Of appearances and prejudices

It's been a while since I quit my job. I feel no need to wake up earlier than 9:30 in the morning. 

Like every other indisciplined or lonely person, the first thing I do when I wake up is to check my phone.

The time was 9:40

I had received at call an hour ago..which makes it...umm...8:40? Wonder who it was.

I blinked twice to clear my vision and found out that it was a member of the housing society I live in.

So to give you a quick backdrop...

A conversation was struck on the point of stray cats entering the building and that they could be a threat to little kids that play in the premises. 

This was the message:

"Dear All 

Today when I opened the lift at ground around 3pm , I got scared to see Cat sitting at the exit of Lift . I used to see cat often in our society in the afternoon mostly but never seen at the entrance of the building . We need to find out solution on this before they bite our small kids who goes down to play without their parents . Either we have to put pest control heavily on passage  or do  something."

I freaked out imagining that pest control will mean poisoning and I expressed my fears and protest. I have never known a cat to have walked up to someone and bitten him without reason. (Only humans do that by the way; animals only attack to protect themselves)

But man being man will always be on the top of the ecological chain..seldom will he deal with his own fears and insecurity. 

The following sentence confirmed this belief: "For God sake , you don’t know the incident in the past .  This happened with me when I was small around 10 years old . So this is not true that cats don’t bite."

Nevertheless, back to the present at 9.40, I called the person back. We spoke for another hour on how cats are dangerous and how little kids playfully will pull the tail (naively) and the cats would attack them.

The harmless request eventually spiralled into a personal attack - not against me, against the cat.

He went on to say how the cat had scars on its face and looked horrible. I asked him only cos the cat looked ugly, you decided it was dangerous? If I was a victim of acid attack, would you think the same? If I am ugly, am I not fit to be around you?

That triggered the breaking of a dam inside me. My heart cries out to all the victims of acid attacks, accidents that disfigured them and other signs that people consider ugly.

If a cat is so mercilessly judged on the way it looks, humans can't survive such prejudices.

It is true that the world needs kindness - more now than ever. But to all those who judge others often, don't help but at least don't hurt!

Playing human - the victim card

There is no species that complains as much as man does. In spite of having superiority in physique, intelligence and adaptation, man has been unsuccessful in achieving one thing - contentment.

While the train that I am sitting in, crosses the creek, I notice that it's low tide. The tiny forest close to the shore is laden with age-old plastic, degrading cloth and so many objects discarded by humans over the years. The greens of the plants are overshadowed by the dirty grays of the garbage. All this will be hidden by waves of water very soon as the tide rises.

Maybe owing to religious or superstitious reasons or sheer laziness (maybe), we find it very convenient to discard into nature what we do not need. No consideration for water, air or soil. We build roads, bridges, railway lines, houses, hotels and the more we create, the more powerful we consider ourselves to be. We follow the "create/import, use, discard, repeat" cycle. 

Oblivious to the consequences, we keep dumping all that we refuse. We have not even spared the depths of the oceans, the top of mountains, not even outer space which apparently contains floating debris of satellites!

With the slightest dumping of work or emotion on us, we make a big deal out of it and say we are stressed, pressured, harassed and abused. And even so, very conveniently, we care a damn about the space we inhabit. 

We keep creating stuff mindlessly and conveniently. Do we know if there's enough space in our home - planet Earth? 

What an irony when Nature decides to retaliate (just as we do under pressure), we again smoothly play the victim. We keep cribbing and complaining about how we "lost" so much because of nature, and how much "damage" has incurred due to natural calamities.

We want to be immortal, invincible, and unaffected by any adverse or unpleasant events. We strive very hard to fight disease and death, suffering mostly due to the side effects of our own creations. We tamper with nature's laws, feel superior and continue splurging, exhibiting our intellectual capability to defy everything. The minute it backfires, we cry, and write motivational quotes about fighting on, not giving up or changing our ways.

There is no thought about anything else but our own comfort. We can damage and walk away, without regret or remorse. But if we experience the slightest retaliation from our environment, we throw a fit about how life is unfair and unkind.

My realisation (apart from my rant) is only this: When will man be considerate before creating something? When will he consider others in his ecosystem before calling all the shots? When will he be compassionate and mindful while creating?

Truly, with great power comes great responsibility. Be superior but be responsible!

The epiphany

He seethed in anger - at wrongdoings, unfairness, power plays, character assassinations, selfishness and viles of the world. 

He didn't know why he felt so intensely. Sometimes, he wished he didn't. Maybe it was handed over to him through generations - the sense of morality and justice. Yeah, that was it. He had been taught to be nice, to be good, to do right. And as he grew up, the bubble burst. He thought since he was playing fair, everyone else will too. How silly of him. 

He sat in his office cubicle and wondered about how his conniving colleagues could even sleep at night, how his boss could selfishly choose a project that would show him in good light, how his ex-girlfriend could take his money and squander it on some other guy. All they care about is themselves and they get everything they want. He JUST didn't get it!

Does God never look at all of this? He had heard theories and stories of karma and justice. All nonsense, he screamed in his mind. Nothing ever happens to these $@#&#@$. Maybe even he should become like them - heartless and manipulative. Maybe even plan to have them killed or kidnapped and tortured. He obviously wouldn't do it himself but he had heard that there are many people who do this for a living. Even Lord Krishna had said that evil has to be destroyed. Actually Krishna had said that He will come back when evil floods the Earth. Considering He hasn't made it yet or probably has forgotten, someone has to do His work. 

Lost and tired, he opened the drawer stocked with 28 bars of Bounty and chomped on one. Bounty always made him feel better. He looked at his watch and realized it was time to go home. 

Home...home is where the heart is, or such was the belief. His heart wasn't in his home either. The constant fights between his wife and his mother drove him crazy. Sometimes, he wished he could do away with them too. Or simply, do away with himself. Wouldn't that be easier? If he wouldn't exist, nothing would bother him, right?

He complained of a headache to his wife and mother and lay down on his bed. He prayed to God to help him, find a way out of this mess. As he drifted into a dream, he heard his wife's sobs, his mother's complaints, his colleagues' cribbing, his boss' insecurity, his ex-girlfriend's fears. 

When we woke up, he found himself feeling strangely at peace. And there popped into his mind, Hercule Poirot's words:

"God doesn't need to punish us, Ms. Barton; We are too busy punishing ourselves."

God had answered his prayer.

Hot ass!

There are many quirky things that a person does; I am no exception. And often times, I forget the consequences of what I have done. 

