Kissed by Nature and God’s Mockery (#munnardiaries)

The climb to Munnar was surely a memorable one but what followed afterword was worth all the excitement that had built up. After checking into a hotel and freshening up real quick, we hit the road again. The first place on our itinerary (which was really just a list I’d made on my phone) was Hydel Park.

Hydel Park, often referred to as Blossom Park, was hosting a flower show during our visit. We saw boards advertising the show all over the place and thought it would be good to check it out earlier in the day. Having arrived at Munar around noon, it was the perfect time to soak up the promise of nature’s beauty.

The park, in itself, was rather small compared to Bangalore’s Lalbagh but beautiful nonetheless. We didn’t go on the boating ride or visit the aquarium (having seen our fair share of fish at the Isle of Wight) but we did have a look around at the flower show. It was probably our timing to visit Munnar, and the fact that it was raining on top of that once we got to the park, but the flower show wasn’t as spectacular as everyone had hyped it to be (and by everyone, I mean the Internet). In spite of that, I enjoyed myself there and made sure to take a lot of photos with my parents.

(And here, we have an elephant leaf-sculpture [my English is so pro today]. There’s not one flower show I’ve seen in India without one.)

An hour and couple ice-cream cones later, we were on our merry way to Pothamedu View Point – a super high point on Munnar that has an amazing view of the surrounding hills. However, fate was not on our side. Although it had stopped drizzling, the rain had brought in thick clouds of fog. By the time we got to the place, the entire view which many people had travelled to see (there were rows of cars parked together) was completely covered.

My mom, although she wouldn’t admit to it if you asked her, seemed somewhat relieved. She doesn’t fear heights but the various view points Munnar has to offer certainly didn’t bode well with her – causing a wave of dizziness, and a severe case of frowning. I couldn’t blame her – it was rather scary but for me, fascination took the place for fear. I mean even with the fog blocking the entire view and all.

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Here we have a lone tree, basking in the glory of mist.

None of the photos we took there turned out really well. But I did have a nice steaming cup of cardamom chai. The kind that makes you feel all fuzzy and warm on the inside. It was worth climbing the hill for the fog-view.

On the way back to the hotel, we stopped to see a waterfall…with no water in it. At this point, I was laughing. The pictures I’d seen on the Internet showcasing the majestic cascade of water flowing down the jutting rocks were imprinted in my mind when I stepped forward to the barren landmark. It was like the universe was mocking me.

You climbed a hill, had this whole movie-worthy monologue about beauty in the broken, only to see a barren waterfall that is basically symbolism for your dead social life at the moment. LAWL. ~ God

Thanks, God. I found it funny too. But of course, we took a few photos in front of it anyway.

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So hooray for empty waterfalls! May the monsoon bless you after our visit. Could you pass a few prayers on for my social life as well? I’m kidding (but not really).

The Climb (#munnardiaries)

When my parents said we’d be going to Munnar, a hill-station located in Kerala and only about four and a half hours away from home, I immediately thought of Kodaikanal – the first and only other hill-station I’d been to before. Boy, was I wrong to have expected it to be the same.

We started early in the morning with packed bags for a three day stay and anticipation for the much needed cool weather we were promised. Madurai was scorching, hitting above 40 degrees, and an escape from the heat was exactly the kind of release I needed. The hunger for breakfast I felt gnawing at the pits of my stomach was washed away by the excitement I felt to visit a new place. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d gone on a trip like this. It wasn’t just an escape from the heat, but a journey to a new setting I’d long desired.

And so it begun. Three hours were spent reaching the base of the mountain, most of which I spent singing along to music playing off my phone, jotting down bursts of inspiration and daydreaming for a good half of it. But the best part was when the ascent begun. I immediately realised Munnar was going to be nothing like Kodaikanal.

For one, the roads were incredibly narrow. Secondly, we weren’t just climbing one tall as heck mountain but several. As a result, the road went around in loops across several connected hills – the kinds that reminded me of a Snakes and Ladder game I used to play as a kid. I found myself rolling back and forth in my seat like an aimless potato with every twist and turn, nevertheless enjoying the view outside my window. And what a breath-taking view it was.

