NAME YOUR FEAR

Does that dog at your friend's place or the roadside, frighten the daylights out of you? Or are you like me, ready to go to any lengths to avoid social gatherings? Do we share the common reluctance to enter or feel suffocated in closed places? Why is it that you have to drag yourself to work each day?

This post, is about the most common condition searched on the net, 'PHOBIA'! So, which one do you have?

Since terms like 'CYBERPHOBIA', 'DENTOPHOBIA', 'AQUAPHOBIA' or 'CLAUSTROPHOBIA' are pretty well known and obvious, I'll just underline similar phobias a bit. Yes, I have nothing else do to, so am helping you name your fears :P

P.S.: Just don't develop any phobia after reading this..lol.

have you ever stumbled upon anyone who has 'ABLUTOPHOBIA' i.e. the fear of bathing, washing and cleaning? What was it like?! :P

That fear that gnaws inside you and doesn't let you go anywhere too much above the ground level is called 'ACROPHOBIA', yeah, that's the fear of heights. And God bless you if you have a combination of 'ACROPHOBIA' + 'ACHLUOPHOBIA' + 'ARACHNOPHOBIA' + 'AUTOPHOBIA'. The bad news here? IT IS POSSIBLE!! Achluophobia is the fear of darkness. Arachnophobia, the fear of spiders and my dear, Autophobia, is the fear of being alone. And just in case, you have 'CLAUSTROPHOBIA' also, i.e. the fear of being closed in or having no escape, it's going to be living hell. Now imagine yourself in the most hated situation you could be in, were you to have all these phobias together!

So, coming out of this darkness, let's talk about that guy.

You met through common friends or probably at the bar and hit it off instantly, a sure sign of him not having any 'GYNOPHOBIA' (the fear of women! Can you imagine, that really exists!), and you definitely not having any 'ANDROPHOBIA' (you guessed it right, that's the fear of men!). Both of you are crazily in love ( a sure sign that neither of you suffer from 'PHILOPHOBIA') and it's been about a few months and you've been receiving those flowers (thank goodness he doesn't have 'ANTHOPHOBIA'), but of course, he won't commit to you, he's scared of commitment and you my dear, surely know almost all guys are. Yes, there's a term for that too, it's called, 'GAMOPHOBIA'-the fear or commitment or marriage! See, now you can tell him exactly what's wrong with him. You are welcome. So you give him a piece of your mind and he let's you know he also has 'ATHEOPHOBIA', the fear of atheists. Oh..and you are one..you surely are!

Your friend who's a pilot with one of the most renowned airlines of the world, calls to invite you to his birthday party the following week. And since you already know how much he loves birds, you decide to gift him one. His apartment's a subtle color, thanks to 'CHROMOPHOBIA', the fear of bright colours.

"But I like them free and flying" he exclaims, looking at the caged bird.

"This one doesn't know how to fly" you reason, "it's got 'AVIOPHOBIA'" (yes, that's the fear of flying).

Just then, his phone buzzes. It's a call. Not an important one, but he picks it up anyway and excuses himself.

You don't answer unimportant calls, but you know he does and you know the reason too, he's got 'NOMOPHOBIA', the fear of being out of mobile phone contact!

Now, you are out from the party and are headed back home, but instead of crossing the road, owing to 'AGYROPHOBIA', you walk a little longer on the pavement until you reach the underground crossing. Your apartment's just a few blocks away. On your way there, the memories come flooding back, all the hours you toiled to stay afloat in this back breaking competition for survival (also because you once suffered from 'ATYCHIPHOBIA'-the fear of failure). But you are obviously more than glad you don't have 'ANTHROPOPHOBIA', the fear of people or the company of people.

The security guard at the entrance to your apartment is quickly jotting down something on the register, beads of sweat are flowing down his face, his hands almost swelling from writing so fast. He's trying to get the maximum number of words on the page in a second. Yes. you guessed it correctly, he's got 'CHRONOPHOBIA', the fear of time or time moving forward. And did I already mention his 'FRIGOPHOBIA'-the fear of getting too cold? Yes, he was all piled up.

You've just latched the front door and added your coat and bag to the already existent mountain of clothes in your chair, when the bell rings. It's your pesky neighbors, obviously you already knew that. And you also know why they are looking for you. The husband is standing behind his wife, you've hardly seen him speak ever because he's got 'GELOTOPHOBIA'-the fear of being laughed at. So the wife enlightens you on how they were planning to go to the circus and cannot take their little boy along, since he's got 'COULROPHOBIA'-the fear of clowns you know. And you being not able to say 'no', agree to shelter the kiddo in your house till they are back. Oh, I forgot to mention, the lady, she's got 'GERONTOPHOBIA', the fear of growing old or the elderly. (yeah, that exists too.) :S

Now that you get chatting with the kiddo, he bores you about all he learns from his religious teacher. You feel sorry for the little boy who's very clearly developing 'HADEPHOBIA'-the fear of hell.

To entertain your irritated self, you flip through channels on the television and stop on this program that shows people with 'CHIROPTOPHOBIA' (the fear of bats) visiting people who've locked themselves up in caves and other underground structures because of their fear of sunlight (yeah, that exists too)-'HELIOPHOBIA'.

It's been an hour and just when you cannot zero in on the perfect plan to get rid of the pestering kid, the doorbell thankfully tinkles (I have absolutely no idea if there's a phobia for that sound) and then hand the parents their child and put yourself to sleep (thank God you don't have 'HYPNOPHOBIA')!!

Okay, so am pretty bored and am gonna sleep too. So bye! Feel free to make up the rest yourself :P

Knowledge Source:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_phobias

A ROCKSTAR TO WATCH OUT FOR

Not being much of a musically intelligent person (I can't even clearly distinguish between genres! Yeah, I am that bad!), I just listen to anything and everything except rap! I simply cannot tolerate that. Mostly because I usually don't understand the connection between the verses or rather sentences that follow each other in a lion's share of these compositions. Partial rap is okay. And trust me, you'd never ever, even in your worst nightmare, want to hear me sing or hum. Am not off tune you know, the tune's in a separate planet and I am more than a zillion light years away from it! And that leaves me being not even close to a bathroom singer. Though in the shower, I don't sing, I PERFORM!! Hell Yeah!

So being me, I wasn't exactly starstruck or very elated when I bumped into a shinning star who was visiting my hubby in our office. I had obviously heard him sing before as one of the top twelve contestants in the national, reality, singing competition, 'Indian Idol' in the year 2007. I following his progress in the show had little to do with my interest in upcoming talents of the Indian music industry and more with the fact that I was curious about this guy who hailed from the same part of the Indian motherland as me, i.e. the enchanting north-eastern state of Assam.