On a sultry Tuesday evening with the entire city facing a power outage, my mum brought out a set of safely, stored candles (maybe from my 5th birthday) to place in each of the rooms.

I was happily watching Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets for the 128th time and didn't notice the candle till a cockroach ran across it. One of my personal tasks at home is to find cockroaches and terminate them. You must know that I am very responsible about my tasks. I turned my attention and the light of the candle to chase the @#$@#$ cockroach down.

Disappointed, I went back to find out who the heir of Slytherin was and found the idea of writing my diary, in the candlelight very intriguing. And there I was scribbling furiously in my diary - the ramblings of mind, flowing through the ink of my Sheaffer fountain pen. Even an expert rambler needs a break; I did too! As I paused to recharge, the meagre breeze flipped the pages to reveal some unspeakable expletives. 

And while Harry was speaking parseltongue to open the Chamber of Secrets, my mind opened a door to a brilliant idea. What if I burnt the "dirty" pages in darkness - a beautiful metaphor of destroying negativity. 

I stuffed the fruit from the bowl into my mouth, tore up a dirty page, put it inde the bowl and set it on fire. My heart filled with glee as I saw the yellow-green flames eat up the page. I immediately covered the bowl with another page to not let the smoke spread throughout the house. I was successful. Encouraged, I set fire to 2 more pages in the bowl. This time, the smoke travelled to the nose of my grandmother, who promptly pointed out that something was burning. I am very sharp in making up things and I told her that the smell is from a nearby construction site.

This little experiment had charged me so much that I decided to burn a bunch of papers, ANYHOW! I decided to shift the task to my bathroom. Armed with a matchbox and the sheaf of dirty papers, I locked my bathroom, set fire to one of the pages and threw it into the toilet pot. And the next page and the next. The bathroom filled with smoke and my eyes teared up. The pot started turning black as flames erupted. I started feeling apprehensive and flushed the flaming pages. 

I sprayed half a bottle of air freshener and turned on the exhaust. I came out of the bathroom, feeling satisfied and victorious. Another thing I am very good at, is pretending. So I pretended that nothing happened at all. After 30 min of killing time, I had to rush to attend to the call of nature. 

As I sat to relieve myself, I saw stars. With the searing imprint on my bottom, I had become a hot-ass, apart from being a smart-ass! 

The voyeur

Most people are comfortable in their skin, unless they are being watched. She was one of those. 

She was pretty, not in the usual way though. With her high cheekbones, twinkling eyes and lush lips, she had the ability to make quite a few heads turn. And the best part was the way she glowed when she was happy.

She had recently moved into her new apartment. She stared into space and went into a flashback.

She had started saving money from the day she witnessed a terrible fight amongst her neighbours. She knew she wanted to get away from this crowded, chaotic place. Not to mention the lack of privacy. Someone would always be snooping around, trying to find out what anyone else is doing. And those nosy grannies! Ughhh! Sometimes, she really wanted to scream at them to mind their own business. There was a specific one that she wanted to punch in the face too. The only time she had invited a friend over (he wasn't even her boyfriend), was disastrous. She had been flooded with seemingly innocent, sarcastic questions and even warned for turning promiscuous. After that, followed a flood of free advice, admonishments about the kind of clothes she wore, and patronizing glances and grunts.

She really wanted to leave the place and experience independence and freedom. Nonetheless, her troubles were over now.

This was the fourth flat she inspected - tiny yet cozy on the top floor of the 7 storeyed building. You could see the kitchen, straight ahead as soon as you entered the house, which was an extension of the hall. To the right of the door, was the bathroom and to the left was a small balcony. The balcony had a boxed grill. She decided that she would have some potted plants there. Beyond the grill was an unrestricted view to the highway and some sparse greenery. There were no other buildings in the vicinity.

This was her haven.

No intruding neighbours, no snooping people and complete privacy. She loved the place. Now she could do what she wants and feel free. Maybe even roam around in the house naked. The thought made her giggle. 

The first few weeks were heavenly. She rolled about on the floor, danced (read stomped around), sang at the top of her voice, spoke to herself and watched TV at a very high volume. She was happy at last.

As the days rolled by, routine set in. 

7:00 - wake up and brush

7:05 - fill water bottle and turn the coffee maker on

7:10 - put on shoes and go for a brisk walk

8:10 - have a cup of strong coffee

8: 20 - go for a bath

8:30 - get dressed

8:45 - another shot of strong coffee and a slice of bread

8:58 - take the bag, keys, phone and lock the door to leave for work

This is when the trouble began. Where's the problem you may wonder...

On a bright Monday morning, when she came out of the bathroom clad in a towel, she suddenly felt uncomfortable - as if someone was watching her. She shrugged the feeling away and went on with her routine. The week passed, the feeling grew stronger. How is it possible that anyone was watching her? The only place that had access to the open was the balcony. She put on her clothes and went to the balcony to check. There was nobody.

"It's just in your mind", she told herself, "You are going bonkers!"

After a week, the nagging feeling just wouldn't go away. She started feeling so uncomfortable that she would take her change of clothes in the bathroom. That was worse. Sometimes the clothes would fall to the floor and get soaked and they would definitely have creases on them. 

She decided to find out what the problem was. On Saturday, she didn't go for her walk. Instead she staged her routine, dimmed the streaming sunlight by hanging her bedsheet on the grill. The entire house was dark and quiet. She sat in the extreme right corner of the balcony, waiting for the voyeur. 

Just like clockwork, at 8:20, at the top left corner of the boxed grill, appeared a pair of black, beady eyes, looking into the house, searching for her. The eyes didn't look human. Terrified as she was, she gathered herself and jerked the bedsheet away. 

And what she saw next, stunned her..

There he was...the voyeur... staring at her with lust in his eyes...

A perverted crow!

My relationship with romance

Thappad se dar nahi lagta sahaab, pyaar se dar lagta hai..

Ever since I can remember, I have been nervous...

no....afraid... 

actually terrified...

...of romantic love...

For what seemed like the longest time, I waited for my knight to rescue me from the ordeals I was facing.

But as Murphy's law works, no one came. And so I decided to immerse myself in the more plausible pursuits like reading.

My mother's office had a humongous library with all sorts of books. An avid reader, as I am, would always go for thrillers, mysteries and crime novels. I would not only make my mother return books that were remotely mushy but would also openly trash books in the romantic genre and its readers.

Who reads such mushy, unreal stuff?, I would wonder...such trash...

