Category: food for thought

About jobs

My newest hobby
is to look for jobs on LinkedIn
and study the job descriptions
like textbooks.
And then wonder even after decades of learning
there’s so much
that I need to learn.
And what I need to learn
is not necessarily what I want to learn
but I have to learn it
to be ‘employable’.

My newest idea for fun
is to apply to these jobs right away
(unless they ask for cover letters)
(or direct me to a new website to build yet another profile)
and even when I don’t fit
I apply
and even when I know
that most probably they won’t reply
I apply
to see how much my confidence can take it.

It’s not like I don’t have a job,
I do.
It’s not like I particularly despise it,
I don’t.
But sometimes I do
like at some point we all do
but it’s not bad
it’s great
there are definitely some good parts
and I can be loyal
because employers expect loyalty
but employees expect an appraisal
some acknowledgement,
a bit of appreciation
but these days apparently we all expect too much.

Probably, my future job will be like this too
but at least it would be new
for a while
and maybe I may not like it
but my salary, they would hike it
and I guess I would like that
and the ton of responsibility that will come with that.
At least I hope I won’t be frustrated or bored
there’ll be new people to frustrate and bore.
Also, there’ll be more experience onboard
to apply for better jobs
and get a better pay
so that I could pay better taxes
and work more
and manage more
until my work-life balance is completely annihilated.

So then I think
I should start something of my own
and instead of 9 to 5
I should work all the time
anyway I work all the time
at least I can pay myself better
if at all I get the clients
to pay me,
if at all I get skilled employees
who can work for me
with all honesty and dedication
whom I can pay less
while writing big fat cheques
to myself
and buy a bungalow at the seaside
or in the mountains
or at the moon
and finally, finally live in peace
and try not to worry
about my business not generating enough revenue
or my business not getting sold
or employees whom I may have trained and guided
leaving me for better opportunities
or clients going for better deals
and I am left feeling betrayed
if at all
the business runs at all.

Is there any optimistic ending
at any end?
My inbox is filled with rejections
and I am too busy to feel dejection
and too scared to start anything of my own
or stick to it if I do.
So I am scrolling and scrolling
not the reels
but the LinkedIn
again,
wondering
amidst all the stories of success that I am seeing
where is my life going?
Wondering
what the fucking hell!
These days
nothing rings a bell!
When I was younger there was a dream
but now I am getting older
and it seems
there’s always a movie I want to stream
because the real world is depressing.

But I need to do my job
a good job
the good job
to feel valued
to feel relevant
and finally feel exploited.
All I wanted was some money to pay off my loan
travel around
create art
eat, live, and invest
and have fun while doing it.
And that if and when I am old
I can chill, I can rest
at last
but apparently, that’s not enough.
Apparently, that’s not even possible.

Where are these roads going
the time is passing
a month, a year, a decade…
What was it supposed to be like
to live an ideal life?
Is there an ideal life?
Can I just die and never be born again?
And sound less depressing when I say that?
Oh wait,
even for that apparently
I need to meditate the entire existence out of myself
and burn all the karmic connections I have had
not just in this birth
but all the births I have ever had.
Can I do that by watching some memes instead?
I can volunteer to travel to the mountains though.
Oh wait, for that too I need money.
And more importantly, I need leaves.

I am okay, I am fine,
in case anyone at all is asking
I am not generally this pessimistic
in case anyone is judging.
It’s just that
everything is a box
and everything is a square
and life keeps on running in a circle.
I am someplace
somewhere a dot
flung far away in the Universe
looking for a job that suits me
looking for a me that suits the job
Perhaps I will find it
and later complain about it-
for nothing good is permanently good
and everything good can be better.
Meanwhile,
the Universe doesn’t give a damn.
Or perhaps it does
if I may
Just overestimate my importance a little.

So now I am on Linkedin again
Updating a new post
to be visible
to be viral
to be famous
And then do what?
Post new posts
because fame has to be maintained,
even fame is a job.
Anyway there’s nothing much I can do with it
except losing whatever little privacy I have
and get free food at the restaurants perhaps
for sharing stories
and get free trolling in case I run out of unnecessary attention.
Do we have any better purpose?
Does anyone else feel we must have something more
something?
anything more?
No? Are you sure?

