A Bundle Of Contradictions

Coming from a patriarchal country like India, one would expect that I was also raised with the ingrained belief that the female gender is worthless for everything except nurturing the family. 
But thankfully, I was raised in a progressive household, where women had an equal say in all the important decisions. 
My family, instead of moulding me into an ideal bhartiya naari, brought me up to be driven about whatever I do and stand up for my beliefs, no matter what the detractors said.
My role models weren’t the stereotypical bahus in the Indian soap operas, who would be perpetually wearing ten coatings of makeup, heavy clothes and jazzy jewellery and still managed to devote their entire day to the kitchen in a palatial house that ideally should have dozens of maids. 
Instead, they were strong women, who lead their lives successfully, regardless of the problems they had. Some were young mothers facing the challenges of raising many kids on their own in an unknown area, some were working…

Dear Bully,

Hi there, buddy.

I bet you don't remember me. Even if you do, I think I might be in the untouched, untapped holes of your mind.

But I?

I remember you very well.

I remember the first time we met, back in fourth grade. At first, I thought you were nice but later?

As the days flew by, I realised that I wasn't even worthy of being your Holiness's "acquaintance". The way you hurled your cutting words at me, the way your nose curled in disgust when you saw me and the way you made sure that I ended up crying my eyes out made it clear that I was a horrible insect that deserved to be stomped out of your way.

All those days, I remember distinctly, I found myself wondering as to why you hated me. I remember, I was being myself and it wasn't like I was hurting you on purpose or anything.

Let me be honest with you, my dear bully. I was hurt. Beyond hurt.

I won't go ahead and say that I was the bubbliest and the most cherubic child. But I won't deny th…

I’ve never been a person who would talk about all the political problems going on in her country. Of course, the reasons are obvious: a) I don’t really find political talk interesting and b) I don’t find them interesting because I don’t have a clue as to what our politics are like.
(I have no shame in saying this, because I’d prefer being honest about my lack of political knowledge than pretending that I’ve learned the country’s constitution book by-heart)
But even though I don’t know much about political leaders, I know that they have a lot of insecurities. Inner demons churning within them, whispering harsh words like, “What if you’re not in power anymore? What if you’re not richer than XYZ politician from the opposing political part? What if –? I’m not going to analyse a politician’s mind because I’ve never been one.
(And I don’t intend to be one if it’s still going to be a cesspool twenty years from now)
Instead, I’d try to decode a teenager’s mind because hello, I am one and I’ve b…