Sunday, 18 March 2012


I hate so many things, so many that the things I like can be numbered while my hatred has an infinite expansion. There is one particular thing that I find respectable about men, which being a woman comes hard to me. Men might go around discussing sex and scanning you down and drowning in their own drool, but it when it comes to the whole issue of dealing with a relationship problem, they keep it to themselves. Now why can’t women be like that? Why do women at a drop of a tear go around telling all her so called close friends whom she bitches about day and night, about the troubles she has been facing with her guy?

Now women love back stabbing, some do it after a lot of planning while the others do it innocently without even meaning to. You just can’t blame us! There is no way that your issues which you secretly spilled into my ears will ever remain a secret for it is statistically proven that an average woman can keep a secret for 48hours. Well we don’t have to keep a secret because within those 48 hours, the woman who told the secret in the first place has gone around spreading it herself and is expecting no one to spill it. Yes we are full of complexity. The only way of trusting me with a secret is if that secret has me involved in it in a way which makes it too ugly to be shared.

This is why I loathe it when the girls I know but actually don’t give a hoot about, come to me and start discussing their boyfriend troubles with me. I hate it more when they actually ask me for my views regarding the issue. For ex- ‘A’ approaches me and tells me that her guy ‘B’ has been roaming around with his best buds the whole day and has just messaged her thrice accompanied by three calls which lasted 15 min each. She feels ignored and wants my opinion regarding the whole attitude of her boyfriend. Now is it wrong for me for wanting to beg her to give the guy a break and let the poor boy have some fun with his homies rather than being tied to her the whole day? The fact that I can’t say this to her but have to take her side, kills me and If by any chance I actually tell her the truth, she will weep and run away or will deem me incapable of understanding.

Also women like making a mountain out of a molehill. Sharing your love problems with another woman only makes it worse, because when two women come together, their brains combine to make a master plan which is directed towards making a man pay for the actions he did but is truly not aware of. This normally leads to devastation, followed by a cat fight and end of friendship between the two women.

Men keep their issues to themselves. Love is like a religion to them especially when they are blinded by it. Men might take time to fall nose deep in love but when they do, they treat it like its divine. If a guy truly loves a woman, he never discusses the intricacies of the relationship with another soul. During a hard time, he controls his boiling rage by drinking it down instead of running around sharing his stories. He slowly finds the solution to patch up things while his woman with her designed plans and strategies, kills his love slowly but steadily. If a man actually wants to tell his close friends that his heart is broken, he simply approaches his gang and says ‘I am broken’. The next thing he knows is his friends dragging him to a bar and together getting sloshed. Now even if he actually shared the problem during his drunken yapping, none of his friends will remember it the next day anyway.

Now not every woman is like this. Some like me no more share their relationship hurdles with other women. Experience finally got the best of us! But trust me it took a lot of back stabbing to turn me into the woman I am now.

P.S- I know that the image doesn't exactly suit the basic concept of the post. But you got to admit, it is funny!!
Image Courtesy-

Tuesday, 13 March 2012

Mommy or Daddy the greatest??

Since childhood I have wriggled out of complex situations. Complex situations where a kid doesn’t like to get caught in especially in front of his/her parents, because how much ever mature they seem to be, parents are an insecure bunch. As I grew up, there have been numerous instances where my parents would force nerve jittering questions down my ears.

My Amma would alarm me in the most relaxed manner and would shoot the most venomous question ever. She would ask me “Mole, you like Papa more or Amma? Be honest to me Mole”. Now since I know that the answer decides what she would cook for dinner and whether she will polish my school shoes for tomorrow, I would innocently look into her eyes and say “Amma, you and Papa are like my eyes. I can’t like one eye more than the other.” This answer always awarded me with an extra scoop of dessert serving after dinner. I always stick to this answer, but for the sake of not appearing to be a trained parrot, I would change the body parts from ‘eyes’ to ‘limbs’ or ‘ears’.

Today my father asked me the same question and I like a Ninja answered him and made his chest rise from 40 to 44. But today as I lay on my bed for an afternoon nap, I couldn’t stop myself from actually questioning myself regarding my allegiance. Did this Mole, love her Amma more or her Papa? Who was my inclination towards? I had to find an answer once and for all.

CALL IN DISTRESS- As a child I was my Daddy’s pet, still am. I was treated like a boy and I disclosed the torments of my childish mind openly to him. As a kid, I never liked Amma giving me a bath because she never told me stories of her childhood adventures while foaming me up. She had a boring childhood anyway. My Papa was the man I wanted to become when I grew up, though I turned out to be a woman. But as I grew up, I stopped opening up to Dad and he never probed me into revealing my problems too, for he knew that it was not his field of expertise. Mom was the one I approached and she became my therapist, though she was a bad one. She became my call in times of distress.

Dad-0 Mom-1

FREEDOM- Now I am boasting when I say this but I really do have the ultimate man as my Papa. During my tenth boards he caught me reading Cosmopolitan. I was busy staring at the picture of topless and hairless Hrithik Roshan in the magazine by keeping it inside my Chemistry book. He didn’t scold me at all, but forced me to keep my Chemistry book down and read the magazine for 2 hours straight. That was my punishment, though I never understood how. My mother on the other side was a pain in the bum during my teenage years. She would run and enter my room faster than a coyote just to inspect what exactly I was doing online. She never trusted me and I can’t blame her for I knew that the curious me couldn’t be trusted. My mother always brings the whole concept of being a woman into everything and anything I do or did, while my Papa like a gentleman that he is shuts my mother off and listens to the apple of his eye i.e his Mole.