As we got talking, I was pleasantly surprised at how friendly 'Paddy' (as his friends call him), is. Not for once did I feel the awkwardness am so prone to feeling in first meetings. I couldn't help but recall how my father used to enthusiastically watch this guy sing in the reality competition and make me sit with him in front of the television set, just so, I could HOPEFULLY learn to overcome my shyness and stage fear watching a fellow Assamese conquer the world! Yeah, such was the impact wished for. From what I can deduce, our older generations must have been hearing this guy since a very long time. Maybe he was their favorite right from the days of his first performance in 1994, wherein he sang the Assam Sahitya Sabha's anthem at the Nabagraha Bihutoli, when he was only in Class 1. It was a duet with his twin brother 'Arunav Bordoloi', who by the way, was known to be a very good tabla player for quiet a long time.

When in Class 4, Paddy was beat in the 'Patriotic Song' category, by a fellow student, which landed him in the second place, though the crowd feasted on his voice to the legendary Assamese patriotic song, 'Biswa Bijoy Nojuwan'. A student of Maharishi Vidya Mandir, Silpukhuri, then, this incident, acted as the turning point in his singing career and taught Padmanav Bordoloi, what the word 'competition' meant.

Having family roots that can be vaguely traced to the famous Gopinath Bordoloi lineage, his immediate household can be  labelled as a musically inclined space. His mother, who gave up singing at an early age due to family pressure, is credited as being his first 'guru' and plays a very important role in his life. As informed by his mother, his paternal grandfather was a renowned singer. Padmanav Bordoloi can be seen following his footsteps. Nayanav, his younger brother, is into heavy metal. "My father was a very busy man, who also was a very good listener." Padmanav fondly recalls about Late Mr. Bordoloi.

Many of you may recall Padmanav as being the 'Somoniya Sorah' or Child Artist for A.I.R., Guwahati, till he was in the 6th or 7th grade. This bright and sincere student, though actively participating in panel discussions and debates, did not let his focus quiver from music. When you ask him about this phrase, be ready to hear him humbly highlight how bad he was at sports.

Earning a meager Rs. 240 for one of his recordings at the A.I.R., the excited little Padmanav asked his mother to buy a trophy for him with that money instead of putting it into his account. Such was his fascination with trophies. "Those trophies meant more than the Oscars to me!" he exclaims.

                             

                                     

                                                            Padmanav with his mother.

Graduating from 'Somoniya Sorah', he went on to become the 'Yubabani' or 'Youth Singer' in the A.I.R. right from class 8th to 11th. But owing to the biological dilemma each guy faces during their adolescence, the voice changing phrase turned out to be a bit dicey, which then distracted him from music and made him focus on fulfilling his parents' dream of molding him into a successful doctor, which in turn, led him to take up the 'Science' stream. However, he still beamed with pride when he was introduced as a singer by the Principal of Kendriya Vidyalaya, Khanapara, where he went to study his final two years of school or junior college, as you may call it. This was the year 2005.

And I'll just tell you in a bit why the year 2005, was a heart warmingly important one.

But despite these changes resulting in almost a goal diversion, Paddy continued sharpening his skills in Classical Music, Ghazals, Borgeet etc., with his teacher whom he refers to as 'Jiten Sir', under whose guidance, he learnt to explore his competitive side at different levels, especially district and local among many others.

After he smoothly sailed through Class 12, he was disheartened when he could not clear PMT and saw the 'real world', where fellow students, even those not as bright as him, got in through reservations everywhere.Though suggested by many to take the much disputatious but 'popular' step in such situations, i.e. getting admission through donation, being a man of morals, Padmanav refused to do so, and instead, decided to drop the year and utilise it to mould himself into a capable person so he could crack the medical entrance exam the next year.

However, before he could let everyone know what he intended, he found himself in the premises of the much reputed Cotton College of Guwahati, where his mother had got him admitted into B.Sc. (Zoology) 1st semester. This is where he gained the unwavering confidence you can happily see in him reflect. Known as the 'STAR' of the college, in those short six months of his life that he spent in Cotton College, Paddy was highly inspired by this 'new phase' (as he calls it) in his life, where he basked in the trust people showed on his talent, when his friends there, encouraged him to compete in the famous  'Indian Idol'. Post Indian Idol, he, being a person who wanted to complete education, so that he could see his parents satisfied, went on to become an Engineer (Computer Science).

As the family, like many other Assamese families that 2005 night sat crowded around the television screen watching, smiling and beaming with pride when Debojit Saha won the SaReGaMaPa trophy, Padmanav Bordoloi experienced a moment he would never in his lifetime forget. As his mother sat there, sipping tea, watching Mr. Saha on the screen, she said, "How proud we all Assamese are of this boy. His mother must be even prouder. Today, he has probably made his parents the happiest people on the face of the Earth." Padmanav sat there listening to his mother-his friend, philosopher and guide, awe struck at her happiness and pride. Unable to contain himself, he said, "Don't worry, I'll win too!" Padmanav swears his 'roadasian' pet dogs Jackie and Rinky wagged their tails more ferociously when they heard his reply!

                                      

                                                                            Paddy

Indian Idol happened in 2007, the time during his stint at Cotton College. Still fighting with an immature and different voice, owing to adolescence, it was mainly a phrase of self exploration and soul searching but still being very realistic and connected to his roots. Though he does not deny that he did consider if he was 'cut out' for a nine-to-five job, he knew all through that singing was his sole passion. The frustrated Padmanav Bordoloi, who had decided to put to use his time in hand, went alone for the Delhi auditions, only to return the same evening, disappointed when he realised that his registration number had not been issued. As his equally heart-broken mother tried to console her son, he received a call from one of his acquaintances during the audition, who told him how he, himself, had appeared for the audition without a registration number and Padmanav should do the same. Getting together his unpacked bags, Paddy got back to Delhi the following morning and gave his audition without a registration number. I am sure you can pretty much understand the feeling that welled up inside him when he was amongst the 100 candidates selected. In his next step of the Indian Idol journey, he recalls featuring in the top 28 since public voting started and subsequently in the top 12 out of the 18 candidates that prevailed.

