Blues.

April 13th meant nothing to me. EVEN though my boards got over *indifferent shrug*. I still have to crack the big C-L-A-T, to decide which college Im going to ..
And once the I finish these entrances on the 20th of May, Im gonna be greeted by the ever so awaited (NOT ) board results.. So basically, Ive not been able to have REAL fun since the 1st of February because of the constant pressure of doing well. Well, not parental pressure, just my own What-if-i-fail pressure. Dum dee dah.
However, JUNE is one month im waiting desperately for. Im not entering my room unless its for sleeping or getting ready. Parties,movies, FOOD, and RISHIKESH bitches :D
SO its kind of crazy how EVERYONE packed their bags and rushed off to Goa as soon as they got over with their exams. So jealous -.- And now my news feed is spammed with pictures of the beach and all those people. And Im literally like, they know him? She knows her? They met in Goa? EVERYONE MET IN GOA? *sigh*
I wouldve gone too (sly smile) but then I kind of care about my college a bit more, since I REALLY NEED TO GET OUT OF DELHI NOW.
Gaah, I never realised how much I'd face this year. From exams, to college, to friends. EVERYTHING slapped me accross my face all together, oww. Give a girl a break please. Ive just been rushing to my law classes, cramming up stuff for my exams yet again, having serious talks with my Math and General Knowledge book as to how they shouldnt give me such a tough time and just accept me as I am. But OH NO, they HAVE to make me struggle dont they? i though i was done with math back in class 10th, but it came running after me -.-
Anyway, I should go get back to my books. I'd be back hopefully. Till then, everybody shout out.. LAWYERED B) kay bye.

My Bucket List

My best friend and I had made a pact to share each other's Bucket Lists, or in other words, " Things to do before I die" list. We promised to complete one before college and even though it took me a long long time to jot down the points right from my head, here it is :D ( In no particualr order)

• Make a change in the world and help people/animals by becoming a successful lawyer
• Eat every flavour of ice cream ever invented
• Get someone to write a song for me and actually mean it
• Build a home for the tortured and wandering stray animals
• Live in Paris
• Re-buy my granparent's old house for them
• Travel to Venice, Rome, Hawaii and Australia all in one year
• Spend a night in a haunted mansion
• Own enough money to improve the living conditions of my country people
• LEARN A ROUTINE FROM STEP UP
• Own a beach house
• Change people's lives. A good change.

Yeah so I think I missed out on a lot but Ill add on as soon as I remember.

Daddy's Not So Little Girl. (3)

Please read Part 2 here http://surabhix.blogspot.in/2012/04/daddys-not-so-little-girl-2.html#links before continuinggg :)

She clutched his hand and sobbed, wanting him to hug her, to make her sit on his lap just like he did when she was a little girl. She bawled and screamed, shaking him awake. " You were always so busy turning your little baby into a woman, but look what youve done, youve turned a woman back into a baby", whispered Lydia. Her tears ran dry as she lay against him, whispering her forgiveness for all those times she'd cursed him unknowingly for having taken away her beauty. She thanked him for being her friend, her guide, her first love and her idol. "There's no one like you Daddy, said Lydia as she slowly got and up and reached for the door.

The doctor asked her to go home and come back later. She drove calmly, her eyes blurred. As she reached home, she went straight to her father's room, basking in the comfort zone of the two people who had left her to be on her own.. an orphan. She curled up on the bed, wanting to hibernate, to go far away when her hand brushed against something under a pillow. She lifted the pillow and found an envelope addressed to her. Her hands shaking she tore it open and pulled out a letter. It read :

