The Sisters’ War

Writer’s Note: Fuck patriarchy.


A long long time ago,

When people were still naive,

And countries were used as chains,

There was a war.


My memory isn’t that strong,

But it so happened that a king

Woke up one morning and had a fight

With his wife and it hurt his pride.


It was not any plain pride

But a male one and so,

He decided he’d conquer

The country beside. “Then she’ll know.”


He sent his army and pat

Himself on his back.

Twirled his moustache knowing

His wife will get on track.


That night he snored louder,

For he had just fed the little snake

Inside him, his ego. And it was

Sleeping too, was easy to fool him.


The next morning, the snake woke up

With the king, extremely angry.

For they saw his sister’s bed

And there were only pillows – three.


Where did the sister go?

He asked everyone to look for

Her servant. Of course she must have

Run away. That whore I call my sister.


They found the servant in a minute.

He was where he was supposed

To be. Doesn’t mean he didn’t

Steal his sister’s dignity.


The snake ordered that the servant

Be beat bloody. And the king obeyed.

The servant didn’t say anything.

But the snake felt better, it said.


The sister was still missing and the

Whole kingdom was in search. And in

The country beside them, another

Snake lay, wounded, holding the sister.


The King of the country beside held

The sister captive. But gave her a beautiful

Room to be prisoner in. Because a bird

Must care about her cage’s shine.


The sister lay in the bed, not crying

But confused, this fourteen year old soul

Didn’t know what to do. Only last night her

Mother told her how she’d bleed soon.


And then, she said, she’d be a woman.

Because girls became women only

When they were of use to men. Before that

They’re girls and play till they become women.


It frightened her to think that she might

Bleed in a strange country. She had heard

Stories of men bleeding in foreign lands for

Their nation. And everyone had clapped.


Would she be treated the same? Somehow

She wasn’t sure. For she remembered the slap

When she asked for a sword too. She thought

if her brother could, she could too.


But she was wrong. For boys become men

When they pick up a sword. And girls

Become women when they bleed and

Learn to be tamed by that sword.


The strange king walked into her room

And came dangerously close. She crawled

To the wall as far as she could get but the

King said, “Don’t worry I’m kind.”


He told her he wouldn’t hurt her

Because he was kind. And he had a sister.

And all she could think was “Why is he not

Sending me home if he’s so kind?”


And is his sister a girl? Or did she become

A woman? Was she the strange king’s or

Some stranger’s? How was it kind

When surrounding her were four walls?


It was then that she heard the horns

And knew it was his brother. She should’ve

Been happy but was scared. Did his brother have

The strange king’s sister because he was kind?


It didn’t take long

For the war to end.

They wrote it down

As The Sisters’ War.


But it’s funny how

It was a Man’s War.

Which hurt men and women alike

To prove to a Woman

That he was a Man indeed.


It’s funny how there was a war,

Saying it was for a woman,

When just a snake needed to be fed.

And it’s funny how there was a war,

Saying it was for a man,

When just a woman wanted her debt.


You fought to prove your manliness

To a woman.

Then you fought again to conquer

Back your women.


Two snakes fought.

Irony won.


Give the women swords if they want.

They can fight their own wars.

They don’t care if you don’t actually –

For they have the blade and are out to break those bars.


Featured image from Pinterest.

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Listened to BTS for the 3rd time. Something Weird Happened…

I consider myself to be very open-minded when it comes to music and that’s why I tried listening to BTS (and other K-Pop artists) after being convinced by ardent K-Pop fans that they were worth a try. And of course, any group with such a massive following deserves a listen. So, I heard them. You know what my first reaction to one of their albums (the name of which I do not even remember) was? Fucking hated it. I don’t even know why I didn’t like them, but I didn’t. And that’s fine.

But then, soon after that, the album Love Yourself: Tear debuted at #1 on the US Billboard 200 (which is a big fucking deal) and I wondered why that happened. So, naturally, I had to give them a try again. And I did. Still didn’t like them. It sounded better than before but didn’t quite enjoy it. Watched some of their videos – and they REALLY impressed me. The effort that must have taken to make something that beautiful and well-synced blew my mind and I couldn’t help but appreciate that.