"I burst out crying like a baby who could not express what it felt, when the anchors, Mini Mathur hugged me and Hussain Kuwajerwala was wiping my tears after I cracked the Delhi auditions. I called up mom right away!" says a now beaming Padmanav. "I was more than thrilled. I cannot put into words what I felt. I still remember how touched my family was when the Indian Idol people came home and took shots there. People were looking at me, as if the neighbourhood where I have grown up, had seen me the first time. Those days, they were one of the best phrases of my life." "Indian Idol took me places I'd never been to before" he continues when I ask him about his shows back then. "I was happily embarrassed when I visited the Taj Mahal in Agra, and people looked more at me than the Taj" he laughs. You can see the spark-the happiness in his eyes when he talks about this much publicised show. "Though for me, in life, it has never been only about winning, that day, I realised, I had achieved something that really mattered, it really made a difference. I was more than content. I finally decided what I wanted to be,-a professional singer."

"Even if Indian Idol wouldn't have happened, I was pretty sure I'd do something in the musical field." says this singer, who can flawlessly play the Tampora, Harmonium and the Piano.

This foodie and an extremely gifted cook (you should taste the butter chicken he makes), then went for 'Sitaron Ko Choona Hai', a reality talent show, where he met India's famous youth icon Raghu Ram. Initially, more confused than frustrated at Raghu's presence as a judge at the show, Padmanav, in his head, questioned the validity of Raghu being a judge owing to Raghu's lack of connection to the music industry. What he at that time didn't know was that S.K.C.H. was a talent based show covering all types of talent and not just singing. Another thing he didn't quiet obviously know was, how Raghu would be instrumental in grooming his personality, confidence, addressing the issues of each participant, helping them overcome it and also breaking the ice between the participants. There, Paddy went on to bag the 'Best Performer of the Season' award.

                                     

                                                                         The Foodie

"English songs aren't my cup of tea. Though I really love listening to Whitney Houston and the King Of Pop." Padmanav says at a point in our conversation.

A breath of fresh air and a much needed eye opener, Peter Sir rescued the talent wise stagnant Padmanav who was a tad bit carried away and distracted by the sudden rise in fame, during the beginning of 2010. Peter Sir who trains him for Western Classical Music, recognised his gifted voice and the potential he with-held. Humming a few Bihu tunes when his guru asked him about the regional music of his area, Paddy met his inspiration in Peter Sir who told him he had a good talent and should try fusioning his voice. It was then that Padmanav decided to put together a style, that would be known exclusively as his. "Not having a style of my own, had got me worked up when I auditioned for SaReGaMaPa, where I was told by the voice trainer, that, I needed to have my own style if I really wanted to stand out in the crowd, because India already has many good singers."

Padmanav believes, though he has reached a level where he can express emotions through his voice, he still has a lot to learn and isn't yet qualified enough to write lyrics for some other singer. I was astounded at how grounded he is.

"SaReGaMaPa was fun. Though I really wish I had gotten the chance to sing the Udi Udi song from Saathiya. I am happy this show happened. I learnt a lot." You cannot help but notice how he radiates happiness and is always cheerful.

"Don't you feel disappointed that you didn't win these shows? What were the first thoughts you had when you learnt that you were eliminated?" I ask.

"Yes I was sad. But this just proved that I needed to learn more. I was thrilled that I survived all the three shows. They are one of the most positive and cherished points of my life. I strongly believe in the quotation, "Kuch paane ke liye kuch khona padta hai." Every rejection I receive, I promise myself to work harder, to polish myself." He says. "When I was eliminated in the Indian Idol show, the very first thought that hopped in my mind was 'Oh, another rejection!', and that was it. Infact, I was busy consoling a friend who had also got eliminated along with me. I was busy giving him 'pep talk'! But about SaReGaMaPa, I was sort of prepared." he concludes in between giggles.

"I read spiritual books a lot, they help me cope." says the emotional Padmanav.

"What kept you going after all the 'half-way successes'?" I ask.

"Don't laugh" he says, probably already accustomed to my sarcastic sense of humour, "It can sound silly, but the movie, '3 Idiots' inspires me. I knew I would follow my dreams, my goals, after I watched that." He smiles, waiting for me to laugh.

"Ever Starstruck?" I ask the reclusively extrovert rockstar.

"Yeah! I didn't know how to respond when I met the legendary Gurdas Mann. He's a great man. And oh-my-God Shahrukh Khan. I've never had more fun on stage than the episode where SRK had come to meet us during SaReGaMaPa. His charisma is amazing."

"Best friends?" I enquire through my half question.

"Apart from my mom, it has to be Kashish Thakur" he says with a smile. Probably memories of a friend not long met I think to myself. "She puts up in NYC. I met her during S.K.C.H. Amazing lady. I love the fact that she understands, admires and also criticises me when needed." I smile. He probably knows am gonna ask about his love life next. But I change my question. I like throwing in surprises you know.

With a straight cold face, I ask the singer, "What if one day you woke up and realised your voice is gone? Nothing can get it back What would you do?"

Taken aback, he composes himself and smiles. "You know, no-one's asked me that before. I haven't thought of it either. Like EVER! But yes, if it does actually happen, umm.., it's going to be the worst nightmare you know. I hope the three people (his mother and Kashish) closest to my heart understand and help. I'll take inspiration from Stephen Hawkings. I will channelise my voice through instruments."

Hmm..I say, impressed at how well he tackles difficult questions.

The happy and confident Padmanav

"Five people who've made a difference in your life?"

"My mother," he says. "Everything I am, is because of her. I feel blessed to be her son. After her, it would be my teacher, Madhuri Shahastrabudhai Ma'am, back in Maharishi Vidya Mandir. She was a Marathi lady who'd been staying in Assam for more than 15 years when I met her back then. She encouraged me a lot. Third would be Jiten Sir, my other guru. I am a singer because of him."

"Umm..I had this Hindi language teacher, when I was in class 7, who I will not name. Sir, wasn't a teacher in my section but I met him frequently during the morning assemblies. I remember it was prize distribution day. A fellow student had got an award and I missed out the announcement about which award he had bagged. So I asked this Hindi language teacher, who was standing near me and he retorted, 'Why do you want to know? You are just a singer. Do your own work.' I was hurt and shocked. I repeatedly questioned myself if I was being underestimated. My self esteem had taken a blow. People don't realise, not only actions but words destroy too. That student had received the award for extemporary speech as I later got to know." He says with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"I also had this friend, who used to sit behind me in Maths tuitions. Once, while I was humming during the teacher's absence, he pounced on me, 'Why are you singing, you aren't the Indian Idol!' 

'Why can't I?' I said.

'Have you seen your face?' he retorted back.

