Thursday, November 5, 2020

One Year

One year. 
Since the rain gods danced.
The vases shook.
The flowers withered.

Since I sat on the front porch.
Saw you walking past my house.
Carrying two hearts in a shoebox.

One year. 
Since I dreamt of pink roses. 
In a fool's paradise.

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Taking a short break from fashion posts.

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Wednesday, October 7, 2020

Old World

Riding on bouts of happiness
Singing all along
Waiting for the train to pass by
Hoping to find you on the way

Lying on rooftop dreaming
Hearing you talking to a friend
Feeling the world pause
Getting the heartbeat back

Never uttering a word
Staring at strange faces
Holding the old heart
Living in an old world
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Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Racing Car

I feel guilty for not uploading anything in the last two months. Whenever I decided to write about something, my mind drifted like an anxious dog spinning in circles, then taking a break only to jump up and down over nothing. Absolutely nothing. Writing needs a controlled mind, and nothing seems to be in control in the midst of these uncertain times we are living in.

Who am I kidding? Pandemic or no pandemic, this head has always been like this. The other day I was reading that meditation is especially difficult for a lot of Geminis because their mind is always speeding like a racing car. You bet! I fall asleep exactly after five minutes of meditating.

On a serious note, I am in the middle of a lot of things. Life is 1@**d3kdhb... No matter how much I try, no good, put-together piece is going to come out today. No beautiful imperfection or haute mess. I should just stop typing now...

See you later. Hope everyone who reads this blog is doing okay. If you want to rant, the comment section is all yours. Sorry for wasting your time. Will come up with a better post next month. 

Missing this day on the beach though....

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Monday, April 13, 2020

Things I Have Learnt So Far in Quarantine

Before you tilt your head on your comfortable side (mine is right), raise your unthreaded eyebrows, and say,"Not another quarantine article!", let me assure you I won't present any data that would make you more frustrated than you already are. I don't know if we are going to emerge stronger - like those forwarded whatsapp messages claim we will- or will play a blink-and- you-miss-it role in a real life version of a pandemic movie. I don't. So I am just taking the liberty of talking about random, not necessarily sad things, I have observed during this quarantine. And here they are!

People Snack! Like a Lot!
So I am a part of a whatsapp group where we can mention the things we need, and a local kirana store guy will get it for us at the society gate. Very good initiative I must say, because that ensures very few people actually step out of the society. For all those who know me and my knack of observing the weirdest things ever, would totally understand why I read the lists sent by so many people everyday! No, I have no role in procuring that stuff, I just read because I can! It's out there in the chat group, for everyone to read. And my latest research tells me people snack a potato pile lot more than I thought. Biscuits, cookies, chips, cake slices, you name it, they are eating it. I must have been living under a rock all these years, thinking we Indians snack less and hence have healthier food habits. Suddenly I am worried more about obesity in the country than corona. I even dreamt of babies eating Nutella pancakes while sitting on a mountain  of soft vanilla cake!

Some people have better WhatsApp statuses than others 
One of the many times I realise I know the worst set of people in the world is when I check out the status section of my WhatsApp, filled with banal, meh content. Why, people why? But before I begin to take you through the streets of quarantine-snobbery, by saying more mean things about people who do not need my permission on the kind of things they have to say, let me be a little bit nicer. Let me talk about the bright yet soft rays of light, about those that upload kick-ass statuses. Mehak Mann, Jatin Khurana, and Hardeep Kaur, you know how to make a forever-irritated, quarantined woman happy. Thank you for existing. 

People are revealing their true selves, almost.
A friend who was gushing about a guy in February, just realised he can only waste so much time on her. Another one has realised how unhappy his job had made him and is already working on something new. Another one I know is going to confess her love to someone the moment all this is over. People are coming out. The flaunters, the singers, the pessimists, the optimists, the potential social butterflies hidden in the garb of loners, the alcoholics, the cooks, the fuckboys, the kind hearted....and so on and so forth. Now is the time you may discover something about your friends. They are all quarantined, masks reserved only for grocery shopping. Take a peep guys. You have the chance to know thy loved ones like never before. 
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Saturday, February 29, 2020

Five Things

I have been trying to find one good topic to write about, but I have nothing. So let me cleverly find something easy to write about. Like, five clothing items I have grown to appreciate... Here goes the list.

A black blazer
For all those days I felt totally clueless about what to wear, and for those when I felt very lazy to put in efforts to look put-together.

A lovely blouse
This one can brighten your mood. Just like that.

