Dear Society.

I’ve made mistakes. Millions of them. I keep making mistakes. Often, I make the same mistakes over and over. And no matter how much I try not to, I’m going to keep making mistakes. Not because I want to, but because I can’t not make mistakes. I’m only human. Mistakes are the only constant in my life.

Everyone makes mistakes. I did. You did. She did. He did. You can hold it against me. You can criticize me. You can ridicule me. But you can’t judge me on the basis of something that I didn’t even mean to do. That’s exactly what a mistake. Something that you didn’t mean to happen, but it did anyway.

So no. You don’t get to judge me.

No matter how much I regret having done something I shouldn’t have, I can’t take it back. And I can’t change it. No matter how much I want to.

So why don’t you accept that I made a terrible mistake. One like that terrible mistake you made probably just once in life, but bad enough to never be able to forgive yourself anyway and let me off the hook?

Just because I don’t keep apologizing for a mistake doesn’t mean I’m glad I made it. So why don’t you cut me some slack and not make me curse myself every time?

You can pinch your nose, look at me accusingly, give me such a disgusted look that I want to bury myself a hundred times, but guess what, I forgave myself. And since you’re such a hold-it-against-you-forever person, I don’t care about you forgiving me anymore.

I’m a better person and I’d never make the terrible mistakes again. But I won’t waste my time trying to feed you that. You won’t buy it anyway. So why bother. So why don’t I save my time and yours, my breath and yours and not waste an effort.

Very sincerely,

The girl who stopped caring.

The Opacity of Nothingness.

"Hey, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."

"Are you crying?"
"Oh it's nothing!"

How many times have you passed off a tear as dirt in your eye? How often have you held back those emotions from the fear of vulnerability? How easy is it to say "I'm okay"? How difficult is it to really be okay?
How often do you really mean it when you say "It's nothing"?

As girls we're used to being emotional punchbags. Being on the receiving end of the overload of frustration, hurt and at times, anger. We're strong enough to deal with our problems and that of others. But does that really make us responsible for the happiness of the world and more? Aren't we entitled to our share of the moments that bring tears of joy for a change? I guess not.

We're born fighters. We fight for everyone and everything that's ours. We'll go that extra mile to catch the one tear that's about to drop from his eye. He'll probably just blame you for having been the reason for that tear in the first place but you'll know the truth and you'll just smile to yourself, hoping one day everything will change.
We invest so much in hope, don't we? Our worlds can in be in a turmoil but we'll still be hoping for something good to come out of it. We hope that things will go back to being how they used to be. We hope that he'll change for the better. We hope, till there's no room for hope. And then we just hope some more.
Truth? We're the hapless maniacs waiting for lightening to strike and the universe to do a cartwheel. Yes, hitching our wagons to stars. Stars that don't even exist.

How much longer are you going to hide behind the facet of nothingness? How much longer are you going to fight the battles of others against yourself? How much longer are you going to suppress all that's been struggling to express itself since eons?

In the middle of nowhere isn't half as bad as in the middle of nothing.

Not too far from now you'll drown in the hollowness of your defenses, while overlooking the opacity of your own feelings. And maybe then, it really will be what you always claimed it was... 'nothing'.

Hey, Soul Sister!

"In the end, it's the girlfriend's that stay", they say.
Well, I've had mine stick with me from the beginning, through the lows and well, she's been there forever.
If she finds out I've written about her on my blog, she'll just call me gay and desperate and hooked on to her for life. Well, in crude words, it really does boil down to that.
I don't know what I'd do without her. She's the one I turn to when I want to wrench my hair out of my head. If she didn't mean the life to me, I'd have had killed her long ago for her so called jokes that make you want to spend your allowance on a bottle of poison. No, seriously.
Which girl calls you and says, "Hey I might just be pregnant." really coolly and laughs for a minute while you've gotten like a thousand heart attacks and then says, "Eco fucked me."
If you laughed, die.

So you know, during the last year of your school you fill up slam books? She'd draw really ugly stick figures holding..well, sticks and write "Keep In Touch." Yeah, no. Not funny at all.

She's one person who can read through me like glass. I can put up a mask for the rest of the world but when it comes to her, I can dare to drop my defenses and cry like a baby for the lamest of reasons and I know I won't be judged.
Over the years, I've tried to write about her a number of times. Overload of content. Confusion. Shutting of laptop.
These six months were probably the worst months of my life. More often than not, I've cried myself to sleep and called her and droned about the same things over and over again. She's heard it all. For hours at times, offering the same support, same consolation and same strength every single time.
She's not just my best friend, she's my sister. My guide. My support system. My teacher. My rock.
I don't know what I'd do without you, Sampada. I really don't.

Hey Soul Sister,
You're the shizz. And I love you till the world's end.

Yes I really did that. In public. In a bookstore. In the romance section. Memories, 2010 :)

Once A Sulonian..

I scampered to make it to class before the “Warning Bell”.

Till 4^th grade I gobbled up my lunch so I could go out and play for the rest of the Lunch Break.

I’m one of those very many students who stopped carrying a “Short Break Snack” after 7^th grade because it was too childish.

I’d ring the huge bell in the 3^rd standard corridor and run away while the watchman in the khaki uniform chased us.

I was a part of the mob at the canteen on Tuesdays and Fridays.

Tara bai and Laxmi bai were as popular as any of the teachers.

I played “Concentration” every single day during Sports Day practice.

I was one of those who knew that the ‘Lamp’ had never ‘Just Been Lit’ on the Lamp Lighting Ceremony every month.

A.P.P and M.D periods ranked among my favourites.

I knew exactly who they were referring to when they said “Amma”.

I was (also) victimized by the Music Teacher who hated almost everyone.

I was lucky enough to have the funniest guy on earth teach me Marathi.

I screamed my lungs out during the Youth Festival after we won competition after competition.

I screwed up the Craft assignment and passed off someone else’s work under my name and got an A+.

I spent two minutes after every period in the washroom, as though that was a necessity.

I made a cake for the first time in school, in 8^th grade in the Home Science room on the Third Floor, right next to the slope.

When it came to asking the Bus Number, it was always “Takle ko puch”.

I’ve danced my heart out in the Gopalvan.

No matter how tone deaf I was, I sang with everyone else and enjoyed it all the same in the Music room.

My heart broke when I saw the Old Assembly Hall being broken down.

I spent 12 years out of 18 in this place.

I love school for what it was and what it gave me.

The BasketBall court, the Football ground, the Office area, the Watchman’s Cabin, the canteen near the old KG Park, the little secret hideaway above the third floor in the Old Building, the Old Assembly Hall, the Gopalvan, the New Assembly Hall, the Sahana, the Malhar, the Darbaar, the Old Labs, the mesmerizing corridors.. School was and will always be the most amazing place I’ve been to.

A proud Sulonian,

Till Eternity.