But yes, he did call up after Indian Idol and apologise." Paddy concluded. I didn't probe him about what he replied to the second question, by this so called friend. I didn't want to see this hurt side of the otherwise cheerful Padmanav. But let me tell you, if anyone ever says that to you, tell them, you've seen your face in the mirror and it's obviously better than theirs.

"Your favorite song?" I attempt to drive away the gloomy clouds.

"You know I'd sound very self absorbed, but I really really love the title track, the 'AAMI' song and 'Teri Jo baatein Hain' from my upcoming album 'Raastein (Aalibaat)'. These songs touched my heart. I'd love it even if they were made by someone else. Hey! and I like 'Tum Hi Ho' from Aashiqui 2." He laughs between the blushes at the idea of being self absorbed.

In the studio For Raastein (Aalibaat)

"Okay. So you're sitting on your rocking chair. Your verandah bursting with soothing sunlight. You are 92 years old and thinking about your life-everything you've achieved, all the failures, the awards, everything. How'd you like to be remembered by the busy active world then?"

"Hmm..that's interesting" he says, "Never thought of it you know, but firstly, I'd love to live to be 92. And at that time, I'd like people to term me as a 'ROCKSTAR'. Yeah. I want to earn that label. I may not be heroic or macho and all that, but I hope they all remember me for being me, for my voice, my singing. I hope they think of me as a singer. I hope they feel my presence in their lives at least once. If they remember me for even one song of mine, after am gone, it's gonna be awesome. But yes, at that time, I'd still have an aim-to reach the ultimate spiritual world i.e. obviously if I haven't till then."

"Thanks, we're done." I say. Too introvert to tell him all that I've learnt from his journey and that 3 Idiots motivated me too.

Shhh..

My eyes shot open. Perspiration coated my cold body. I was shivering. That dream..that face..it was there again. I dreamt of her often waking up similarly numerous times before. Unsure whether I should tell it to anybody, I'd force myself to fall back into sleep again.

They'd laugh. I knew it. But now after 14 years, I still cannot let that memory go. I can't get over it. You may call me hung up on it, if that pleases you but, that'll just show how lucky you've been to not understand why am writing this, and that too now, after all these years. I didn't have the courage back then..to do anything..anything at all. I know, something should have been done but I was just eight at that time. I should have told someone, anyone, back then, but I couldn't, I was too scared, too scarred, too afraid.

I stood there in the corner pulling my own ears as she'd directed me to. It was nothing new, it happened everyday and with the whole group of us. But one thing that had begun to alter lately, was it was only me now, every single day. I didn't know why. I still don't. I couldn't understand. I still haven't.

"You're a thief, a liar" she was howling in front of the class. "You're the one responsible for stealing the coloured chalks!"

The school didn't provide coloured chalks back then.

"I've got my own set of slate and chalks ma'am. You can ask my house-mother." I said, teary eyed.

"Yes ma'am, she's got it in the dorm. We all know. She brought it from home." Some of them tried to reason with her.

"Keep quiet. Do you all want to miss your lunch like her?" she threatened them. I don't know if they remember now.

"None of you are going to speak with her from now on." She continued.

We were in Grade 3, little girls in one of the most recognised and best boarding schools in the world.

They didn't. We were too obedient to even know what disobeying meant.

And like most of the year, that afternoon I spent my lunch hour in the corner of the class pulling my own ears till they were numb. In that grade, I spent most of the academic session that way.

She primarily taught us Maths and Science. All the Maths teachers I met after her will be very clearly able to tell you that I shiver and go speechless in their classes. The very presence of a Mathematics book can send chills down my spine.

My parents very lovingly named me 'Prajoyeeta' which roughly translates to 'THE ONE WHO WINS EVERYWHERE' and 'THE UNBEATABLE'.

No, I do not recall being hit by her, EVER! Though yes, I very clearly remember this one incident where she had lined the entire class of 3B and struck our palms with a long wooden scale the school provided to each class, in an attempt to aide the teachers in drawing lines on the blackboard. We were hit that day because of a misunderstanding that had cropped up between one of her favorite students and another classmate of ours. The entire class was punished because, we should have put our foot down for her pet. But we didn't. That day, I wasn't hit. I was busy in the corner pulling my ears. That was the rule. Whenever she took our class, that was my duty. I had to oblige her. When you are in the junior school, it's your class teacher who teaches you most of the subjects, which in turn means she occupies most of your day. Yes, she was my class teacher.

There was this display board that ended in the corner I occupied each day. She'd put together a chart that showed our academic progress with the weakest pupils' graph being dominated by brown marks. My graph had only brown like the others in the lot I belonged to-the 'P' lot.

"I HATE THOSE WHOSE NAMES START WITH A 'P'" she'd announced one fine morning. "Raise your hands if your name starts with a 'P'!"

None of us did.

"None of you?" she seemed confused.

"Be honest, I have the register. I'll get to know anyway." She reasoned.

We reluctantly did so. At first I thought she was kidding. Turns out she wasn't. And the fact that she wasn't, was made crystal clear to me when we tortured our ears in the corner simply because she despised us. Though, am yet to figure out why, after a while I was being singled out and found myself alone in the corner.

It had taken a toll. Those seconds, minutes, hours, lunch breaks and all of it spent in the corner. And I don't remember who I was before my relations with my friends got strained owing to them being forbidden from mixing up with me. I don't remember not being humiliated or embarrassed by her in front of the other teachers as well. I don't remember not being described as not good enough. I don't remember even a single moment of not being laughed at by her. I don't.

She had joined that academic year and the last I saw of her was a month after we were promoted to the next grade. She left the institution but never my mind...never my dreams. I've never seen her after that but she's never left me. I guess you can't forget easily, if you spend each day standing in the corner for about eight and a half months, every single day, out of twelve (we had winter vacations for 3 months with summer vacations being negligible) because of your identity. Your name is what defines you. It is you.

I stumbled upon her friend request on Facebook last year and she asked me how I was doing and if I am still the kid too mature for my years like I was in Grade 3. I said I hopefully was and that was the only conversation we ever had with each other. EVER!

Why am I talking of it now, after 14 years, though my eyes well up each time I am transported back to then, I don't know. But somewhere, am glad I am doing so. I feel lighter. I hope I don't wake up crying or shivering any more.

Why I won't name her today? I don't know. But yes,

Ms. M, YOU PSYCHOLOGICALLY ABUSED ME. And all I hope and pray for today is that, like me, you never forget it too. That you dream of me there in the corner with your spiteful words nesting in my mind and soul, like I do of you. And I hope you know, I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU! EVER!! YOU SCARRED ME!