Hoops
I know it's not a clothing item. But coming to accessories, these little guys can make one feel a little extra...in the best possible way.

Black boots
They keep you warm and they make you look good. What more do you need during winters?

Parka
An under-rated jacket that is meant to be thrown over almost everything, dresses, jeans, shorts...
Please ignore the lack of creativity...and please follow me on GFC and Facebook and Instagram if you like reading the blog.



Wednesday, January 29, 2020

The Outsider

Do you ever get that feeling that you are stuck in some kind of style rut? That you, out of all people, you, who looks at people only for their clothes, can't really put together an outfit anymore? On days like these, I feel like a fashion outsider - someone who can still appreciate people's sartorial choices, even get some fluttery sorta feeling after looking at Chloƫ Sevigny, but has forgotten how to dress up for fuck's sake.

Now that you have already wasted two minutes listening to my rant, you might as well spare some more into looking at my analysis of why this happens...to me at least. And how I intend to fight it.

The office shit
I know a few women who dress up so well for work. But to me, all office wear stuff usually look like monkey suits - bland, sad attempts at hiding the real personality underneath neutral tones, take-me seriously blazers and boring as hell fitted shirts. Solution? Make a Pinterest board with all the work outfits that inspire me!

Those extra 7 kgs
For someone who loves androgynous style and oversized stuff, not being thin never helps. I know, I know we are supposed to be secure and flaunt our bodies, this is 2020. But I do allow myself this one tiny insecurity. And that is precisely where my personal style never really comes out. Solution? Accept the fact that it doesn't really matter! Grow up!

Lack of inspiration
For this one, instead of cribbing, i will straightaway jump to the solution. Read dear girl, read. Read fashion articles. And save all the outfits that you love on Instagram. Look at those images on a Sunday and see how you can take cues from them to create 5 outfits for the next week. Sounds like a plan? I am on it already.

What do you do when you feel like you are stuck in some fashion rut?

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Thursday, October 31, 2019

Does growing up have to hurt?

I am sitting at a cafe, waiting for a new friend to walk in at any time, and tell me what is wrong with her marriage. Post two cold brews, I get a text she isn't coming. Instead of going home, I decide to look around, stare at some more people, and try to read their lives from ten seconds of visual contact. I realise the last time I came to this mall was when I was almost a teenager. I was supposed to go back to my hostel by seven. But somehow, even with that kind of curfew, I seemed happier. The best part about being a teenager for me have to be those songs in my head. It's not like my adult head is a monk's cell, there are songs playing as I write this, but they seem to occupy less space somehow.

My next beverage arrives. It’s red, smooth and apparently healthy. My mind moves on to blenders, the powerful, 800 watt, can crush ice and beetroot - without crashing like Stranger Things’ demogorgon from Eleven’s stare - kinds. I have been meaning to buy one of those blenders as I have been told that smoothies are supposed to be an integral part of a healthy lifestyle. I also need to start saving up for a house, and maybe should start dating as well. 

Does growing up have to hurt? When I look at my morning routine, or travel for work during weekends, or give that drink a pass, it does. When I look at my waistline, or the fact that I would be staying in this weekend and follow some nine step skincare routine, it hurts even more. Adulthood is overrated, most say.  And what I have realized it that it sucks the most because your friends, who were available for you 24*7 earlier, have priorities now, and that you can no longer cry your eyeballs out for every little jolt you feel, or giggle over something really corny but good. You can’t discuss why Mr. Big (SATC) never deserved Carrie or why Phoebe Waller-Bridge is so fucking relatable.

Then I think of Fleabag, and Andrew Scott and then my mind is blank for a while, well, my watch says for more than an hour. I take a cab. I don’t have to ask anyone if I can stay out a little more. I look at my phone. I am supposed to call a friend who is simply stupid. Growing up, I had to laugh at his stupid jokes because I didn’t know I had a choice. Now I know I don’t have to laugh, or even pick his calls. I know it’s okay to not like people, and more importantly, to not be liked by people. I can’t stress the second part enough.

I reach my place, which, by the way, is cute. I have posters on my wall of things that actually mean something to me, not some random “Yes, I love Scorsese too, see I am so cool. Like you” shit. I have an option of right swipes followed by mindless sex followed by no guilt option. Not that you need to be a grown up to be able to right swipe, but the “no guilt’ part? C’mmon, that takes years to happen. It’s 2 am, and I can make Spaghetti Aglio e Olio like Shahrukh Khan. It’s 30th today and I am broke. But I know that if I have made it for ten freaking years, I will make it for another ten.

Does growing up have to hurt? You tell me.

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