Farewell!

Fashion

I recently graduated from school. Those are some sad, sad pictures, so here are a few from the Farewell function my school organised for us seniors instead! 


I hope all of you are having a great new year so far. I’m sorry for not being regular with my posts, I promise I’ll do much better once my boards get over in May. Please be patient. Thankyou! 

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Angrezi Babu

Writing

So I would like to just start off by saying that I have only very recently started using public transportation (Shameful, I know) so my interactions and experiences with the autowalla’s are fairly limited to ‘Bhaiya ____ jane ka kitna loge?’ and the usual bargaining that ensues after they give you an absurdly high price (“Bhaiya GK jaane ka 100rs? hum toh roz 60 main jaate hain. Theek theek lagao ya meter se chalo”) And the way they either stay silent the whole ride or curse and mutter under their breath about how pathetic traffic is, so the following experience was quite a surprise.

I usually have to walk till the gate of my colony to flag down an auto so I set out 10 minutes earlier than I had to leave for class to do just that, as I usually do, when I found an auto passing my house and flagged it down thanking anything and everything that was up there. I asked how much he would take and the first thing he said to me was “Didi, hum meter se chalte hain” (I go by the meter) which anyone living in Delhi would understand, is not as common as it should be. I got on, expecting another mundane, boring ride and regretting not bringing my earphones along, when he said something that struck me at that moment as a bit funny.

“What road do you want to take?”

This isn’t a direct translation, these are his exact words, although a bit hard to decipher with his this accent.

“Any, Bhaiya”

“That’s not an answer beta, no road is a problem you must have a preference na? You must give one answer, no road is problem for me” He said with the amused lit one has when scolding a naughty child.

“__ road is good, bhaiya”

“Good! good!”

After which he proceeded to ask me what I was studying, what I was planning on studying (“US beta?”) and on telling him I was planning on studying in Canada, went “Toronto is quite big no? bigger than Delhi?” and went on to ask if I had family there and how mass media generates a lot of money these days. Thoroughly impressed at this point not just because of his English, but also his general knowledge, my curiosity got the best of me as it generally does.

“Your English and General Knowledge is quite good bhaiya..”

I was not prepared for what he said next, and I paraphrase a little:

“I read English newspapers every single day, beta. My community is quite illiterate,  most of them haven’t been educated so they disapprove of anyone that tried to pursue a good education. They don’t support me, so I can’t call for the English newspapers to my house. My neighbor is a judge, so everyday at 6 when I get off work I change my clothes and go to his house to read his newspaper. My wife is not educated and is surrounded by women that just want to watch serials on TV, so there’s nothing I can do about her. It all depends on the ‘enbiorment’ (environment) na? But I put my children in school.” He replied, smiling to himself.

“The young baccha’s these days go to college and school but have no interest in it. So many times I try to speak to them in English and they say no, we are comfortable speaking Hindi only.” Cue exasperated head shake and tch tch sounds.

“I want to practice my English, its all about practice na?”

“Yes, bhaiya.”

We spoke at length of what he could do to improve, how the youth can improve, corruption and things in general where he would thank me for correcting his dictation and pronunciation . It may not seem like a big deal, but I know those 15 minutes were important for his growth, and our development as a society starts with them. It starts with their growth and their ability to acknowledge and recognize just how important education and being an over all good citizen is.

That day I got off the auto with a new perspective and a renewed sense of hope, and he got off at 6 to head off to read the English newspaper with a few extra bucks and a little more practice.

“I want to be a rich man” He said, “and I’m taking the steps necessary to achieve that goal”.

And I have no doubt that you will, Angrezi Babu, I have no doubt that you will.

Exhibition

Fashion

Hello everyone!
So as I mentioned earlier, I share this blog with my cousin, who uploads everything fashion related and otherwise.
We haven’t uploaded anything in a while and we decided that there’s no better time to do this.
We’re having an exhibition!
Bamby singh is holding an exhibition for her autumn collection that will span across 3 days.
It’s an open event and she does all kind of clothes.
Customised and otherwise.
We would really appreciate it if everyone stopped by to take a look at some gorgeous pieces of clothes and jewellery.
Looking forward to seeing everyone there!