As a part of my bucket list, I had to read a genre that I had never read before; there were only 3 - finance, history and romance. 

After months of trying to read finance and history books and failing, I resigned to pick up a book from the "romance shelf".

At 39, I picked up my first romantic novel, written by Julia Quinn. My goal was to get done with it in one go, lest I allow resistance to kick in.

As I read through a first few chapters, I sensed glimpses of yearning within me. As chapters went by, I sobbed blobs of tears into my pillow while reading about how the heroine was loved for just who she was. 

After years, I felt the excitement of being wooed, butterflies in my tummy, warmth of platonic love, anticipation of meeting your loved one, the beautiful, sweet pain in missing someone, the pain of a heartbreak and then the glory of the 'happily ever after'.

With my strong prejudice against reading romantic books, I finally realized what I had been missing for all these years - hope!

How I found my mother

I thought of ten different ways to narrate this aspect of my life. There is no other way to write this.

The story of how I found my mother…

Scene 1: The grand entry

I have heard this story from my grandmother a lot of times. She was headed to the temple on a sultry Friday when the postman arrived at her doorstep with a telegram.

“Congratulations”, he said…”Lakshmi has been born” (translated from  Tamil)

My grandmother was ecstatic since I was a girl child after a generation. So she went to the temple and got a puja done.

 

Scene 2: Pictures are proof

I have seen so many baby pictures of myself and I looked pretty happy in all of them.

With very little memory of how my childhood really was, I rely on the happiness I see in the eyes of the bonny baby in the pictures.

 

Scene 3: Chaos begins

The next memory I have is of living in a joint family with 2 women and lots of men. Amongst my dad and his brothers and his cousins, I remember being the focus of attention.

And then all that I remember is a power struggle – a game of control.

In that house, my grandmother had the last word. Either by force of the word or by emotional blackmail, she would have her way. I remember her leaving the house so many times and the fear and tension that settled in the house. My father or my uncle would go after her, find her, pacify her and bring her back home.

I remember my parents and me moving out of the house to a one room kitchen house in Dombivali, which would flood up during the monsoon. Although my dad now says that it was for a month. In my memory, it lasted for years. Memory is funny that way. My aunt tells me that my grandmother asked us to leave due to some misunderstanding. But I guess it was okay for me since I had my parents with me.

What I didn’t know was, I would be the peacemaker, a solution to fix that misunderstanding. An unsaid pact was made between my grandmother and my dad that every weekend I would be sent to their house. Every holiday, every weekend, every summer vacation, my grandfather would come to pick me up as soon as school ended and drop me home the evening before my school reopened.

My grandmother still prides upon the fact that I grew up with her and not my mother.

My routine, eating habits and quantities and my life was in control of my grandmother now. I tried to rebel, sneak out but the fear of my grandmother getting upset would overpower any desire of freedom or individuality.

30 years later, I still feel nervous about upsetting her.

 

Scene 4: Satiating men

The emotional chaos, confusion and lack of belonging  intensified when my being was used by several men, over years, to satiate their sexual desires. I needed nurturance, security, my mother’s comforting touch. I wasn’t going to get any of that till my grandmother was around.

 

Scene 5: Where’s my mother?

Meanwhile, my mom spiraled into depression. I remember her going to work, getting exhausted with all the travelling and sleeping for long hours. I guess I also followed that like a dutiful daughter. The perfect solution to all my problems – sleep it off…

I tried to find a mother figure in my aunts. I would ignore my mother and spend loads and loads of time with them, seeking love and nurturance. But although they were nice, it was very clear that they weren’t interested in becoming my mother. They had children of their own to focus on.

 

Scene 6: Don’t be like her

This power drama taught the rest of my aunts not to leave their children, anywhere near my grandmother. Of course, they also gossiped a great deal about how careless and docile my mother was. They tried very hard that their children don’t grow up to be like me – lost and detached…

 

Scene 7: Respite?

 When I grew up into secondary school and my education took precedence, the visits reduced. The control remained. My parents continued to go to work, do their best to be “providing” parents. But I didn’t need things. I needed love. I needed hope. I needed to hear that I will be okay.

So as far as I was concerned, I didn’t have a family.

My search for a happy family continued. I would wander after school to my friends’ houses. Sometimes, even into strangers’ houses trying to find my family, my mother who would take care of me. No one would know where I am – my parents would go through great trouble to find out where I was. And when they would find me, I would be so angry that I had to go back home.

I was punishing them.

Scene 8: Loneliness

Years passed. The bed-wetting stopped. Menstruation started. Abuse stopped. Self –loathing started.

The in-built talent that I harnessed was to pretend to be okay. I laughed, joked, was friendly with the entire world but my parents.

They had failed me – miserably.

I had failed too – I was unlovable – not worth anything  - not worth living. 

 

Scene 9: Compensation

I sunk deeper and deeper into my own misery – angry with myself. Pretending to be okay with the world but waiting for the volcano to erupt.

I sought answers, justice and hoped for some love from somewhere.

I continued to spend hours and days with my “friends and their families”, embedding myself into their lives to help them in some way so that I get a family in return for my help.

I started gathering knowledge to know myself, others, life, God and most of all, justice.

 

Scene 10: Therapy

 My teacher and also my therapist brought in the ray of hope into my life.   

I took me 2 years to trust her to let her help me. She was the only person who waited…patiently…

Finally, I mattered to someone, although my logical mind knew that I am only a client for her. I wanted to believe that I mattered.

 

Scene 11: Breakdown

I hit rock bottom, several times in the next few years.

Failed, abusive and emotionally unavailable relationships made sure that I stayed in those rock bottoms.

My ex asked me a life-changing question, “Why do you get so involved with other people’s families?” 

My exes taught me a lot of life lessons.

 

Scene 12: Tolerance

I learnt to live with myself more easily, effortlessly – not accepting that I am okay but accepting that I am not.

I still yearned for a stable family. I was still angry with mine.

I expected them to get it, to understand, to comfort me.

This time, I immersed myself in work. Working late nights, over weekends, I managed to stay afloat.

 

Scene 13: I quit

After years of slogging at work and my ex-boyfriend asking me “to get a life” I finally quit my job.

I had to get a life – my life back.

I decided a road trip with my mom to our native place. My father and grandmother were already there.

I was terrified. My fear shot through the roof since I would always rely on myself for support. I still didn’t trust my mom to take care of me.

But Life had different plans!