The higher up we went ventured, the chillier and, better yet, cleaner the air became. I could practically feel the air strip itself free from the dark, toxic particles of pollution and turn pure. For someone who has breathing problems, I relished the clean air I started to breathe in. Of course, Munnar remained true to its reputation and as we got closer and closer, the scent of tea leaves mingled in as well.

(Naturally, I had to take a picture amidst the tea leaves.)

As someone who loves her cup of steaming hot chai, I was enchanted by the thousands (I’m not kidding) of tea bushes that surrounded us  I could see women with baskets strapped to their backs, picking with skilled, nimble fingers at the leaves they knew would concoct that ideal cup of nature’s goodness and tossing it into their day’s collection. The people’s love for their land’s fruition was proven further by the several specialist shops we passed by selling all assortments of tea – cinnamon, ginger, mint, jasmine, chocolate (apparently that’s a thing?)

Everything about the climb up to our destination was enchanting – the chilly breeze blowing my hair back, the beautiful landscapes surrounding us, and of course, the company of my wonderful parents to share this journey with me. I started to tune out the music playing in the background as my mind wandered, as it often does at times like these.

The world is filled with so much ugliness, enough to taint us and make us feel smaller than we really are. But there are places like these too, fleeting moments we experience that show us that there is beauty in the broken.

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The climb showed me that if we choose to look up instead of down at the world around us, there just might be something worth living for.

Winds of Change

On my twentieth birthday, I had a realization.

Reflecting on the past two decades of my life, I’ve accomplished a lot I should be proud of. I survived a school life spread apart five different countries, received academic awards and merit for all my hard work, aced my A-levels and I’m currently conquering my way through a triple-degree that’s not as pretty as it sounds.

With one year left of university, I should happily proclaim the achievements under my belt. I’m a Distinction holder with a pretty good GPA, and an Associate of the Insurance Institute of India.I have a Diploma in Management Accounting under CIMA and I wrote a research paper in first year. I’m one of the founding members of my department magazine...yada yada yada. 

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My parents have a huge smile on their face when they speak of me and that’s possibly the one thing that makes me happy – that I’ve made them proud. But none of these achievements give me the pride I should have for myself. I know just how much blood, sweat and tears I put in and yet in the place of pride and joy, I feel a cold numbness. Because all these accomplishments have been on the academic front, for which I had to put my personal aspirations on the back-burner.

I don’t know at what point my academic achievements stopped meaning something to me. I hated being defined by a number. Studying and consuming knowledge in the field of accounting and business no longer gave me the excitement it used to. Despite the sudden monotony my life took on, I didn’t let it bring down my momentum. I worked unfeeling, like a machine, and continued to deliver as I always do. All the while, I couldn’t shake off the overwhelming sadness of not being able to feel happy about the fruits of my own labour. On the outside, it was all smiles and rainbows. My mind, however, had transformed into a hellscape.

Over the past year especially, my mental health took a turn for the worse – my anxiety acted up, insomnia got worse and all of it reflected on my physical health. I barely slept and at the wrong times, ate either too much or too little or nothing at all. Nothing interested me anymore. Each morning, I just wanted to stay in bed because there was nothing motivating me to stand on my own two feet.

I had several personal goals I had hoped to achieve by the summer of 2017. To have my next book released through a publishing house and to have completed the first draft of a new series. To have an active blog and Youtube channel, and to have learned to play the guitar so I could make more of my own compositions and possibly some music covers.

On my twentieth birthday, I realized how much I missed it all. How much I missed feeling something – the excitement and nervousness. How much I missed actually enjoying the work I put into my goals, as an artist and as a student. How much I missed seizing the opportunities I’d had to do something real. I resented how much time I had devoted to certain things, certain people – commitments that did more harm than good and devotion I could have put to better use for my own dreams.

I realized I need to stop and just breathe. I need to decide what is worth my time, who is worth sparing my overly sentimental heart on and stick to my goals. I need to stop living for others and learn to live for myself.

I need to change.

I’m only twenty years old and I still have a long path ahead of me. I will stumble and fall as I have over the past year and I do not need to justify my failures, nor should I rationalise the meaning of my hard work to anyone as long as I know what it means to me. I will  prove to myself that my dreams can come true.

In conclusion, to quote a few lines from Victor E. Frankl’s inspiring book, “Man’s Search for Meaning”, “It did not really matter what we expected from life, but rather what life expected from us.”

