A Gleeful Farewell to 2016.

With the impending end of 2016, I'm so full of questions and thoughts. Sometimes, they are interfering with my inner peace, the other times, they are only providing a decent amount of fodder for squandering my time.

When I was writing a year-ender post last year, I had so much to tell that I literally cut down many paragraphs but this year, right from the time December arrived, I was fretting about what I have to write. Not because I have to write (which I have to), but also because these posts serve as reminders to all that I was in that particular year. Looking at the way 2016 panned out, it should obviously be the year that set its standards high for beating even the worst. But as a lot of people say...this is how life works. So, between being tangled and untangled, 2016 is a year where life happened to me. It was cruel. It made me vulnerable, but it also made me realize that a human being can be truly surprised what he can live with.

Every time I hit a rock bottom and overcome it, the survivor in me assumes that she is equipped for the worst. Another disaster, another victory, another bravado. But with every disaster, I fall flat and weep into the wee hours of the nights and try to hide my distressed eyes with copious amounts of eyeliner and mascara, the next morning. No matter how much and how well prepared I am for every disaster, I have my own share of fears and insecurities. However, like everyone, I also have an inner voice and in my case, it is a small girl who reminds me of the survivor that I am and urges me to show up. At any cost. And I do. And then, things get better. And then...life happens again.

I remember this time in high school when I wanted to walk into a room and own it; to make conversations with absolute strangers. I wanted to be heard, understood, and more importantly, known. Despite having such strong wishes, I was meek and often too shy to even respond to the questions I was asked. As I grew old, it changed in bits and pieces, but in time, I developed an unhealthy relationship with my own self. To tame my thoughts and incoherency while building a deep connection with myself, I decided to start a blog one night around 5 years ago. I think this worked out well for me. It made me discover my voice, inner strengths and offered me a humble platform to speak. Sure, I still do not walk into a room and own it, but hey, I am getting there. As we speak, I am in the process of checking it off my list too.

This brings me to another vital factor - reading.

I always thought I'd measure my years with the amazing books that I read, but 2016 made me go nuts for one book very particularly - Daytripper by Fábio Moon and Gabriel Bá. Despite reading 75 books this year, discovering new writers and rediscovering many old favourites, I think Daytripper is something that left its mark on me. I'm totally holding on to this like I held on to The Great Expectations.

Talking about someone in past tense is annoyingly excruciating. Even more so, if it is your mother. After losing my mother in August, I've lost my wits and a sense of security. A lot of people say that I've changed a great deal, while the others comment that I have stopped sounding like myself. I was a carefree spirit in my mother's presence, but something has definitely changed inside of me after her death. I don't know what it is, and I will not try hard to put it into words, but a part of me is entirely convinced that at any point of time, anything can happen, and we're not in control of it. It is such an unfortunate truth, isn't it? We mask it by saying it's the beauty of life. But to me, there is nothing beautiful about loss. It changes and molds you in so many patterns that you probably don't recognize yourself when you look into the mirror one day. Harsh truth - it shouldn't change you for bad. The sense of security can be lost and regained, but if you lose the core essence of yourself, it's hard to gain control over it. First-hand experience, please do take it from me!

A lot of things that happened this year made me form stronger bonds with my family. I'm so grateful for that! I make it a point to take time for them now. Earlier, my friends and family always complained that I don't return calls or stay in touch, but I have taken a new leap in that too. I'm guessing they now complain that I am always texting or calling.

Sometimes, even a little amount of unwavering faith takes you a long way. I probably didn't realize that when I started seeing this boy almost a year ago, but in time, it makes me wonder about love. I've written and talked so often about it (Thanks to my unhealthy obsession with romantic comedies and dramas) and as it turns out so much of it is false because love neither comes in fancy packaging nor with tons of confetti. It probably comes in a pretty average but sturdy packaging. Or in the form of a boy who picks your battles like they're his own. I certainly don't have a knight in the shining armour and I don't ask for one. Because what I have is a living, breathing person who shields me like an armour. Sometimes, that's all I ask for. And an unwavering faith!