I got stuck in so many situations and froze. My mom comforted me, calmed me down, brought in clarity.

Just what I had craved for so many years…The wall collapsed and I became her little girl again…

At 38, I finally found my mother!

 

The materialistic world

Considering a lot of excellent, practical perspective and advice has been shared, I am offering a perspective off the tangent.

Is this enough? - a question that has been haunting humans since he discovered rare, pretty objects. Of course, this question doesn't spare us with intangibles like happiness and success as well.

Let us dissect this:

1. How have I learnt to define life?

This has been evolving since generations. Every generation carries some traditions, beliefs, values and perspectives from its earlier one and adds on to it. This is not always detrimental; in fact, it is progressive. However, some aspects are often misunderstood or weakly defined - happiness, fun, success, security. These loosely formed constructs are used as a foundation to define life, which creates upheavals and dissatisfaction. This is beautifully depicted in the movie, "The Gods must be crazy". An empty cold drink bottle is discarded from a helicopter and is picked up by a man in the African jungle. When he discovers its novelty, use and beauty, it becomes an object of desire. He decides to throw it away when a child hits another with the bottle.

Many families reinforce success with materialism and many younsters amass wealth and materials not only to feel successful but also to live up to their parents' expectations of a successful life.

A friend of mine, would go drinking every weekend with his friends. He realized that his association of fun with drinking is not working out, especially when he quit drinking.

Many instances like this have proven that people, being people, try to redefine life only when it bites them in the back. 

An interesting lesson that the lockdown has brought about is that we can survive without many things. We are inconvenienced, yet moving on. If we learn to differentiate between what we want and what we need (watch princess and the frog). It is surely difficult yet necessary and we may find some respite from investing in materalistic comfort.

2. Do I feel content with myself? (which manages comparison and peer pressure) - This is even trickier than the earlier one. My comment being posted on LinkedIn and expecting likes and appreciation is quite normal. But what happens when my comment is trashed? 

Being liked, belonging to a group and held in high regard is a normal human expectation. And it's practically impossible to say that we don't care about anyone's opinion. 

There is an entire world created around looking good. From innerwear to bags and even associating pens and cars to your personality, the need to look good is alright as long as you are not afraid of looking bad (if you don't have any of these pretty things)

However, it's a journey worth undertaking. The balancing act of being content yet ambitious is more adventure than you can ask for.

As far as borrowing money to buy stuff is concerned, it will only end up adding layers to our pseudo-definitions of life. The longer we wait to figure out who we really are, the more complex the puzzle will become.

Cup of hope

I sit on the swing

Suspended from eternity

Maybe in the hands of God

Gentle sways rock me to sleep

It's still playtime

So I swing harder

Of my own accord

Till I reach the skies

Only that the skies are dark

Ready to burst

Filled with more darkness

I close my eyes

Embracing it 

I am forced to look within

My heart is split

Between murderous rage

And an eternal compassion

The swing has stopped

Raindrops lashing against my being

Cleansing me, my heart

Rage melts and I see the light

A ray of sunshine

Piercing the dark cloud

I want to swing again

Reach out to the ray

Hold it in my hands

Store it in my heart

The swing feels heavy

Unable to move

I cry out in despair

I need the ray 

Sobbing into my hands

I slump to the ground

For what seems like forever

Drifting away inside my own mind

I awaken

The rain has stopped

My eyes widen in surprise

In my palms, there lies

A cupful of hope.

To say or not to say

My life has been wonderful so far, filled with various experiences - giving me glimpses to all possible emotions that can exist in a human being.

I am a fairly intimidating person so I have never experienced peer pressure, until my 39th birthday. 

My association with birthdays is a tricky one. I usually have fun (in my own way) and like my birthday to be filled with memories rather than material gifts. With that said, even rituals like cutting a cake and making a wish don't matter to me.

...Which, I have been made to feel, is not a great way of looking at birthdays. Birthdays MUST include celebration, partying, excitement, gifts, cakes and definitely a plan that makes others feel that my birthday is worthwhile.

Well, I have a weird complex and an ungrateful attitude towards receiving gifts, which is definitely mannerless and that I will change over a period of time. For sure. 

Nevertheless, I am now able to empathize with people who face peer pressure at various ages. My findings are as follows:

1. If there are too many people saying it (especially people who matter), I must be wrong.

2. If others are excited about something and expect you to do the same, it's a huge conflict between what I want and what they do.

3. Certain statements from people who care about me can create a lifelong impression (I was told that I should be given shock treatment for not being excited at all about my birthday)

4. If I don't comply with others, I am likely to lose their friendship or at least create estrangement.

5. Projection of emotions is a big thing. Especially if people aren't aware that they are doing it. Sharing their feelings regardless of what you are feeling can be a task.

6. It is difficult to hold your own when this information is constantly relayed to you over days or weeks.

7. Often times, others' excitement can create a FOMO (fear of missing out) in me. 

How did I cope with it:

1. I made myself understand that people mean well.

2. Accepting anything from people is not an obligation. It is okay if I am never able to pay them back in any way.

3. It's okay to agree to disagree. Healthy relationships withstand smaller setbacks.

4. It's okay to get excited or not, if I feel like it.

Overall, I am pretty excited that the premise of my birthday brought about an experience like this. And I got my wish too! - a memory has been created.

Labyrinth of my mind

Pain, so indescribable, shreds my heart

Into pieces so many, uncountable

Precious as they are, difficult to gather

Leaves me wondering, should I even try?

A tedious journey, a point of no return

Filled with trials, of many sorts

An adventure, the dangerous kind

Mutated my mind, my soul

 

Feelings, all twisted and knotted

Wrench my being, closing in on my heart

Standing, staring into the darkness

Amidst red and black

 

Embracing pain, in its entirety

Finding solace in its depth

Fading into oblivion, nothingness

Into another adventure, a voyage

To find myself, the real me…

 

 

 

The Secret of a Genius!

I hold my therapist, in very high regard, as a professional and more so for the person that she is. She rescued me from what could have been a mess of a life. So I owe her one too many!

I guess all clients feel connected with their therapists (presuming the therapist met the basic requirements of being one!). In psychology, this is called transference. This is (and was, for me) a very effortless process since my therapist is unconditionally accepting.

Even after my therapy days are over, I still feel that my therapist is a genius. Some have an innate talent and many like me, attempt to develop skills and understanding as they go through life. She is the former.

She has something of the likes of an unstated hero worship (you may have spotted that already by now) and it's probably well-deserved as she continues to transform lives.  

