How often do you get straightforward answers from people? In my case, it’s a rarity. I love straightforward talkers, or those ‘rare species’ of humans, which are seldom found these days. Whatever I ask to whomever around, I constantly get elongated and wrongly coiled answers that are hard to decipher, which keeps me wondering why a major share of the world is intensely obsessed about giving ambiguous and foggy replies that would require hours of hard work and patience to get decoded. Instead why don’t they say things straightforward and polite, thus clearing the aura of uncertainty and confusion?
Be it a trivial or a critical question, giving a clear-cut Yes or No answer is never a mammoth task, but a matter of straightforwardness which is yet unknown to many people around. When every question in the world can get dissolved before an uncomplicated reply, wasting time crafting complicated answers is like vehemently making a mess out of those umpteen ‘easy to handle’ situations that one has to come across in life, only to lament later about the ‘unknown’ reason why a manageable situation becomes a whirlwind of complicated and unsolvable problems.
One of the main reasons behind the complicated way of answering is the dangerous overdose of doubtful feelings and unnecessary concerns that veil the clarity one’s thinking, thus hiding the road to frankness. I am not advocating for hasty and blunt replies, but just honest answers that one can give politely, and not carry the guilt of hurting or insulting someone. Words can be razor-sharp at times, but when used wisely, they will hit the right spot, help give frank and clear-cut responses, at the same time leaving the receiver unharmed. Still, ‘beat around the bush answers’ are much preferred than self explanatory replies, the main reason why people often end up in trickier situations that need complex and time-consuming explanations. Straight talking is the need of the hour. When a clear answer can help avoid creating unnecessary misapprehensions, why should one go for a complicated responses that leave nothing but profound ambiguity in the mind of the hearer, only to trigger anger and dejection.
There is not even one question in this world that’s not perfectly tailored for the Yes or No answers, yet many people end up giving illogically elongated replies or the ‘ready-made’ and very commonly used ‘will let you know’ which are nothing but irritating to the core.
Among both, I hate the ‘will let you know’ especially since I've been hearing it a lot these days, during the various telephonic interviews that I am attending in the hope of getting ‘stable’ and ‘well paid’ job. Those ‘will let you knows’ never happen in most of the cases and a cold and shattering silence remains, thus augmenting my frustration to a more irritating level. Now I am almost used to getting the ‘will let you know’, and mind has automatically started taking them as ‘No’. Yet I wonder why people are keen on veiling the truth behind the ‘let you know’ response, thus giving me a hope that would shatter in a day or two when the non responsive HR makes me realize that I was told a NO in a discreet way.
One can definitely talk straight and soft with short and clear replies. All that it takes is a few minutes of sensible thinking. Be it an official or a personal reply, be straight and rational, but in a poised way, and I am sure that would definitely turn out good and beneficial in the long run.
I love cartoons
It’s high time to dispel the misconception that cartoons are solely for kids. But I think some people are too serious to understand the amount of happiness that an episode of cartoon or comedy drama can provide. For them, watching 'something that’s meant for the younger folks' may look nonchalant and childish. But for the easy goers like me cartoons are the best way to unleash and unwind, especially after a hard day’s work. Whenever I need a break from the mundane office works, animated cartoons, Charlie Chaplin movies, classic comedy-dramas, and comic books help me unwind and relax, with non-stop humor and entertainment that nothing else in the world can provide me. Among them, cartoons come first in the priority list. As you all know, there is a common delusion that people who watch cartoons are childish, but I don’t give a damn. I am thirty plus and 'still' enjoy cartoons with the clear-cut realization that there are many people around to scoff at me for watching something that’s meant for folks less than half my age. I have no reply for them and am not at all bothered about their mockery. If someone is really offended seeing me watching cartoons, that’s their problem and not me. To put it shortly, I am well aware that whenever I watch cartoons, I always turn out to be the laughing stock of the world, but fortunately have the thick skin to handle all the rude comments, because I know very well about the depth of happiness and joy that cartoons can provide me. Last Sunday I didn't have much work to do, and spend almost half of the day watching some hilarious episodes of Tom and Jerry, laughing like crazy. They may not make sense at times, but they do bring in a lot of enjoyment to lighten my mind, and what more do I need?
Be it Tom and Jerry or Scooby-Doo, most of the animated cartoons are eternal and always set an approachable and non-threatening aura, which alleviates my tensions and stress to a great extent. They are short, sweet and to the point, unlike some movies with terrible scripts and ‘beat around the bush’ dialogues that bore me to tears. Unlike those two hour movies with almost half an hour of filler scenes, cartoons last roughly ten or twenty minutes and never fail to give me tremendous amount of humor. They are always different from one another, and are so plain, direct, and simple that I hardly need to rack my brains to decipher their meaning. May be hilariously naive and hysterically exaggerated, but I can keep watching them for hours together and yet not get bored.
On the flip-side I am totally against violent cartoons, and prefer only those simple and cute ones that can get a chuckle out of me.
Live in various hostels Part 3
Being new to the city, I had no other option but to take help from my dad’s friend to find out a good place to live-in. After his a few days of constant search, he found me a place close to my office, which was more of a house than a hostel, where the ground floor was occupied by the house owner, and the first and second floors by us. By ‘us’ I mean ten or fifteen working women from various parts of the state. I moved-in soon, but was surprised to see the ‘kennel-like’ room that I was allotted, with no door lock. When I asked the reason behind this special ‘construction’ of the door, I was told that the bathroom attached to my room was actually meant for five, which includes me and my roommate, along with three other girls from the dormitory, and the door lock was removed for the sake of everyone’s‘convenience’ to use the bathroom whenever required. Although the dormitory and our room had a common door which could be locked safely, I never wanted to take chances, and hence used to lock our room too, by tying the door to a nearby iron window, using a very tight rope. To assure my safety, I also used to keep a sharp knife under my bed.
We were two in the room, and my roommate was someone whom I would call the queen of flirts, as she had almost three to four boyfriends at a time, and spend the whole night chatting with them, taking turns every two hours or so. Initially this didn't hurt my sleep, but there came a point where I started getting troubled, and had to tell her on the face that she was getting on my nerves. That didn't stop her from the daily ‘night shifts’, but she stopped disturbing me with her gibber jabber.
After a few days, a girl of the dormitory, with whom I had little interaction, told me something about our house owner, sending shivers up my spine. The fifty plus man used to show pretty high interest in women. He invariably joined the inmates gang in evenings uninvited, flirting outrageously with everyone. Though I kept a safe distance, I never took him to be a womanizer. Later I started noticing his manners closely, and was taken to surprise when I saw him getting ‘pallier’ with a few inmates. A self proclaimed Reiki specialist, Reiki was just an alleged reason for him to touch the hands and shoulders of the inmates.
We had a hard faced and uncouth maid who used to decide the daily based on her likings and the likings of the house owner’s family, or in short, we were the ones who were paying money, yet were denied even the right to have the kind of food that we wished for. Kitchen, a pigsty, was maintained as that, the reason why I was once badly infected with food poisoning and was bedridden for almost a week. I was in my room tired and exhausted of constant vomiting, with no one to take me to the nearby hospital. My mother had to travel long two hours to reach the city to take me to the hospital, and till then the house owner and his ‘dutiful’ wife were keenly watching the one international cricket, and the maid enjoying some classic songs.
House owner a 'wrinkled Romeo', a ‘kennel' for room which lacks every means of safety, an in-hygienic kitchen managed by a rude maid, with a few cantankerous inmates; failing to take in all these anymore, I vacated after three months.
Thus I moved to the third hostel, which is my present abode.
We were two in the room, and my roommate was someone whom I would call the queen of flirts, as she had almost three to four boyfriends at a time, and spend the whole night chatting with them, taking turns every two hours or so. Initially this didn't hurt my sleep, but there came a point where I started getting troubled, and had to tell her on the face that she was getting on my nerves. That didn't stop her from the daily ‘night shifts’, but she stopped disturbing me with her gibber jabber.
After a few days, a girl of the dormitory, with whom I had little interaction, told me something about our house owner, sending shivers up my spine. The fifty plus man used to show pretty high interest in women. He invariably joined the inmates gang in evenings uninvited, flirting outrageously with everyone. Though I kept a safe distance, I never took him to be a womanizer. Later I started noticing his manners closely, and was taken to surprise when I saw him getting ‘pallier’ with a few inmates. A self proclaimed Reiki specialist, Reiki was just an alleged reason for him to touch the hands and shoulders of the inmates.
We had a hard faced and uncouth maid who used to decide the daily based on her likings and the likings of the house owner’s family, or in short, we were the ones who were paying money, yet were denied even the right to have the kind of food that we wished for. Kitchen, a pigsty, was maintained as that, the reason why I was once badly infected with food poisoning and was bedridden for almost a week. I was in my room tired and exhausted of constant vomiting, with no one to take me to the nearby hospital. My mother had to travel long two hours to reach the city to take me to the hospital, and till then the house owner and his ‘dutiful’ wife were keenly watching the one international cricket, and the maid enjoying some classic songs.
House owner a 'wrinkled Romeo', a ‘kennel' for room which lacks every means of safety, an in-hygienic kitchen managed by a rude maid, with a few cantankerous inmates; failing to take in all these anymore, I vacated after three months.
Thus I moved to the third hostel, which is my present abode.
Live in various hostels Part 2
I am back with the continuation of my hostel saga! Here goes the second part of the story! As I said before there was a danger lurking near the window of my hostel room. Want to know what it is?