As I come to an end of this post and 2016, I totally know that I contradicted what I've said in the beginning - that I had nothing to talk or write about. But when I actually sat down to write, there was no stopping. So yes, here's to a slightly depressing but a great deal of learning that 2016 endowed on me. I'm not asking for a fabulous 2017, but I surely won't mind one that comes with pleasant surprises and goodness my way.

To everyone who made this year amazing and got me cupcakes, thank you. To everyone who did not, you all can have a happy New Year too!

P.S. Thank you for reading this unavoidably long post.

If I Ever Have A Daughter!

“Daughters. They were sometimes as familiar and intimate as honeysuckles in bloom, but mostly daughters were mysteries. They lived in rooms you had long since abandoned and could not, did not, ever want to re-enter.” 

― Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Names on a Map

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know that life will never be a bed of dandelion seeds; life will gives a sucker punch and no matter what we do, it takes time to recover.

But I will be there, I promise.

I will give her a tub of ice-cream instead of admonishing her for scoring a B in math. I will not judge her. I will understand God has planned her for different things. 

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know that friends are meant to be valued in every walk of life. I want her to spend her time and affection only on those who spend theirs on her.

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know she might love a wrong man and feel let down in several phases of life. I want her to give in to the pain, hold on, and let go.

Even in the darkest of the days, I will be there, I promise.

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to experience the beauty of literature and traveling. I want her to heal her pain with music and art. I will read to her in the night and remind her that she was raised to be like Nancy Drew.

If I ever have a daughter, I will teach her to be compassionate. I will teach her that kindness is above everything and even when looks fade, memories perish, and people transform for better or worse, kindness still endures.

I will love her and tell her the stories of Jane Eyre and Noddy. I do not want her to lose the spark of a child. Ever.

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know the right man will never ask for more. He will see the worst and the best, and he will choose to keep the both. He will ask for sunshine and thunderstorm.

I want her to know that she should accept his annoying idiosyncratic nature and absolute adoration. Together!

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know that she should have a career of her own - she might as well be a musician or do crafts for a living, but I want her to know that I will be there for her.

I promise.

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know that as she walks out of the house, there will be a zillion men who ogle at her like she is a lush piece of meat. I want her to face the sad reality of our society without a disheartened nature.

And on days when she rushes into home wiping her tears, I will remind her that she was born to be a fighter and that she has to fight her dire straits without depending on anyone. Like I promised, I will be there.

If I ever have a daughter, I will give her a pet. I want her to know that the love for animals is beyond everything. 

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to write a journal. I want her to embrace her vulnerabilities and shine bright. 

I will be there for her, I promise.

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to be the protagonist of her story - strong and beautiful in her own way. I will love her for all intents and purposes. 

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know that all memories are meant to be treasured. I want her to fall in love with her life and make fascinating memories all over the world. I want her to be a storyteller.

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to understand that there are no free lunches in life. I will urge her and push her hard for the good stuff in the life.

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know that I am proud of her. 

And even if the whole world is against her, I will be there, I promise.

To Grandma, With Love!

A rainy evening drifted me into the memories of my childhood. If only my grandmother was there…she would have made me a cup of steaming coffee and sit beside me, knitting and touching my hair fondly.

I vividly remember the first vision of my Grandmother. I remember a beautiful woman getting down the train and I remember running into her arms and inhaling her wonderful scent. I remember how she stood by me and influenced my life.

Every summer, my cousins and I visited Calcutta to spend vacations with our grandparents. How enthusiastic we were to meet her for she stacked up the kids’ room with lovely presents and sweets and above everything, we loved her so much. 

As time flew, we never had much time to spend with her. We hardly spent a ten odd days with her and those were the days when I saw tears in her eyes when we parted. I could never fathom why a strong woman like her had tears in her eyes! Fortunately, I got to spend six months with her when I was in high school. Those were some of the best days of my life; those were the days when she cooked delicious food for me and bought me pretty clothes; those were the days when she sat on the stair-case of the house anticipating my return from college. Six months later, when we parted again, I saw her in tears. Again. This time, I cried too.