As a twist in the tale, triggered by a comment, I began to wonder who is a genius?

Genius is not really about what a person can do but more of how a person can think. He is surely human enough, with his own flaws and quirks. But more than that, he is someone who, just by his way of being, inspires others to do more. And of course, his family members may have different perspectives and that's fair since personal relationships have different expectations from the individual. 

That said and done, geniuses have some traits in common:

1. Not afraid of facing oneself: Whether it is their strengths or their weaknesses, they are willing to face them all. Cutting through layers of their defense mechanisms (read Freud for connection), they are ready to face and accept themselves for who they are.

2. Okayness: In the ancient Hindu scriptures is a brilliant word called, "sthithapragya" - the one who is the same during sorrows and joys, experiences them enough but doesn't get carried away with them. This, I personally believe, is an extremely remarkable trait for a human. As the ordinary men struggle in the web of feelings triggered by temporary events, the genius accepts all of it and is still okay with who he is or what life is.

3. Balance/Patience: A genius maintains a balance within himself, eventually of course. He knows to wait patiently for the lessons, for results, for life to take its turn. He gains his inner balance over time.

4. Depth: In my village, they guess the depth of water by its stillness. Still waters often run deep, they say. Most people are afraid of experiencing depth and intensity. As you go deeper within yourself, relationships and life, the journey seems to pose more serious challenges. But going through the layers to finally find yourself (can be done by everyone but..) is done by genuises.

5. Faith: The two words written beside Sai Baba's statue are ling forgotten by devotees - Shraddha (Faith) and Saburi (Patience). One of the traits of a genius is having faith at all times. I am sure when they faced times when their faith was shaken too. But I guess overall, they have faith in God, life and themselves. 

6. Commitment: We all have experienced situations in life where our values are put to test and sometimes we second-guess ourselves.  Not much can sway them from the course that they have diacovered for themselves. A genius is committed to his values and purpose.  Be it any field, a genius strives to do his best in it, with what he has.

And the best part, humility! For someone prudish like me, humility is one of the toughest lessons in my life. They don't make big claims about who they are or how smart they are, as compared to others. A genius is humble (since he knows himself very well). 

Apart from them being highly-skilled, there are finer aspects of their being that are hard to put in to words, only to be experienced by someone who has observed them closely. 

This applies to geniuses across time, across fields, across nationalities. Geniuses are extraordinary in the sense of being a cut above so many ordinary people, who choose to live their lives in the "safest possible" way.

Here's a big thanks to all the geniuses, who have made a difference to the world!

Want to join the league of geniuses? Start your journey today!

Mahabharata - a story of Dharma or life choices?

Disclaimer: A venerable epic cannot be tainted by a perspective of a mere mortal. What follows is a useless musing, just a different perspective. If you are fiercely opinionated, do not read further!

 A respite during the lockdown has been the screening of the evergreen epic series, "Mahabharat" (B.R.Chopra) on Doordarshan. Although a certain generation has seen it once before, it recreates the same excitement! As days passed, watching the series became a family ritual, with all our tasks scheduled around the screening. 

My quirky yet sensible mother had a series of questions to ask...

• Why was Duryodhan not offered the throne, if he was the eldest son of the elder son?

• Why did Yudhistra not leave the dice game?

• As a friend, Karna could have persuaded Duryodhan towards what's right, not support his wrongdoings. That's a friend's duty, right?

• Why did Draupadi not apologize to Duryodhan, after insulting him?

• Why did Bhishma not order, instead of advising, Dhritarashtra to give Indraprastha to Pandavas?

• Was everyone partial to the Pandavas?

To the hundreds of questions that are created while listening to the story of each character in Mahabharat, there are debatable answers.

But one aspect that answers the trickiest of questions is "life choices".

Life gives us several opportunities to change its course. Like the flip of a coin, we have at least 50% chance to build our life. Despite destiny, we have free will too. Despite life events, we have the capacity to choose our response to the event. Every choice, every action or even inaction will lead us in a certain direction. 

Mahabharata is a strong depiction of all of that - a story depicting the process of making a choice, the thoughts, the vulnerabilities, the questions, conflicts and complexity of a simple action or inaction. And a reminder that regardless of how tough a decision can be, it has the capacity to change your lives and the lives of others around you.

Destiny, therefore, is largely the cumulative effect of all our life choices.

Of surrender and rituals

#Disclaimer: If you can't handle difference of opinion or are sensitive to religious debate, please DO NOT READ this. God and epics are beyond the judgment of a mere mortal like me. This useless musing is one such rational thought to justify faith and surrender. 

It is said that caste is often defined by your deeds than your birth. I am born a Brahmin - or rather into a Brahmin family.

One of the natural gifts kids, in Brahmin families, have is the ability to think. And so I thought and thought about rituals, traditions and norms we abide by.

One ritual that would bother me a lot is when they would "throw" sarees and cloth into the homam, during the Navaratri pujas.I would feel (maybe I still do) it's better to give it to an underprivileged person. In fact, there are quite a few rituals like these. 

Thanks to the lockdown and daily Vishnu Sahasranamam sessions with family, I started thinking about some verses from the famous dialogue. 

At the end of the Vishnu Sahasranamam, a verse says I surrender everything that is "mine" - thoughts, speech, actions, pleasures (anything perceived by the 5 senses) to Narayana!

How many of us are able to let go of material things we have? Maybe when it's old and not used, it's easier to give away. But what about things that are dear to us? We can't even give up our thoughts and emotions (although many spiritual schools teach that) - let alone our souls. 

So the ritual began - of creating detachment, of giving away to Agni (through yagna) what we consider as "ours". Since Agni was believed to take the offerings directly to Narayana, humans started offering things to please Gods (perverted version of detachment) 

And the ritual continued...and so did the mutation of the term "detachment".

So I ask myself today:

1. What is really "mine"?

2. Does hoarding anything really matter?

3. Am I able to have faith in God to be able to surrender to him? (especially in these difficult times)

So the next time I see materials being put in a yagna, I will remind myself to surrender, to let go, to have faith, Without this, the yagna is actually incomplete.

The worrier

She was worried. Of course, this was a usual phenomenon for her. She was a natural worrier - always thinking about whether her lipstick, shoes, nailpaint and bag are coordinated or whether her maid will show up the next day or whether the world will be a better place.

But this time, the worry was justified. She had lied to her boss about the report being ready. It wasn't, not remotely. She had been busy worrying whether the guy on Tinder will ask her out on a date. And everything else had faded into the background.