Exhibitionism is an incurable psychological disorder, and there was a victim close-by our hostel, who used to jump the hostel wall and roam around freely in the premises, especially in the evenings. This made it difficult for us to freely open the windows and enjoy fresh air from outside, as we feared the ‘porno’ effect of watching a half naked man standing in front with his shameless glee, and at times throwing stones at our windows whenever he had the ‘uncontrollable’ urge to make someone enjoy the ‘beauty’ of his weak and wrinkled ‘manliness’. Our constant complaints about this were never heard and police help not sought on time as our warden wanted to ‘safeguard’ the reputation of the hostel and not us. Situations went so bad someday later, and one among the girls called police men from her mobile and cried for help. Although they couldn't arrest the ‘porn star’, he reduced his visits to our hostel. Yet, we lived in fear and never bothered to open the windows, fearing he would come back again.Life in that room was nothing less than hell, but we were fifteen to share our joys and sorrows. Extreme heat, limited power supply, scary surroundings, and no proper food; I stopped revolting against the endless number of struggles, and instead, started adjusting myself to tackling them all to the best of my effort. Injustices were common to all and there was no one to hear our voices, which made me go subtly submissive.There’s yet another shocking fact, and that’s the unreasonable doubt that arouse in our warden’s mind whenever she saw two women walking hand in hand or sitting close by. I think she had this very bad misconception that no two women can be intimate friends unless they are lesbians. I can say this as I have heard saying this about a few girls who were pretty good friends.
I never raised my voice, but started thinking about going back home, and opting for a daily travel, which I knew was not going to be easy. But I felt travelling back and forth in jam-packed buses for about three hours every day would be much easier than living in the hostel.
I went home for a one week vacation, mainly to get my dad’s permission to shift from the hostel. I came back the next Monday and found that our warden had given my place to another ‘favourite’ of hers and kept my bed & other stuffs in a damp place, which made it a cosy home for fungus and mould to live in. When I asked her the reason why she almost destroyed my bed, she said she wanted to give me a ‘better’ room, but didn’t have a place to keep my stuffs until I reach. I couldn’t take-in anymore and vacated on the same day.
Exhibitionism is an incurable psychological disorder, and there was a victim close-by our hostel, who used to jump the hostel wall and roam around freely in the premises, especially in the evenings. This made it difficult for us to freely open the windows and enjoy fresh air from outside, as we feared the ‘porno’ effect of watching a half naked man standing in front with his shameless glee, and at times throwing stones at our windows whenever he had the ‘uncontrollable’ urge to make someone enjoy the ‘beauty’ of his weak and wrinkled ‘manliness’. Our constant complaints about this were never heard and police help not sought on time as our warden wanted to ‘safeguard’ the reputation of the hostel and not us. Situations went so bad someday later, and one among the girls called police men from her mobile and cried for help. Although they couldn't arrest the ‘porn star’, he reduced his visits to our hostel. Yet, we lived in fear and never bothered to open the windows, fearing he would come back again.Life in that room was nothing less than hell, but we were fifteen to share our joys and sorrows. Extreme heat, limited power supply, scary surroundings, and no proper food; I stopped revolting against the endless number of struggles, and instead, started adjusting myself to tackling them all to the best of my effort. Injustices were common to all and there was no one to hear our voices, which made me go subtly submissive.There’s yet another shocking fact, and that’s the unreasonable doubt that arouse in our warden’s mind whenever she saw two women walking hand in hand or sitting close by. I think she had this very bad misconception that no two women can be intimate friends unless they are lesbians. I can say this as I have heard saying this about a few girls who were pretty good friends.
I never raised my voice, but started thinking about going back home, and opting for a daily travel, which I knew was not going to be easy. But I felt travelling back and forth in jam-packed buses for about three hours every day would be much easier than living in the hostel.
I went home for a one week vacation, mainly to get my dad’s permission to shift from the hostel. I came back the next Monday and found that our warden had given my place to another ‘favourite’ of hers and kept my bed & other stuffs in a damp place, which made it a cosy home for fungus and mould to live in. When I asked her the reason why she almost destroyed my bed, she said she wanted to give me a ‘better’ room, but didn’t have a place to keep my stuffs until I reach. I couldn’t take-in anymore and vacated on the same day.
Life in various hostels: Part 1
After living in various hostels for almost 6 years, I can definitely say that hostel life is something that everyone has to experience, at least once in their lifetime. Hostels will give you a good share of sweet, sour, bitter, hurting, and insulting experiences to help shape up your mind to face every possible circumstance that you may come across in life, bet it good, bad, or even the worst. You will become unassumingly patient and polite, and at times shockingly unemotional, thus making yourself wonder how can one be as calm and composed as a sage and keep bearing all the ‘agonies’ with a pleasing smile!
Let me start telling you my story, which I will be continuing in a couple of posts to come!
After living in a palatial home for about 20 years, I first moved in to hostel room for two, half as big as my bedroom. The hostel was close to the school in which I taught, and hence I had no other option left but to move-in.
One fan and a small bedroom lamp was the 'luxury' that I had in my room, apart from a half broken coat on which I had to sleep on. Luckily I had a good bed that dad brought from home! It was a hub of mosquitoes but my fragile roommate couldn't bear the smell of mosquito coils. In short, I sat and killed mosquitoes every night, instead of enjoying a sound sleep after tiring works.
We didn't have an attached bathroom, but had to take turns and use one of the three common bathrooms and two toilets meant for almost seventy five inmates in the hostel. Making matters worse, our warden always made it a point to lock the inside toilets during day time, asking us to use the outside ones, which were extremely dirty, saying it would help us save water. But we actually had a well inside the hostel premise, and there was absolutely no scarcity of water. I think it was too cruel on her part to for making us use those dirtiest of bathrooms, even after knowing about the possible health consequences. Yet, she didn't bother to give her decision and second thought. Her water saving theories went too further and once I saw her locking the water supply to the inside bathrooms, saying we used more water than what was allotted, and this happened when a few of the inmates were taking bath! Above all, the bathrooms were hardly cleaned once in a week, and we had to make sure to constantly complain every week and get them cleaned.
Want to hear yet another bizarre rule? We were allowed to take bath only once a day, and were not allowed to take bath in evenings, however sweaty and smelly we were! If someone was seen violating this, our warden always made it a point to embarrass her before everyone thus making sure that she never does it again. But I knew how to manage and get myself a good bath, and used to carry only my mug and soap to the bathroom, in the pretext of going towards the wash basin to wash my face.
Being a staunch vegetarian, food was what scared me to death! For lunch and dinner we had rice non-vegetarian dishes often, along with just one veggie dish, and the kitchen staffs were not really kind-hearted to get me vegetarian dishes in place of the non-vegetarian dishes served. So I had to make myself happy with whatever I was given, as I knew that complaining would not help. We were never allowed to bring plates from our homes, and instead food was served in the plates that they provided, which were often dirty and stinking.
There was just one plug point in the room to charge our mobile, and we had to do it without the warden’s knowledge as mobiles were not allowed inside the hostel, even for working women like me, as she feared the possible line of ‘boyfriends’ that we would have if we had mobiles. But she was hardly aware that everyone had mobiles with them, and had the required knowledge in ‘electronics’ to charge their mobiles without her knowledge.
After living in the room for about one month, I was asked to move to another room, as there one of the ‘ favorites’ of our warden was about to arrive, and they wanted the room for her. I shifted to another room, and was shocked to see that it had fourteen other girls in it, or in short the room was jam-packed with fifteen people. Adding to my worry, the room was just above the cooking place, and I felt like I entered in to a hot furnace, as the room was filled with all the heat and fumes from the kitchen. Problems didn't end here, and I soon came to know that except for the room where I stayed initially, others were only provided with limited power supply. The switches of fans and lights were connected to a power plug in the warden’s room, and she often switched it on after nine in the night and used to switch it off at five thirty in the morning, and yet give us huge lectures on mounting electricity bills. After having a tiresome day I couldn't even enjoy the liberty of having some time enjoying cool breeze, and had to go the ‘nature’s way’ opening all the windows of my room. But there was another trouble awaiting me!
..................................................... (Will be continued)
Let me start telling you my story, which I will be continuing in a couple of posts to come!
After living in a palatial home for about 20 years, I first moved in to hostel room for two, half as big as my bedroom. The hostel was close to the school in which I taught, and hence I had no other option left but to move-in.
One fan and a small bedroom lamp was the 'luxury' that I had in my room, apart from a half broken coat on which I had to sleep on. Luckily I had a good bed that dad brought from home! It was a hub of mosquitoes but my fragile roommate couldn't bear the smell of mosquito coils. In short, I sat and killed mosquitoes every night, instead of enjoying a sound sleep after tiring works.
We didn't have an attached bathroom, but had to take turns and use one of the three common bathrooms and two toilets meant for almost seventy five inmates in the hostel. Making matters worse, our warden always made it a point to lock the inside toilets during day time, asking us to use the outside ones, which were extremely dirty, saying it would help us save water. But we actually had a well inside the hostel premise, and there was absolutely no scarcity of water. I think it was too cruel on her part to for making us use those dirtiest of bathrooms, even after knowing about the possible health consequences. Yet, she didn't bother to give her decision and second thought. Her water saving theories went too further and once I saw her locking the water supply to the inside bathrooms, saying we used more water than what was allotted, and this happened when a few of the inmates were taking bath! Above all, the bathrooms were hardly cleaned once in a week, and we had to make sure to constantly complain every week and get them cleaned.
