Love: The guide and purpose of our Being

It can be love in any form of course. Love towards a person. Love towards a person who is family. Love towards yourself. Love towards a goal or purpose that is important to you. Love is simply the force that propels you towards your destiny. It comes to you when you need it. Sometimes it is acceptable and understandable to you and society at large and hence it is largely peaceful. Or sometimes it comes to you in ways you don’t understand nor does society.

But love doesn’t care.

It is simply an ageless and timeless entity that does not give a thought to frivolities such as human conventions.It just flows in where there is a need.Thereby prompting people to move across oceans, to sacrifice everything they have, to propagate humanity, to nurture humanity, to instigate wars, to cause revolutions or simply to help mankind evolve, one person at a time.

It need not be healthy love even. But maybe that simply means it has come to us to teach us a lesson that will help us progress in our life’s journey. Or sometimes it’s for us to help another progress in their destiny. Rest assured you do have a destiny. Call it destiny or spiritual journey or any other name.Not in the narrow ignorant way that we humans understand it. But in a glorious magnanimous way that am sure in due course we will understand thanks to the development mankind is making in leaps and bounds.And am sure you will agree, both are no little forces to reckon with. Both love and destiny.

I remember writing a post earlier about redefining our definition of love.

But now I understand. That deep intuitive understanding even the most untuned of us is bound to feel at some point in our lives.You can’t define love. It’s simply so limitless. But rest assured the presence or absence of it defines every move we as human beings make in our lives. As great authors have written, even hate is misguided love, is it not? Then what about apathy? Even that is absence of…love.

All said, this is just the opinion of the tiniest speck in a vast, infinite universe, who simply felt she must write this. Maybe it’s all just whimsical fantasy? How silly would it all be then.




Padmaavat: An Uprising


Unless you have been living under a rock you have heard of the movie Padmavati later renamed Padmaavat because an entire nation, including its politicians and especially it’s politicians, was obsessing over it.

Before I go further into the article here is a fun fact about the movie. This movie was one of the firsts where a woman was paid as much as an male lead in an movie and the director isn’t making a gung ho about it because he decided it is simply what the heroine is due.

Of course the director did not get a chance to highlight that as he was more worried about the fact that a generous bounty was set for the heroine’s head by senseless radical forces in the country.

And I call it an uprising. Why? Allow me to elaborate.

Why else would something as harmless as a movie elicit such a harsh response from political leaders?Especially one that is sure to reach at least a billion people.

Because a movie finally dared to do the unthinkable. A story that primarily involved Kings and empires suddenly had the audacity to be told from the Queen’s perspective.

The queen who out of her loyalty to her people and her king, sacrificed her life by self immolation inspiring generations of women for centuries.

The audacity.

Well, how can a story possibly be about a woman’s valour? No chance!We must have misunderstood!Hence spreads rumours like wild fire that the movie is distorting history.

Don’t worry Indian men! The rumors are all about you! Rumors were about her falling love with the wrong ‘man’! Let’s cause anarchy on the streets and ban it in our theatres because rumors are that she has fallen in love with the wrong man in the movie! How dare a movie supposedly do that!This is considering the fact that no one even knew the content of the movie. Just Rumors!

However, all this seems like a deliberate camouflage for much deeper, actual questions.How dare she try to make this movie about her?! How dare a a director think that a commercial movie could respect a woman, give her her due both in a Bollywood movie and in ‘his’tory and think he can escape without repercussions!

I don’t know if this is is a publicity stunt gone bad or simply rotten politics.

Movies portraying women have come before and will come after.But those have always been watched and pushed around and tolerated as they didn’t attempt anything strong. They stories were novel, sometimes cute even and the themes were generic hardships of women. Sure. Play in the theatres. Get all the sympathy you want. Get out.

But try to put a perspective to our history and we will destroy you.

Think Sita of the Ramayana. The silent damsel in distress in one of the most popular stories of Hindu Mythology.What would you do if a movie was made from her perspective. Silence it of course! What job does Sita have being heard?

Only uprisings need be to be squashed.

Only a movie where a woman demands due praise for her act of valour need be squashed.

There have been many before and there will be many after. But show me one on a scale this large . Hence it’s relevance. Padmavati is our Wonder woman. Padmaavat is her story and through her, the story of millions of women who were never praised for their valour.Not pitied, not despised, not sympathised with.

Praised .

And it will be the first of many.