P.S.: A child's watching, and she'll never forget. Don't do it.

Wikipedia describes Psychological Child Abuse as:

"Emotional abuse is defined as the production of psychological and social deficits in the growth of a child as a result of behavior such as loud yelling, coarse and rude attitude, inattention, harsh criticism, and denigration of the child's personality.Other examples include name-calling, ridicule, degradation, destruction of personal belongings, torture or killing of a pet, excessive criticism, inappropriate or excessive demands, withholding communication, and routine labeling or humiliation."

Credits:

http://www.instablogs.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/child-abuse-guidelines_26.jpg

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Child_abuse

HAPPY 67th INDEPENDENCE DAY INDIA!!

Unlike every year, Independence Day this time has cast a shadow of insecurity in my mind too. With the state of Assam being on the verge of division (which I, for a fact know will not so easily happen), you cannot help but recall all the acts of terrorism that had bruised the state, left, right and centre on this particular day, since times immemorial. If you belong to the north-eastern 7 sisters of India, you pretty well understand the picture and can recall the images. Yes, I admit, we are a state suffering the brunt of terrorism for as long as our grandparents can recall, and shamefully, somewhere in our hearts we have grown accustomed to this fact. But what really scares me this time are the (ethnic?) conflicts that we've been facing.

Being a proud Indian and never a person to encourage people to stay indoors during the Republic Day or Independence Day celebrations, this time I am different. I feel really insecure and troubled. I very strongly believe, most of the terrorists are really messed up people. They undoubtedly need mental medication and counselling, but what do I say about those demanding a divided Assam? Your campaigns and protests have a political figure at the head. And I won't regret saying, that this year, you are the reason the shops are shut down, you are the reason the roads are deserted wherein, they should have been filled with happy faces, celebrating our independence. You should be ashamed of yourselves. You should hang your heads down in shame! People are scared you are gonna create a blast (literally). I am scared too. At a time, when the whole country is celebrating our 67 years of Independence, a day, a feeling, for which people have been losing their lives since the era of the British Raj, you, are creating an atmosphere of insecurity that is reflecting in the lifeless streets of Assam. Did those people struggle and lay down their lives so that people and organisations like you could bully our independent and free soul?

Yes, for a very long time, Assam, in particular did wear the deserted look on this day, but the recent years had proved that we were over coming that tradition and embracing freedom from fear. But thanks to you, we are back to square one. I really hope someone talks sense into your heads very soon. 

MOMOS ON MY MIND

Being the huge (literally) foodie that I am, this week, I've been craving momos like gawd-knows-what!! Nah, my cravings never end, but this week is different. I was never too much of a momo person. Call them dimsums if you may, or dumplings or what ever other word you have in your dictionary, but all I know right now, is, this nepalese snack has been the only thing I've been dreaming about the whole week.LOL!

Standing out there, being a mere spectator filled with disgust, as friends and siblings hogged momos was a scenario long overcome and now, so-not-me.

When I shifted to New Delhi, far away from home, to pursue higher education, I was neither a momo nor a samosa person. But sheer laziness to cook or the occasional loneliness that engulfed me, a foodie who hates to eat alone, paved the path for the momos into my being, as I began to relish them each time i.e. everyday,  I went to meet my friends who stayed as paying guests not very far from my house. Within a hair's breadth from their building was this guy with his momo stall. For those of you who are from, or have been to, India (mainly Delhi), post 'The Rise Of The Momos Era', you know very well what type of stall am talking about. So this guy, he sold huge momos served with a dash of chutney that was sinfully yummy. So much so, that my mouth's watering at the very thought of it. For Rs. 30/plate, I got to have the best chicken momos, sprinkled with some chat masala ofcourse, with mouth watering chutney.

Okay I'll tell you where you can find this stall

But not now! :P

Fine! Fine! here you go. Am talking about Gautam Nagar  in South Delhi here. It's behind Yusuf Sarai and within walking distance from the Green Park metro (No, I obviously don't remember the gate number. Sorry!). Emerging from the Green Park metro, in the side where you bump into the Green Park Community Centre rather Market or maybe it was the Yusuf Sarai Community Centre (I don't clearly recall, but you'll see an outlet of Khubchand Meat Shop there) , you need to walk straight, until you reach the bye-lane that welcomes you with a flower shop. Yeah, enter that bye lane until you reach 'Spicy'-a restaurant, yeah, a left turn from there, walk for like half a minute and LO AND BEHOLD! YOU'VE REACHED!

Enjoy!

Don't bother greeting the momo-wallah for me, he doesn't know me by name you see. If your taste buds agree with mine, you can thank me later. If they don't, forget I ever gave you the directions!

So coming back to momos, I've had THE MOST expensive momos in Delhi again! Am not gonna tell you the price, you might just die out of shock, but it was in the Select City Mall in Saket, just so that you can have a rough idea. But honestly, it was worth every paisa I shelled out. The outlet I am talking about here, is, the Chi Kitchen Restaurant and Bar. You've really got to taste the 'Chicken and Coriander dumpling' there! The taste still lingers in my memory. Doesn't seem like am gonna get over it in this life!

And OMG! How can I forget the 'tandoori momos' of Satya Niketan. I don't remember the name of the joint. But must really hunt them out. You're missing on something big time if you haven't treated your taste buds to them.

Being such a momo person, I nearly jumped out of my skin, when, the other day, while I was looking at pictures of momos on the net and happily dreaming about them (yeah! I do that!), I decided to change tabs and clicked on the 'Web' option, thus shifting from the 'Images' category and lo and behold! What do I stumble upon? The word momo, as the 'Urban Dictionary' says, can be happily used to describe someone annoying etc.! LOL!! Did you know that? I didn't! Anyway, so your 'Insults Dictionary' is one word richer eh?

All those who reside in Guwahati, it's not news to your taste buds that the bestestestest momos in town are the ones you can chomp at the 'Quick Pick' outlets with of course the cheese cream or mayonnaise that are served along as dips. And for those who aren't from here, remind me to take you there if and when you decide to visit here. No, we surely aren't a state over populated with terrorists! Stop shuddering!

Apart from Quick Pick, I think the blue momo joint in front of Commerce College is good too. Yeah it is over-crowded but isn't that quiet obvious?! You probably have 'Momo Ghar' at the back of your mind. Yes, I've heard there was a phase when momo is Guwahati was synonymous with Momo Ghar. But the sad news is, it doesn't seem to have the same fame any longer. Infact, I had momos there the other day, and was gleefully glad that I wouldn't have to eat from there for a very very long time.