Fast forward to today, I knew nothing more about BTS, but after having a late night call with a (female) friend of mine who wouldn’t stop raving about BTS and how talented they were, they were on my mind. So, I decided to give them a try again. I had been feeling extremely low for the past few days (because life can get rough sometimes) and I thought “Well, let’s see if these guys can do something about it.” I started playing their top songs on Apple Music. And quite unfairly, they hit me with FAKE LOVE, to begin with. I swear I wasn’t ready for that banger. But within moments, I was headbanging and dancing in my room (quite badly obviously; I have my skills, dancing is really not one of them). I was flabbergasted. Great songs like DNA, IDOL, Blood Sweat & Tears followed and I was in awe. How did I suddenly fall in love with something that I didn’t like at all before?

But I cannot just state that I liked it and be done with it. For you guys, I’ll explain why. I’ll explain what’s good about them (according to my SUBJECTIVE opinion; you’re free to disagree, but I promise you that ARMYs aren’t going to leave you without a fight – and they can be really merciless at times). Let’s consider three things that you might judge a Pop album on: Production, Content, Vocals.

Production:

Imitation is the best form of flattery. If so, people really flatter BTS because every music industry in the whole damn world has taken BTS’s sound (and some like Bollywood have shamelessly copied it multiple times). That speaks for how good it must be. On LY:Her, you have everything ranging from delicate R&B on ‘Serendipity’, to electronic dance beats on ‘Best of Me’, to Daft Punk inspired electronic jazz on ‘Pied Piper’ (which is also my favourite track on the album), to bass-heavy but still smooth ‘Dimple’. There’s so much variety on the album but it doesn’t feel jarring at all. The songs go well together and make a complete EP styled album. It’s not just a good K-Pop album, it’s a good Pop album. With this album, they achieved something K-Pop had not achieved before – a global sound. It’s a landmark.

Content:

One of the most popular internet arguments against BTS (after “You look like girls”) is that they do not talk about things in a way that someone like Lorde or Taylor Swift or Camila do, that their lyrics don’t really mean anything. If you’re one of these, please open your pants and turn around because you deserve some spanking. Let’s take examples.

Exhibit 1:

Follow the sound of the pipe, follow this song
It’s a bit dangerous but I’m so sweet
I’m here to save you, I’m here to ruin you

That’s from Pied Piper. If you, yes, you the rock fanatic, are as smart as you claim to be, you can easily understand the metaphor there, right?

My pipe awakens everything
That sound burns you up even more
You’re pulled by it, you react
I’m endlessly blowing
I’m your guilty pleasure
You can’t escape
Never

Exhibit 2:

Our meeting is like a mathematical formula
Commandments of religion, providence of the universe;
The evidence of destiny given to me
You’re the source of my dream
Take it, take it
My hand reaching out to you is my chosen fate

That is from ‘DNA’. That’s a love song that’s going to make you feel. You’re going to tell me those aren’t good lyrics? Get your head out your ass, please.

Vocals:

Okay, now I will admit that vocals are not BTS’s biggest strength, but if you listen to their songs, they don’t just sing. They give us melodic choruses, catchy hooks, and spit fire bars at times too. And being a hip-hop fan, BTS has their golden hip-hop moments. RM is really good at rapping. Jungkook controls his voice brilliantly and no one really has a “bad” voice in BTS or is not good at singing. They’re obviously not up there with Adele and Lorde however. And that’s okay. Because neither are pop stars like Selena Gomez, Taylor Swift, or Justin Bieber.

BONUS: VIDEOS:

Okay, I cannot even explain how good their videos are and how good they are at dancing. You will just have to watch for yourselves. Even when I didn’t like their music, I was a fan of their videos. They were enthralling and the dance sequences continue to blow me away. Rest assured, I am going to wait for every BTS video now. And they are so young it blows my mind. Seven 20ish-year-old guys doing things that I cannot even imagine doing. Their success is well-deserved. They have taken K-Pop (and Pop) to another level. And they’ll go down in history for that.

In conclusion, I’ll say that if you are open-minded when it comes to music and are willing to explore different genres of music, you should check out BTS. Cannot speak for other K-Pop groups, but BTS is GREAT. And if you have heard their music and didn’t like it, don’t worry, you’ll have your BTS moments.

