She hurried down to that place in the corner
The happy place that opened at seven
With two tables out on the street
And a door that creaked and slid again
She worked the night shift
And he took the eight'o clock train
They had an hour of love every morning
A love she thought was lost in vain
"Coffee for one?" asked the guy at the counter
"Make it two," the girl would say
She took the coffee and went to the shore
Before the waves hit, she heard a "hey"
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She dances around trees till her feet hurt. She wears flimsy sarees amidst snow-capped mountains. She recreates a male's idea of a woman's emotions, sensuality, ambition, evilness, anger...She recreates them like she owns them. She appears in the far right or far left of a movie poster, apologetic, supporting, modest.
She shows us how to look good, what to wear, how to pose for pictures. She makes the ridiculous look aspirational. She knows she is beautiful. She knows her place in the world. And yet she takes a backseat whenever asked.
She obliges to her fans' selfie requests, answers to stupid, regressive questions of reporters, and trolled by people who have never met her. She is mocked for being too fat or too thin. She is loved and hated in surprisingly equal measure.
She is blacklisted for speaking up. She is called difficult for saying no. And just when you thought she had nothing to say, she takes the mic. She seems to be fearless. She stands in support of her tribe. She sometimes, just sometimes, cares less.
The Bollywood heroine has come a little less than a long way.
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Wish i could pose for pictures like a Bollywood heroine. Can't blame a girl for trying though.
“Is there any room out there for a straight white guy like me?”
The actor is not the first one to feel threatened when others not of his kind take the centerstage even for a while. There is something about self-entitlement that fools the best of us into thinking it is normal.
But that is not the worst. What is worst is a scenario where the sufferers, for a split second, think they had it coming. Years of conditioning, jokes that we were taught to laugh at, lies we were made to say to feel included and loved....they all give the odd ones amongst us reasons to blame ourselves for our miseries. Some weird kind of closure.
The color of our skin, the words in our prayers, the abilities of our limbs, the details in out anatomies, the human in our bed. They continue to define our lives, personal and professional.
While the bigger changes may take time to happen , it is the small ones that we should start rooting for at once. No laughing at LGBT jokes, no doppelganger bias while hiring, no sticking to the 15th century definition of normal. And last, but not the least, giving it back to the self entitled clan.
"Andy Samberg, you are in our room. Most of the times. Yes, it's not technically ours right now. But it could have been had you not straightwhitespread into everywhere, from restaurants to offices to Hollywood."
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Yes, I know the text has got nothing to do with the pictures. I just wanted to make some noise while looking fashionable. Please follow me on GFC and Facebook and Instagram if you like reading the blog.
The first time I saw a girl in headband was a few years ago. I was running my ass off on a beach and there she was, with a tanned face and a floral headband. It was an instant fashion inspiration moment for me.
I told myself, " Face it. It does look a little over the top." But then I began saving headband style images on Instagram. From Gloria Swanson's huge, unapologetic headbands to Alexa Chung's understated, thin head accessories, I ended up making quite an inspiration book.
I forgot about them again.
Then I saw Instagrammer Neha Paranjpe's feed. She was rocking them headbands. I realized that maybe the chickenshit inside me can try this trend afterall. Maybe it's not too much. "Actually they make anyone stand out. And not in a look-at-me kinda way, but an I-know-my-shit kinda way," I said to myself.
Neha helped me find what I was looking for and now there seems to be no stopping me. So this outfit is dedicated to Neha Paranjpe and that girl on the beach, whoever you were. I can only wish to be half as stylish as both of you.
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It has been a really busy week. So I am posting a quick one. These are just a few random pictures that have nothing to do with each other. But of course they are about how we go about doing our stuff on a particular weekend. Just regular fashion.
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Flowers lie pale
As I wait for them to die
And become something else
Anything but flowers
While you call me from a distance
A bird flies with all its might
This ain't home, she knows
And flies for her life
The lights go dim
As your eyes look for me
This ain't the moor we held hands at
Anything but a dream.
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"Wherever you go, you would need a good tailor. Or else you won't feel like home," my cousin used to say.
She was right in so many ways. If we discovered a good tailor, we would roam around the city like a bunch of happy monkeys, in packs, full of purpose. We knew who needed what and when and how much. The shopping for the so called dress material made us understand the city so better, and before we knew it, we were already started to feel a sense of belonging.
Whenever we had a good tailor, we would also know how to convert mother's old sarees into a dress, or alter an old, frumpy maxi into a short, edgy mini. Since our wardrobes were constantly evolving, we would go out more, just because we had new clothes.
And every time I have to go to my hometown, it's never done till a visit to a tailor is ticked off the list. It is almost a ritual. To those who don't understand,"Well there is stuff only a good, trusted tailor can do."
I have been to many cities in my country and I know for a fact that finding a good tailor is easier said than done. This dress, for example is a byproduct of five not so lovely interactions with a tailor I am yet to understand.
Do you also think the struggle to find a good tailor is real?
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