Want to hear yet another bizarre rule? We were allowed to take bath only once a day, and were not allowed to take bath in evenings, however sweaty and smelly we were! If someone was seen violating this, our warden always made it a point to embarrass her before everyone thus making sure that she never does it again. But I knew how to manage and get myself a good bath, and used to carry only my mug and soap to the bathroom, in the pretext of going towards the wash basin to wash my face.
Being a staunch vegetarian, food was what scared me to death! For lunch and dinner we had rice non-vegetarian dishes often, along with just one veggie dish, and the kitchen staffs were not really kind-hearted to get me vegetarian dishes in place of the non-vegetarian dishes served. So I had to make myself happy with whatever I was given, as I knew that complaining would not help. We were never allowed to bring plates from our homes, and instead food was served in the plates that they provided, which were often dirty and stinking.
There was just one plug point in the room to charge our mobile, and we had to do it without the warden’s knowledge as mobiles were not allowed inside the hostel, even for working women like me, as she feared the possible line of ‘boyfriends’ that we would have if we had mobiles. But she was hardly aware that everyone had mobiles with them, and had the required knowledge in ‘electronics’ to charge their mobiles without her knowledge.
After living in the room for about one month, I was asked to move to another room, as there one of the ‘ favorites’ of our warden was about to arrive, and they wanted the room for her. I shifted to another room, and was shocked to see that it had fourteen other girls in it, or in short the room was jam-packed with fifteen people. Adding to my worry, the room was just above the cooking place, and I felt like I entered in to a hot furnace, as the room was filled with all the heat and fumes from the kitchen. Problems didn't end here, and I soon came to know that except for the room where I stayed initially, others were only provided with limited power supply. The switches of fans and lights were connected to a power plug in the warden’s room, and she often switched it on after nine in the night and used to switch it off at five thirty in the morning, and yet give us huge lectures on mounting electricity bills. After having a tiresome day I couldn't even enjoy the liberty of having some time enjoying cool breeze, and had to go the ‘nature’s way’ opening all the windows of my room. But there was another trouble awaiting me!
..................................................... (Will be continued)
Dream man
My dream man: When the whole world is so keen on knowing my thoughts about my 'dream man’, I really don’t have any kind of goose bump creating fantasies that they would expect from me. So I keep mum when I am asked about my ‘dream man’ concepts, and people keep mistaking this as the lack of feminineness. I don’t blame them at all, as I know that they represent the whole lot of ‘romantic’ females who do carry a good share of 'fairy tale like' dreams about their would-be life partner, whereas I may come under the category of ‘unromantic’ and dull women who silently fit in to the life that they are given, without any discontents and qualms.
They are totally wrong, but I haven’t yet tried to prove this. I am not as fragile as they think and I am not someone who can flexibly bend my mind to fit in to a life just for the sake of it. I am not naive either and don't believe in getting a 'prince charming' like the ones in the stories of Cinderella and Snow White.
I believe that when it comes to a relationship, it’s always good to have minimum expectations, than carrying the tear-jerking memories of unfulfilled dreams. By this I don’t mean to say that I have never had any dreams about being with a romantic partner, but gone are the days of such teenage infatuations.
When it comes to looks, I don't have any ‘starry’ fantasies, but this in no way means that I would opt for a man who is way below average in looks. I am not too broadminded enough to make such a choice, and hence if I say that I would be lying. He should have the average ‘manly’ looks, and should be educated well enough to get a decent job. But I really don’t want him to look like Tom Cruise or Gerald Butler, he need not be an intellectual giant to bore me to death or a multimillionaire to get me diamonds and platinum, nor do I want him to replicate the romantic gestures of Shahrukh Khan in DDLJ. He should be an average man, who is honest, trustworthy and loving. Above all, he should know how to respect women, which I think is a trait that one can find only in a minority of men in the country.
I have many friends in the hostel who keep watching those blown up romantic scenes of daily soaps and keep concluding that they would soon get a guy similar to those unrealistic characters on television. I really don’t understand how a woman can bear a guy who is over expressive in romance, crossing all borders of sanity and sensibility, thinking that such gestures would make a woman go weak on her knees. I don’t think any woman would accept an obsessively passionate person who makes her choke to death with his fervent love. In my opinion, people who exaggerate always turn out deceitful and cheat on their partners with absolutely no regret, whereas people who are sensibly average in their thoughts and actions often turn out to be utmost sincere.
When I mean sincere, I will never say sincere to the core, as no one in the world can be utmost sincere throughout their life. We are all human beings, and at some point or the other, we would definitely get wooed by someone or the other from the opposite gender. There’s nothing regretful in it, if we know where to limit our fantasies and get back to reality. But this is where many people get weakened and end up incestuous. It’s always easy to cross the thin line between fantasy and incest, but people often don’t remember that once it’s crossed, they will never find their way back, and thus get lost in the darkness, finally find themselves caught in the enticing claws of incest or adultery. Such weaklings are often victims of the ‘dream man’/’dream woman’ thoughts, and for this reason won’t be able to resist themselves on seeing a man/woman with the same ‘qualities’ that they had once dreamt of.
I think it’s good to have a sensible share of realistic dreams like expecting him to treat you with equal respect, become a good friend, avoid vices, keep away from being dominant, remain with you in thick and thin, and share your joys and sorrows equally. Beyond these ‘real’ dreams, one should never go on and knit a whole lot of unrealistic demands and fantasies, only to end up seeing that they can never ever find them in any guy that they come across. I believe that equality, sincerity and trustworthiness are very important to fall in love with someone, and if one can give me all these for lifelong, I can definitely say that I would jump in to a relationship with him, without even a second thought.
They are totally wrong, but I haven’t yet tried to prove this. I am not as fragile as they think and I am not someone who can flexibly bend my mind to fit in to a life just for the sake of it. I am not naive either and don't believe in getting a 'prince charming' like the ones in the stories of Cinderella and Snow White.
I believe that when it comes to a relationship, it’s always good to have minimum expectations, than carrying the tear-jerking memories of unfulfilled dreams. By this I don’t mean to say that I have never had any dreams about being with a romantic partner, but gone are the days of such teenage infatuations.
When it comes to looks, I don't have any ‘starry’ fantasies, but this in no way means that I would opt for a man who is way below average in looks. I am not too broadminded enough to make such a choice, and hence if I say that I would be lying. He should have the average ‘manly’ looks, and should be educated well enough to get a decent job. But I really don’t want him to look like Tom Cruise or Gerald Butler, he need not be an intellectual giant to bore me to death or a multimillionaire to get me diamonds and platinum, nor do I want him to replicate the romantic gestures of Shahrukh Khan in DDLJ. He should be an average man, who is honest, trustworthy and loving. Above all, he should know how to respect women, which I think is a trait that one can find only in a minority of men in the country.
I have many friends in the hostel who keep watching those blown up romantic scenes of daily soaps and keep concluding that they would soon get a guy similar to those unrealistic characters on television. I really don’t understand how a woman can bear a guy who is over expressive in romance, crossing all borders of sanity and sensibility, thinking that such gestures would make a woman go weak on her knees. I don’t think any woman would accept an obsessively passionate person who makes her choke to death with his fervent love. In my opinion, people who exaggerate always turn out deceitful and cheat on their partners with absolutely no regret, whereas people who are sensibly average in their thoughts and actions often turn out to be utmost sincere.
When I mean sincere, I will never say sincere to the core, as no one in the world can be utmost sincere throughout their life. We are all human beings, and at some point or the other, we would definitely get wooed by someone or the other from the opposite gender. There’s nothing regretful in it, if we know where to limit our fantasies and get back to reality. But this is where many people get weakened and end up incestuous. It’s always easy to cross the thin line between fantasy and incest, but people often don’t remember that once it’s crossed, they will never find their way back, and thus get lost in the darkness, finally find themselves caught in the enticing claws of incest or adultery. Such weaklings are often victims of the ‘dream man’/’dream woman’ thoughts, and for this reason won’t be able to resist themselves on seeing a man/woman with the same ‘qualities’ that they had once dreamt of.
I think it’s good to have a sensible share of realistic dreams like expecting him to treat you with equal respect, become a good friend, avoid vices, keep away from being dominant, remain with you in thick and thin, and share your joys and sorrows equally. Beyond these ‘real’ dreams, one should never go on and knit a whole lot of unrealistic demands and fantasies, only to end up seeing that they can never ever find them in any guy that they come across. I believe that equality, sincerity and trustworthiness are very important to fall in love with someone, and if one can give me all these for lifelong, I can definitely say that I would jump in to a relationship with him, without even a second thought.
Some ‘unreal’ facts on Facebook
There was a time when I was avidly in to Facebooking, and used to take a major share of my day for ‘postings’, ‘likes’ and ‘comments’. Those crazy days got over when I myself took a much required ‘break’, by deactivating my ‘greatly active’ Facebook account for about a month last year. I felt it good as I was free from the obsession of frequent updations in the quest for maximum likes and comments. When I was back on Facebook, I had almost lost the fascination that prevailed before, and thought of maintaining the account only for the sake of a couple of good friends that I have. Nowadays I don’t post anything other than quotations that I read, as I have almost lost the charm for getting endless likes and comments.
Facebooking is still a kind of fixation for most of the people I know. Right from the moment they get up, till they go to bed, people are always on Facebook, posting updates continuously, giving a meticulous narrative of what they are doing. I see endless number of posts and pictures getting posted every day, about awesome Sundays, memorable holidays, loving relationships, lasting friendships, cute and cuddly moments, and a lot more, and keep wondering how the world go so immaculately perfect for many people, or are they just too good in PR or self promotion. I do agree that there will be umpteen blissful moments in our lives, and I am convinced that they happen to many people I know. But all that I can’t digest is seeing people hyping their experiences and making others feel that they are in the zenith of happiness, which I think is not humanely possible.