Maybe I should try
being satisfied with what I have,
find a new hobby
try yoga for instance,
or return to the old ones
poetry for instance
poetry which is not explosive
poetry about monsoon
about love
poetry about all the good things
all the good little fake things.
Will anyone judge me for this?
My potential employers,
My current employers,
My ex-employers,
Should I be scared?
for being honest
for letting my thoughts out unfiltered
for demanding more
for needing more
for wanting a better life
for me
and for all
am I too naive?
am I too greedy?
am I just too stupid?

What do you think?
Would you let me know in the comments?
Followed by some hashtags-
gestures of how you like this
and how you care
and still, there’s nothing you can do
to address my despair?
Or yours.
Except clicking a small little button?
Because maybe you too believe
you are just too ungrateful
for wanting to be unique
and special
and yet blend in the crowd
for wanting to be you
and not wanting to change that
for wanting to get what you deserve
for wanting a perfect life
and yet failing to achieve that
despite all the 90 percentages and percentiles,
all the fancy institutes
all the fancy companies
government or private
all the fancy skills,
and the certificates,
and the experiences,
and the motivational books, and the videos, and the success stories?
They will tell you one way or the other
that nope
you don’t deserve it.

“You are too average.”

But what about the heart that refuses to believe that?
What about the heart that yearns to be different?
That yearns to make a difference?
That heart tells me not to think about all this
That heart tells me to keep trying
keep hoping
keep making
mistakes after mistakes
until I can say
that they were mistaken.
Perhaps someday
they will be proven wrong,
Perhaps one day
it won’t matter anyway.

*

Posted on by saloni 3

Great Expectations

No matter what you do,
they are never going to be happy with what you do.
Out on a journey to perpetually disappoint them
You cross one milestone that they set
and they would expect you to cross one more
that they would set again
because you can be better
than what you are
always.

No matter what you do
No matter how different you are
No matter how much that means to you
No matter how much you value
if it isn’t something that they value
then your life
your talent
your so-called potential
is a waste.
In your head, you have learnt so much
In your head, you have grown so much
In your head, you think
you are happy.
In their head, they think
you are just selfish
and so damn ungrateful.

Yeah sure there’s still some struggle
there’s still some hustle
Sure there is indeed some more learning and unlearning to do
but you are happy to tussle
in between whatever little you have
whatever little that will grow
because you nourish it
you cherish it
you love it
that you have the space to be you
to create your own destinations
to choose your own dreams
and when you grow older
you’d know
that you have nothing to regret because you listened to your heart.
“But your heart is too young”
They’d say
“Your brain is blind”
They’d say
Who are you to argue?
With people who came decades before you?
With the people who created you?
Sure they’d know more about your life
than you do yourself
Either “You don’t know your own potential.”
(Someone ban the word potential please)
Or “You don’t know the world”
Or both.

How bloody irresponsible!
According to them, you have not done enough
Always throwing away opportunities
to tread through roads
that no one takes –
You call that an adventure,
They call it stupidity.
No one takes those roads
because they lead to nowhere, duh!
They have had enough.
No more.
You can do so much better.
Here try some hardcore and ridiculously competitive
tried & tested options
to prove your worth
(because they dreamt of themselves once and couldn’t live it)
and finally, be respectable.
Sure they want to bring out the best in us
and a bit of pressure
turns carbon into diamonds.
A bit too much pressure
makes things explode too.
But fine, a risk worth taking, right?
Why did we grow up to have our own voice?
When we really didn’t have any choice?
Why do we create humans but not robots as our progenies?
How can they be so sure that the decisions we take for our own
lives would be a regret
just because they don’t match with theirs?