Now the only reason I have to hate BTS (and this is serious) is that every girl I want is after them. NOW I CAN’T HELP IF I AM NOT THAT TALENTED OR GOOD-LOOKING NO! #FeelsBadMan

#PoetryPhase No. 2

If I Were The Yellow Bird


Last night I found a letter on my windowsill,

It told me the tale of a yellow bird, a friend if you will.

The yellow bird, it told me, would sit down with a girl,

And would give her what other birds didn’t.

It told me the bird never failed to come,

And in the meadows, they would sit,

Reeling in happiness from every corner, bit by bit.


But the problem with happiness is that when you have it,

You know what it can be.

For earlier, you didn’t know,

And how do you ache for something, that’s just a dream under the snow?


One day the yellow bird left,

Maybe it had something else to do,

Someone else to save.

But months went by, and the bird didn’t come back again.

The girl waited and waited and cried, it was all in vain.


Turns out, the bird could be me,

So, on this day I write this, a promise it will be,

A promise that through all the storms,

I am the one who will stay and keep her free

From all the pain and the misery.

I believe I made you taste happiness,

Won’t let you taste black again, there’ll only be joy on my tree.


I wrote this for River.


This is very personal to me. If you liked it, if it made you feel something, share it with someone special. Make that promise. They’re worth it.


Love you, River.


#NighttimeStory 1.3

First of all, let me apologise for being late. This was supposed to be up yesterday but procrastination got the better of me. But, I am back on track and I am super happy! So, let’s get to 1.3:


Coming Back

If you haven’t read the previous chapters yet, please do so because spoilers follow. Chapter 1, Chapter 2.

Recap: In the previous chapter, in a dramatic turn of events Aasia, Trisha’s friend, who just arrived at her place takes a knife in her hand and looks menacing. What is she going to do? Is it a prank, or revenge? 

Chapter 3(i): The Past


Two Years Ago:

Rohan is a good guy. And he likes me too. He called me over yesterday, but I didn’t go, and I didn’t pick up his calls or reply to his texts. I wanted the pressure to build. I wanted him to submit himself. Yes, it’s abominable, but I am that sort of a girl. Full of ego is just one way of putting it, and a frequently used one too. Girls use that phrase more than often. They say I like to toy with people. And I admit that it had once been true. But now it’s not. This time I’m not toying. This time, it’s different. This time, it’s love. I just want to him to think about me, always. Is it wrong? Of course it isn’t. It’s just love. True love. And everything’s fair in love, right?

So today I’m gonna give him a surprise. And I know he’s gonna love it. I can perhaps even get him to have sex with me? No, no, that must come later. I just want to see that craving in his eyes. I want his eyes to see Trisha and only Trisha. How lovely it is to think! Oh, Rohan, I love you. I love you so much!

I quicken my pace. He must be missing me, He must be getting mad. Just one more minute Ro, and I’ll be there. Just a minute more. And there are still ten seconds left when I ring the bell of his apartment. There’s silence. I hate it. I press the switch four times in a row. Then I hear voices. A female voice too. I am alert now. This doesn’t sound good. How can Rohan be with another girl? No, I must’ve been imagining it. Then I hear footsteps. It’s Ro. He’s coming to open the door and prove me wrong. The door clicks open. He is in the act of wearing his T-shirt.

‘Hey, Trisha. Come in! You said you’d come yesterday. And you didn’t even answer my calls — But leave that aside. Come in. It must be cold out there. Nancy’s here too. We were just having coffee and discussing that project we’re working on. The trade one, remember?’

I stayed quiet. His voice said everything. But I had to remain calm. Anger would betray my feelings; leave me bare, unsheathed. ‘Yeah, I do,’ I said and went inside. I took my seat on the sofa beside Nancy. Rohan was lying. There was no sight of a coffee mug. He had fabricated it without much thought. He wasn’t political. I was. I don’t know whether it was this thought, I believe it was, that gave me the idea. But the idea did come.

‘Let me make you some coffee, Trisha,’ Rohan offered. ‘We finished ours just moments ago.’