Yes, we all are happy most of the times, but there are times when we aren’t, and they do happen every day, for all of us. So, by sharing the joyful moments alone, we are just turning a blind eye towards the raw and the real time that are spend in glumness, making mistakes and learning from them. Or are we trying to ‘airbrush’ them to look good as good as real? If so, then that’s just a good PR work, which has nothing to do with reality. Or in short, I believe that there are many people in Facebook who are way too much in to self promotion doing good PR, instead of being genuine.
I laugh my lungs out seeing the ‘awesome weekend’ messages of many of my friends, especially when I know very well that they might have had the worst possible weekend. At times weekends suck big time, and that has to be accepted. But some people deny the reality, and go on faking things, with shiny happy status updates. I keep wondering what they are trying to prove with these fake messages and updates.
Reading ‘airbrushed’ Facebook updates have now become the part and parcel of my life. I am not saying we should open-up our life to the whole world, but we should at least make sure not to pretend before others and make a fool of ourselves. If there’s nothing worth mentioning, it’s wise to leave the status page blank till there’s something worth posting.
Facebooking is still a kind of fixation for most of the people I know. Right from the moment they get up, till they go to bed, people are always on Facebook, posting updates continuously, giving a meticulous narrative of what they are doing. I see endless number of posts and pictures getting posted every day, about awesome Sundays, memorable holidays, loving relationships, lasting friendships, cute and cuddly moments, and a lot more, and keep wondering how the world go so immaculately perfect for many people, or are they just too good in PR or self promotion. I do agree that there will be umpteen blissful moments in our lives, and I am convinced that they happen to many people I know. But all that I can’t digest is seeing people hyping their experiences and making others feel that they are in the zenith of happiness, which I think is not humanely possible.
Yes, we all are happy most of the times, but there are times when we aren’t, and they do happen every day, for all of us. So, by sharing the joyful moments alone, we are just turning a blind eye towards the raw and the real time that are spend in glumness, making mistakes and learning from them. Or are we trying to ‘airbrush’ them to look good as good as real? If so, then that’s just a good PR work, which has nothing to do with reality. Or in short, I believe that there are many people in Facebook who are way too much in to self promotion doing good PR, instead of being genuine.
I laugh my lungs out seeing the ‘awesome weekend’ messages of many of my friends, especially when I know very well that they might have had the worst possible weekend. At times weekends suck big time, and that has to be accepted. But some people deny the reality, and go on faking things, with shiny happy status updates. I keep wondering what they are trying to prove with these fake messages and updates.
Reading ‘airbrushed’ Facebook updates have now become the part and parcel of my life. I am not saying we should open-up our life to the whole world, but we should at least make sure not to pretend before others and make a fool of ourselves. If there’s nothing worth mentioning, it’s wise to leave the status page blank till there’s something worth posting.
Some ‘PDA’ thoughts
Be it in coffee shops, malls or roads, PDA or Public Display of Affection is now as common as handshake. Go to a nearby part in the evening and you can see many older couples holding hands and walking or sitting on the park bench, which I think is a romantic sight to watch. But what I am saying is often a ‘porno’ kind of affection, which should be done only in a closed bedroom and not in public. Yet people go out and do all these in open places.
Seeing the 'over-pouring' intimacy, many people misconstrue PDA and call it the intensity of love that two people share, but if you ask me, I would say that in most of the cases PDA is just an exhibitionism that people often indulge-in, only to hide the fissures in a relationship, only to make others believe that they are intensely in love with each other. Or else, why should a couple with rock-solid relationship go out in public and cosy, when they have their own private space and time to cuddle and get intimate with each other? PDAs can be seen most among people who are in immature relationships give vent to their initial fantasy and delight, where as people who are in forceful relationships that have hit the rock bottom, only to make their near ones feel that they lead a happy life.
I am not sure whether to say PDA is good or bad, as the opinion may vary from person to person. But I personally feel it’s something that people should try and avoid and make themselves understand that when they are in a healthy relationship, there is absolutely no need to go out and display it in front of the whole world and make them go gaga over your relationship and your happiness. If you are happy being in a relationship, that would obviously reflect on your face, and person with average intelligence would definitely understand that you’re happy, only by looking at your pleasant expressions.
But nowadays, you can see a whole lot of people who are seriously in to outward displays and PDAs, whereas in private, they often fight like cats and dogs. On the other hand, I’ve seen a lot of couples, including many of my friends, who are still going on steady with their relationships, yet don’t even hug each other or give a quick peck on the cheek in public. Initially I used to wonder why they remain emotionless in public, whereas now I feel they are absolutely right. No one can make a relationship stronger and lasting by getting intimate in public.
What will be your immediate response on seeing a couple kissing passionately or getting intimate in a public place, like on the road or in a shopping mall? Want to know my answer? I would laugh my lungs out!
Seeing the 'over-pouring' intimacy, many people misconstrue PDA and call it the intensity of love that two people share, but if you ask me, I would say that in most of the cases PDA is just an exhibitionism that people often indulge-in, only to hide the fissures in a relationship, only to make others believe that they are intensely in love with each other. Or else, why should a couple with rock-solid relationship go out in public and cosy, when they have their own private space and time to cuddle and get intimate with each other? PDAs can be seen most among people who are in immature relationships give vent to their initial fantasy and delight, where as people who are in forceful relationships that have hit the rock bottom, only to make their near ones feel that they lead a happy life.
I am not sure whether to say PDA is good or bad, as the opinion may vary from person to person. But I personally feel it’s something that people should try and avoid and make themselves understand that when they are in a healthy relationship, there is absolutely no need to go out and display it in front of the whole world and make them go gaga over your relationship and your happiness. If you are happy being in a relationship, that would obviously reflect on your face, and person with average intelligence would definitely understand that you’re happy, only by looking at your pleasant expressions.
But nowadays, you can see a whole lot of people who are seriously in to outward displays and PDAs, whereas in private, they often fight like cats and dogs. On the other hand, I’ve seen a lot of couples, including many of my friends, who are still going on steady with their relationships, yet don’t even hug each other or give a quick peck on the cheek in public. Initially I used to wonder why they remain emotionless in public, whereas now I feel they are absolutely right. No one can make a relationship stronger and lasting by getting intimate in public.
What will be your immediate response on seeing a couple kissing passionately or getting intimate in a public place, like on the road or in a shopping mall? Want to know my answer? I would laugh my lungs out!
Appetizing to the eye and the palate
Whenever I have a new issue of Vanitha, my mom's women’s magazine, I turn the pages swiftly and start looking at those glossy shots of beautifully garnished dishes displayed in the cookery column, as I have a high instinctive attraction towards visually appealing food stuffs, even if they lack nutritious value. I think food can become increasingly delectable with its incredible looks, which is why I love watching cookery programs on television, to see mouth watering and tempting dishes being prepared and served with incredible perfection. But often we give undue experience to the health benefits of food and thus undermine the relevance of color and smell. Food can stimulate our digestive juices only with its smell and visual appeal, and I've also read that nice smelling and well garnished food can actually aid to proper digestion.
It’s Friday today, and as usual we will have that same old dinner which we call Kanji, and when translated to English can be called a kind of rice soup, rich in nutritious value, tastes average, and takes the last place in looks. To be frank, I don’t hate it, but nor do I love it. Ask me the reason and I will say it’s mainly because of the totally unappealing look and smell, which kills my hunger in no time.
Colour and smell of the food have tremendous effect on my appetite. Those reds, yellows, and greens excite and entice me a lot, and so I am very much inclined to the food stuffs with incredible looks and smell, the reasons why Kanji fails so badly with its lackluster look and lack of alluring smell. I really don’t mean to offend any ‘Kanji’ lovers out there, but for me, Kanji is one among those dull looking foods that I would prefer when I am left with no other choices.
Be it breakfast, lunch, or dinner, I 'eat with my eyes first'. This in no way means I would opt for an expensive meal, just to get a visual delight, as there are many affordable options to have a tempting and scrumptious meal, without becoming a spendthrift. If you ask me about my option for the day, I will have a lip-smacking Dosha with 2 different chutneys and Sambar. What’s different about Dosha when compared to Kanji is its enticing smell and look, and I love having it with tantalizing chutneys that are appetizing to the core.
When served with tea, Dosha would make a perfect dinner, in just thirty rupees, which I think is quite very reasonable, as I take the liberty to have this lavishness only once in a week.
Colour and smell of the food have tremendous effect on my appetite. Those reds, yellows, and greens excite and entice me a lot, and so I am very much inclined to the food stuffs with incredible looks and smell, the reasons why Kanji fails so badly with its lackluster look and lack of alluring smell. I really don’t mean to offend any ‘Kanji’ lovers out there, but for me, Kanji is one among those dull looking foods that I would prefer when I am left with no other choices.
Be it breakfast, lunch, or dinner, I 'eat with my eyes first'. This in no way means I would opt for an expensive meal, just to get a visual delight, as there are many affordable options to have a tempting and scrumptious meal, without becoming a spendthrift. If you ask me about my option for the day, I will have a lip-smacking Dosha with 2 different chutneys and Sambar. What’s different about Dosha when compared to Kanji is its enticing smell and look, and I love having it with tantalizing chutneys that are appetizing to the core.
Feminism is not ‘man hating’
What’s more ridiculous than people calling me a feminist when they hear that I am not yet married? They strongly feel I hate men, which they think would have made me choose to live as a spinster. How terribly wrong! I don’t hate men, but do hate the class of ‘man hating’ feminists and their stupid conclusions about men.