My dear Lydia,

Its been a while since Ive called you that. I was the one who chose your name when you were born and your mother readily agreed. It means Sunshine and you were our very own. When you came into this world, my life was forever changed. I became a home dad, wanting to hold you close and breath in your warm milky breath as you tumbled and rolled all over me, giggling and showing off your beautiful little smile. As you grew into a beautiful damsel, I got scared. Scared that one day, this daddy's little girl would become someone else's and i might lose my title of being your first love. But then your mother died and the whole world shut around me. I felt caged and helpless. My only support left me alone to look after you, to educate you and send you away on a white horse. She entrusted you to me, and I failed. I became sad and lonely and resorted to drinking and drugs. I knew I wasnt doing the right thing, but I lost all control. I hit you, and made you cry. Something so unforgivable that I will curse myself long after I leave this world. Last week, I went to the doctor, he told me I had destroyed my health and one day i might not wake up. So I decided to write this. I hope one day, you'll forgive me. I want you to know that I love you. I never wanted to see you sad. Your old dad apologises to his little girl.

Be safe. Show the world that you are strong, because that's what you really are. You're a miracle.

Love

Papa.

Lydia broke into tears....

The End.

If most of you were expecting something else, Im sorry to disappoint. While writing this, I constantly kept my own parents in my mind. Our arguements and our playful fights and all this while I couldnt help thinking how impossible life would be without our own parents.

The joys of parents are a secret and so are their griefs and fears ; they cannot utter the one and nor will they utter the other.

Daddy's Not So Little Girl. (2)

Please read Part One http://surabhix.blogspot.in/2012/04/daddys-not-so-little-girl.html#links if you havent read it as yet :)

Lydia woke up to the sound of the lawn mower, squinting at the window as the sunlight poured into her spacious bedroom. As she yawned, she heard her name with a loud grunt. She wondered why her father was calling her at this time of the day. He usually left her to herself till he got back from the tea house that they owned. She pulled on her robe and flew down the stairs hoping that he hadn't found out about her being out last night. Timidly, she peeped into the garden and screamed.

George, her father, was lying on his back, a stream of blood pouring out of his nose. She rushed towards him and shook him fiercely. She yelled for help but no one seemed to hear her. Her neighbours were long gone to the farms and Mrs.Turnhouse was off to her sister's place in NewEngland. " Wake up Papa, please wake up", cried Lydia. She felt helpless till she remembered someone at the bar mentioning a new hospital that had been inaugurated last week. It was 13 kilometres from her home. Leaving her father to the hands of God, she ran inside the house to get the car keys and some money.

10 minutes later, she was struggling to lift him into the car. Her once slim and fit father, was now as heavy as 10 bags of stones. Sweat poured down her face along with tears of helplessness. She murmured consoling words to herself, her father would be okay obviously, he must have fainted due to the heat. She drove furiously, almost rashly, knowing that every minute, every second could kill or save her father. As she reached the hospital, she yelled for someone to help her lift her father out of the car. Nurses rushed towards the car and Lydia ran alongside till the reached the intensive care units.

Overcome with stress, Lydia broke down as doctors rushed in and out of the room. She tried to understand their conversation as they spoke to the nurses but the sound was blurred by the fear of losing her father. She prayed hard, wishing that she had her mother with her at this moment, enveloping her in her arms and whispering calm words against her hair.

She sat in the waiting room, numb and lifeless.. Drug overdose and kidney failure, the doctors had said.

The nurses brought her tea and biscuits, they asked her if she wanted to see her father. Lydia didn't respond, she looked at them and down at the floor again. Her whole world had come to a standstill. Her head throbbed, the tears were long gone. She was a mixture of emotions but none showed on her scarred face. She slowly got up, indicating that she was ready to meet her dead father. To say goodbye. One of the nurses guided her towards the room where her lifeless father lay, as if he were sleeping and was oblivious of what was happening around him. She dragged her feet till the hospital bed, taking in the unwanted aroma of the million medicines and chemicals.

She sat down at the edge of the white linen bed, staring at her father's face till tears finally escaped her eyes.

To be continued..

Daddy's Not So Little Girl.