‘No, no, Ro, it’s fine. I’ll make some for us. You can have another mug I suppose?’ I said, in a friendly sort of way and smiled at Nancy. She smiled back. I noticed that her hair was not well arranged. It had been hurriedly made up. In fact, she had been tying it the moment I entered. Bitch! How could she even think of having Rohan? My Rohan?

I got up heading towards the kitchen. ‘Where’s the coffee?’ I asked.

‘The extreme left on the third rack,’ Nancy’s voice came. How did she know every nook and corner of Rohan’s house? Had they been in some secret relationship? But why had Rohan tried to come after me? Was he trying to toy with me? Well, I was no toy. I was a broken shard of glass. And I’d show him that.

When I entered the kitchen, I squinted towards the sink while in the act of getting the coffee can down. There were two coffee mugs there. Unwashed. But they could have been from long ago. The milk dries in minutes. There was no way of finding out.
I put the percolator aside and set some water to boil. Then I slipped out the mercury pills I had been prescribed for my treatment of syphilis. I had taken it out of my bag very silently when the idea had come. It would take some time to react. And they wouldn’t even get its taste. I broke open two pills and emptied the contents into the percolator.

To be continued.

Final instalment next Tuesday.

#NighttimeStory 1.2

Coming Back

If you haven’t read Chapter 1 yet, do so because spoilers follow. Click here.

Recap: In the previous chapter we met Trisha, a beautiful girl who has a past and is burdened with guilt. She’s proud of herself but at the same time hates herself. She’s conflicted. But then she makes up her mind and points a knife at herself. Now:

Chapter 2: A Friend


But it is of no use. Masks are of no use. They always fall down. A little teardrop falls on my arm. It takes me a moment to realise that it emanated from my own eyes. I throw open the towel covering me in anger, disgust, or I don’t know what, and kneel down in a corner to cry my heart out. I wonder how I lost my soul so easily. Was it just an impulse? Or was it a burning desire? I stand up, determined, looking at that shameless body in the mirror for the last time and go to the kitchen. I pick up the fruit-knife and point the sharp end at my belly-button, holding the handle firmly with both hands. I think the movement over and over in my mind. Bring the hands upwards and then down in a gush, making an arc. Hoping that it would kill me. But then there’s a bell. It must be Aasia. She said she’d come for coffee. How stupid of me to forget!

I go back to my room and wrap myself up in my gown. My hair’s still tied up. I jog towards the door and look through the spyhole. It’s Aasia all right. I open the door.

Aasia is the only friend I have. At least, I hope she’s a friend. I don’t like socialising much. Not after that. We have coffee together sometimes, like today. But it’s mostly she who does the talking. I tell her I am a listener. And, well, she’s more than happy to speak.

I haven’t told her the truth yet. I know I should, but I am afraid. Afraid of losing the only friend I have. A part of me tells me to forget about the past and move on, but there’s the other part, the part that made me want to kill myself today, which tells me that the past cannot be changed, and for that, but not only that, reason, it will continue to haunt me, forever.

‘You’ve had a shower now?’ I hear Aasia speaking. ‘And what’s that soap you’ve been using? You smell like Cleopatra! Thank God Kris isn’t here. He would have died, you know. And you aren’t even wearing anything underneath are you?’ she giggles. I smile and ask her to come in and have some fruits while I change, with the same knife that had almost killed me.

Kris, short for Krishna, who if I am to believe Aasia, is my infatuated admirer, is a really good man. I might even consider going as far as to say that I like him, had it not been for my tainted soul. I do not have the courage to love someone once again. I can’t even tell this to Aasia. I want to open up, to share my malady with someone, but the only person whom I can trust, ironically, is myself.

I know Aasia like Kris. She would even make him a better partner than a killer like me. A tainted soul. Aasia hasn’t told me this, but I know. I know more than I should. That’s the problem with me. I know too much. This is what made me a killer. I knew too much. And knowledge is much more powerful than any weapon. It can kill. It has killed. It has brought about a disaster. I begin cursing myself, but not aloud. I must stop, I tell myself, I must stop right now. Why wasn’t Aasia a few minutes late? Why couldn’t she let me die? Well, she didn’t know I was going to kill myself, did she? No, she did not. Of course, she did not.