At times I laugh my lungs out hearing them, but many times I never bother to give any clarification, as I know it won’t make any change. This is because, feminism, to most of the people out there, is nothing but hating men and speaking ill about them, which I think is nothing worse than the height of sheer absurdity. If they feel feminism is bearing awful vengeance against the whole male community and making hateful statements against them openly, I can never say anything but sympathize on their brainless thoughts. To be frank, I keep wondering at the reason why many of those well established feminist organisations keep mum and do nothing to educate such brainless people and stop them from spreading these ridiculous statements against a movement which has been scientifically and meticulously defined by umpteen clever women, throughout the ages.
I am not delving in to any the theoretical side of feminism, but as a woman, I think feminism is not about hating men and carrying a huge amount of awfulness, but focusing on the core issues that women face these days, and tackling them to the best of our efforts. It’s about ending up atrocities against women, thus making sure that our country is a better place for women to live in, so that there are no more Nirbhayas & Daminis in our country. Women should be free to walk safely, should have the liberty to get proper education and decent jobs to help them stand on their own feet, and should have the right to marry on their own will. Marital rapes, child abuses, forceful marriages, and all mayhems should no more happen in our society. I think, is about giving women the chance to live life on their own will, without the fear of getting abused, neither by thugs nor by patriarchal minded males. Unfortunately, such genuine needs are not given adequate focus, and what results is nothing but petty anti-male verbal vomits and thoughtless write-ups. As I said before, I don’t hate men and I am really proud that I have male friends who can better understand me when compared to my female pals. All that I look for is living a safer life with self identity, which I think can be easily done without hating men.
We should no more turn a blind-eye to the harm that ‘man hating’ feminists are doing. They keep poisoning many minds, giving away a totally disfigured concept of feminism which would do immense harm beyond repair, tarnishing a genuine movement that the world is in need of. The typical excuse that “Not all feminists are like that” won’t serve the purpose any more, as it’s nothing but a state of denial. It’s high time to focus on genuine things and end up all ‘man hating’ campaigns. Hating men won’t make us safe, it won’t make a woman a true feminist, nor will it make our country a better place for women.
At times I laugh my lungs out hearing them, but many times I never bother to give any clarification, as I know it won’t make any change. This is because, feminism, to most of the people out there, is nothing but hating men and speaking ill about them, which I think is nothing worse than the height of sheer absurdity. If they feel feminism is bearing awful vengeance against the whole male community and making hateful statements against them openly, I can never say anything but sympathize on their brainless thoughts. To be frank, I keep wondering at the reason why many of those well established feminist organisations keep mum and do nothing to educate such brainless people and stop them from spreading these ridiculous statements against a movement which has been scientifically and meticulously defined by umpteen clever women, throughout the ages.
I am not delving in to any the theoretical side of feminism, but as a woman, I think feminism is not about hating men and carrying a huge amount of awfulness, but focusing on the core issues that women face these days, and tackling them to the best of our efforts. It’s about ending up atrocities against women, thus making sure that our country is a better place for women to live in, so that there are no more Nirbhayas & Daminis in our country. Women should be free to walk safely, should have the liberty to get proper education and decent jobs to help them stand on their own feet, and should have the right to marry on their own will. Marital rapes, child abuses, forceful marriages, and all mayhems should no more happen in our society. I think, is about giving women the chance to live life on their own will, without the fear of getting abused, neither by thugs nor by patriarchal minded males. Unfortunately, such genuine needs are not given adequate focus, and what results is nothing but petty anti-male verbal vomits and thoughtless write-ups. As I said before, I don’t hate men and I am really proud that I have male friends who can better understand me when compared to my female pals. All that I look for is living a safer life with self identity, which I think can be easily done without hating men.
We should no more turn a blind-eye to the harm that ‘man hating’ feminists are doing. They keep poisoning many minds, giving away a totally disfigured concept of feminism which would do immense harm beyond repair, tarnishing a genuine movement that the world is in need of. The typical excuse that “Not all feminists are like that” won’t serve the purpose any more, as it’s nothing but a state of denial. It’s high time to focus on genuine things and end up all ‘man hating’ campaigns. Hating men won’t make us safe, it won’t make a woman a true feminist, nor will it make our country a better place for women.
My cooking woes
Eating a scrumptious meal is always relishable, but when it comes to cooking, I sneakily getaway with the excuse that I was in various hostels during a major share of my teen hood, which took away the precious time to learn the art of making delectable dishes. I never daringly take cooking seriously, as I always have this innate feeling that I would turn out to be the worst cook, spoiling someone’s breakfast, lunch, or dinner for no reason of their own. I cook only when I am desperately in need of food, and don’t have any other option left, but to cook something for myself. But almost 99% of the food I make, even when take the help of a recipe book, are not really as edible as they should be, and this shatters my entire confidence to cook for somebody else other than myself. Every time I cook something, the food will be often just worth eating, and never carry that wow factor which I would expect, no matter however hard I try. Am I expecting too much? I really don’t know. But I've always wished to replicate my mom’s dishes in their entire perfection, but have never yet been successful in my efforts.
There used to be a time when I thought I would become a clever homemaker and a good cook. But that was just a misconception and would never become an actuality. The dishes that I cook are either average or at times a bit horrendous. It’s a terrible shame that even after being a foodie and having a liking for cooking, I can never serve a fantastic meal. Being in a very Indian ambiance I keep hearing the comment that I would become a really lousy wife as I am not good in cooking delectable dishes. But is marriage all about displaying your culinary skills?
Not knowing cooking doesn't mean I am lazy and slyly getaway from other works at home. I am too good in all the other household works like washing and cleaning, and always make sure to do them to the best of my efforts. Sunday is the only holiday that I am blessed with, and I always make sure to take time and help my mom, no matter however tired I am. But I think cooking is just not my cup of tea, or to be more emphatic, I fear I can never become a good cook anytime in my life. It’s not that I am not interested in learning, as I do adore master chefs like Vikas Khanna, and would love took dishes half as good as his, but to be frank I do have huge lack of confidence in my culinary expertise, for some really unknown reasons.
My mom is a superb cook, and so was my grand mom. Even my younger sister is no different, but I am tad different from all the three and at times feel embarrassed seeing my younger sister cooking delicious meals, while I cling on to mom for help, or find a packet of Maggie noodles to satisfy my appetite.
There used to be a time when I thought I would become a clever homemaker and a good cook. But that was just a misconception and would never become an actuality. The dishes that I cook are either average or at times a bit horrendous. It’s a terrible shame that even after being a foodie and having a liking for cooking, I can never serve a fantastic meal. Being in a very Indian ambiance I keep hearing the comment that I would become a really lousy wife as I am not good in cooking delectable dishes. But is marriage all about displaying your culinary skills?
Not knowing cooking doesn't mean I am lazy and slyly getaway from other works at home. I am too good in all the other household works like washing and cleaning, and always make sure to do them to the best of my efforts. Sunday is the only holiday that I am blessed with, and I always make sure to take time and help my mom, no matter however tired I am. But I think cooking is just not my cup of tea, or to be more emphatic, I fear I can never become a good cook anytime in my life. It’s not that I am not interested in learning, as I do adore master chefs like Vikas Khanna, and would love took dishes half as good as his, but to be frank I do have huge lack of confidence in my culinary expertise, for some really unknown reasons.
My mom is a superb cook, and so was my grand mom. Even my younger sister is no different, but I am tad different from all the three and at times feel embarrassed seeing my younger sister cooking delicious meals, while I cling on to mom for help, or find a packet of Maggie noodles to satisfy my appetite.
An erratic Monday
As always, Mondays are pretty unexciting when compared to other days, and the disliking would intensify if someone decisively adds dullness to the day. Don’t get me wrong, because, now Monday blues don’t irk me much like before, and I make sure to wake up as early as 4.45 am, often making my dad wonder how his daughter can be so prompt even after being extraordinarily obsessive about sleep. Some days, or Mondays to be specific, I am head over heels in love with sleep, and hate waking up early and getting ready to take the morning bus to my workplace. Right from the moment of hearing the annoying alarm, I would keep grumbling to myself and to god the very same question that I’ve been asking for years - Why can’t there by two Sundays in a week? But come to my home on a holiday, and you can see me enjoying a great sleep till ten on eleven in the morning, until my dad starts making fun of me for being irresistibly addicted to sleep.
Again came another Monday! I was in no mood to be lazy, and got up as fast as possible, and reached the bus stand at by 5.30 am only to know that my morning bus was no where found. I ran to the bus station office asking if they had cancelled the schedule, but thankfully they hadn’t, and told be the bus number so that I can find it and occupy a comfortable seat without any struggle. Gleefully I waved at my dad and hopped into the bus, happily occupying my favourite window seat. Time went fast and it was almost 6 am, but the driver didn’t reach. I worriedly ran back to the office again to know what happened, but to my surprise heard a hilarious reply from the officer in charge. Making me laugh my lungs out, he answered that the driver is taking bath and may reach in half an hour. The ‘dutiful’ bus driver who should have taken us to our places at 5.50 am was happily bathing at 6 am and needed another long half an hour to do up! I felt that was weirdest of the excuses I could have heard. With a glum face, I went back and sat inside the bus, along with a handful of passengers. Time was running way too faster than what I have, adding stress and time to my commute, neither of which I can really afford to accumulate, especially on Mondays.