"No need to worry", she had told herself. The boss had back-to-back meetings that day and he had to prepare for the client meeting tomorrow.

"I will figure the report tomorrow; just a matter of an hour" she had consoled herself. But now the boss had asked her for the report and she was stunned.

What had happened...Were his meetings cancelled?..Was tomorrow's meeting postponed...Did his boss ask him for the report?...Was this report that important? But it's just a simple report, how can this be so important?...so why had the boss asked?

The boss came out of his cabin and stood for what seemed like eternity. She said a quick prayer and hoped the boss won't talk to her. But she was wrong. He walked straight to her and said, "Send the report over right now"

She froze, felt giddy with fear and nodded blankly. She swung her chair towards her desktop and pretended to send the report. From the corner of her eye, she could still see her boss talking to her colleague.

Her pulse seemed to drop and she felt giddier still. Her mind was at war, whether to tell the truth or continue the lie. She half-turned in her chair to see her boss go back into his cabin.

She opened the report and realized that there is no way she can finish it today to send it. Her hands wouldn't move. Her mind and body were both frozen. She reprimanded herself for lying, berated herself for being so stupid and hated herself for being such an ass.

Another 2 hours for the work day to end...she glanced at her watch - only 10 minutes had passed.."Please help me God", she pleaded. 

Time crawled and her fear mutated into panic now. Her boss came out of his cabin again and called out to her across the cubicles.."Did you send the report?"

There are times when one can be actively frozen and this moment was terrifying. 

To be continued...

Series ke next season ke liye wait karte ho na? Toh wait karo! 🙃

Smile of an Angel

I smiled, he smiled back. 

My heart skipped a beat.

They say a genuine smile is seen in the eyes.

His eyes were shining. What did the extra shine mean?

I shut these random thoughts in my head.

Oh those pearly whites and baby pink lips, contrasting his extra-fair smooth complexion! And his hair was that of a model in a shampoo ad - silky and shiny.

He continued smiling at me. I blushed. Did I have the look? (the one that my friends call as the-monkey-ogling-at-the-banana look). By the time I could figure this out, he was right in front of me. 

He smelled heavenly. I lost track of time. I was floating with the clouds, basking in his warm handsomeness. Suddenly, I saw a hand close to my eyes. I stumbled back.

"Hey! Sorry to startle you", my angel said. "You seemed to be lost in thought."

I made some noise that even I couldn't figure out. He was saying something. I hadn't heard a single word. Was he asking me on a date? Did he give me a compliment? Had he asked me to marry him? I just didn't know.

Gathering my courage, I asked, "Sorry. I have a headache. I didn't quite understand what you were saying."

He flashed his angelic smile once more and said, "You look just like my sister." 

Unexpected friends

He was always scared of lizards, more creeped out than scared. He always tried to find out why but I guess some questions have no answers.

And another question that he had no answer to, was why Curt was living in his room. Curt - his uninvited (not so pet) lizard. He was frustrated with Curt. Try as he might, Curt would just not leave his room; in fact, not even travel to other rooms of his house. He had tried pest control, supersonic sensors, prayers and even stooped as low as begging Curt to leave. 

Curt had a schedule, just like him - stuck to the floor in the morning and crawling up the ceiling in the night. When he would exercise, Curt would "squeak",  "huff" when he would cheat on his diet and "click" when he excessively binge-watched Netflix. When he was happy, he would find Curt peeping from behind his bookshelf, nodding his dry, scaly head.

Days would go by, with him swearing and cursing Curt; sometimes scared and mostly angry. Curt would keep him on his toes. He would scream at Curt to go away and in his bad moods, he would vow to kill Curt.

But today was different.

He was heartbroken - hurt, sad and angry. He just wanted to be left alone, as she had - all of a sudden. He hadn't even seen this coming. He thought he was going to get married soon. But she had walked away as if he didn't even matter. 

He needed to grieve, on his own - no family advising him, no friends trying to distract him with parties, no exes trying to comfort him.

He turned on his Netflix to a random series and set the TV blaring to shut out the noise in his mind. Curt peeked out from behind the bookshelf. 

He looked at Curt. Their eyes met and Curt just knew something was wrong. 

He frowned as if saying, "No!! Not today. I need to be alone. Go away."

Curt tilted his head asking, "Are you sure? You look as if you could use some company. You don't need to talk or do anything. We can be quiet also."

His frown softened, "Thanks for the offer, friend. But I just need some space today".

"Fine. I understand," Curt said. "Just be. I will see you tomorrow". and backed into his space behind the shelf.

He smiled. Something special had happened. He couldn't know what. He just felt better. 

Curt had finally become a part of his life.

When people become projects

There are some mistakes that are universal and I am not exempt as well.

A huge number of us choose professions that involve helping people, attempting to influence their lives in some positive way. Even if you aren't in a helping profession, helping others may be one of your values or desires.

The intention is noble and the effort genuine. 

But what starts as an honest endeavor often backfires. Here are some of the reasons:

1. YOU feel they need help. Do they? Did they ask for it? Did we ask (explicitly) if they need help? Often times, especially in personal relationships, we assume that the other person can live a better life, deserves better; at least doesn't deserve pain and suffering. So we attempt to create insights, give advice, probe and prod till the other gives in to our plan for change. Of course, there are also times when the other doesn't give in to your pleas! If we are prudent, we will stop here. But not me!

2. Now it's a challenge to ensure that the other realizes what's good and what's not. We persevere and sometimes lady luck favours us. Although we may be tired, we carry on since we really believe in our mission of helping. "Don't give up" doesn't actually work here. But I continue!

3. The beginning of any change is realization. Amidst all the conversation, we attempt to make the person realize by asking, telling, and demonstrating often. Some of us who don't mind using some "force of will" also end up threatening or emotionally blackmailing to get cooperation. But the greatest insight is that the difference between helping and fixing is the same difference between empathy and sympathy. Fixing and sympathy stem out of frustration and are less likely to create any empowerment. 

4. Our lack of self-awareness, coupled with theirs, may lead to more complications.

Mind games are played knowingly or unknowingly. Things escalate quickly here. I wonder.

5. Few of us have surely experienced the sense of achievement when people change the way we wanted them to. For the rest of us, we are already entangled in the web of associating their change as our achievement. When there is no movement, 

frustration starts.

6. Then happens a deadlock...with us pushing too hard and the other holding their stance. This is where we look back at the futility of our actions. Most of us go through the push-and-pull of emotions, between anger, regret and disappointment. This is where I write a useless article like this!