Jai Bhavani



Returning home

I had lost my way. Lost my center, you know? That core space where the world around me aligned with who I was. And I was secure.

Then life threw me a bit of a curve ball.Not one single curve ball. More like a series of them over a period of time. I was emotionally battered way before I even realized it. I suppose one never really knows when one starts to lie to oneself especially someone who is skilled at pretending to others and for others that everything is OK in spite of themselves. Aren’t a lot of us like that?

Nope, no one died.

I wished I did though. Many times. So lost.

When to the world it looked like nothing could click better for this girl. I was simply flowing with the current. When masks of near and dear ones fell off.When people I trusted did not trust me back. When people I loved ripped off of me the ability to love the way I used to. You know how I knew I really lost it? When I no longer wanted to write.

The dreaded mind block. Not that I was great to begin with but it was my little space in the world and I was happy. Finally, when all the “buckling down and the smiling and pretending to be OK with things” charade hit the roof- no one saw it coming. I can’t blame the people around me for reacting the way they did. No one knew. The strong handler of things that I was. No one even understood it! And no amount of wishing it away or distractions or any of it helped.In retrospect I am thankful I guess. I don’t want to becomes one of those bitter old people who are so messed up after all that suppression that nothing really helps.Of course I found myself looking for help. I tried it ALL. The praying, the meditating, the believing in God thing,the BE positive gigs, the ‘you are stronger than this’ gigs, every freaking motivational quote, self help books, The Secret, the subconscious conditioning, conscious gratitude…You get it, right?

Nothing helped.

I was lost. So lost.

The hardest was part was the thoughts. Thoughts that spiraled out of control all the time. Made mountains out of molehills and sat silently when I should have spoken up.

Finally found real help.

Found an interesting method of healing.

To Just Be Myself.

To stop with the perfection and the being strong and all of that. To definitely get rid of all the hogwash mentioned above(Being positive and all that) as in my case it was only reinforcing my suppression of feelings.(Gosh, so messed up!)

And to unabashedly be myself with all the negativity too! Can you believe it!! All the anger , the rage, the hate, the insecurity..All of it.

To dare to be me. Raw. Human. Imperfect. At least to myself.To have the courage to own my feelings and not try to control them or suppress them or plug them in.

To be vulnerable.

Oh fresh hell.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not an introvert. I am the very opposite of an introvert. I am fully capable of communicating what I thought or how I felt. With a lot of charisma and passion even. But that’s the thing. I had even convinced myself that I had no problems. And even if I did, I hid it using pure charisma. Appearing nothing like I felt on the inside. People sensed something. But they just thought I was being two faced. Got the tag of liar, manipulator,faker, drama queen.I believed them too. But I was just trying to get on with life. To reconcile with all of it. To normalize enormous betrayals and abandonment and instances of being bullied. To push it all down and just get on with life!

However, my heart would just not let that happen.

And I battered on through the healing. Still battering on.I had no choice.One baby step at a time.

And finally the universe has been merciful to bring me some bit of direction.(Some background- I believe in astrology hence I believe the planets have aligned to provide a conducive platform for my healing too. Basically- Everything has it’s own time.)

After all the digging in and washing away of all the dirt that had piled on. I found it buried deep.Really deep. A bit of my space.My core. My inner river of peace where I knew I could find myself over and over again. The source of all my strength and clarity. A faint gleam. But a gleam nonetheless.

I can’t stop my recent experiences from defining me. It’s too late for that. But at least I am here. And I am writing.

And I can’t begin to tell you how overwhelmed and washed with peace I feel as I do this.

The healing continues in baby steps as


Fuck the Patriarchy

For everytime she had to
Be demure when she didn’t want to
For everytime she was told
She is less than the fold
For everytime her silent protests bellowed
Fuck the patriarchy

For everytime she bit her tongue
To prevent the truth from escaping her lips
For the fear in her eyes to speak her mind
For the mutilated remains of her self worth lying dangling from the thin line of her sanity
Fuck the patriarchy

For every lie she was told
For everytime her head bowed
For every blow she was plowed
For the dear ones who turned their backs
For trust that was under ruthless attack
For every tear
For the lies and deceits
For the never ending fear
For the silenced screams in her dreams

For her sisters turning on her
For her brothers abandoning her
For her being a disappointment at birth
For her doubting her self worth
Ever since she knew what it meant
Fuck the patriarchy
Fuck you all damn it
May you all sleep peacefully tonight but tomorrow be answerable evermore
for every innocent tear shed by her
And ofcourse

Fuck your patriarchy

A sense of ‘Wonder’

So I went to watch DC series ‘Wonder Woman ‘ .