It was 6.40 and I saw our ‘handsomely bathed’ driver, lazily walking towards our bus, as if he was enjoying a romantic morning stroll, when all of us were wondering how to make up the time that we lost waiting for him. By the time we started from the bus station I had lost almost 45 minutes waiting for the driver to beautify himself. So after reaching the hostel at 8.15 am, it was like marathon run, and I had to speedily do everything, to reach my office by 9 am.
What a day! I couldn’t stop myself from saying this, because, I didn’t enjoy my travel, didn’t have a proper bath, and didn’t enjoy a good breakfast as well, all for no reason of my own! What more can make my Monday as worst as possible?
You may perhaps ask me the reason why I didn’t opt for another bus, so let me tell you that all the other buses were so jam-packed that I felt chocked even on the very sight of those crammed buses.
Again came another Monday! I was in no mood to be lazy, and got up as fast as possible, and reached the bus stand at by 5.30 am only to know that my morning bus was no where found. I ran to the bus station office asking if they had cancelled the schedule, but thankfully they hadn’t, and told be the bus number so that I can find it and occupy a comfortable seat without any struggle. Gleefully I waved at my dad and hopped into the bus, happily occupying my favourite window seat. Time went fast and it was almost 6 am, but the driver didn’t reach. I worriedly ran back to the office again to know what happened, but to my surprise heard a hilarious reply from the officer in charge. Making me laugh my lungs out, he answered that the driver is taking bath and may reach in half an hour. The ‘dutiful’ bus driver who should have taken us to our places at 5.50 am was happily bathing at 6 am and needed another long half an hour to do up! I felt that was weirdest of the excuses I could have heard. With a glum face, I went back and sat inside the bus, along with a handful of passengers. Time was running way too faster than what I have, adding stress and time to my commute, neither of which I can really afford to accumulate, especially on Mondays.
It was 6.40 and I saw our ‘handsomely bathed’ driver, lazily walking towards our bus, as if he was enjoying a romantic morning stroll, when all of us were wondering how to make up the time that we lost waiting for him. By the time we started from the bus station I had lost almost 45 minutes waiting for the driver to beautify himself. So after reaching the hostel at 8.15 am, it was like marathon run, and I had to speedily do everything, to reach my office by 9 am.
You may perhaps ask me the reason why I didn’t opt for another bus, so let me tell you that all the other buses were so jam-packed that I felt chocked even on the very sight of those crammed buses.
Take it with a grain of salt
How do you handle an insult; be it from a stranger or from someone who’s pretty close to you?Last day I happened to read a beautiful story of Buddha, and the way he handled an insult. Here’s it:
Once an angry man insulted Buddha. In reply, Buddha asked the man if people ever visited hi in his his home. Amazed at the change of topic, he replied yes. Later Buddha asked him whether his visitors ever brought gifts for him. The man again replied yes, and Buddha went on to further ask him what would happen if he refuses to accept the gifts, and who would the gifts belong to then? The man immediately replied that if he refuses the gifts, they would belong to those who brought them. On hearing this, Buddha replied calmly, "In the same way, since I do not accept your insults, they remain with you."
I think there’s a fantastic message in the story.
Heard someone hurl an insulting comment about you? Take a moment & stop getting annoyed! Never roll your eyes and tap your fingers, because all these impulsive reactions won’t do any good, other than making your body and mind tired and worn-out, thus helping the other person feel that he/she has won in making you feel low and wounded.
If you ask me, the best way to handle an insult is to be silent and not to get offended. Facing an insult with patience is the best way to keep away your body and mind from all the unwanted stress and negativity that can take a huge toll on your mind & daily life activities.
Long back, whenever I used to be the soft target to shower insults and offensive remarks, I was often impulsive and left no stones unturned to to burst out in uncontrollable anger, incessantly howling and shouting at the person in front of me, frantically trying to give a ‘befitting’ reply, which I felt would lessen the impact of the insult that I faced. But now I am not in to all those impulsiveness, and always make sure to take time to figure out things wisely, before giving my replies. A few minutes of silence and analysis helps me calm down, so that I can take a sensible move, instead of giving a hysterical scream in anger.
Often insulting remarks are never sincere opinions that are aimed at helping you become a better person. So I don’t think we need to take time to find out the reason why people hurl such nasty remarks at us, as those verbal vomits would never have anything worth listening to. I think insulting remarks are nothing but sharp thorns that people purposefully lay on your road to success, to make you trip and fall down as quickly as possible. So why bother to step on them and bear the pain unnecessarily?
The best way to avoid the catastrophe is to ignore them and take a deviation. This will assure your mind that no one else other than you can make your mind feel bad about yourself. I keep doing this whenever I hear rude remarks, and this helps me retain my confidence, instead of getting myself burned in the fire of irrational and offensive remarks. I am not saying that you should sit back and let people insult you repeatedly, thus giving them a chance to take undue advantage of you and your silence. On the contrary, make sure not to lose your mind over an unnecessary comment or remark made by an uncouth attacker. Instead, if you laugh aloud when someone pisses you off, you will feel better, and can give him/her a humiliating reply through your laugh. But if you think you cannot make use of your sense of humour, you are always free to distance yourself from that person. Only we can make the choice whether or not to get insulted, so why not make the right choice?
Once an angry man insulted Buddha. In reply, Buddha asked the man if people ever visited hi in his his home. Amazed at the change of topic, he replied yes. Later Buddha asked him whether his visitors ever brought gifts for him. The man again replied yes, and Buddha went on to further ask him what would happen if he refuses to accept the gifts, and who would the gifts belong to then? The man immediately replied that if he refuses the gifts, they would belong to those who brought them. On hearing this, Buddha replied calmly, "In the same way, since I do not accept your insults, they remain with you."
I think there’s a fantastic message in the story.
Heard someone hurl an insulting comment about you? Take a moment & stop getting annoyed! Never roll your eyes and tap your fingers, because all these impulsive reactions won’t do any good, other than making your body and mind tired and worn-out, thus helping the other person feel that he/she has won in making you feel low and wounded.
If you ask me, the best way to handle an insult is to be silent and not to get offended. Facing an insult with patience is the best way to keep away your body and mind from all the unwanted stress and negativity that can take a huge toll on your mind & daily life activities.
Long back, whenever I used to be the soft target to shower insults and offensive remarks, I was often impulsive and left no stones unturned to to burst out in uncontrollable anger, incessantly howling and shouting at the person in front of me, frantically trying to give a ‘befitting’ reply, which I felt would lessen the impact of the insult that I faced. But now I am not in to all those impulsiveness, and always make sure to take time to figure out things wisely, before giving my replies. A few minutes of silence and analysis helps me calm down, so that I can take a sensible move, instead of giving a hysterical scream in anger.
Often insulting remarks are never sincere opinions that are aimed at helping you become a better person. So I don’t think we need to take time to find out the reason why people hurl such nasty remarks at us, as those verbal vomits would never have anything worth listening to. I think insulting remarks are nothing but sharp thorns that people purposefully lay on your road to success, to make you trip and fall down as quickly as possible. So why bother to step on them and bear the pain unnecessarily?
The best way to avoid the catastrophe is to ignore them and take a deviation. This will assure your mind that no one else other than you can make your mind feel bad about yourself. I keep doing this whenever I hear rude remarks, and this helps me retain my confidence, instead of getting myself burned in the fire of irrational and offensive remarks. I am not saying that you should sit back and let people insult you repeatedly, thus giving them a chance to take undue advantage of you and your silence. On the contrary, make sure not to lose your mind over an unnecessary comment or remark made by an uncouth attacker. Instead, if you laugh aloud when someone pisses you off, you will feel better, and can give him/her a humiliating reply through your laugh. But if you think you cannot make use of your sense of humour, you are always free to distance yourself from that person. Only we can make the choice whether or not to get insulted, so why not make the right choice?
It’s good to be suspicious
Myth: It’s bad to suspect others.
Fact: It’s always good to be mildly suspicions as it will help you evade some unforeseen troubles and dangers, by gifting you with the powerful armor of extra caution to shield yourself.
Are you vulnerable to trusting someone very easily? To be frank, I am not, or I should say I don’t blindly trust anyone other than my parents, or to put it in a better way, when it comes to people other than dad and mom, I always carry within me a mild dosage of suspicion and carefulness, and my instincts have helped me many times in avoiding some really worst incidents, right before start. So, before jumping in to the conclusion that I am totally wrong, give it a second thought and you will definitely agree to me. A mild dose of paranoia is always good to safe guard yourself; especially when you are in strange places in the company of people whom you don't know well. This holds true even with people you know, or even when you are walking in the evenings or even travelling in a bus or train. The person near you, walking behind you, or sitting close to you can never me a heavenly angel, and definitely won’t be a thug or a robber always, but a mild level of paranoia will help you protect yourself, and will gift you with the extra sensory perception to anticipate and avert a possible trouble or danger that may be lurking around without your knowledge. Being in a society where murderers, chain snatchers, looters and all the sort of antisocial elements walk around in the best possible ‘gentlemanly’ face, identifying and separating the harmful and harmless would definitely be not be as easy as you think. Therefore, it is always good to have a set level suspicion, I repeat it’s a set level, and should not go overboard, as it will definitely help you than do any harm.
I can tell you an example to prove this, as this very evident in case of frequent travelers who are often noticed carefully, trapped, and attacked for money and jewellery. I've seen a lot of people in buses and trains who often trust fellow passengers too readily, and start talking intimately as if they were friends for years together. I really wonder why people do bother to talk so deeply to a stranger, just to get rid of the boredom of a journey! There are many other things that can be done during travelling, like reading a book, texting friends, listening to music, or even looking outside and watching people and vehicles around. Yet many people soon walk in to the strangers’ territory and ‘make friends’ in minutes, which I think is the best way to invite a possible danger. To avoid being taken undue advantage of, it’s always wise to keep away from such short chitchats and be aware that you can never measure the level of others' motives or honesty.