If you know anyone or any other place that makes momos like they have fallen from heaven, lemme know! Am always open to food invitations!! Cheap yeah? I know!!

Hey! but am still open to those invitations! :P

Check this out!! http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=MOMO

BROS, HOES, 'FRIENDS' and FOES

I was having this little chat with a very dear friend yesterday and realised all the common grounds we've been treading. But what caught my attention the most, is the fact that, nearly all of us 'deal' with a 'friend' who goes ahead and flirts with our significant other irrespective of whether you are married, engaged, just dating or whatever. They will even forget their own flame, i.e., if they have only one, and will giggle away as if they are the most amazing thing to have happened on the face of the Earth. You obviously know the worst part, -they are either your best friend or at least belong to your close group of friends or even worse, they could even be your sibling. These 'FRIOS', as I call them, plainly beacause "FRENEMY' doesn't sound appealing to me, are 'Friends who are actually FOES' and trust me on this, they surely have no respect for you. Though this friend that I was chatting with did manage to quiet nicely drive away her frio, I couldn't help myself from being reminded about my frio who shamelessly went ahead and flirted right in front of me. Yes, I have been avoiding her and we aren't even really on talking terms but it did hurt to see such a close friend throwing herself all over him right there. I, at first, saw it as harmless flirting and in fact was blaming myself for over reacting and had even tried reasoning with my man, that he 'misunderstood' her when he saw what she was up to and asked me to tell her to control her slutty ways. I know, back then, somewhere at the back of my mind, I certainly realised what she intended, but was probably scared about losing our friendship or being termed 'over protective', when I have always tried to establish that, though having seen how extra marital affairs of important people in our lives can tear down families, I have sculpted myself to be a very secure and stable woman and have gone to great lengths to prove this true. Yeah Yeah, I understand what a big blunder I was infact making and I really loathe the fact that I let her get away with the crap unhurt and not insulted! Anyway, in such situations, like a very dear aunt of mine says,

"Never mind the chick peas..as long as your man doesn't lose his beans !!"

No doubt, whenever we come across articles or incidents like this, we tend to think,"Oh! That's one possessive being!" but deep inside we all have gone through it. And the worst part is when friends of your spouse start teasing the two right in front of you. Though you may interpret it as a light hearted joke, baby, let me remind you, most of the love stories started off as jokes, and this 'joke' will very soon end up your relation looking like the biggest joke!! In this scenario, these so called 'friends/brothers/sisters or whatever' will target you as being possessive and over controlling!

Dear, at that moment, God forbid, your spouse loses his/her marbles, blushes and agrees with them, know that, it's time for you to start dusting your suitcases cause you're, more than probably, not going to be around for long.

I've always believed that in such scenarios, it's your frio who's to blame. They do not respect your relation with your spouse which every person who calls themselves your 'friend' should,yes, it's a rule and there are no exceptions to it except for ill-mannered people. In the few cases where respecting this relation proves to be a massive task, they should at least have respect for the bond you both share. In any case, don't despair, stand up to them and clearly state what you have to. Fling the shit back to right where it came from and with greater speed! Again, like the same aunt of mine says:

"..and when it comes to your spouse, oh-my, nothing should stop you!!"

P.S.: Heyy! Before you fling it back, note that your spouse isn't getting over friendly with this frio and ensure that you aren't going to face the 'three in the marriage' news. In that case, remember my voice in your head "YOU DESERVE BETTER!"

But preceding your reaction, know when things are getting out of hand and have crossed the line of decency long back. If you think it has, the alarm's rung! Get ready to play dirt! And don't you dare think you can't..everyone can and you surely are in the 'Everyone'. And you know what the surprising thing here is,  you need to hang this 'NO ENTRY' board on the door of your house for those 'friends' who were teasing your spouse with your frio. They need to be kept at not one, but at least a hundred arms' length away because guess what..(?) they oh so obviously don't respect your relationship either!

Remember, that members of both the sexes on the planet face this situation but if your significant other is basking in the pleasure of having gained someone's unwanted affection or showing off, it's high time you need to consult a counsellor!! LOL! And God forbid, if they begin to threat that they'll walk away hand in hand with your Frio, trust me, it's time to let go. Don't waste yourself fighting for crap.

THE GUY ACROSS THE PAVEMENT

I saw you there, across the pavement. Her hands curled into yours. The early January sun stroking her face, you staring hard at me. I don't know if you had memories flashing through your mind like I did in mine, they just zoomed around inside my head. Yes, to see you there, after all this time, I was pleasantly surprised. For a moment I wanted to reach out and say "Hello, there!" and then realised I had nothing more to say.
Now when I think of it, I know I did, I had a lot to say, so many things had accumulated since the last time we'd spoken that I was afraid we wouldn't have time enough. I couldn't risk letting you go. But I guess you had moved on, and I had to.

Was I still not over you? I don't know. Were you over me? I didn't know until then.

Something on your face told me, it wasn't with anger that you stared back, but the situation we had both got ourselves into. I don't know for how long we stood there staring at each other, I don't know why the world froze around us, I don't know why I couldn't hear a sound anymore. Was I still stuck in the time we were in before? But when she turned to look at what had caught your unwavering attention, I guess I just turned in time, to save you your answers. I couldn't any day since, explain to myself why I felt guilty, why I turned away, why I didn't want her to see, why I wanted to hold your hand and lead you to a place where only we'd be. Should I feel sorry?

I wanted us to be in that place where it's just you and me like before, when we didn't have to walk away from each other, like we never existed. Where I could hold your hand and giggle as if nothing was a bigger proof of sanity than laughing for no particular reason. Where you'd still walk with me drenched through the heavy rain trying hard to win the tug of war over the umbrella. I loved how we sat at the bus stop and made fun of complete strangers and how people looked at us as though we were lunatics. You know, I still turn my head to look at the place we sat ourselves at every time I walk by the spot.
But that day, on the pavement, after I turned, I hoped you would think of me when you were alone like I do every single day. I wonder if you still lie down on the beach, counting the stars or thinking about 'everything' like we used to. And I wonder if it hurt you that I walked away, did you feel a knife dashing through your heart as if it would be sliced into two, like I did? I wonder if you heard those three words, the ones they call 'magical words' from her, the ones I was too terrified to admit. I wonder if you wonder of me.
I turned and walked away that day, my heavy wedding ring glistening on my ring finger.