I am going to punch life’s lights out.
Bring it on!

You Are A Celebration.

Growing up, my mom used to ask me this one question all the time. “What do you want to be in the future, darling?” “A singer! An actress!” I’d exclaim, as a child. She would ask me the same question a couple days later, when I came back home with muddy shoes and dirty clothes, and I’d answer, “I want to save the plants! Can I be an environmental scientist?” She’d smile and nod. Time and again, the infamous question popped up with a variety of answers from my side.

I want to be a writer, momma. A basketball player. A teacher to impart wisdom! A business woman to showcase my leadership. A nanny because children are adorable! An activist for change. 

My answers were never set in stone, and every day, I wished to be something different. To try new things and to live a million possibilities in one lifetime. Yet, every time I voiced a different dream, my mother never shut me down. She’d pat my head in a sign of affection and promise me that I could be anything and everything I want to be, if only I put in passion and hard work.

Growing up, I never realized just how much that question means. But now I do, and I start to wonder if my mom was ever asked the same question and shown the beauty of possibilities. If she was ever given a promise to be anything she wanted to be or have the freedom to choose it for herself.

My mother is a housewife. I say this to the people who ask, and to the people who don’t, because I am proud of her. The reception to this varies from shrugs to the passing, ignorant comment of, ‘ah…so she doesn’t work or have a job?’

Yes. Yes, she does. She creates a space where I feel like I belong. She gives me nourishment to survive, both in body and spirit. Her unconditional love is a gift beyond anything any job could ever give. She sacrificed her dreams, put them on the back-burner, to promise me my own. And in exchange? She asks for nothing, but my own happiness.

You’re right. That isn’t a job. She is a Miracle.

It’s beyond anything that can be restricted to three little letters. My mother is a blessing. All mothers are. All women are. My mother is my best friend, my sister and my role model but mothers aren’t the only women worth celebrating today.

Women who balance their lives working 12-hour shifts and coming back home to their children and husband, to work again and to share their love deserve to be appreciated too.

Women, who brave the scorn of society and go out to fulfill their own dreams by deciding not to get married are not to be judged for not ‘playing their role’ by sticking to motherhood. They’re fulfilling the purpose they set out to do.

Women who defend their countries in war-ridden nations and female activists that fight for a cause with their words and actions…they fight with their every breath to secure the future of the children in the generations to come.

Sacrifice in the form of being a housewife is a gift, yes. But so is every other dream. Because today isn’t just about the mothers in the world but the fighters, the business women, the leaders, the activists, the teachers, the women

We are all warriors in our own right.
We are all cause for celebration.

So, go!

Celebrate yourself!

Celebrate who you are, and what you do because no one, no where can achieve your dreams better than you do.

 

The Truth in Social Media

~ a personal essay I submitted for my English class I thought would be nice to share ~

Social media has evolved into an all-pervasive part of the 21st century, imposing a powerful impact on the current generation and the ones to come. 2001 marked the start of the ‘Golden Era’, with the rise of prominent social networks such as Facebook and Twitter leading to a subtle yet significant shift in the public’s perceptions. By the year 2020, worldwide users are predicted to rise to a third of the world’s population, a startling amount of 2.95 billion people.

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Social media is both a means for a global society and a gateway for corporate giants, political leaders and governments to influence public perception. The US presidential elections, for instance, have shown the extent to which social media can shape public opinion and put up a false front to the masses. The introduction of this form of technology has led to a change of dynamics in politics, with Donald Trump being a glaring example.

Western governments, namely the US and UK, use social media proactively, in comparison to other world governments, to engage and connect with the public. Most politicians put on the stereotypical facade of being loyal public servants and appeasing to their hundreds of thousands of followers. Trump, however, was blunt and unfiltered in his communications which led to his flame burning brighter than any other.

The world of social media favors controversy to reason. Although social media has led to timely information, transparency and accessibility, the authenticity of these sources is highly questionable. The distinction between real and fake has become increasingly difficult to make. Most of what we see on social media is a mixture of truth and lies, falsities and speculation. This application in a political framework is all the more concerning.

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The public perception of hegemonic structures is not as independent from the subject as most would wish to believe. As Louis Althusser proposed, with governments and political leaders exerting their dominance on the masses, everything we consume is a product of selective filtering and control by their very hands. The rise of social media poses a sparkling opportunity for exploitation of the truth that is perceived by the public whose votes and support they rely on.