So how do we break the deadlock and avoid the drama?

1. Learn to know the difference between venting and asking for help. This is quite by trial-and-error.

2. Understand your circle of control and influence. Most of the times, your circle of control will include asking the right questions to bring about awareness (which you can learn through reading or by experience) and listening (shut up while you do! - difficult but possible)

3. If you offer advice when asked, make sure you give enough time for the advice to sink in. Better off, will be to not expect anything at all to happen.

4. And finally, remember your need to change someone must not be more than their need to change themselves.

Well, anyway another useless musing added to my collection and the choice is surely yours!

The last Gulab Jamun

It was my 31st birthday. My husband decided to give me a surpise. He made my favorite dessert - gulab jamun...and 31 of them...

I am not very fond of a grand birthday party so we called only his mother over. She is a sweetheart, when she is not with my father-in-law. She also has a sweet tooth and we often go for a girl's night out to binge on desserts.

Fortunately, the gulab jamuns turned out to be very tasty. Surprisingly so, since my husband is not really a great cook. We all helped ourselves to large portions randomly through the day.

It was 11.55 in the night; still 5 minutes before my birthday would be over. I opened the container and was immediately disappointed...all the gulab jamuns were over...all except one..the Last One...

I couldn't actually remember how many I had eaten through the day. Feeling guilty that I might have overeaten my share, I closed the container and put it back. 

My mother-in-law left 2 days later and we were back to our routines. My 31st year was quite exciting. I had received several wonderful gifts not only from family but also from my colleagues at work. 

Days passed away serenely till it was New Year's eve. Since I had had wine- a glass one too many, I craved for something sweet. I scrounged my fridge and found the container.

When I opened it, it filled me with regret and disgust. Completely metamorphosed was the Last Gulab Jamun, which could have been my birthday treat!

The fly who churned cream

"It" was a fly. Unlike many other flies, It could read. It lived in a huge, clean home with a family of cleanliness freaks. Even the kids in the family were so disciplined that they would hardly leave any food uncovered or any rubbish strewn around.

It would love this since he loved the challenge of "outfoxing" the family. To find any spot to bask in, was an exhilarating challenge for It. The family had a huge library filled with books. It would like to sit under the collar or on the shoulder of one of the family members and read books. 

The little one of the house was It's favourite. She messed up the most and then It had its chance to swarm over the mess, she would leave behind. One day, she was reading about 2 flies, who fell into a glass of milk. It was quite excited to read about someone like it. The story was action-packed and the climax was very interesting for the fly who churned the milk into cream. 

"I didn't think I could do that!", It thought. "But it will be quite fun to try."

It decided to try this the very next day. It waited for breakfast. Mom laid the table, a spread of toast, butter, jam, eggs - sunny side up, cornflakes and a big glass of piping, hot milk.

It flew to the table and waited on the edge for the milk to cool down.What did you think? It was not a fool; It knew better than to approach anything hot.

The glass belonged to the little one. She was taking little bites of her toast. After what seemed like eternity, It slowly moved and sat on the rim of the glass. It slowly stepped on to the thin cream that had formed inside the glass. 

It felt its legs sinking into the warm milk. It was time for action. It started swinging its legs. Oh no! It wasn't able to churn. Its life flashed before its eyes. A life of luxury, of rest, only eating and no exercise...Its legs were weak and got stuck in the cream.

As It drowned, he caught a glimpse of an advertisement on the blaring TV.

These stunts are performed by trained professionals, don't try this at home!

Newfound respect

Disclaimer: Like my dear friend Q says, "it takes all kinds in a circus". Similarly, there are all types of people in the world. This useless musing is dedicated to those considerate men who care...

Work-life balance is not restricted to gender anymore. As stereotypically women have been homemakers and men, providers of the family, the scales are tilting when many men have come forward to play the role of a homemaker. Marriage definitely changes the lives of such considerate men. But these men are at their best when they become fathers. 

I have had the privilege of knowing several of this envious breed of ideal men ~ my father, my paternal uncles, my cousin, my ex-boss and my trek mate (both initialed AK). Not only have they achieved accolades in their professional spheres but also have proved to be good homemakers. 

It is often believed that one needs to keep their personal and professional lives distinctly separate. But I happen to believe that a person can't really change much of his personality between two important aspects of his life.

AK has a charismatic presence (although he is quite unaware of it, thankfully so for the sake of modesty). 

When he walks the aisle across the floor, heads turn to look at him - women gawking and men admiring. People listen to him, believe him, even without knowing him (apart from his designation of being the site director). And I would always wonder how.

A recent moment unraveled the mystery and created #newfoundrespect for AK. On a general chat, he said that the lockdown has made him a chef. He cooks fancy meals for his daughter, who is very picky about food. The dishes were complex and needed prep - Rogan Josh and other non-vegetarian dishes of the like.

Despite his extended schedule of working from home, he made sure he cooked those meals just because they made his daughter happy.

And then it was all clear to me...

What matters is the intention and then everything else can be learnt and dealt with. People will always trust you for your intentions, your values, your character. They will look up to a leader, knowing that he has their best interests at heart. They will follow him for they know he cares. 

Today, I discovered a newfound respect for men, who care...

Communication in Covid times

As lockdown prolongs, people are experiencing insights. Many of you would have received WhatsApp messages about how people realized that they can survive with limited resources and not expect luxuries.

For professionals, the situation has been interestingly challenging. Working from home for such long periods was unanticipated for leadership. These testing times have revealed how much trust, rapport and communication you have built with your team.

Some learning moments of leadership from our Prime Minister's speech were commendable:

1. Moments of crisis are opportunities to unite for a common cause. Activities like applauding and lighting candles are activities that can engage the entire population and remind us that we aren't alone. 

2. Empathy goes a long way in crisis. In his communication, he mentions commonly faced issues, concerns and problems that maybe faced at all levels. We all need reassurance, regardless of what the reality offers. More or less, it becomes a leader's responsibility to do so.

3. And the most important of all, is regular communication. I wondered at the amount of pressure that must be mounting on him. In spite of how pressurized or busy he is, he makes it a point to connect with the country. Knowing that some or any kind of communication will help, he keeps in consistent touch. Whether or not, he knows the solutions or the next course of action, we all tune in to 'a leader' for reassurance.

Like Spiderman said, "With great power comes great responsibility!"