FIGHTING WITH THE BULL

I write here of YOU. YOU, who've taken the bull by it's horns and thrown it around a zillion times. It's totally fractured, lying there in a disheveled state, looking at you turn your back and walk the 'walk of victory' through half closed eyes. Just as you extend your hand to push open the mighty door, he's up again! Charging at you at a speed too ferocious for your reflexes. You are taken aback. And before you know it, you've bitten dust. He's atop you huffing and puffing, blood thirsty red eyes ordering you to give up. Lying helpless below him there, you know you are going to lose your life if you don't act soon. You clearly remember what they said, "There are two ways to get out of this-1. Either of you GIVE UP. 2. Or one of you DIE!" The moment you heard it, you knew there was only one option-the bull has to die.

You've been fighting this battle for years-day after day, night after night and it was nothing new to have been crushed down right before you reached the door. There beyond the fence you can see the meadows, the luscious green grass waving with the slightest breeze. The bees kissing the sunlit flowers. You can hear the river rumble by from the doorway you were at a few minutes ago. And you want to be there amidst the bliss-the spectacular world on the other side. But the truth is, you are here-sore and hurt. Coated in dirt and clay, your clothes almost completely torn, you're bleeding so much you don't feel the pain any more. All you know is you're lucky to be alive.

No, I wouldn't call you an escapist if you decide to quit. I wouldn't label you if you just decide to fool the bull and run for the exit and eventually cross over to the place you've wanted to be in for so long. What matters is, you gave a fight to the best of your ability. You tried to change your situation playing by the rules.

This is exactly what happens when you find yourself soaked up in dirt and in a mess, crawling to freedom, to safer grounds. Don't give up without a fight! Go by the rules a little more than you can. And at the end, do what your heart desires. If you think you are putting up a fight you are eventually gonna lose, walk away! Yes, you should definitely "TRY TRY UNTIL YOU SUCCEED" but not until you aren't alive to bask in the glory of your success. You should walk away to a place you'd be better off in!

JUST MAYBE WE WERE FRIENDS

I stood at his grave, speechless and astound in the mid November sunlight. Not that I hadn't been here before, this place beside the brook. I have been here almost everyday since the last eight years. Through the sun and the rain, through the fog and the snow, through the good and bad, through it all. I was ‘still hung up on him’ I’d hear them say a million times, but they probably were beginning to get used to it now.

We’d often come here, you know, him and me, we’d sit below the arched bough of the mango tree and let the silence speak.  But again, sometimes we chirped with the birds, letting our presence dawn upon them, pulling at the grass, with that distant look in our eyes, chatting each other up till eternity. Many were sure what they couldn’t get us to admit, that we were in love, but I’m telling you, ‘no, we weren’t’, not the kind of love you hear about around you or those that you read in books. We were friends probably. Neither the childhood- still- going- strong ones nor the ones that always hangout together.

We’d known each other for fifteen years altogether, including the last eight. I cant exactly recall how we met, but it was probably at one of those literary seminars where everyone’s criticizing someone else’s talent or boasting of their own. I remember being introduced through a common friend and we not exactly having much in common apart from that friend. But one thing that we both actually really had in common was an intense loathing for the works of a new writer whose books sold primarily because of the catchy titles he painted the hopeless content of the book with.

He’d shown me this place one summer evening, the day after Bruno, his rabbit, had died. The creature liked it here and so had we. “At last! Far from the maddening crowds”, he’d announced during one of our visits. It was true, the silence here, was soothing, not the kind that screams at your face but the one that hums a melodious tune into your ear. We’d talk about books and poems, poets and writers, life and their lives, about the butterfly, the beast, the sunray and the rain drop, the crow and the cuckoo, the tiger, the wasp, the grass and all the small particles that made up the universe and every thing else.

“I’ll look over you” he’d said, right before he’d left.  His gaze fixed to mine. I just smiled, I couldn’t think of anything to say. No, I wasn’t choking, I didn’t cry that morning.  I was just ummm…. blank, uncertain perhaps. No, it didn’t take time to believe that he was gone, it was over, and ‘coz deep inside, I knew, his gaze told me, it wasn’t. He was around.

“Not everything in this world has to have a name” he’d once said to one of his friends who asked him about the bond we’d shared. And I believed that too, not that it never occurred to me, but I forgot to ask him if we were friends. We most certainly weren’t lovers. Yes, we were always there for each other but only when we met near the brook. We didn't have each other on speed dial; we didn't even have each other’s phone numbers till that last month together. No, we didn't know he’d be gone, it was just a big sudden shock. Yes, we did exchange emails, though not everyday. We never felt the need. We even hung out on many occasions together, but it actually never occurred to us, to exchange phone numbers till we did. And we never understood why we supposedly were ‘in love’ I’d been over to his place a few times, mostly when he’d be having a party or a simple get together and I was privileged enough to be invited. And I’d invited him over even fewer times to return the favor. We weren't very social beings you know, and we knew it clear enough, though I’d always wondered what drew us to this place, the facet that it offered quite time in abundance, or the time that we spent debating, chatting, eating muffins that he’d bake, or may be just the company of another human whom you could speak your heart out to knowing that you wouldn’t be judged. It was an obvious fact that I knew his deepest darkest secrets, his scariest confessions, and he knew mine. And these past eight years, I haven’t stopped; I've piled it all on him. Even the pebbles and stones that I drew faces on occasionally, I piled them on his grave. Though he’d always laugh at this talent of mine, I’d credit myself heavily for it. I could hear him laugh in the back of my head, each time I lay such a stone. It would make way for my momentary smile, but reality would slap right across the face and I’d burst out crying haunted by his absence,  troubled by the vacuum.

“Ahhhh….. One of the most common reasons…” he’d said to me as he lay on the hospital bed, his sister, me and his friends by his side. And for some unknown reason, they began to file out of the room gradually as we talked. I didn’t exactly notice them leave, but there was no one around, once I looked up from him, I didn’t know how long we’d been talking. But, it was late. I had to get going, he clutched my wrist as I got up to leave, the first time ever. We had always maintained the cordial distance, people usually do, saying ‘sorry’ if we brushed against or hurt each other, and ‘thank you’ every time it was needed. But this time around, it was different. His skin burnt into mine, he had really high fever, and he was suffering but I didn’t know what to say.

“Stay” he said, after a prolonged silence as we stared at each other.

“We won’t really meet again, please stay back.”

I couldn’t really comprehend why we wouldn’t meet again, and he saw it in my face, my eyes probably gave it away.

“I won’t make it” he explained.

I quietly sat.