But once you get rid of the shell of blind trust, you can soon find that your instincts would often turn out correct, and you will less likely regret for being suspicious than for being too trusting. Trusting others is never naive, but blind trust is more than dangerous, and trusting people who are less known to you is the worst of the lot. Yes, trust is essential, and is the very core of our life. But that in no way means that you should trust someone blindly and open up your entire self in front of them. Be watchful, and don’t let yourself pay a huge price for blindly trusting someone.
PS: On the flip-side blind suspicion would also do immense harm if you are not aware of where to draw that vivid yet fine line. So make sure to set your suspicion to the requisite level, and not even a degree more.
Fact: It’s always good to be mildly suspicions as it will help you evade some unforeseen troubles and dangers, by gifting you with the powerful armor of extra caution to shield yourself.
Are you vulnerable to trusting someone very easily? To be frank, I am not, or I should say I don’t blindly trust anyone other than my parents, or to put it in a better way, when it comes to people other than dad and mom, I always carry within me a mild dosage of suspicion and carefulness, and my instincts have helped me many times in avoiding some really worst incidents, right before start. So, before jumping in to the conclusion that I am totally wrong, give it a second thought and you will definitely agree to me. A mild dose of paranoia is always good to safe guard yourself; especially when you are in strange places in the company of people whom you don't know well. This holds true even with people you know, or even when you are walking in the evenings or even travelling in a bus or train. The person near you, walking behind you, or sitting close to you can never me a heavenly angel, and definitely won’t be a thug or a robber always, but a mild level of paranoia will help you protect yourself, and will gift you with the extra sensory perception to anticipate and avert a possible trouble or danger that may be lurking around without your knowledge. Being in a society where murderers, chain snatchers, looters and all the sort of antisocial elements walk around in the best possible ‘gentlemanly’ face, identifying and separating the harmful and harmless would definitely be not be as easy as you think. Therefore, it is always good to have a set level suspicion, I repeat it’s a set level, and should not go overboard, as it will definitely help you than do any harm.
I can tell you an example to prove this, as this very evident in case of frequent travelers who are often noticed carefully, trapped, and attacked for money and jewellery. I've seen a lot of people in buses and trains who often trust fellow passengers too readily, and start talking intimately as if they were friends for years together. I really wonder why people do bother to talk so deeply to a stranger, just to get rid of the boredom of a journey! There are many other things that can be done during travelling, like reading a book, texting friends, listening to music, or even looking outside and watching people and vehicles around. Yet many people soon walk in to the strangers’ territory and ‘make friends’ in minutes, which I think is the best way to invite a possible danger. To avoid being taken undue advantage of, it’s always wise to keep away from such short chitchats and be aware that you can never measure the level of others' motives or honesty.
But once you get rid of the shell of blind trust, you can soon find that your instincts would often turn out correct, and you will less likely regret for being suspicious than for being too trusting. Trusting others is never naive, but blind trust is more than dangerous, and trusting people who are less known to you is the worst of the lot. Yes, trust is essential, and is the very core of our life. But that in no way means that you should trust someone blindly and open up your entire self in front of them. Be watchful, and don’t let yourself pay a huge price for blindly trusting someone.
PS: On the flip-side blind suspicion would also do immense harm if you are not aware of where to draw that vivid yet fine line. So make sure to set your suspicion to the requisite level, and not even a degree more.
In memory of some treasured travel moments
Be it long distance travels or short journeys to nearby places, buses are the only traveling option that I am allowed to choose, and I can never even think about the liberty to enjoy a rail journey, as my family is totally against taking the ‘risk’ of traveling in trains, especially at nights. Thugs and robbers do make wise use of the lack of security and hop in to local trains unlawfully, even without paying for the tickets, in turn looting the passengers and sometimes harming them fatally. So, to be frank, I cannot blame my parents for curtailing my traveling options as trains have now become the soft spots for all sorts of crimes and robberies. Yet, I still do long for train journeys at times, and later pacify my mind by repeating about the possible dangers that are lurking around the corner.
Since childhood, trains have always triggered immense fascination and joy, and train journeys have always left-away some worth carrying memories that still hold onto. Being the granddaughter of a railway employee, I was always blessed with some wonderful chances to listen to some really fascinating stories about the train journeys that he has taken so far, and about the various railway stations where he had served a major share of his life as a dutiful stationmaster. Now, even in is eighties, I can see a vivid glimmer in his eyes whenever he starts saying about train journeys. I can surely say that I would be the only one in my family, who can give a complete account of all the official & unofficial trips that he has taken in his life, and these stories undoubtedly triggered a huge liking for train travels, which were totally allowable until the last couple of years. Till then, I had absolute freedom to travel in train whenever I wanted, and I never missed any chances that came though.
In fact, the project research phase of post graduation was the time when I had some of the most wonderful train journeys in my life, in the pretext of visiting libraries close by, for project research. Although I did the research part to the best of my ability, I was more in to enjoying those train journeys with my classmates, which gave me a lot of happiness that words can't express. All of us used to literally rush into the coach to get to our seats, and I always used to manage to get myself a comfortable seat near the window. Whenever I wasn't lucky enough to get a seat for myself, the upper sleeping berths were my next favorite option, where I can sit comfortably and watch fellow travelers, wondering where they are going and what there story would be. Added to these joys of traveling was savoring the coffees and cutlets that were served and reading my favorite books: both augmented my pleasures to several manifolds.
But all these excitements soon stopped, and there were two reasons behind it. If one was a small mistake from my end, another one was a tragedy that left away a huge fear in the mind of train commuters, especially women.
Let me tell you my mistake first. I was on the way back from our usual library visit, and was walking towards the railway station. Rather than taking the straight roads, I used love crossing railway tracks and reaching the station soon. As usual I was on the way to the station, crossing the long railway tracks when an engine started coming towards us stealthily. It was only when my teacher shouted from the other end that I saw that monstrous looking engine a few steps ahead, all set to trample me under its huge feet. I quickly jumped to the other track and saved myself, but my teacher was ‘merciful’ enough to narrate the whole ‘adventure’ to my dad, and there ended the lifelong liberty that I had for train travel. Sadly, I had to start depending on the jam-packed local buses that were far from being comfortable.
Adding to this mild curtailment was the news report of the tragic night when a twenty something woman was pushed off from a moving train and was brutally raped to death by a beggar. Although it happened a few years back, fears still linger, and again, train journeys became a more distant dream for me.
Whenever I hear the whistle of a train, I still keep dreaming about all the fewer yet wonderful train journeys that I’ve had, hoping for one such to happen again someday.
Since childhood, trains have always triggered immense fascination and joy, and train journeys have always left-away some worth carrying memories that still hold onto. Being the granddaughter of a railway employee, I was always blessed with some wonderful chances to listen to some really fascinating stories about the train journeys that he has taken so far, and about the various railway stations where he had served a major share of his life as a dutiful stationmaster. Now, even in is eighties, I can see a vivid glimmer in his eyes whenever he starts saying about train journeys. I can surely say that I would be the only one in my family, who can give a complete account of all the official & unofficial trips that he has taken in his life, and these stories undoubtedly triggered a huge liking for train travels, which were totally allowable until the last couple of years. Till then, I had absolute freedom to travel in train whenever I wanted, and I never missed any chances that came though.
In fact, the project research phase of post graduation was the time when I had some of the most wonderful train journeys in my life, in the pretext of visiting libraries close by, for project research. Although I did the research part to the best of my ability, I was more in to enjoying those train journeys with my classmates, which gave me a lot of happiness that words can't express. All of us used to literally rush into the coach to get to our seats, and I always used to manage to get myself a comfortable seat near the window. Whenever I wasn't lucky enough to get a seat for myself, the upper sleeping berths were my next favorite option, where I can sit comfortably and watch fellow travelers, wondering where they are going and what there story would be. Added to these joys of traveling was savoring the coffees and cutlets that were served and reading my favorite books: both augmented my pleasures to several manifolds.
But all these excitements soon stopped, and there were two reasons behind it. If one was a small mistake from my end, another one was a tragedy that left away a huge fear in the mind of train commuters, especially women.
Let me tell you my mistake first. I was on the way back from our usual library visit, and was walking towards the railway station. Rather than taking the straight roads, I used love crossing railway tracks and reaching the station soon. As usual I was on the way to the station, crossing the long railway tracks when an engine started coming towards us stealthily. It was only when my teacher shouted from the other end that I saw that monstrous looking engine a few steps ahead, all set to trample me under its huge feet. I quickly jumped to the other track and saved myself, but my teacher was ‘merciful’ enough to narrate the whole ‘adventure’ to my dad, and there ended the lifelong liberty that I had for train travel. Sadly, I had to start depending on the jam-packed local buses that were far from being comfortable.
Adding to this mild curtailment was the news report of the tragic night when a twenty something woman was pushed off from a moving train and was brutally raped to death by a beggar. Although it happened a few years back, fears still linger, and again, train journeys became a more distant dream for me.
Whenever I hear the whistle of a train, I still keep dreaming about all the fewer yet wonderful train journeys that I’ve had, hoping for one such to happen again someday.