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Little red riding hood.

Uncategorized

Little Red Riding Hood

She quivered and shook
hugging her fragile body
Scars.
Will they ever go away?
The dogs howled
The clock struck midnight
More than she ever thought,
That night had taken away
Trembling she stood
Her white dress red
More than her heels
Broken beyond repair
As she stumbled through
The silent streets
Her head thought back
To the man in the hood
The reason for her despair
Groping and grunting
Tearing and glaring
Muffling and shuffling
His ears pinned back
His eyes narrowing
That night,
The wolf had gone hunting.
And hunted he had
Watching stealthily from afar
The darkness his cloak
Her womanhood the light
And in that alleyway
He destroyed it
That very night
She cried and weeped
And sobbed and screamed
Scars
Would they ever go away?
Mental and physical
Moral and spiritual
She lost
more than her innocence
That day.
She locked herself
Her body and mind
Interaction was futile
Food forgotten
Happiness a distant memory
Yes, sleep was kind.
But she barely slept
Her mind on guard
Terror seizing her very heart
Her red hair splayed out
Like a dirty cape
‘Stop’ she screamed
Her memories fresh
Her soul dead
Before she thought of
The greatest escape
They say writers bleed ink
And that night she did
Her ink being red
Her writing beautiful,
Happy
The sorrows temporarily dead.
And that night
She was finally free
Her sorrows pouring out of her
A smile on her face,
The night a distant memory
Scars
They were fading away
but not for long
There were more to come
When her loved ones found her
The next day
They cried and weeped
As the girl had that night
Quivering and shaking
Holding her cold body tight
Amidst the sorrow and madness
They found the scarlet letter
Where she described that night
His eyes and face
And why heaven would do her better
Wrath replaced sorrow
The spirit of vengeance
Soaring
They handed their precious
To the scalpled men
They would know who did this
By the morrow
The day arrived
Evidence bought
Struggles prevailed
Time passed
Justice delivered
The big bad wolf caught
And She smiled looking down
From her place in heaven
Scars
Finally faded away
For she knew
That
The big bad wolf
May have been just one
But
Many little wolves
Had also died
That day.

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The twentieth wife.

Books

IMG_6700My interest in books goes back to when I was nine and was gifted one by a friends mom for my birthday. It was an Enid Blayton, the St. Clairs series. I remember crying when it got over, because it felt as though I had lost friends and ended a life instead of just finishing a series of books. My world (my book world) came crashing down around me and it was sad, but I realised that the only way for me to move on, I would need another book and world to grasp on to. I haven’t stopped reading since then.

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Even though I’ve been reading for years now, The Twentieth Wife was the first historical fiction i had ever picked up, and boy did I enjoy it. The story is set in pre-british India, when the Mughal kings wielded all the power. This story revolves around a woman, Mehrunissa, who’s father (a Persian run away) nearly gave her away at birth, but then by a stroke of luck, got the means necessary to keep her and how she grows up to be a beautiful woman that enchants and finds her way into the palace skilfully, eyeing the Prince of the empire since childhood. How she went from nothing to being one of the most powerful women India had never seen, but knew of. It tells of her wit, bravery and the politics that come with power and gives an insight into what life in the palace was really about. The games, the trechary, the lavish life style, the jealousy…Indu Sundaresan blends the worlds of fact and fiction so beautifully, you question if there really is any of the either at all. All you see are facts, and the empowering story of a woman who rose above and ruled from behind a veil in a time where men were considered the supreme authority.Its a 350+ pages book, and It kind of drags in the middle, but I finished it in just a couple of days. As soon as i kept this one down, I moved onto the sequel. The ending was a bit disappointing, but otherwise, these books are a must read for anyone who wants an avid insight into early India in all its glory.

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