I couldn’t tell him he’d make it, he’d stay, that he wouldn’t leave, that he’d meet me like always beside the brook, under the bough, for, deep inside somewhere, I knew he wouldn’t. He knew it too. He mostly knew it all the time.

“Yeah… I’ll tell you what happened,” he’d said before I could utter a word, “but you must promise to lay me in a casket solely of your choice where we both sat below the bough by the brook” he continued as he held my palm between his.

“I promise.” I probably choked.

“I loved our secret meetings” he winked.

“I still do.” Was all I could say.

“It was drunken driving...” he said, with that distant look in his green eyes. “I was careless, I’m sorry” he continued.”

I knew he didn’t drink, but now, I didn’t know anything. I was angry. I wanted to cry, I wanted to hit him.

“He was drunk and I was driving,” he smirked sheepishly as he pointed to a common friend who had just entered the room, still severely bandaged. I couldn’t suppress my laughter and joined him as he laughed crazily.

“She knows where to lay me to rest” he said, between what I thought were silent sobs to his sister, who had come in with the friend. And she put together a faint smile.

“I’ll miss you” he turned to me, and his eyes told me something I couldn’t probably understand. My head was cluttered.

“I’ll too” I replied.

“I’ll always be around,” his voice was fainter than before.

“I know. Thank you for listening, for being you.” I said, my voice hoarse, cold and distant.

“I’ll look over you.”

Before I could reply, he was gone, I stood there shocked, cold and uncertain, unable to pull out my palm from between his.

And I’ve been here everyday since, reliving the times we spent together. And maybe.. Just maybe we were friends.

THE ESSENCE OF BEING 'IMPERFECT'

She wakes up in the morning, unable to turn a deaf ear to her squeaking bed, and like each day, heads straight to the washroom, through the bright sunshine filling up her room. Between the lathered strokes on her quite normal teeth, she directs quick glances at the mirror. Oh! It’s all the same, not a single change. But isn’t it obvious, I mean nobody changes over night. Rome wasn’t built in a day..remember..?! Hey..but isn’t that exactly what she tells herself every day? Up in the morning, and her head’s already full..of confusion and some interesting thoughts..some left over work and her tight schedule..some regrets and some guilt..some tension and a depleting confidence..hatred and love..stories and poems..the sunlight and the moon..college and friends..movies and songs and loads of dreams. Dreams that she dreams of, both while awake and asleep, consciously and unconsciously..those that she mentions, and those that she doesn’t.

But isn’t she just like all of us?

Her ‘voluptuous’ or rather ‘healthy’ figure stares back at her from the mirror, but she hadn't been like this all along.  Hers was a  figure to die for, thick jet black hair, her hallmark. A personality so grave, basking in the happiness and love of one and all, a confidence that took her places, the enviable fair and clear skin. Knowing the right things to say at the right occasions, healing and forgiving, loving and being loved, unconditionally supporting. Undying love and respect for herself. Yes! That was her!

But that's all in the past now. Now, she's massive with a day by day receding hair line. No, she isn't ill, it's just they way she is. And how she became this, is still mystery. Maybe it was all that comfort food or maybe all the self loathing, it could also be her tearful nights. She hates mirrors, hasn’t yet gathered the courage to utter out loud her weight and beauty issues. Not that she doesn’t see her flaws, not that she doesn’t know that she’s lesser than what most people expect her to be. The non-existent self confidence, filled with self loathing, the deep inferiority complex, a depression you wouldn’t notice at first, the spark in the smile that’s missing, the skip in her strides that’s gone. Every time she looks in the mirror, it’s just horror that she sees. The only thing she could comfort herself with was her fair skin, but that’s gone too, it’s dark! She is ugly and she knows it. It didn't take rocket science to notice it, you know.

You’d argue it’s just what she thinks, it’s not true. But trust me, she wouldn’t before. She loved herself, her being, her body, her skin, her hair, her flaws, her mistakes. But no, not now! 

Now that she’s seen unfathomable disapproval, jokes at her stake, her being compared to every ‘beautiful’ girl that crosses anybody’s eyes, she obviously the uglier one. The same joke too often, only at different gatherings, doesn't alter her guilt. She being herself not being enough. When every person she comes across, and mostly the ones supposed to be her ‘own’ people, take digs at her about her weight, her body, her skin, her hair, asking whether she feels guilty for being herself or not, talking about gyms and exercises, talking about body types and clothes, even before the initial formalities normally maintained. No ‘Hi! How are you?’ or ‘How’ve you been?’. It’s just, ‘Oh My God! You’re so fat!’, ‘Your hair’s so damn thin!’, ‘You’re so dark!’, ‘You don’t compliment the guy you are with!’, ‘You spoil the ‘look’ of being a couple!’, ‘You do feel guilty, don’t you?’ As if she didn’t know that already. As if not being able to wear her favorite dress because it didn't fit any longer, or eat her favorite desert out of guilt, didn't remind her enough times. As if she didn’t realize the stigma of being herself. The shame? The guilt? So, she is expected to be ashamed of herself, ashamed for who she is, why you ask? Because she’s stout..healthy, fat! Whatever you may call it. Is a girl non-existent beyond her appearance? Does she get no credit whatsoever for her talents that may lack in most of the so called ‘beautiful’ or ‘better’ or ‘perfect’ people that judge her? Does she need to boast about her achievements so that you may spare her the horror or the invisible slap for being herself or because of her looks?

Does she need to hate herself everyday for the way she looks? For being over-weight? For being herself? Do you think she does not know without you pointing it out at her? Does she need to match up to your criteria so that you will consider her to be a human being with feelings?

Is a stout person not a person? Why should she be ashamed of herself? Would you ever be ashamed yourself? When you in front of a billion people, say wide eyed, “Oh My God, you’ve put on so much weight! Planning to do anything about your thinning hair?! Do not wear bright colours, they make you look dark! No offence.” Do you honestly expect her to take no offence?! What makes you think that you being ‘thin’ or ‘normal’ makes you a better human being? Just because being stout is a health issue, why treat it as a social stigma? Why make her feel like a lesser human being who should not take offence at any remark you make about her? Would you not take offence if she called you up to boast about her achievements and you point out your beauty issues?

Could you live with the essence of being imperfect despite reading it in everyone’s eyes before they open their oh so lovely faces to utter it out loud? Have you ever considered the self image damage that you may be imposing? The self hatred or the depression that you may cause? Ever known the feeling of being lonely and rejected with a world filled with your ‘own’ people? People that are ashamed to be with you and want you to be ashamed of yourself?