We would have aligned with you if we could
Life would have been so much simpler that way
But this same two decades of generation gap
has given us a pair of eyes
that sees the world in a different way
that inspires us to live in a different way.
Is it too much to ask to navigate through our own lives
Find our own way, right or wrong
Find our own peace, short-lived or long,
Is it too much for them to see that
We are happy, really we are okay?
With all our glaring ordinariness
we can still be a bit extraordinary in between.
But if you argue, you are left to guilt trip
For not abiding by the principle of great obedience.
God we hope we could inherit your dreams and beliefs
instead of your genes
But sadly, we ended up growing our own
And if we get to live everything
Everything that we dreamt and envisioned
We would still fall short of their expectations
Because we couldn’t/wouldn’t crack that exam that they wanted us to crack,
Do what they wanted us to do.
Now we are forever worthless no matter what we try
No matter what the rest of the world says
No matter what we say
Our lives are forever ruined
Because it didn’t turn out to be how they wanted it to be.

And we’d feel terrible
because we are terrible.
Tell me, how is that fair?

***

Posted on by saloni 0

To my unborn child

Who may never be born,

Because first of all I will need a sperm donor

Whom I could call my husband

And you could call your father

But your mother is a bit crazy 

Harbouring many popular

unpopular opinions

Like men, for example,

who she finds pretty disappointing

as prospective life partners

and she wonders why and how this tradition even lasted so long.

Out of love?

Or out of fear?

They say there’s nothing worse than dying alone

Several lifetimes might not be enough to atone

So, many of us rush to start our families,

To chase our happily ever afters 

Knowing perfectly that it’s not always that happy afterwards

How can I say stuff like this?

Questioning the fundamentals of every damn society

Me, your mother,

A privileged little 

Unapologetic

Ungrateful 

Bitch.

Perhaps I am not even qualified to be a parent

Although I know 

If you were to really exist

My child

I would love you till my last breath

My new purpose,

My new reason,

My new strength,

Oh how beautiful you would be!

Even when you frown at me

Even when you are this rebellious teenager

Who I am struggling to understand

(But conveniently stereotyping)

“Mom! You are cute but that’s so 90’s!”

“Mom! You are getting old!”

I was born with a womb

I am biologically wired to create you

To love you

To nourish you

To raise you

I was born with a womb

Like my only real purpose 

Was to bring you on this planet

And propagate my genes ahead

Like it is for most of the animals 

Most of whom we have killed already

Because we care for our children 

But other children 

And other organisms don’t matter.

That’s how my love is

Selfless for you

And selfish for the rest of the world.

How wonderful it would be to hold your tiny body

In my arms

As I marvel at your beautiful face

My heart swelling and swelling with love

How would it feel to feel you in my womb

My placenta;

Your first bed

Your first food source

Your first-ever plastic supply.

It terrifies me 

to bring you into the world 

where all I see is concrete and more concrete

where the real jungle disappears

Too bad trees don’t make money

Only oxygen,

Which is great 

but not better than the digits in my bank account

And so what if the air has less O2 

And more dust, and more CO, and SO and CO2?

And so what if the world is burning 

And burning?

And we ignore it 

Because thinking about it is depressing

Because our most pressing 

problems just magically disappear

if we just turn a blind eye.

Tell me

How do I bring you into a world

That’s dying?

where the ocean is choking with plastics

And the river is choking with chemicals

where habitats have turned into hell?

You expect me to have faith?

Where do I put my faith?

God is dead. 

Humanity is dead.

Or at least in a coma.

I am not strong enough my child,

Perhaps I could fight for you

I could give you all my love

But I would also give you my genes

With a history of cancer

Or heart disease

Or mental illness. 

And the trans fat

And the artificial hormones

And the antibiotics

And the pesticides 

and the microplastics in the food I eat

don’t help the cause.

How do I bring you into a world

where we know so much

but are still so ignorant?

Where we talk of compassion

and still be so careless?

Where the greed still wins

Despite knowing how it leads to eventual defeat?

Where people are running and escaping

To a faraway picturesque island or a continent or a fantasy

Hoping that their lives would be better there.

But would it?

Our entire home is on fire

Or submerged underwater

Maybe not yours today

Because you are wealthy

But it will be tomorrow

And I can’t blindfold myself 

And do what we have been doing for ages

Because that’s what we have been doing for ages

Without questioning.

Your mother thinks too much

Perhaps your mother is paranoid

I am sorry I am not hopeful

They tell me I don’t have to save the world

Like it’s not mine to save

Anyway it’s too huge and complicated

My only responsibility is to survive

And settle 

And bring you

In a world that I am not proud of.