It was my mistake last time. Or, was it? I believed I was the wronged one. That was why I had killed. Murdered. So why is it now that I begin to question myself? Is it because of the hallucinations? It must be. They began last month and haven’t stopped yet. Now I have even begun to question my sanity. But why, I ask myself, why is it always I who is under question? Why me if it was he who betrayed me? Aasia must have realised I am over-thinking, for she comes inside the room. She has noticed me acting weird. I know she mustn’t know, but I don’t act weird because I want to. It must’ve taken over me. I believe Aasia to be a good friend. But not right now. Right now, with a knife in her hand, Aasia doesn’t seem to mean good.

To be continued.

Read the next chapter here.

#PoetryPhase No. 1

I love writing poetry. But I rarely write them. This is one of those rare moments. I hope you enjoy this! Let me know in the comments!


The Night of Yelda

A white spot on the dark night,

Amidst dark clouds, following him

Everywhere he went.

That was all

He could see.


A darker night, a longer one,

He had never witnessed before.

That night, in search of his lost,

He remembered the folklore.


The night of yelda, people would say,

The night when distressed lovers,

Wandered about, eyes open, palms wet,

Searching for the right, kind way.


He remembered, as a lightning struck day,

Only to go back and leave him

In darkness.

All he had done, all his sins,

Came back; he wanted atonement.


But alas, he knew, the past couldn’t

Be changed. His deeds, which he despised

As much as the devil, were his, sad to say.

But today, he thought, he would discover the day.


Five winters away, in a time he could

Never visit again, he lay in the same spot,

He is now standing at; her slain body

Lifeless in his scarlet hands, the snow below black.


He can still hear the tinkle of the metal,

That fell from his hands that night.

And remember the look in her eyes,

Showing disbelief, thinking it hadn’t, couldn’t have, happened.


Had it been the white thing to do, he wonders.

But he had never wondered the moment

His mind conceived the heinous plan.

Only if it had appeared evil then –


What had driven him here today, when

He had lived so long with her memories to say?

Someone had called him, or something perhaps,

Promising something he knew he could never have.


Happiness was all he asked for.

But how could he demand that when he had,

Stolen someone’s daughter, someone’s sister,

Someone’s friend, even perhaps someone’s mother?


Could there have been a graver sin?

But weren’t her deeds sinful?

Her actions betrayal?

She didn’t know that he knew, that he’d seen.

Would that have made a difference?


Even as he wonders, something cold touches his hand.

He turns around to see her once again.

Everything is the same – the clothes, the hair,

The bloodstain.

Only, her eyes have changed.


They don’t have the look of disbelief, but

Something else.

She reads his eyes and nods,

Meaning: You are forgiven.

She comes closer

And looks at him, hoping to hear the same.


She does, but when, he comes forward

To take her in his brace, there ends the

Reverie, and he looks at the day.


Let me know if you enjoyed it! Criticisms are more than welcome. Follow the blog for more 🙂

#NighttimeStory 1.1

So I had this amazing idea. Well, I’m not really sure if it’s amazing to be perfectly honest, but you can let me know (comment!). I thought I would post a story series. With new chapters every Tuesday (12 AM). Each story will consist of 3 posts so it will last 3 weeks. Then there’ll be a new story! The number would indicate which story and which chapter it is. So, this is 1.1 meaning Story 1, Chapter 1 (I bet you figured that out yourself).

How AMAZING does that sound? Also, remember, I have only written the part of the story I have posted – so, even I don’t know what’s going to happen next!

Here goes the first story:


Coming Back

Chapter 1: Too Late

‘I thought it was too late when I realised.’

Whenever I sit back on my chair and have nothing better to do, I think. And whenever I do, I encounter more questions than answers. Sometimes this makes this habit of mine abominable but, well, there it is. I close my eyes and lean back further. Just as I do, there is a flood. Everything muddles up, just as it is in a dream. And I see things which I have never seen before. This makes me a kind of person who remains secluded and, I think it’s for that reason that I don’t have a boyfriend – in spite of being beautiful, much more beautiful than my girlfriends who boast more than one lovers.