Of rat poop and letting go

Lockdown has created so much time for me that I can't escape my own excuses anymore. I can't say I am busy (considering I am not working), chores get over fast and I really can't say I am tired as well.

So I indulge in a cleaning spree. For those who are avid cleaners, you may know about the forbidden shelves and forsaken boxes. These contain stuff that will take a lifetime to clear and hence are often left alone.

Regardless, since I had a lot of time on hand and the unsaid pressure my dad had created about finding the antique CD player stashed in the forbidden shelf above the cupboard, I opened the door.

Now the door of the forbidden shelf is a funny one. It doesn't close fully, thanks to the rusted fixture that is supposed to stick to a magnet. Step one was to use WD-40 to remove the rust. Step two was clearing unwanted stuff in the shelf; I felt faint.

What followed next was sheer horror! Among the stuffed stuff was shredded pieces of paper, cloth and rat poop! I should have never opened the forbidden shelf. What should I do? Close the shelf, let it be but there was rat poop in there. Was it safe to let it be or even healthy?

But now that I had opened the shelf, I had to go all the way to clean everything up. It took forever but when I finished, I felt relieved.

We all have stuff in our mind that are forbidden and forsaken: thoughts, feelings about events and people that we haven't dealt with. Most of them quite unpleasant like rat poop and we let them be. Why? Cos it may take forever to clean. Is it healthy or even safe? Definitely not.

Like we decide to clean up rat poop, why can't we decide to clean up those unpleasant thoughts and feelings that are not healthy for us? Of course, the cleaning is going to be difficult, time-consuming and tiring.

But the choice is yours, to store the rat poop in your mind or to let it go.

While in Rome...

Never before have I felt so stressed on a trip. The corona virus pandemic struck the world into a fearful frenzy. When we left for the trip, it didn't seem so serious. By the end of the trip, matters had worsened. A self-imposed "Janta Curfew" was to be enforced on 22nd March from 7am to 9pm - the day I was to reach Mumbai by 6am. The curfew was strict and I didn't want to be caught and reprimanded by the police.

Looking at the deserted roads, the meager local transport and the uncertainty of train schedule (not to mention news reports), I was almost driven to panic.

While in the autorickshaw, the driver posed another stressful question - "purane Indore jana hai ki naye me?"

I replied meekly that I had no clue where. I posed a brave front and told him he should know train details since he is a local. He grunted something that I didn't understand. Either way, my stress levels were rising.

When we reached the "old Indore station", every other person was wearing a mask, except me. The train was already at the platform but was empty. I sat on the platform for half an hour and then boarded the train. The train was stripped off its curtains and upholstery. It smelt of cleansing agents. An almost hospital-like environment was created.

I squirmed through the night, tossing and turning, wondering and worrying about how safely or easily I will get home. The trainn was racing and we arrived at the station 15 minutes earlier. The station was deserted and the effort to rent a cab was futile.

I stepped out of the station and found several rickshaws and a couple of cabs that were being taken by the second. Out the crowd of drivers emerged a guy who seemed like a leader of the lot.

He asked me in Hindi where I wanted to go and I instinctively replied in Marathi. He checked with his crew and I conversed a little more with him in Marathi about how the day will pan out for him cos of the Janta Curfew.

He suddenly got a customer and left. My heart sank. I wasn't going to get anywhere and the clock was ticking. Just as I turned back towards the station and hoped to get a local train, he called out to me.

He, then, went on to convince an extremely hesitant rickshaw driver to drop me home. After what seemed like eternity, the rickshaw driver agreed.

I was relieved and thanked the "leader" for helping me out.

Modestly, he said, "I came back to make sure that you get a vehicle cos you belong here. (presumed since I spoke Marathi..not my native language)."

So it does work...'to be a Roman while in Rome'...

Finding and Being!

When you look back at life and feel life has been so unfair to you in many ways...that you haven't got what you wanted...that you wasted time on useless thoughts...and people...that you could have been more successful...and happier...

Stop right now...take 2 deep breaths..

Every experience in your life made you who you are today...all situations you dealt with - good, bad, ugly - made you the person you were meant to be...you wouldn't have been sensitive, understanding, empathetic, resilient, focused, driven if not for all those experiences. Live in the moment, accept everything that comes your way and know that life will give you an interesting roller coaster ride.

And remember, what you gained through your loss is YOU! Embrace yourself and enjoy life!

Social media games and fragile self-esteems

Recently, a school "friend" of mine posted a game on WhatsApp status:

Send me a ❤️ if you think we are friends.

Thanks to my recent addiction to my mobile phone and checking WhatsApp statuses every 2 seconds, I came across this one.

I immediately sent her a yellow heart back. ("I really thought we were friends!"). I asked "ye chalega?" And she apparently was quite bored (FYI: my phone doesn't seem to have that emoticon, nor does my mind!) and sent back two yawns. At that very moment, I found it very funny.

Later on, (thanks to my addiction again) I realized that responses and people were being categorized as Highly expected, Expected and Unexpected. 

And I wondered why I didn't make the Unexpected list. Now let me be clear, I have no qualms about not making anyone's friend list (my therapist is excellent!). But it surely made me wonder what impact would this have made if I had a fragile self-esteem.

Here is the sequence of what my mind may have done: (swirling into an imaginary situation)
Me sends a heart
Gets a yawn in response
My brain has an amygdala hijack!
Oh my God! She finds me boring...Do people find me boring? Am I a boring person?
Oh no...she has started posting photos of other people...
Still no mention of me...
Should I post the same game on my WhatsApp and see how many respond?
I think X also did the same thing...ignored me...
Am I not a good person?
Is this why I am still single? Do guys find me boring too?!!
Will I not have any friends...Will I end up alone without friends?
This is not fair...how come she can put so many pictures as unexpected and not put mine? Should I ask her? Will it look really lame? 
Oh God! What should I do?
(Puts her head in her hands) *stressed*

All this happening in less than 5 seconds...Imagine how it would be if someone's self-esteem depended on others' responses...

Social media is truly not for the weak-minded. It adds an unsaid pressure by comparing yourself and your life with a seemingly happy world. 

It takes a great deal of courage and resilience to not get affected by people's DPs, WhatsApp statuses, Facebook posts and Instagram pictures... 

Maybe it's a part of evolution where the weakest perish! But the point being...

Who creates the strong and weak? 
Who decides how you should feel about yourself?
Whose life is it anyway?

The journey is always about finding yourself, your footing, your strength and your world.
Play the game with yourself...