It’s not that bad though,

they tell me,

There’s still some beauty

That is left for you and me to enjoy

There is still space for us all

And who knows there could be a miracle

That somehow we will get our home back

But who exactly is bringing that back?

Most of us are too busy

To loot from what’s left

Or continue hoarding and hoarding

Not caring if nothing remains.

So I have decided to be selfish too

That my life is mine

And just mine

Not yours

Not his

Not theirs

But mine

And that would be the end of it. 

***

Posted on by saloni 0

Death Anniversary

I wish you could see me growing into an adult,
And I wish I could see you growing old,
I wish we had more photos together
I wish we could go on that trip we dreamed of,
finally when the schools were over
finally when the exams were done
Even for the youngest one.
Delayed gratification
now delayed forever
Will I see you in another life?
And will you see me?
I wish I could ask for your forgiveness
I wish I could forgive you
I wish, I wish you were there
with all your glaring imperfections
that bothered me so much so long ago
But who’s perfect anyway?
Maybe we could learn together
maybe we could understand each other
maybe we could grow together.
I have borrowed so much from you
your genes
your nose
your nature
your passion
your love for words
I wish I could pay you back.
Possible that I am not the person you wished me to be
I wish I could know for sure
I wish we could argue
I wish I could know you
I wish I could know the stories that I was too young to hear
I wish I was curious
I wish I had asked
But it’s too late now
It was too late nine years ago
The void you have left
Is deeper and darker
Time doesn’t heal
Time makes it tolerable at best
And now here I am
wishing to hear your voice
to see your face
to have one last hug
one last time
once again
before I forget forever.

*

Posted on by saloni 1

I give up

Yes #blacklivesmatter, and brown lives matter too. All shades of it. All languages of it. All religions. Women matter, equality matter, migrants matter, farmers matter, healthcare matters, hygiene matters, air quality matters, drinkable water matters, education matters, elephants matter, animals matter, sparrows matter, birds matter, trees matter, forests matter, rivers matter, oceans matter.

But what doesn’t matter and end up mattering a lot?
Caste, class, ranks and mindless consumption
False promises, and poor execution
Plastic character, and useless designations
Violence, hatred and discrimination,
Greed, stupidity, and chaotic administration,
Fake news & misinterpreted data,
Endless blame game and misleading media.

I dream of a better world. And when I look back, I do see progress – it’s more of a zigzag curve than a linear graph. But it gives me hope that people have stood up against injustice in the past and changed the world. For the better. Yes, often the world requires a brutal wake-up call. Often that means millions die for no reason. Is it necessary that we repeat that pattern yet again?

But who am I? I don’t have the voice that can influence people with power. Sometimes and these days more often, I don’t even have the energy or the motivation to speak. I am not alone, I know that. I know people who care, I know people who care much more than I do. I know who are taking actions believing that even small ones matter. I was a believer too.

But the mess is too huge, this mess is too complex.

I know way too many people who don’t and won’t, for some reason or the other, beyond or in their control, knowingly or unknowingly, won’t give a fuck. And there are some people, like me, with their deep but more often superficial understanding of the problem may continue to learn and be better and someday hopefully be powerful enough to be heard. But today I am not one of those people.

Today, I give up.

Posted on by saloni 0

How (not) to be an Engineer

To become an Engineer,
you become a rat first.

Then you become a robot
you try to learn from the great minds of the past
Newton, Einstein, Maxwell, Heisenberg
you try to learn all the fancy concepts
chemical bonds, optics, mechanics, electricity
theories after theories,
equations after equations…
if you are lucky,
if you are the selected few,
who instinctively knew,
you may dream of being a human again.

Two years of struggle;
They will lie it’s the hardest you will ever go through
no TV, no cable, no internet
your friends – your books, your pens,
your daily practice sheets
then the D day comes
with its gigantic stamp
You, to score 130 are smart
you, to score 129 are dumb
unless you have a quota,
in that case, you will do just fine.

Congratulations, you’ve somehow made it.
You have officially entered paradise.

Really?
No.