The first thing which I do when I wake up every morning is – look at myself in the mirror. What makes me different, I ask? But, well, I do know it. I know what makes me different. It’s guilt. When I think about that incident I can’t believe it was I who did it. How could someone like me be so cold-blooded and ruthless? I see these things in the news and I can even have the liberty of saying that I hate them. I hate killers. But then, just at the moment when I begin to hate them, it seems as if they begin to ask me: ‘How can you hate us?’ Yes, Yes, I scream. I admit that I am one of you.

I still find it difficult to forget. No, I have left no evidence. It’s all a matter of years ago. Dead, buried and forgotten. But I don’t know whether it’s for the good. Ever since I came to know the truth, well, I can’t be sure. Hell, I don’t even know whether the truth’s the truth or not! It’s weird, absolutely weird and ridiculous. No, not ridiculous. Not ridiculous at all. For how can something ridiculous haunt you so? No, not ridiculous.

My face is wet. I don’t know why. No, I do know why. These are drops of sweat. But why am I sweating? I touch my lips. They are chapped. And my hands are trembling. Am I afraid? What reason do I have to be afraid? Everything that terrified me is gone, right? But is it really gone? Forever?

I don’t look good. Not right now. I need to freshen up. I dry my face with a towel and go to the washroom. I turn on the tap and splash water on my face. It’s cold. I must’ve forgotten to turn the geyser on. Okay, it’s okay, I tell myself and get naked. I should be proud of this body, the mirror says. But right now, I stink. So I have a bath. This perfumed soap cost me a little extra, but it’s working. When I come out and look at myself in the mirror, I see a different woman. This, I say, consoling myself, is the true Trisha. This beautiful, brown-eyed beast with the perfect body is the true Trisha.

But it is of no use. Masks are of no use. They always fall down. A little teardrop falls on my arm. It takes me a moment to realise that it emanated from my own eyes. I throw open the towel covering me in anger, disgust, or I don’t know what and kneel down in a corner to cry my heart out. I wonder how I lost my soul so easily. Was it just an impulse? Or was it a burning desire? I stand up, determined, looking at that shameless body in the mirror for the last time and go to the kitchen. I pick up the fruit-knife and point the sharp end at my belly-button, holding the handle firmly with both hands. I have made a decision.

To be continued.

Follow up next Tuesday.

UPDATE: Read the next chapter here.

Is Priyanka Chopra an Anti-National?

TL:DR: No.

Of course not! It’s crazy to think so. Some of you don’t seem to realise why I’m suddenly writing about this. You wanna know what happened. You wanna know why people are angry. Honestly, same here. But I think I have realised why. It’s joblessness (for lack of a better word).

So, what happened? Let me give you some context. I’ll try to understand the situation myself as I write. Basically what happened is that in an episode of “Quantico“, a popular ABC TV series where Priyanka Chopra is cast as Agent Parrish, titled the Blood of Romeo, some Indians were portrayed as terrorists who were trying to frame Pakistan. And Indians did what Indians do best – got offended.

First of all, all the threats and abuses were targeted at Priyanka. Wtf? Are you stupid? Do you not realise that Priyanka is an actor and she doesn’t write/direct the series. So your words were being wasted on the wrong person. Calling her a Bollywoodtard isn’t going to help your cause. It just makes me believe that you just don’t have anything better to do and want to gain attention on Twitter.

One such tweet pointed out that it was just Priyanka trying to “dig into” (still not sure what that’s supposed to mean) her “half Christian religion” (wtf lmao) and contributing to “anti-India and anti-Hindu propaganda“. Bruh, first of all – Calm the fuck down, alright? Your religion is not under danger. Your nation is not under danger. A TV show never killed thousands of human beings. 2002 did.

Also, if your religion/nation’s existence can be threatened by a TV show, it probably doesn’t deserve to exist. If you don’t have believers who can look past it, I don’t know what to say. It’s just sad.