Engineering kept me even busier and we met for only five days a year. I missed her but my college life was demanding too. My grandmother always had a habit of being the first person to wish me on my birthday and examinations. It was my fifth semester’s first examination and she promised to call me after my exam. I waited for her call and I never received it because she had a cardiac arrest. I messed my examinations. But I had nothing else in my mind. I wanted to get done with the semester, and go meet her. I waited desperately for the last exam to end.

May 1st, 2011.

Finally, my exams ended and I left for Vizag. She was so happy to see me; she took my arms in hers and cried. I saw nothing but love and fear in her eyes. She wanted to be with us, she wanted to spend more time with her children and grand-children. She just wanted more time. 

Six months later, just when everything was fine, we received a call. The call that changed everything! The call that said she was no more; the call that still makes me tremble! We started immediately and the next morning, when I saw her frail body, I felt so helpless, standing there, looking at her and sobbing. I was devastated. I fervently hoped for all the time to come back…I fervently hoped that she would come back, hug me and narrate me all the stories of her childhood…I fervently hoped that she would come back and make me chuckle loud by cracking funny jokes.

And yet again, this birthday, I waited for her call—the call that would scream a cheerful ‘Happy Birthday’ in my sleepy ears. The call that was the starter of my Birthday for the past twenty-one years!

Are Women Emotionally Strong?

“Being a woman is a terribly difficult task, since it consists principally in dealing with men.” 

― Joseph Conrad

"Women are emotionally weak and they need men to do everything in their lives." Let us all pause for a moment and assess how true this statement is. Actually, it is not true at all. It is a fallacy. I have been listening to this statement a lot lately and I believe women need men as much as men need women. How long are we going to live in a state of denial saying men are stronger than women? Yes, definitely, men are considered to be the stronger sex and women are considered as the weaker and the fairer sex. However, I am referring to the emotional strength here.

We, women, cry out a lot. We do not do a great job in bottling up our fears and feelings. Men do not cry. It is a rarity. And they do a perfectly great job in covering up their feelings. In most of the cases, they do not discuss the problems, they tend to postpone them. But I am not blaming them here. They are wired that way and women are wired in an entirely different way. 

I would not agree that women are emotionally weak. Women are surely stronger than men when it comes to emotions. But there are few instances where we go wrong. For instance, we depend a lot. On men. Not just on our platonic partner, we depend on our father, guy friends, uncles etc. And when they deny us something, we think that is the end of the world. That doesn't mean we cannot handle our situations. We can. It is just that we depend too much and give a lot in relationships. Sometimes, we lose ourselves in those relationships and give in so much that it hurts like shit when we come out of them. It is like we leave a part of ourselves there and move out. 

Like Joseph Conrad said, it is an incredibly different task to be a woman. We multitask, we over think, we over analyze, and create situations that have never existed and might never exist. But our problems don't just end here. Like an icing on the cake, men complicate our lives. Now, do not get me wrong there. Men, in spite of being chivalrous, nice and all that, they are extremely ridiculous. And whoever said women are complicated and are tough to figure out surely did not understand the fact that we deal with men, and their massive male zeta ego. Oh please, let me just not get there. It is a taboo zone.

The other day my girl friend, Saubhagya called me up and spoke a great deal, and asked, "How did we land up in such a mess, Miss P(A strange way of regarding me as Miss Patnaik)?" Now, that is a million dollar question, the answer to which is umm..I don't know. Women are emotionally stronger. Let me tell you why! We crib, and demand for attention and emotional security but we reach a point where we realize that we don't want to be an emotional baggage on the person we love the most. Men are strange. They can be an emotional baggage and a messy one at that. But they do not want to put up with our emotions. What a shame! We do not shy away from problems. We discuss them openly and get over them eventually. It is a painfully slow process though. Even when men hurt women repeatedly, women pull themselves together and well, get with it. I mean, just because we cry a lot it doesn't mean we are weak. It is not a sign of vulnerability. It is just a sign of losing love and affection and I can vouch for that. 

In every case, women are emotionally stronger. Crying out loud isn't a sign of emotional weakness. Anyway, all we need is a pair of new shoes to make our lives better. And oh boy, men need a lot. They pretend to be groovy and all that. But they are world class sulk-ers. (A word like that doesn't exist.)