The two years you spent preparing for a “good ” engineering college,
they forgot to tell you what an engineer is
four years you are going to learn engineering
they will again forget to tell you what an engineer is.

Semesters after semesters,
as you get introduced to new theories, new formulae, and new ways of life
there is Laplace transformation,
and there is your transformation too-
a drastic one
red eyes, and long hair,
you listen to Pink Floyd now
you write poetries on a breezy day
dream of love and loss and romance
and meanwhile they blame you for your “wrong” habits,
for your slipping grades,
for your stupid questions,
for your stupid silence,
for your lack of respect,
for everything that is wrong with your life,
and everything that is wrong with their lives too.
But they can’t be blamed for the most important thing they forgot to teach
the most important thing that the internet and books can’t teach
empathy, motivation, inspiration, a dream.

No, No, No,
too easy to blame it on the system
too easy to blame it on them
so you blame it on yourself
convince yourself you are not worth it-
there’s always that one student;
who kills himself or definitely tries to,
convinced that he is not good enough,
convinced that he is not worthy to live.
You ignore all these.

There is still nothing wrong with our education system of course.
You continue mugging up theories
that you vomit later on the answer sheets,
That somehow tells you whether you are an engineer or not.
But was it not about understanding how nature works?
Was it not about building cool creative stuff?
Was it not about being an artist of machines?
We were supposed to help humanity
and all we learnt was
to make money the fastest way.
At best.
Chasing numbers after numbers,
Chasing milestones after milestones,
Where was love?
I only saw desperation
I only saw insecurity.

And next thing you know
is that there are some lame ass people
from some lame-ass companies judging you
whether you are good enough to be exploited.

Two results:
some people see through your bullshit and tell you to fuck off right away
some people see through your bullshit and tell you to fuck off after you are hired.

It’s a cause for celebration
Welcome to paradise.

Really?
No, welcome to corporate slavery.

Where you would wonder why politics wasn’t taught in your foundational course,
where you would wonder why you wake up at all,
mornings after mornings,
weeks after weeks,
months after months,
for your work to be done, and your efforts to be ignored eventually.
Grey roads & grey cubicles & grey screens,
the client who doesn’t stop complaining,
and the manager who doesn’t stop explaining,
And you are surviving to save a few digits in your bank account
while the company’s soaring profits suck your soul away.
That’s what your education has come down to,
making rich people richer, and poor people poorer,
while you frantically swim somewhere in between.
Ignoring everything that is going on in the world, in your life
because who has time for that? Who has energy for that?
Keep swimming, keep running.
And don’t you forget you are still a rat.

I am not an engineer anymore,
just a degree holder
(for which I didn’t even get any graduation)
They say
‘God! you are such a cliche.’
The best you can do with your degree now is
to cut them into small pieces
and make roaches out of them.
Actually, that’s not the best thing I can do,
the best thing I can do is to roll the whole thing and kill cockroaches
and say that I use my degree to kill cockroaches.
‘Is that a metaphor?’ you ask. ‘You obviously mean the cockroaches of the society, right?’
No, cockroaches. Actual cockroaches.
I’d like to crush them with this symbolic representation of my education.
Just like my degree crushed me,
my confidence, my esteem, my self-worth.

‘But hey,
By the way,
Why did you want to be an Engineer anyway?’
I don’t know my friends thought it was cool,
my parents thought that it was the future,
it wasn’t though
it was their convenience
and mine too.
I became an engineer
because there was nothing else I could do
too smart to be an artist
too impatient to be a doctor
too ignorant to be a lawyer
And then I failed.
They tell me it’s because I didn’t study
I agree.
But it’s not the exams I am talking about.
It’s not the grades I am talking about,
but my identity attached to these numbers,
All my milestones turned out to be mirages!
There’s no end to the race –
it’s just an ego-centric survival technique,
a sham, a delusion but very much real.
There’s always something you need to do
to keep up your status quo,
and if you try to escape,
you will question your own sanity. 
Maybe I will move on.
Maybe I won’t.
Maybe all the stupid conditioning will wear off.
Maybe it won’t.
And maybe they will realise-
that they are educators, mentors, and role models,
not mere lecturers
or judgmental parrots asking us to repeat what they have been repeating
for ages without a single question
Maybe someday they will finally ask
What the fuck are we teaching our youth anyway?