2 a.m- She walked hurriedly towards the bus stop, hoping that she'd be lucky enough to reach home before her father woke up. She didn't want another night of bruises. Every time she snuck out of her home, an air of freedom surrounded her. Ironically, she felt comforted being amongst strangers, cheerful to talk to random people who took interest in her. Lydia wasn't weak, she wasn't afraid of her father either, she just wanted to protect him. She was worried about someone seeing her bleeding face and reporting to the police. She loved her father, of course she did. They had been best friends since her mother had died 12 years back. But then.. he fell prey to the evils of alcohol and drugs. He came home reeking of the cheapest drinks, almost as if he'd bathed in them. She wished he'd settle down with their widow neighbour, Mrs. Turnstone. She'd always been a mother figure to Lydia and as the rumours stated, her father and Mrs.Turnstone had been lovers long before her parents got married.

She knew that her neighbour heard her cries of anguish. The agony she went through every time her father threw her across the floor for being too late. The sores on her legs and arms and the deep cuts on her face that slowly changed colours from red to blue to black. She tried to muffle her pain as well as she could but sometimes they came outas sobs, which made her father give her a dirty look and walk out of the room.

2 30 am- Lydia carefully latched the door behind her and crept up the creaking staircase of her 2 storey house. She could hear the loud snores coming from her father's room as she walked up. She heaved a sigh of relief as she shut her bedroom door. Relief at not being tortured by her father for the first time in 3 weeks. She went to the dressing area and carefully examined her face. Tears of dread poured down her once radiant face. The cherry red cheeks were now a dirty shade of blue, her lips were swollen, and her eyes looked sad and helpless. How she wished that the girl who was once the most sought after in the village, would find someone who looked beyond her cuts and bruises . She wanted to escape, but she was stuck in an ugly position.. of leaving her father behind, afraid that he might succumb to the diseases caused by his cohesive alcoholism.

To be continued..

First newspaper article :D Hindustan Times,2011.

While casteism , corruption and lack of civic sense constitute some of the evils in our society, I think the one evil that stands out is the status of women in India. Despite the fact that the right to work and education has increasingly been in the favour of women, ever prevalent instances of dowry killings and rape continue to make headlines.

Inspite of modernisation and the increasing role of women in all walks of life, instances of domestic violence have risen manifold over the years. Ironically ‘Lakshmi’ is killed for want of dowry. Sacrificed on the alter of honour and forced into sati. Rape, sexual harassment at work and the spurt in number of honour killings show that the ten headed demon still continues to suffocate and stifle the lives of women. How are women, teenage girls or even small girls supposed to live in a society considering the ever prevalent feeling of insecurity in their minds?

SOMETHING THAT LOOKS BETTER WILL SELL BETTER

The hit Gossip Girls series star, Blair Waldorf, quoted ‘’whoever said money can’t buy happiness, doesn’t know where to shop’’. And to the million shopaholics in the world, she became an idol of worship. And whoever said something that looks better will sell better, is correct in every aspect. Who doesn’t drool and immediately fish out their credit cards with more or less no guilt of spending their own or parent’s hard earned money on a pair of shiny Jimmy Choos, A Cartier watch, or an expensive Gucci one piece. Non branded items bought from the roadside carrying fake brand names don’t go unnoticed either. If they’re in fashion they’re in your wardrobe, as simple as 123. People these days hardly look for quality. Mainly because dresses aren’t meant to be repeated and shoes aren’t meant to be worn again once they’ve been seen in public.

Fashion knows not of comfort. All that matters is the face you show to the world. Imagine walking through a street with names like Stella McCartney, Dior, and Ferragamo .Looking at mannequins covered with cashmere sweaters, scarves, LBDs and long pointy heels. Who wouldn’t sacrifice swiping their credit cards through the machines, only to own the best looking attires in town? Of course, only international brands do not attract the public’s eye. Fab India, Cottons and other Indian brands, too, have become a rage in the shopper’s world.