Let me give some backdrop here. I couldn’t even watch Captain America initially( though it was amazing!)because I think the First World War is one of the most overused and over exploited  backdrops anywhere.

However, here I was spell bound. Besides the obvious (Swash buckling Gal Gadot and the gorgeous Chris Pine) a little girl in me who slept many many years ago; sat up and rubbed her eyes because she couldn’t believe that she finally had an identifiable character on screen.

I have to admit I went with as little hope as possible because let’s face it, up until very recently female protagonists didn’t exactly set box office on fire.

I was thrown back to the days of Xena the Warrior Princess when I would watch, in awe of the gorgeous warrior who was just as badass and confident and brilliantly talented as the best of men. Wonder Woman finally invoked in me that long lost sense of awe, of  power. What power you say?That power when you see an identifiable character fight onscreen . That sense of confidence that you vicariously enjoy when she thrashes people around.

That which is taken for granted by boys when they watch their superheros on screen.

And then there was Gabrielle! Sweet Sweet Gabrielle who was the epitome of innocence , wide eyed wonder , kindness and a fragility that I could very strongly relate to too.

Very confusing.

Did that mean I have to be either one or the other?And did the world have a place for Xena was the question above all.

And then comes Wonder Woman.An exquisite combination of Xena and Gabrielle.

She just walked on screen and slayed. She showed  that you can be badass and fragile at the same time, and that does not make you any less badass. She had the fierceness of Xena and the child-like naivete and nurturing femininity of Gabrielle.

As a child I was scared to relate to Xena, yes scared. Because what would the world think of a girl who fought! Who was bold and loud and skilled af ! Who didn’t sit a certain way, conform in a certain way, nod yes in a certain way, had a million opinions any given time, most importantly, had a physique that was far from dainty and frail white rose that was Gabrielle or any onscreen female at the time!!! But oh Gabrielle is so weak! Always needing Xena to protect her!

With a childhood spent wondering who exactly I was finally behind me, here and now as I watched Wonder Woman the same question rose up again but this time, gratefully, with answers.

A definition of my tribe, my kind of people. And it was sweet af . What an age to be a woman! Am I a feminist? Hell ya! I live in a country where cows get more protection than women but that’s for another debate.

I used to think, what is this obsession with superheroes! I mean who cares about such characters any way?  Aren’t they just fictitious beings propogating unrealistic Utopian philosophies in an increasingly disillusioned generation???

In my family we all have our superhero,  ie, the superhero we thought we could most relate to ( yes we are a bunch of grown adults who assign ourselves superheros and are proud of it) .It could be anyone. Characters from DC to Marvel but somehow X-men are a different entity( FyI , Jean Grey there).

I would settle for Hulk you see, because that’s the most I could find for someone to relate to!

But all that changed with Wonder Woman.

Humanity may not deserve you Wonder Woman but we sure as hell need you .

Awakening to infinite possibilities,

Rose aka ‘Wonder Woman’ pens


via Daily Prompt: Yellow

So finally I get a direction to my writing,  which was not probably a lot to begin with.

Been doing the altogether clichéd ‘writing about not writing ‘ thing that every where is supposed to be the answer to not being able to write (never posting them for obvious reasons)

This prompt is God sent and I do thank Daily Prompt for it

Now coming to the prompt itself : Yellow

You think about the obvious stuff, like you know -sun, sunlight, meadows, flowers , butter and so on.. but then from deep crevices of the mind somehow  oddly enough and quite surprisingly so the Coldplay song ‘Yellow’ emerged out of nowhere

It makes no sense to me why they would title such a lovely song as ‘Yellow’.

I am an Indian brought up on a staple diet of Bollywood who listen to the occasional extremely popular English pop music of the day , songs in my mother tongue Malayalam,from the neighbouring region Tamil and leaves it at that. Yes I cam appreciate a vast variety of music thanks to my multicutural exposure which is quite the norm amongst the millenial generation in India.

I had  hear this song earlier, infact one of the first songs of Coldplay I had heard and fell in love with it. But like a lot of people, the accent and hence the lyrics didnot come easily to me hence google did help me out there and I fell even more in love with it.