Or maybe, most probably, they won’t.
But will you?

*

Posted on by saloni 1

On being skinny

People never stop reminding me how skinny I am. Often it’s the first thing they say when they meet me. That’s brand new information ma’am, thank you. People often assume that I don’t eat and offer me to stay and eat with them for a month or two in the name of goodwill. They sound very concerned as if making me fat is the only way to stop global warming. They sound very confident as if eating with them is miraculously going to change the way my body functions. I hesitate to go for lunch/dinner with such people because they are quick to point out – Look how little you eat! That’s why you are so thin! Here have some more. And more. And more. Because this one gigantic hugely uncomfortable dinner can obviously do what 9125 dinners in my life so far couldn’t.

Some people go on to suggest that I would look so much better if I just start eating bananas and milk every morning. Thank you for pointing out I am ugly. Some people ask me if I go to the gym. Some people ask why I should go to the gym at all (as I obviously don’t need to do). Some people say that they are jealous of how I don’t ever have to worry about my weight. Such a blessing, they are quick to add, you can eat whatever you want and still not gain a gram? Wish I was like you! Being like me means being called a skeleton, a coat hanger, a feather, and a stick figure. Some people also like to call me two dimensional. Some people assume I am sick and weak. I have grown up with these wonderful tags. Not just random strangers, my own family has used them for me.

But skinny girls don’t talk about being skinny because if they do, they are a bitch.

People with an average sense of humour remind me that I might disappear soon. People who once aspired to be doctors but ended up being dentists call me ‘malnourished’. Some people defend me by throwing terms like ‘high metabolism’. I don’t quite understand that and I am sure neither do they. Some people recommend I should take protein. I recommend they should fuck off. Some people think I should be a model. I think they should not be career counsellors. People who want to show off their above-average vocabulary call me ‘anorexic’. I want to show off my creative vocabulary and call them dumbtards.

For twenty five years, I have listened to the same shit wondering what the hell is wrong with my body. And God knows how long this is going to continue.

Listen buddy, I have tried eating more. It doesn’t work. Bananas give me headaches. Artificial protein is exactly what it is – artificial. Being skinny is not a blessing. And yes, I am underweight. I KNOW THAT. But did you notice that I am functioning fine? Hey! I am happy. I don’t get why you are so bothered. So instead of criticizing me why don’t you appreciate your own beautiful three-dimensional body, and get a fucking life. Comprenez?

Posted on by saloni 0

Nature’s most common poetry

We spend our lives chasing things that only last for a short period of time. When that short period of time ends we continue chasing the same things in new forms.

But the question doesn’t vanish with your continued negligence – The most absurd question with no apparent answer – Why are you here?

These set of virtues; to be able to see, touch, feel, hear, respond, interact, understand, modify, calculate, read, write – what have we done with that? All these exceptional abilities don’t seem that exceptional among seven billion other creatures who are capable of doing it too, many of them much better. Where does 1 stand before 7,000,000,000?

Where does the drop stand before an ocean?

But maybe numbers don’t mean much. Does the drop know that it’s beautiful on its own too? Does the drop know better than to compare itself to the ocean? Does the drop know that the other drops are not competitors but collaborators?

So do it. Don’t just keep on chasing things that you know are ephemeral. Even if you didn’t score that high in SATs, even if you don’t work for Google, even if you didn’t go to Stanford, remember that these are not your standards, these are THEIR standards. They will tell you oh-so-politely that you don’t matter. You are not intelligent enough. You are not creative enough. You are not experienced enough. Don’t let that bother you. Don’t fall for fake social diagnosis. Take a deep breath and ask yourself, “Was your life really about all this?”

Surely, there’s a possibility we may never find it. But the answer must be in the attempt. This experience of how you came, and how you felt and how you went again – Nature’s most common poetry – this experience of being a part of it itself is quite amazing on its own. The world is large and you are small but it doesn’t matter. What matters more is to know that the world is huge and you are tiny and it seems that it could have very well existed without you and yet you are here.

