANY logic in their way of thinking. So as a teenager, you’re disallowed from meeting people of the opposite sex-it’s literally considered a sin. “Hanging out with boys” makes you a girl with low morals. And you’re treated this way until up about 24.

Then you are expected to get married( to the person of the opposite sex of course, because they are unwelcoming to homosexuality and that makes me very angry because it’s even illegal in our country). So they expect you to spend the rest of your life with a boy when they’ve restricted you from hanging out with them ever since a young age. Further more, NOT wanting to have children is a sin. So, now that I have reached a particular age they want me to engage in sexual activity with people of the opposite sex? Hai ram! Isn’t that haram? It’s a sin!!!! How can one do such a thing! 

Yes people this is how Indian mentality works, sadly my parents are also like this. They just do not understand that at my age it’s completely natural for people to like each other( in the romantic way) and that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it! Apparently I’m too young to understand what’s love. Maybe they’re wrong, maybe they’re right. But they cannot judge me like this. It seems like they’re never satisfied. By the way this works for boys too. There are so many cases where women are forced into marriages with men they’ve never met before and end up having horrible marriages BUT hey, divorce is not an option. Free will? Woh kya Hota hai? Divorce is considered a taboo. So is sex yeah, but you must have children. Just putting this out there,because it just makes so much sense you see.

Also another point I would like to bring up here is how limited our career choices are here. It’s either Doctor or Engineer or be shunned by society. Beta, study study study. I’m going to become a doctor by the way, not because of my parents but because I am in love with the subject of medicine, I want to save lives, and probably discover something interesting along the way. Of course they don’t give a fuck about any of this 🙂 they just want to boast to the rest of the family members( I have atleast 200 cousins I haven’t even met) about their daughter being a doctor. YAY! 
There’s more I’ve gotta say, but tell you later, good bye for now

It’s been way too long since I’ve last posted. What can I say? I’m such a klutz. Incredibly lazy would be the two words that describe me best. And right now, I’m in an extremely difficult place.. Trying to prepare for entrance exams at the last minute. aah, sometimes I wonder why I chose this path. But honestly there’s nothing else id rather do. I know medschool is going to be the most challanging days of my life, but I’m kinda excited for it. Hopefully once college starts I’ll do a better job at keepIng up my blog. Anyway,my next post is going to be extremely personal..wait up! 

I Am Not Your Wife, Sister or Daughter

women are people. EVERYONE IS A PERSON,and hence noone deserves to be raped.

The Belle Jar

I don’t have to tell you that Steubenville is all over the news.

I don’t have to tell you that it’s a fucking joke that Trent Mays and Ma’lik Richmond, the two teenagers convicted of raping a sixteen year old girl, were only sentenced to a combined three years in juvenile prison. Each will serve a year for the rape itself; Mays will serve an additional year for “illegal use of a minor in nudity-oriented material.”

I probably don’t even have to tell you that the media treatment of this trial has been a perfect, if utterly sickening, example of rape culture, with its focus on how difficult and painful this event has been for the rapists who raped a sixteen year old girl then bragged about it on social media.

And I almost certainly don’t have to tell you that the world is full of seemingly nice, normal…

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Memoirs of ISC 2015- my last set of school exams

Unfortunately(or fortunately) I’ve decided to choose an extremely difficult career path. But I’m certain the end result will be fruitful. Now for a little background let me tell you a little about myself. I’ve never been a hard worker, throughout my school life. I patch up things at the last minute, and most of the time not even well enough. Until I reached 12th grade. I realised my full potential, and a spark of competitiveness and determination arose within me. The primary reason to this was that I realised how incredibly stupid I was being all this while- I could’ve done SO much better in my academics for the past years. But it’s okay- I don’t believe in regrets *takes a deep breath* anyway, over the last two years of my school life I’ve built such strong bonds with some pretty important people and that I consider my greatest achievement. So my friends from the boys section are the boys of 12B. Hilarious, fun to be around with, and genuinely nice guys. Love ’em! But they’re a bit sexist, they think girls are incapable and THAT was my motivation. That’s one of the main reasons I worked harder than I ever did in 12th grade and even though I did things last minute, I did it so well, and was extremely determined and focused. Fast forward to prelims. The topper in prelims becomes valedictorian, and I wanted it to be a girl. So I got 96. Roshan 96.25 and Taha 96.5 .. But for some reason they looked at 2nd term marks and took the average of it so roshan ended up getting it. Well I didn’t feel too bad tbh because he works harder than anyone else, so much deserved.

After prelims I’ve been pretty sad about college, and other personal stuff , and I decided to not study much so that I can focus really well for boards.
Boards start tomorrow! Wish me luck.