Dad- 1 Mom-1

SPOILING ME- Amma, Papa and my Acchamma (Dadi) all have a fair hand in this.  My Amma used to go around scolding my nursery teachers for not treating me well because they complained to her regarding my biting problem. Now I have to confess, I used to bite my teachers as a kid if I they ever scolded me or tried to make me answer the questions I didn’t want to. But my mother conveniently blamed them and never pointed a finger at me. My Father would buy me balloons and Samosas at 12 midnight because I cried out loud for it. For this he had to walk half a kilometre into the neighbouring slum and safe himself from probable thieves. You don’t want to know about my craze of bursting balloons and then crying till I got another one. If I was my Papa, I would have disowned me. He once made six omelettes for me before making the perfect one, because I do not like even a fragment of the existence of whiteness in my omelette. He made 4 omelettes, slapped me, said sorry and made another 2.

Dad-2 Mom-1

MONEY BANK- My parents provide me with money without any interrogation whenever I want. Me giving them false reasons for the money is a totally different aspect and I know for sure that my parents are not dumb enough to actually believe every word of what I utter. But they know for the fact that their Mole spends most of the money in her cute little purse, hogging at every restaurant standing in the town. She can lie for food and they know it. My Papa never opens the message I send him, for her knows that the message contains just two words ‘PUT MONEY’. The guilty me never calls for money and when I do, I always report to my mother directly who takes care of the situation. So I believe both share an equal stand in this aspect.

Dad-2 Mom-2

CRY ME A RIVER- The only way to deal with the situation is to ask myself this- ‘ If I ever do anything wrong, something which makes me feel guilty, something I am truly not supposed to do, whose face comes in my mind? Who is it that I don’t want to see hurt or disappointed? Whose judgement on my character matters more?’.  Now when I review my life till date, I notice that I have always tried hiding unwelcoming facts about myself from my parents. If I tell my mother, she will pass it on to my father which I don’t want. My Papa has provided me with everything I have asked for and didn’t ask for or dreamt about and this comes in my mind whenever I fall into a messy situation. I can tolerate my mother’s indifference, but never the disappointment in my father’s eyes. I have never seen him cry, not even when he lost his father and I never want to be a reason behind his eyes brimming over with tears. I don’t know from where this special soft corner towards Daddy came from, but I have to agree that it has always been there and how much ever my mother tries to win the position by feeding me Gulab Jamuns, she can’t win. We don’t need to tell her that, do we?

Dad-3 Mom-2

So, it turns out that I am my Daddy’s little grown up girl and always will be. Amma might hate this revelation but she wouldn’t mind losing to him for she knows he is worth it. And if my younger brother happens to read this, I just want him to know that no matter what I do, wherever I go, I was their first baby and they love me more. I know they might use the arm/limb/eyes story which dealing with your queries, but you know who stands tall and first. THE SILLY OLD MOLE, ME!

P.S- Sorry about the extra long blog post! This just had to be done!

Tuesday, 6 March 2012


Now every girl, be their size be XS/S/M/L/X/XXL/XXXL, be their color be black/brown/yellow/red/white, be their bra’s be trainer/seamless/push up/padded/strapless, be their looks be Ugly Betty style/ Penelope Cruz touch, be they be of any kind you can possibly imagine, they have  atleast once in their lives imagined themselves as models walking down the ramp or in many cases day dreamed about being beauty pageant winners. Atleast I had as a little girl. 

I used to sit by my mom, who would accompany me to rate the Miss World contestants out of 10, commenting on the way they catwalk and the change that is needed in those barbies. My mother would be usually in her Maxi with her uncombed hair tied into a bun, while her hands chopped vegetables as her eyes stayed glued to the TV screen. I was almost always dressed like a boy, a tomboy with a BOB cut whom boys mistook for being a bully. Imagining me as a beauty contestant was the closest I got to behaving like a girl.

While slogging my ass out in the gym, the small TV attached to the treadmill happened to show the movie Miss Congeniality. There was a part in it where every contestant wants to bring world peace. Now I have to agree that it definitely was funny but it made me wonder as to how these thin sticks actually work towards world peace and for the betterment of humanity or act like ambassadors of righteousness. Blame it on my General Knowledge or call me ignorant when I tell you that I don’t remember a single beauty pageant winner who has stood up to what she said on stage and actually did her bit for the poor and the downtrodden. Offcourse, bribe in the form of Media coverage can be reason enough to set her pedicured foot inside a slum and click pictures with the dirtiest looking kids of the lot. 

I understand that world peace is something one can only desire or pray for. But saying that as a Miss World or Miss Universe you will work towards the empowerment of those who have been subjugated for long, and then using it as a source to become an actress or just keeping the crown for a year, is absolute bullshit. How exactly did Aishwarya Rai work towards World Peace? Is Priyanka Chopra spending nights awake thinking of means to bring world peace? I guess not. All they do is go to shows organised by NGO’s and then place their fragile hands on surprised kids and go ‘Awwwww’ while the Media goes haywire clicking pictures from every angle possible. Miss World title brings with it the chance to travel the globe, meet royalty, world leaders and party with the famous. This is occasionally hindered by opening ceremony of supermarkets and NGO visits.

Actually we are at fault here since we wouldn’t crown a girl who gets on the stage and blurts out that she wouldn’t­­ work for the betterment of the society but wants to win the crown because it has been her childhood girly dream and that she could use it as a step towards the movie industry. The blame rests on us for being hypocrites. Beauty Pageants should only be about beauty and nothing more. I hope the realization comes quick.