Another dude said he’s “a fan of Quantico” but “nothing is above the nation“. You should read the previous paragraph too. I didn’t fight with those people on Twitter because – well because there was no way I was winning. They’re like rats. One can’t do shit. But when thousands come at you, they’ll eat you alive. And I wanna live. Posting this may be a bad idea but not like anyone’s reading so…

Also, now (I can’t seem to look past how perfectly timed it is), another video of Priyanka Chopra has surfaced. She’s seen commenting “Bollywood is just about hips and boobs“. You have to see the video. I would’ve linked the video but I don’t want you to click away because then you might never come back. So watch it later. Just trust me for now (it’s tough I know. I’ve tried).

Her comments are – well, if not 100% at least 80% correct… Bollywood is one of the most sexist and misogynistic industries in the world. It’s no secret that it runs on objectifying women. Priyanka’s sarcastic comment should be an eye opener but people got offended because, and I’m taking a guess here, it hurts them that their inner misogyny is getting called out. And I’ll be honest, it’s so deeply ingrained in our society/culture that every man is misogynistic to a certain degree (at times), even me (I’m trying to be better though). They don’t like to hear that all they look for is hips and boobs. The truth can be found in the comments section of any popular Bollywood movie trailer’s comment section on YouTube.

Only a few moments later, I was disgusted to see a meme (floating around shared by people who were apparently disgusted that someone would say that all we have in Bollywood is hips and boobs) that objectified Priyanka Chopra and implied that she didn’t succeed in Bollywood because she didn’t have hips or boobs. Oh God! The irony! You know what would be the first thing I did if I became a dictator? I’d cut the dicks off of every person who shared this meme. (Not really but you get the emotions).

Oof. Rant over. Respect women. Don’t be a jerk.

If you wanna fight, don’t comment. I’m not ready.

Don’t hold yourself down

It’s 12.10AM and I can’t sleep. I think it’s because I am so pumped about what I did today. You know the feel, that amazing fuzzy feeling you have when you know you’ve had a productive day and you did a lot of stuff? That’s what I’m feeling. And so, I can’t sleep. So I thought well why not write a blog because that’s one thing I’m super excited about? More productivity.

Today was different. I’m not productive everyday. I mean, normally I’m a master procrastinator. But today I woke up with a clear direction of the day. A clear direction of EXACTLY what I was gonna do. And to be honest I didn’t do 100% of what I had planned – I wanted to record a podcast episode but the meetings ran late (and that’s kind of an excuse, but I’m sorry I’ll do better next time). But that’s okay. Because 80% is better than 10%.

With that said, I would like to offer you some advice. And I’m aware that I’m in no position to offer advice, to tell you how to lead your life. Because – I’m no one! Not yet! So let’s rephrase that a little. I want to tell you what I have learnt for myself, as a friend (what an assumption). I have learnt that I should stop being too hard on myself. Because it’s human to make mistakes! It’s human to not be able to do your 100% at times. And that’s okay! That’s okay because you’re enjoying what you’re doing! That’s what’s important. If you’re happy with yourself and your life, dude you won the fucking lotto! And if you aren’t happy with your life, Yeah don’t be miserable but take that misery and convert that into real WORK. Because regardless of whether you’re working or being miserable you ARE using up energy. You’re using the food you ate. Why not channel it into something amazing?

And again, be accountable to yourself, but don’t hold yourself down. You’re amazing. And I can vouch for that.

Leave your thoughts in the comments because I FUCKING LOVE to talk to you people. That’s my fuel. Have an amazing day!

So, we start today

Wow. I am finally doing it! We are finally doing it! I am so excited about this it’s not even funny. So, first of all, what is the aim of this blog?

When I started my podcast (which you might know of), I knew this wasn’t the only medium I would provide content through. I knew there would be more channels along the way, so this is just another milestone – one of which I am extremely proud! Because people are different – some like reading, some like watching, some like listening. And I don’t want there to be any friction for you, my audience, in consuming my content. I want to provide you value in my own small way.

With this blog, I plan on giving you a sneak peek into my daily life (which is more exciting than it seems; more exciting than I would like it to be to be completely honest). I will also post short stories and poems time and again. Oh, and because some of my followers are writers too – and like, really good ones – I will be taking submissions too! So, if you’re interested in that, go to contact for more details. I’m looking forward to hearing from you.

So, this was just a welcome post, expect one post every day. Follow the blog for more! Stay tuned. More excitement coming your way!

Leave your thoughts in the comments!