The schools-almost-over post

It’s peculiar that you feel completely different things around different people. Out of my considerably big friend circle, I realise there are only 2-3 people I genuinely trust. It’s all about how differently they make me feel.

By the last lap of school life, we begin to care less and focus on the things that matter. Maybe it’s the level of maturity, maybe it’s the realisation that all the drama and hatred is pointless, and that eventually it’s the little things that matter. I can say that without a doubt, high school has been amazing. Despite the mood swings, raging hormones and a few occasional lows, it’s been a roller coaster- like Augustus Waters said- that only goes up.

Maybe I’m writing this because of all the “feels” I’ve got inside me, I can’t possibly encompass in this post how much school life means to me, And how grateful I am to be blessed with the most amazing bunch of people I can call “friends”.

The fictitious post

As I sat on a worn out grey sofa in the verandah outside my home- correction- house, I tried to concentrate on my calculus sums, but the same string of thoughts was buzzing through my head.

I had grown accustomed to it by now, but there is only so much a person can handle. There’s a limit to patience. I could hear distant barks of stray dogs, the cries of famished crows and the laughter of children nearby. The sweet, innocent laughter. Most of all,this one sound that I tried my utmost best to ignore pierced through my skin. My grandmothers cries. My previously sweet, calm grandmother who I had shared some fond memories with. But recently, things had gone for a change.

The shores of Kerala were flooded due to the terrible curse of the monsoons. This meant holidays for all schools, for at least a week. Meanwhile I was stuck here, witnessing my grandmother’s penury. The absolute repression that my entire family was subjected to. It stung me, it upset my heart. I couldn’t bear to see my grandmother like this. My mother’s brother and his wife were away at work, dedicatedly hard working parents who were ready to sacrifice anything for their children.
My cousins were four years and 10 years younger than me respectively. That was the reason for every argument, every tear shed and every ounce of money that was wasted.

My young cousin, my baby, what had happened to her? When did she become like this? Every day she would cry relentlessly till she got what she wanted. The absolute most useless things- that were not even inexpensive. She was allowed to get whatever she wanted and yet, she cried for more. She caused an inarticulate amount of distress to my poor grandmother who had over the years, raised three girls and two boys. But none of us had seen one like her,our youngest cousin. Now that old age had dawned upon her, she was weak, and incapable of doing so much work. What fascinates me is besides her illness, she continued to do all the house work- her primary aim being to feed everyone at home and bring them up healthily.

I cannot possibly describe what a pain she was. She killed my grandparents, slowly, mentally. She killed us all when we came to India to spend a little time with our “beloved family” during the vacations. Now, she was crying – my grandma;and ofcourse my cousin- she wanted a brand new bag from a faraway store- she was unsatisfied with the posh bag she had bought yesterday. My uncle estimated that about one Lakh rupees was spent on my cousin- buying stupid material things.

When I tried to speak to my aunt about this, she told me that they were so busy with their business that the little time that they got to spend with their own daughter, she didn’t want to waste by scolding. But it was a matter of discipline. I insisted that it had to be fixed.

Months later, I finally convinced them to send her to boarding school. This 7-year-old required some manners to be instilled in her. The day came, I drove from Kochi to Trivandrum, “St. George’s girl convent”. My cousin was crying, screeching, pleading. I ignored. I left her at the door with sister Theresa, who was the nun in charge of the convent. She held my sister tightly, as she tried to escape from her grasp. She didn’t want to go. “Didi,don’t leave me!”. For once I heard genuine desperation in her voice. Somehow I knew that besides everything she had wasted money on, this immaterial thing was what she wanted the most. I took one last glimpse at her,my heart almost melted. But then, I thought of how things would be at home now, and drove away as her cries faded away with the distance.

Post dedicated to my best friend.

I haven’t written since my sweet 16th,last year which is about 6 months ago. Wow,time really flies. Here I am, lazily lying on the couch and contemplating – where will I be in another year? Out of school, for sure. Feels like just yesterday, I had entered class 4B in 2006, 8 years ago. Short, stout and with hair as messy as a “birds’ nest” I found my place next to this extremely tall girl. Soon enough, we clicked, we bonded, we became best friends. It’s been a long 9 years and our school life will soon come to an end. We’ve become only closer, and the beauty of our friendship is that even silences are not awkward, and even though we see each other literally every day, we never get bored of each other. That’s real love.
Now I’m much taller than my best friend and we’re tight as can be. I’m positive we’ll remain best friends forever. Sometimes you just need one person to make you happy,no matter what❤️