Pause, and let that sink in.

Posted on by saloni 0

Should you get a Pixie Cut?

He held his scissors and the comb in the other hand and asked, “Are you ready?”

“Are you sure?” my hairdresser had asked me. This was five months ago. It was a different hair salon. My hairdresser was a trainee (read cheap haircut). My hair was almost waist length.
“Yes, actually, I want it shorter.”
“This much?” She held her fingers close to my neck.
Shorter, I had wanted to say. Like really short. But her fear was contagious. I dropped the idea and nodded yes.
“Are you sure?” she asked again.
“Yes,” I said calmly.

I had loved them once, my long hair. I used to try different hairstyles. I learnt many braiding techniques. I coloured my hair. My hair was a dream. I had sported a bob cut for most of my childhood. “Why wouldn’t you let me grow my hair?” I would ask my mother.
“You are too young for long hair.”
I was more feminine when I was a child. I wanted lipstick and nail polish. I wanted to wear saree and salwar-kameez with dupatta. I wanted bangles and earrings. But when I grew up puberty convinced me that I was ugly and no amount of cosmetics and elegant clothing could save me – in fact, it was probable that they might end up making me look uglier.

“Yeah, I am ready,” I told Frank. I wouldn’t have been there otherwise.

This was huge. There must be a piece of dramatic classical music in the background. They were playing Shotgun again. It takes courage to do something like this – one of my friends had later commented. It doesn’t take courage. I just had to turn up at a hair salon and say the two golden words, “Pixie Cut.”

Khach.Khach.Khach.

I wasn’t sure if short hair was going to suit me. But certainly, it was bound to make me look different.

Khach. Khach. Khach.

“SO, how long had you been planning this?” Frank tried to re-initiate our conversation.
“A year.”
“Well, that’s a long time…”

“What if it looks absolutely horrendous?” I had asked myself standing in front of the mirror a day before.
“Certainly we wouldn’t know unless we try,” the mirror replied.
“I don’t have the face or personality to carry short hair,” I argued.
“Are you sure?”

No mirror had been so encouraging before. It had taken me a year and an entirely different country to find one.

Khach.

Frank was already working on the last section at the front. Small pieces were falling on my forehead. They were itchy. I had closed my eyes, though I wanted to sneak a peek.

“Do you like it?” Frank asked me finally, holding my chair from the back.
“I love it,” I said looking at the mirror.

I didn’t know for sure if it was the best hairstyle for me. But it was so different that I didn’t care.  I wanted to stare at the mirror and part my hair in different ways – see what looked best but I felt too shy to do it. I stepped outside, felt the wind blowing my ultra short hair. I smiled appreciating the fact that they were not all over my face. Maybe I was just imagining it but more people were looking at me that day. I looked right back. So I did have a personality for a pixie cut all this while, I suppose.

It’s been three days. I have been touching my hair 72 hours straight. There’s heaven over my head. I have admired how surprised people have been. Some of them hate it but most don’t. I don’t. And my advice to you, if you want to get a pixie cut too, would be – Just do it. There might be some criticism. You might draw some attention. You might be a center for debate for a while. Tell them it’s just hair really – we ought to talk about better things than some dead cells growing on your head. Period.

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Featured Image Courtesy: myhoustondaily.com
Posted on by saloni 0

A late night thought

Hope is that someday it would make sense
Or maybe we’d to learn to accept the senselessness
Hope is that someday we would find order in the chaos
Or maybe we’d learn to deal with the high entropy
What, when, why, how
There’s no ignoring
There’s no escaping
Things happen;
Painful ones, joyful ones,
People happen;
Interesting ones, awful ones,
Who’s wrong?
Who’s right?
We are, in the end, just lines oriented at a random angle –
Converging, intersecting, diverging,
Maybe we make sense from a plane above,
Maybe our experiences together are infinite hues splashed over a vast canvas,
Maybe, maybe there’s a reason
Maybe, maybe there’s an answer
Hope is that someday our beautiful mind would find beauty of his own;
Hope is that till then, he wouldn’t give up hope over fears unknown.

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Posted on by saloni 0