Money

Don't listen to those people who tell you that it's just some pieces of paper. By my grandpa's graying beard, I swear they are lying. No one who hasn't experienced a limited inflow of it, coupled with an unlimited outflow of it, can ever claim to know what money is truly about. It has the power to change lifestyles, to change beliefs and principles, to change friendships, and to change character, in essence to change, you. It can completely alter your idea of the priorities in life, making what once seemed trivial, the most important thing. It can lead you to equate that ill-famed "material goods" with all the abstract concepts of pleasure and happiness that you have only heard of. Your idea of the 'small joys of life' changes from watching the sunrise, to going for a fancy dinner. Everything is suddenly about money - "How much will I get if I do this? How much do I have to spend on this? How much money do I lose if I go for a movie instead of working?" I have been bitten by this 'money' bug; learnt its value the hard way. And yes, not only did I equate money to pleasure and happiness, but also equated it to my ego and independence, and gladly turned into a workaholic. Oh they may only be pieces of paper, but they made me age by a decade, and turned me into a real, typical law school student.

Workaholism

It's addictive, worse than a drug I should say, though I've never taken any. Now I understand why the suffix meaning 'obsession' is attached to it. You can't stop it, can't help it. You'd gladly and willingly kill yourself in the process. The stress keeps you going, the adrenaline giving you energy that you never knew you had. Another deadline. Another late night. More coffee. More mint. Another waking up feeling like shit after two hours sleep. Putting off that hunger so you can finish a little bit more. Another friend who wanted to talk biffed off cuz you are 'busy'. Another week without talking to your folks. Feeling restless if there is nothing to do. Oh yes, it's addictive alright. Like a drug, but more. You never ask yourself why you are doing it; you can't, you don't have the time. You've lost a ton of weight. Your skin is already wrinkling up. But you haven't noticed; looking in the mirror is not high on your priorities. When your friend says you look sick, you give a faint smile and go back to work. Even half an hour of sitting idle seems like a waste. Talking to a friend is just crazy; you have so much more to do. It's never enough, how much ever you work. There's always a little bit more. Another deadline. Another late night. More coffee. More mint.

Hugs...not so warm anymore

It upsets me. There's no reason why it should, and my friends tell me that it was only to be expected, but I cannot seem to get that nagging disappointment out of me. It has upset me enough to write about it. Yes, I am talking about Anupama's 'Free Hugs' gesture. It might be crazy, but I never thought people had such a problem with being friendly to strangers.

'Spread cheer in the world', we used to be taught in my 5th grade value education class. I never took it seriously. But I never did expect that when one of my friends tried to do exactly that, she would be met with such resistance. People looked at her like she was drunk, like she had gone crazy, like she was a suicide bomber, and I'm sure some people thought she was just looking for attention. All supposedly perfectly understandable emotions, but not to me.

For me, a hug has always meant a lot of things. A warm hug from a friend when I'm upset means she or he cares. A hug from my dad means that he'll always support me. One from my boyfriend means he loves me. An awkward one from my brother means that he is fond enough of me, to let go of his stupid image for a bit. A clumsy hug from my little cousin means I'm her favourite. But the most precious of them all, for me, would be a hug from a stranger. Because that would mean that, that person considers me a significant enough unit in the universe to share his or her happiness with me.

Maybe I am naïve, immature, don't understand other people's feelings. But it upset me, because I don't understand it, and would like to.

Reminisces about the day I was molested

I thought I was over it. I always think I am. But with every new incident I realise that it is so much a part of me, that try as I might, I cannot separate it from who I am. It has defined me, shaped me, given me a maturity too great for my years. It taught me cruelty, but also trust amdist it. It taught me to keep buried within me a part that is so much me, and yet, not me at all. It taught me that it isn't my fault, that I need not take blame for something that someone else has done. That I can get through it, no matter what. And it will make me a stronger, wiser person.

I am reading the book "My Story" by Kamala Das (late). A story told simply and truthfully, like facts laid down before a court, no fanfare, no self pity. The story of those thousands of women whose bodies are brutalised and spirits crushed, who are allowed to live only for their husband's pleasure. The book has depressed me and I cannot read anymore, not unless I agree to let go of my sanity at the end of it. It is as if with every word I read, all the cruelty of the world is laid before me, and everything beautiful robbed of it's beauty, and only the sould crushing truth remains.

"Every middle class bed is a cross on which the woman is crucified. Men fall in lust, not love. Women crash in real self-destroying love" - Kamala Das.

Being a girl is harder than I thought. It isn't just the comments and cat calls and whistles I have to put up with. Those are bad enough. But every time that my competence is questioned because I'm a female, I'm reminded all over again of how unfair the world is to women. To tell you the truth, I hardly have to bear any discrimination at all, and it is still so bad. What about all those thousands, no millions of women who are beaten up by their husbands, thrown out of their houses, raped, murdered, brutalised by this society of ours? All this only because of their gender. And to think we worry about communalism!!!!

Boyfriends can be a really irritating lot as I just realised. Talk about love being blind!! It changes people to extents hereby unknown. Take my friend for instance. Thought I knew her and all that, and then suddenly one day..Boom!! And she's got a boyfriend. Not that I minded then. None of my business who she goes and falls in love with. But then she doesn't seem to be interested in anyone else anymore.

I really don't understand why friends always think of their boyfriends more than their friends. After all, at the end of the day, when they have a fight with the boyfriend, it's we who sit and console her. We're the ones who help her move on once she's broken up. And yet, when he is around, we are like wild flowers in the undergrowth for all she cares. Bloody damn unfair if you ask me!!!