Except when they decided to call it ‘Yellow’ ofcourse.

But the recollection of the song recently was not entirely due to the song or the title. It was simply because I couldn’t recollect the lyrics on hearing the song immediately. What a silly thing to be writing about! Coz you see, I see recollection to lyrics as this super human ability endowed to a few supergifted people who especually if they knew lyrics to English songs were ‘the cool lot’ and if they knew the lyrics to other languages like hindi or my mother tongue Malayalam  or Tamil were from families or friends circles  with greater artistic temperaments or they simply had superb memory.

I am multi-lingual. Jack of all trades when it comes to languages.Can’t claim proficiency in spoken version in any of the above languages like a monolingual speaker of the language and depending on where I was, I was praised for what language I knew and frowned upon for what I didn’t. The story of my life.

Now why am I saying all this.Because I couldn’t follow Coldplay lyrics of their song Yellow

And I looked at myself as being less because I couldn’t. Because being able to appreciate music in atleast 4 languages  did not make me chastise myself any less when I couldn’t recollect that song.

Because I was brought up in a culture  where knowledge of English as a language  and anything to do with it was amazing and it automatically put you on a pedestal and yet when you talk about the cultural values that you would like to imbibe like independence and freedom of individual choice, it’s chastised.

I was brought up in the Indian culture.

The thought permeated into my appreciation of music, something so precious to me. And for a fleeting second it made me sad. After which ofcourse there was a million other things to prioritise for me but this was an attempt to catch that fleeting second of cultural conditioning that distracted me from simply appreciating good music.

I don’t know if I even defined it properly in this article but this an attempt at it.

Thank you Daily Post for the inspiration




The girl and her flying chappati

So after a long period of the dreaded writer’s block (though calling me a writer would be stretching it a bit) decided to flex em nascent writing  muscles some more and hence decided to write about the above mentioned.. Yes. .flying chappati.

Well it so happens that am in between jobs right now and during my foray into various other hobbies, as is generally how one chooses to explore one’s time during hiatus such as this one ,I have tiptoed into the vast world of cooking. 

Ha! Like I stood a chance! Well that’s being too harsh..There, there little one.. persist persist you shall see fruit..

But coming back to the topic..I had to cook/make chappatis one evening..Now let me explain that chappati are indian breads which are made from kneaded wheat flour flattened to thin round pieces and cooked on the stove where they sort of inflate.

That being said I was having the easy way out, these were already kneaded and flattened into perfect circles and all I had to do was to cook them for a min on both sides. Lo and behold!  That particular evening these chappati decided to have a mind of their own. The first one refused to inflate.. infact it just burnt

It’s didn’t just burn. It became so hard that even my man..refused to eat it..he is one fussy dog anyway.

So what does one do when faced with such tragedy. Nothing philosophical.One goes to dispose of said chappati. 

Here is when it decides to fly.

Well on my way to disposing it I thought why not make a game of it so I decided to throw it around like a Frisbee. .

And man it flew! So gorgeously. And ofcourse this pikes the enthusiasm of yours faithfully and I end up playing with the flying chappati much to the perplexed amusement of aforementioned dog ( I was near his kennel) and I say perplexed amusement because that was exactly the expression on his face.Not excitement that a game was going on.No complaining either.Just the expression a person would have when looking at a grown ass woman throwing around a burnt chappati and laughing at the sight.. 


Then it went and landed on the roof.

See? I told you? Perfect Frisbee. Won’t even be embarassed.  

Once I somehow got it down I realised I should probably just throw it and go back to further attempting to make something edible. 

But it was so fun..As for my dog, he has all but forgotten about that silly girl and her flying chappati. Or I would like to think so. Because he is just walking around near me now blissfully sniffing at what catches his fancy while I jot this down,  sipping a wonderful cup of masala tea as I watch the gentle drizzle of winter rains here in my cozy corner at home

Drinking tea


I am awesome!


Who the heck talks like that? Geez! Overconfidence much?


But I say it to myself repeatedly, sometimes shouting it off mountain tops when I am blazing with self confidence and sometimes in barely a whisper figuratively just lying there battered and bruised by what the world hurls at me.Sometimes repeatedly like a beggar begging the world to have faith in me or sometimes silently announcing  it to the world after having proved my point.

Fiercely remaining graceful through it all because I want that to be my signature. Just a minor personal choice.