Simple is sweet
While reading some interesting discussions on Quora, I saw a question that evoked a few interesting thoughts that I wish to share here. The question was about the reason why a few writers are passionate about flamboyant and pompous words that are a hard to understand. I found the discussion worth reading as there was a time when I too had the very same curiosity, and kept wondering how an average reader would decipher a message that’s delivered in a bombastic style. I am not totally against using dense words, but at the same time not an ardent lover of obscure pieces with hard to make out messages. In my opinion every piece of writing should be equally palatable for the expert as well as the average reader, and both should enjoy it in alike. But nowadays even national dailies are ‘victims’ of the high propensity to use long and complex words, when smaller ones will do, only to impress people and make them go gaga about their limitless vocabulary. To be frank, I am not a huge fan of such people, writers, or journalists, who use unnecessarily long words like “perambulating” instead of “walking”, and I do believe that almost everything in this world can be said in simple and less obscure words which are not more than five letters in length.
I am not saying that people use complex vocabularies intentionally, but I think many people do have this false notion that a worth reading post or an article should have a good number of those glitzy and hard to understand words, which they think would make the write-up scholarly and relevant. I think they are thoroughly wrong, and I am sure that most of the readers would stop reading such articles half the way just because of the complexity with which the writer has tried to deliver the message. Whatever the topic is, a piece of writing would look interesting and catchy only of it is written in simple and interesting language to help people understand and enjoy it, and not to forcefully make them depend on a dictionary to get the gist of what’s written in the post. I recently read somewhere that writers who are addicted to using bombastic words should cure themselves of sesquipedalianism, a word that sounded to me like kind of grave disease. I kept wondered what this word could be and had to refer the dictionary to know that it is nothing but the practice of using long, and sometimes obscure, words. If sesquipedalianism is a word that's hardly used by an average reader, how can he/she admire the work of writer who is addicted to sesquipedalianism?
When it comes to writing for a mass audience, I think it’s very important to avoid the words, phrases, and usages that are beyond the reach of an average reader, as less obscure and accessible writing is what most of the people look for these days. Using the “must be understandable to everyone” kind of language will never spoil the beauty of a piece of work, nor will it portray the writer as a person with limited vocabulary. Instead it will only make the writing interesting, thus making it appealing to a wide range of people. If a piece of writing is meant for the elite readers alone, who are acquainted with the so called “rich and classy” words, it’s definitely fine to fill-in the write-up with such words, or else why spoil the beauty of writing by stuffing it with complex and obscure lexis that would make it indigestible and unappealing to the readers?
I am not saying that people use complex vocabularies intentionally, but I think many people do have this false notion that a worth reading post or an article should have a good number of those glitzy and hard to understand words, which they think would make the write-up scholarly and relevant. I think they are thoroughly wrong, and I am sure that most of the readers would stop reading such articles half the way just because of the complexity with which the writer has tried to deliver the message. Whatever the topic is, a piece of writing would look interesting and catchy only of it is written in simple and interesting language to help people understand and enjoy it, and not to forcefully make them depend on a dictionary to get the gist of what’s written in the post. I recently read somewhere that writers who are addicted to using bombastic words should cure themselves of sesquipedalianism, a word that sounded to me like kind of grave disease. I kept wondered what this word could be and had to refer the dictionary to know that it is nothing but the practice of using long, and sometimes obscure, words. If sesquipedalianism is a word that's hardly used by an average reader, how can he/she admire the work of writer who is addicted to sesquipedalianism?
When it comes to writing for a mass audience, I think it’s very important to avoid the words, phrases, and usages that are beyond the reach of an average reader, as less obscure and accessible writing is what most of the people look for these days. Using the “must be understandable to everyone” kind of language will never spoil the beauty of a piece of work, nor will it portray the writer as a person with limited vocabulary. Instead it will only make the writing interesting, thus making it appealing to a wide range of people. If a piece of writing is meant for the elite readers alone, who are acquainted with the so called “rich and classy” words, it’s definitely fine to fill-in the write-up with such words, or else why spoil the beauty of writing by stuffing it with complex and obscure lexis that would make it indigestible and unappealing to the readers?
Story of distrust and insecurity
Be it friendship or romance, I think trust is the cornerstone of every healthy relationship, and last day, I saw it falling apart from one of my girl pal’s ten plus year old relationship with the man she loved most in this world.
I was back from work the other day and saw shocked to see my roommate weeping inconsolably. If you ask me what lead to this, I won’t call it a reason, but something that uncovered the innate jealousy and inferiority complex that her boyfriend has. She’s a lovely & trustworthy girl who is in a pretty ok relationship with a guy who is working abroad, but basically from her place. Problems began when she turned out lucky enough to get a permanent government job with a decent salary, whereas the guy, who didn't find it necessary to complete his masters, got a job in a private company abroad. He just couldn't take in the fact that she is going well with her professional life, and this envy was growing day by day, and emerged out abruptly when he knew that she had a good male friend in the office, and was happy with her friendship.
I never felt he is an amateur jealous freak, as he took his steps slowly and carefully, questioning and abusing her over the phone every day. Abusiveness started increasing day by day, and soon he started calling her names, asking her things that no loving boyfriend would dare to ask. He was literally getting on her nerves, yet she kept replying calmly. Jealousy-fueled phone calls came every day, but I never asked her anything, as I hardly have the habit of interfering in other people’s matters, unless and until they ask me for a sincere advice.It was hard watching her in pain on knowing that her man couldn't yet trust her just because she shared a healthy rapport with her male colleagues. How unfortunate! Insecurities and offensive remarks poured in nonstop, and she went on being defensive, explaining her side and assuring her loyalty.
Jealousy arises in a relationship because of sheer insecurity, and instilling confidence and love can take away the negative vibes of jealousy. But in her case this theory failed so badly, as he gave deaf years to whatever she said, and kept-on rebuking her insanely. After every phone call, I could see her crying her eyes out, as she couldn't stop but keep lamenting about how much she loved him. I really felt helpless seeing the injustice done to her. Even after hearing his rebukes and scornful remarks for hours together, she kept saying that he so overprotective, lovable, and at heart. Despite my deep urge to contrary, I felt it’s better to be quiet, as I didn't want to quash her faith giving her more painful moments.
After continuing the drama for about 3-4 days, yesterday I heard her speaking with daring confidence, and asked him to stop the mistreatment or end-up the relationship forever. I won’t say I was happy hearing this, as I know very well that it’s really hard to come out of a decade long relationship, but was happy to see her regaining self respect, which she had pledged to boyfriend of ten years. I am not sure where her relationship is heading to, but I know very well that trust has walked away from her love life, and may not return unless and until her boyfriend is willing to change, to become a bit more broadminded and humanely. This looks impossible right now or in short, things have turned really sour, but she is helpless and I think there’s nothing more she can do to sort things out.
Be it friendship or romance, blatant jealousy and inferiority complex should never be tolerated. Try mending by explaining the facts straight away, or cut-off the relationship for ever, as life is never too long to deal with worthless people and toxic minds. So why be submissive and endure all the pain for no reason?
I was back from work the other day and saw shocked to see my roommate weeping inconsolably. If you ask me what lead to this, I won’t call it a reason, but something that uncovered the innate jealousy and inferiority complex that her boyfriend has. She’s a lovely & trustworthy girl who is in a pretty ok relationship with a guy who is working abroad, but basically from her place. Problems began when she turned out lucky enough to get a permanent government job with a decent salary, whereas the guy, who didn't find it necessary to complete his masters, got a job in a private company abroad. He just couldn't take in the fact that she is going well with her professional life, and this envy was growing day by day, and emerged out abruptly when he knew that she had a good male friend in the office, and was happy with her friendship.
I never felt he is an amateur jealous freak, as he took his steps slowly and carefully, questioning and abusing her over the phone every day. Abusiveness started increasing day by day, and soon he started calling her names, asking her things that no loving boyfriend would dare to ask. He was literally getting on her nerves, yet she kept replying calmly. Jealousy-fueled phone calls came every day, but I never asked her anything, as I hardly have the habit of interfering in other people’s matters, unless and until they ask me for a sincere advice.It was hard watching her in pain on knowing that her man couldn't yet trust her just because she shared a healthy rapport with her male colleagues. How unfortunate! Insecurities and offensive remarks poured in nonstop, and she went on being defensive, explaining her side and assuring her loyalty.
Jealousy arises in a relationship because of sheer insecurity, and instilling confidence and love can take away the negative vibes of jealousy. But in her case this theory failed so badly, as he gave deaf years to whatever she said, and kept-on rebuking her insanely. After every phone call, I could see her crying her eyes out, as she couldn't stop but keep lamenting about how much she loved him. I really felt helpless seeing the injustice done to her. Even after hearing his rebukes and scornful remarks for hours together, she kept saying that he so overprotective, lovable, and at heart. Despite my deep urge to contrary, I felt it’s better to be quiet, as I didn't want to quash her faith giving her more painful moments.
After continuing the drama for about 3-4 days, yesterday I heard her speaking with daring confidence, and asked him to stop the mistreatment or end-up the relationship forever. I won’t say I was happy hearing this, as I know very well that it’s really hard to come out of a decade long relationship, but was happy to see her regaining self respect, which she had pledged to boyfriend of ten years. I am not sure where her relationship is heading to, but I know very well that trust has walked away from her love life, and may not return unless and until her boyfriend is willing to change, to become a bit more broadminded and humanely. This looks impossible right now or in short, things have turned really sour, but she is helpless and I think there’s nothing more she can do to sort things out.
Be it friendship or romance, blatant jealousy and inferiority complex should never be tolerated. Try mending by explaining the facts straight away, or cut-off the relationship for ever, as life is never too long to deal with worthless people and toxic minds. So why be submissive and endure all the pain for no reason?
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