Neatly stitched dresses and perfectly fitting jeans, glossy shoes and attractive shirts, the adjectives are good enough to magnetize the million shoppers. Manufacturers are fully aware of the needs of a customer and make sure their produce is eye catching and irresistible. Human psychology is such that, someone who looks at a conspicuous product is bound to purchase it, not bothering about the purchase. And the benefiters are not only the customers but also the retailers who are able to earn big bucks by wooing customers simply by displaying dazzling designs. Budding fashion designers these days not only display bouts of passion in their work but also hint their monetary demands. Being a shopaholic myself, I know what kind of things catches a customer’s eye. One would undoubtedly choose something that is exquisite and fashionable in every aspect over something that causes a customer to think twice about buying it.

Moving away from retail therapy, gastronomy is the other area where the look of the product matters majorly. The advertisements of McDonald’s or Pizza Hut, Gelato or Hagen Daasz instantaneously catch the customer’s eye. They are all drool worthy and hence become credit worthy. No, the chain owners are not foolish to only focus on the look of their products. Customer satisfaction is their first and foremost priority and they make sure that the taste compliments the look of their product. Advertising is the science of arresting the human intelligence long enough to get money from it.

Apple owner Steve Jobs quoted,”you can't just ask customers what they want and then try to give that to them. By the time you get it built, they'll want something new. ‘’ Apple was declared a hit among all genres of people. With a sleek body and incredible features, it immediately attracted millions of those who are now proud Mac owners. Valuable products like laptops are not bought just by looking at its advertisements, but once tested; days and weeks are spent by customers to choose the correct and best design of the product. Maintaining the status quo is of great importance in the 21^st century. Even if you can’t afford a product, you put in your heart and soul to shell out cash to compete with your next door Richie Rich neighbour who can’t stop talking about her endless trips overseas and the number of Prada shoes and bags she owns. An immediate adrenaline rushes through your veins, wanting to show that woman your worth. Credit card safely tucked in your wallet and the new slippers slipped into the freshly manicured feet of yours, you make that much needed shopping trip. Trial rooms stay empty as you swipe your cards after entering a store for barely 3 minutes and choosing the outfits that look the best. And the result is a happy you, happy salesmen, and a red-faced neighbour. Bliss, isn’t it? What more would a retail owner want than bundles of cash trying to push their way through the lockers , just because someone bought clothes worth 50,000 without even bothering to try them own or think twice about whether it would look good or not?

Fashion shows are a key tool to make designers collections accessible to its customer. Extravagant and expensive shows showcasing artistic and creative designs easily attract a lot consumer attention, whether the consumers view it live or on television. Looks are temporary and don’t mirror what’s inside and it is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness. As fashion comes and goes, and style remains of constant importance, it is very clear that something that looks better: read, in fashion: will sell better, undoubtedly.

Fashion is what you adopt when you don’t know who you are. And when people refuse to believe in their own sense of style, they follow the fashion news like hungry dogs hoping to fit in. THAT’S when the whole troop of elegant people walk through the fashion streets hoping to look good and buy something that looks good, calling to fame, the treasurer of the fashion industry J

Smile your way through..

It's not easy.

Smiling when you're close to tears? The mask of happiness you cover your face with when you just want to curl under the blankets of hibernation. Laughing along with people, even though youre secretly irritated about how everyone is so happy?

Here's to all those:

• Who're heart broken, yet spend nights consoling their best friends
• Who're failing miserably in a particular subject, yet are at their friend's doorstep to help him/her overcome their failures
• Who're stuck amidst family issues and constant inter-parent fights, but manage to give "happy family" advices to those who show their sadness
• Who've been used roughly, treated like a puppet and thrown away, but have managed to pick themselves up
• Single moms and the single dads and their heartbreaking sacrifice for their children.

Breaking down is easy.. The tough part is holding yourself together when the easy part is not an option at all.