Perception counts for everything in social media. When, as individuals, we try to project our ideal selves on Facebook and Instagram, it is understandable that politicians too would do the same for personal gain. Their intentions involve increasing their power and avoiding controversy, while simultaneously keeping the public in the dark.

Donald Trump, however, did the opposite and still managed to come out as the victor. By engaging in post-truth politics both online and offline, and portraying himself as an advocate against the media (which largely favored Hillary Clinton and the State), he not only made a spectacle of himself to his 25.7 million Twitter followers but secured public votes too. Objective facts were disregarded in the face of emotionalism. Trump used this to his benefit by feeding off the public’s distrust in government institutions and the media through his campaigns and social media presence. Although most of Trump’s unsubstantiated arguments were far off the spectrum of ‘rational’, his followers perceived it on an emotional level and voted him into presidency.

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We live in an information age centered around social media that is a combination of both truth and ‘alternative facts’, Trump popularizing the latter. Social media is a double-edged sword, posing massive benefits to its users while also diluting their perceptions of reality. In the hands of the wrong people, it is a manipulative weapon of the very truth the public wishes to know.

Weigh My Heart.

Kiss your own fingertips
and hug your own curves.
You are made of waves and honey
and spicy peppers when it is necessary.
You are a goddess,
I hope you haven’t forgotten.

I am a mute receiver of fat jokes.

People sometimes look at the top of my head and crack a laugh that I’m a 19 year old grandma due to my premature greying.

Bad skin. Brace-face. Lumbering giant. 

I hear these tiny jabs and I laugh but if people were ever to see the words I carry with me, they would know of the weight their careless whispers are capable of bearing on my soul.

As someone who’s been on both ends of the ‘beauty-scale’ that society so deems, it never fails to disgust me the double-standards that are placed upon us. When I used to look thin, people scrutinized me for ‘never eating’, for having less curves. On the other hand, now when I look a little chubby, people point out my ‘rolls of fat’, suggest I should join the gym and stop ‘pigging out’. All these subtle hints at pretending to look out for me do the opposite effect and destroy my confidence, because they aren’t just hints…they are judgments.

There’s no ‘in between’. Nothing is ever good enough. You’ll never be good enough. 

It’s a struggle I face everyday. My confidence has grown leaps and bounds compared to a couple years ago when the chase for perfection led to a dark time ridden with anxiety and the thought that I’m not worthy as a human being. Because that’s how deep those words can run, and that’s why it’s important to realize that you and I don’t need to be tied down by society’s flawed perception of perfection.

Weigh my heart, not my body. 

Look me in the eye when I speak and see the fire in them, the passion, instead of joking about how many calories I need to burn. Watch me live my dreams and meet every single goal I set for myself, rather than joke about how going to the gym would be a better use of my time. Try and see how much your words can kill my sense of self-worth, and think again before you speak out of ‘good intentions’.

I am a warrior because I’ve learned to pick myself up when you put me down and remember that I am beautiful in any and every form. I’ve learned to love myself, accept my flaws and continuously strive to make myself a better person in the ways that actually matter. You should too. Because if you don’t love yourself, how can you expect others to? As my good ol’ friend Charlie said, “We accept the love we think we deserve.”

Prove to yourselves that you are your own hero. The one person that’ll stay by your side forever is yourself. Love that person. Look yourself in the mirror and appreciate every little thing there is to you – beyond what there is to see. Because as the saying goes, beauty is skin deep.

But your heart and soul weigh so much more.

 

Don’t.

I’m sick.

I’m sick of people thinking they know me when they don’t.
I’m sick of caring about what these ignorant fools say when that’s all their words really are: ignorant.

Don’t think you know all of me when you see the coals of my eyes glitter like falsified gems. Don’t think you can define me by the numbers that attach themselves to my self-worth. Don’t think you can pass the final verdict on my disposition as the Big Bad Bitch.

And if you do, don’t think I care.

Because I’ve learnt not to waste my time on people like you who think what they see is what they get.

I’ve learnt to be free.

Inspired by DailyPost
(although funnily enough, I wrote this exactly an hour before the prompt was out – ’twas meant to be!)