If someone asks about me to my family, I’m sure they would throw in words like ‘independent’, ‘bold’, ‘outspoken’ in their description. My cousin has always wondered how I can travel alone or how I stay alone at home when parents are out of town. This must sound stupid to some, I agree. But we are from the South and ‘outspoken & independent’ are not the descriptive words people would use for a girl.
The truth is, I’ve been afraid, always. But I’m good at pretending to be brave and hiding my fear. When I was 17, I was packed to Pune and my Hindi was limited to reading and writing. Conversations in Hindi made me run for help. Travelling by auto or even grocery shopping panicked me. All my classes were meant to be in English and not always did it happen in my favor. I was not allowed to call Mummy for consecutive days. My guardian* said that would distract me from my goal. (I didn’t have a goal).
After eleven months of living away from the family and gaining nothing out of that stay, I finally came back home. I did not achieve anything. I did not clear the PMTs. Neither did I learn to speak Hindi fluently. My dad and mom were much more disappointed than me (I was just happy to be back). My dad, who kept telling that his daughter would conquer her fear over Hindi in a matter of few days, was not okay with the fact that I came back as a failure.
I reluctantly took up Engineering (and Biotech, to be precise) in a not-so-popular college. I always had the feeling that I was a loser. Coming first in the department didn’t change it a bit because I scored less than average in my GATE exam. And I hit rock bottom when I failed my TCS interview.
I was looking for one reason, a small silver lining, anything, something to prove I wasn’t a failure. Good news came in the form of M.Tech admissions to my dream University. My parents were again reluctant to send me to a city, alone. But the ticket to Anna University was the answer to all my problems and I was confident about it. I had to persuade my father and for the first time in my life I cried to him about how I thought I was a failure and this was my second chance.
I have always mentioned in this blog about how much this city has changed me. It’s been four and a half years now. I’m working in one of the ‘safest’ MNC’s and I’ve been living off of my hard earned money and I no longer have the need to pretend that I’m strong and independent. I’m living the life of my dreams and it all started with moving in here. Had i not moved in here, had I not literally begged my father, I would have been married, transformed into a mother-of-two and a homemaker. (Not that it’s a bad thing). And I would have been behind my husband for all of my needs, nodded my head in agreement when people talk about ‘clothes provoking a man for rape’ or ‘how girls should not be allowed to work’.
I know that my Dad and my husband are proud of me and I wish that one day my guardian (I miss you!) would call me and say the same thing.
This post is written for Housing.com’s (https://housing.com/lookup) Lookup stories. I have not fabricated anything mentioned above. 🙂
*The guardian – someone very close to me, Dad and brother.
Ok no need to run away on looking at the title, people !! I was randomly checking pictures when I came across this word – means
An intense fear to cook
I think I got this phobia because of too many kitchen disasters. And also my dad. Whenever mom is out of station or had to rush somewhere that she couldn’t cook, Pa comes in. He cooks n never makes me lift a finger 😍😘 He would turn down my offer for help and ask me to watch or leave the kitchen. At least I should have watched him 😞 and learnt something.
But right now, I’m slowly trying to cook succeed sometimes, or make something that’s too bad to eat or manage to pass in the border.
So yesterday I made dal-greens masiyal and it came out pretty good! I couldn’t believe myself, although it’s a very simple dish.. Huh, I’m fighting my demon.. yay to me!!
Well, when things do happen your way, they happen all together I guess.. A whirlwind of events… all good ones..
And I was travelling to and fro to Chennai and home, every weekend, for a whole lot of wedding shopping. My last post about the wedding shopping saw me at a state where I was sulking about nothing wedding-y happening. But that was totally in the past. With the amount of shopping and all related preps, I’m desperate for some peace. That chain of good things – first of which was – parents and the rest of the family warming up to the fact that I’m marrying someone of my choice. Then I got promoted!! Then the stats in my blog started booming (which i hate to admit was because of the Half-girlfriend review.) And then my favorite author’s book was released on Oct, and the pre-ordered copy reached me on time, Also I couldn’t stop smiling from end-to-end when I got a mail to review a book at the exact same time I got the author signed copy of God is A Gamer from BlogAdda. Not to mention the runner up badge i’m flaunting in the blog for the Indiblogger contest. Andddd in 10 days I’m getting married. Phew!!. Too much happiness.. Touchwood!!
I’m always the first one to shy away from photos the minute i see someone ready to take a pic. People always talk about how photos hold memories, a trip down memory lane yada yada. But i have very few of them to hold close and say ‘wow’ or ‘awwww’ or ‘yayy’. I can count the number of photos taken during school (leaving out the year-end group photo) with both my hands.. Very few of them added to a bad memory, I almost forget how much I laughed, enjoyed or to say..’lived’ those days.. Stoopid me..
I scurried away from the flashes coming up with blame excuses like ‘i’m-not-photogenic’. No candid shots, no fun moments.. My kids n grand kids would think I had a very dull n boring life.. But then, I’m not totally to be blamed either.. I don’t remember seeing anyone with a digi-cam back then. And camera mobiles were not a thing either.. I was in the 11th grade when i finally learnt how to send an sms. So get the picture.. My convent school did not allow cameras even to trips, except for a few rich kids, who have to hand it over to the teachers while not using them.
All this guilt trip is partially because of bragging about your life on Social networking sites. People live to boast in Facebook. And now professional photography takes it all up to a higher level making anyone go green. Ok Ok.. i digress..
Point is.. I’m starting to love photography (I still am apprehensive about being on the front side of the camera). But i do not have a DSLR to boast i’m good at it. Even if i have one, I don’t think I’ll be able to take amazingly wonderful shots 😛
But now, I do not go green looking at the pictures, how an oh-so-fabulous-moment, or whattey-beautiful-face it is. I just awww at the photographer for such a captivating shot. And its mostly the amateur photographer I talk about. Being on Instagram, I just cant help thinking how do they do that. I mean, a simple picture with the autumn leaves and a shoe is soooo pretty to look at, that i keep wondering how did they manage to take that. I try to take something like that, n the kids playing around in the community stare at me, while my first floor neighbor thinks I’m insane and the maintenance guy thinks I’m taking a picture of something to go against him.
I’ve seen fashion bloggers do their outfit posts.. most of them taken on roads, or in front of a color-contrast backgrounds. I do look at their outfits, ogle at it for few minutes, but my first thought goes to how did she take that out in the road.. Won’t people stare at her.. This has been a forever recurring question on my mind. Talking about selfies.. i’m self-conscious and do take only when I’m alone 😛 especially in my office when I’m the early bird and no one’s around.. 😀
You have food photography, cloud porn, travelogues and what not.. An there’s one hashtag – #iphoneonly. Seriously the pictures are absolutely wonderful, or wonderfully edited, i’m not sure which. Just everyday mundane things like a coffee mug or a book, or even headphones and i go *sigh*.. I badly want an iPhone
Below two pic are examples of my pathetic attempts to take a pic, casually 😛 In Big Bazaar and terrace.. all along worried who might see me..
I really need to know how active Instagrammers click away nonchalantly. I’m bored of my office selfies