No dear reader, this is not the narcissistic announcement of a person having had the easy way out being gifted every step of the way and lulled into the false security/insecurity of her ego.

It is the chant of a person who has realised that no one else will say it for you if you don’t say it for yourself. Its a ray of hope for someone who has been beaten down and told more than once that her voice is irrelevant, her feelings and instinct dont matter and that her choices are a mockery . Its the war cry of a warrior who refuses to be beaten down. It’s about letting the world know that you too matter and that your voice deserves to be heard, even if it means beating the proverbial drum to prove the point.
And somewhere deep down maybe it is a little girl who just wants everyone to be happy and she has found a little stardust of hope and she wants to share it with you.

I am awesome
And so are you.

Just your average awesome 20 something.

Be aggressively positive


quotes7So adulting is hard. Am saying it out loud.Rather, am writing it in bold. Makes me a wuss then so be it. Manage expectations, responsibilites and  every relation in your life. I would have a Phd in Juggling if there was ever a degree for that sorta thing I would like to imagine.And this is while I don’t yet have to shoulder additional responsibilities of a family of my own.

Well honestly it’s tough doing all that anyways.

Ofcourse dear reader you know all that and that’s why you are here with me.

Then what do you do in the middle of all that. How do you get past all this and not just survive but thrive in adulthood? You could stop thinking altogether . But that might not yet be an option for some of us. Then what?It’s really that simple and that complicated.

You find your happy place, you find your best friend, you understand that both are YOU.

The origin of all happiness, the companion of all sorrows, the force of positivism that’s going to keep everyone around you positive and yet attract all those parasitic type characters also. It’s all you.

It doesn’t end there, oh no it doesn’t. You, you beautiful being, you go out there and BE POSITIVE. And be aggressively so. It requires no extra effort really.If you feel you don’t have it, pull yourself up physically and reach out to just anyone, give them a booster shot of positivity .It’s like a muscle you just need to keep exercising. Once you get it into shape it acts on it’s own.(I totally exclude the clinically depressed here)

Conjure your light from within,when you are swirling in the quagmire of negative thoughts that the events around you manage to inject into you  , and let your light burst forth.Let your damn light shine. Something like the Gandalf and  Necromancer face off in the ‘Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug’ movie.(Though that didnot end very well for Gandalf but you get the point right)

Gandalf versus Necromancer- Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug

Fortunately that’s one of the few things in the world that you know can only result in something good and the best part is you are obligated to no one in the process of doing so.Not indebted, not failing any standards to be met and not even disappointing anyone.

And if you can’t do it on your own, find help, because child you need to find a way to find your light.Or else you will be lost looking for it in the crowd.However, I hope you are lucky enough to find a true guide who will help you find it.

But once you do, get out there and shine like the brightest star, because it’s the sort of light that can only grow brighter once you share it. And stay bright. It’s going to be hard to be so bright because even when you shine, all everyone wants is for you to shine on their terms nothing more or less . The worst sort are those who just want to suck it all out for themselves and still take you for granted.Keep away from them. Lucky are the few who finds  companionship in someone who is proud of their light and seeks to mutually nurture it. I hope you find that someone. But until then , shine bright and be positive- aggressively.

Shining bright for now




That little girl


That little girl, Oh such a spirit was she. Where did  she go? She learnt the ways of world and fled.Fled deep into the chasms of her own soul and hid.

That little girl, Oh she knew not what lay ahead of her and the very thought haunted her

That little girl, she stands stunned at the sudden and yet gradual change that stepping into adulthood is bringing in her life

That little girl, she never realised how much she would have to surrender, to compromise, to accept because she is a woman and not a man

In her society it made her powerless and vulnerable

That little girl, suddenly has a whirlwind of changes  to deal with and the acceptance that she means nothing in the grand scheme that is her own life

That little girl, has to understand her father’s respect in society and her mother’s resignation to fate and their ideas of what is best for her as key navigators of her destiny

That little girl, who everyone thinks has it all is really not very sure what or who exactly in all this, is even ‘hers’.

That little girl has to sift through all this and cling on to the little ray of love that seems to be in the offering and hope with all her heart that it will hold true and steadfast

That little girl, she lays her head to rest at night and listens to her own wildly beating heart and whispers to it ‘This too shall pass .Better things await sweet one, believe.’

Only sleep brings a temporary solace and she couldn’t be more thankful.

In hopeful anonymity

That little girl pens.