No Netlfix, Still Chilling

Since I was a child I had this strange fascination for life in villages. I would read stories about how life in a village is.

How happy and self-sufficed they are staying away from the luxuries of life. Undoubtedly we have everything at the click of a button.

You are craving a pizza? Hello, Dominks one large-sized Farmhouse pizza with coke on the sides, please.

You need groceries? You have BigBasket to your rescue.

You need to get your haircut done? Guess what, we have UrbanClap offering their Edward Scissorhands.

But all this one click away deal comes with a very hefty price. Come to think of it, I feel that all of this is slowly taking us away from Mother Nature.

When was the last time you saw the morning sun caress your face (sunkissed pictures are not counted)? When was the last time you soaked in the tranquillity of the moon? When was the last time you heard the bee hum? When was the last time you inhaled the fresh air filled with the aroma of the seasonal flowers? When was the last time you danced in the rain? When was the last time you walked down the pebbled path without your headphones on? When was the last time you.......and the list continues.

It is strange how the steps we need to take to get close to nature lie untaken. There is a long route we need to traverse back. The above might sound impossible to you. And you are justified. In a city, people hardly bother to make use of the free gifts bestowed on us. Because sunsets are only meant for days when you are down or you need a picture-perfect background.

So this time when I visited my village I was in a pre-decided notion that after so many years of the industrial revolution this place must have come close to living in a city or bordering on the lines of the township and the village life must have been on the verge of decline.

But I was wrong. Everything was the same.

The people, the sunset, the people seeing the sunset. It was as if this place was still the same as it was 7 years back. And maybe taking a step back from the modern luxuries have brought them a step closer to nature and humanity.No wonder this place is still untouched with "Netflix and Chill".

Paradise or Illusion

Silent walkways, desolate streets, empty parks, pure air to breathe, working from home which includes slouching on a recliner eating caramel popcorns with one hand and making  Ppts with the other.

Living a near-perfect life.

This was the perfect idea of the perfect life I had read in a lot of articles.

Whenever I was stuck in long traffic jams in my city-all I craved was an escape

An escape from this mad rush

An escape from the chaos

An escape from this choking air and the foul smell of the litter lying scattered on the pavements

On days when the park was full of children

All I wanted was a quiet place.

Today all I can do is look back 

On the days when I would go up on my terrace

For star gazing

Only to find the sky covered with smog

On the days when I would make a resolution of saying No to restaurant food

Only finding myself indulging in the  cheesiest lasagna, the drizzling maple syrup  on the pancakes

But today I cook all my meals on my own 

Mostly organic food 

From roti to chawal daal and all the Indian dishes I despised the most I have learnt to cook it all.

If we set aside the lethality of this lockdown and me finally completing my #2weeknojunk challenge.

I feel like a part of me is missing.

I never knew the crowd of the city, the honking of the cars, the kids in the park, the thick smog, the scoldings of my boss would belong so much to me.

I feel like I am in a perfect paradise.

Or more precisely a Paradise -an illusion.

And something here feels like imprisonment.

I am finally living a life I had only read in books and the ones which I would dwell in when I was low. But in reality, all of it is killing me.

Maybe we as humans have adapted ourselves to all of this. Maybe all we want is chaos outside but calmness inside.

Maybe this Eutopian lifestyle is not meant for us.

Maybe chaos, hustle-bustle and entropy are what we need more than these quiet places.

A letter to Facebook

Dear Facebook,

Thanks for making me so insecure. Thanks for making me believe that the number of likes estimates my self-worth. Thanks for making me so impatient that even a 1 min wait reply seemed like a fortnight. Thanks for making me another of your victims. Thanks for creating a rift between my real world and your virtual world. Thanks for making me indulge in imbecile FB wars on some random post. Thanks for taking me out from the fictional world of Harry Potter and Percy Jackson and slamming my face down into this quagmire of virtuality and oblivion. The world full of memes, likes, reactions, comments, friend requests and suggestions has left me obliterated.

Glued to my phone screens most of the days I always felt that how could XYZ manage to have so many likes on the cover photo or how does she have so many followers. Just like English is a parameter to judge someone’s intelligence the number of followers you have judge your calibre in India. Just because I don’t have 1000 FB friends and I don’t talk to hundreds of people each day doesn’t mean I am an introvert. It’s just that I prefer making friends in real life to any random guy or girl 200 km away from me. It’s just that I am more concerned about preserving old friendships than building new ones. If I don’t have a blue tick o my account and I am not recognized under your terms and conditions doesn’t make me less lovable to the people “who really care for me”. You are responsible for estranging kids from their parents. You are the reason why the youth has become so self-conscious about their looks. We no longer discuss new TV shows or books during our lunch breaks anymore. A senior’s post with 500+ likes is what fantasizes us more these days. You have stolen our peace of mind. Even the silent nights are passed scrolling through a Holi picture of a guy living in some far-flung corner of the city or anxiously waiting for that one person to come online. Life has become monotonous. Now I hardly remember even my brother’s birthday. Gone are the days when I used to listen to my grandpa’s stories. Today I have basically shut myself inside in this cocoon.Secluded.Isolated.Desperately craving attention. Facebook you proved to be a drug worse than opium. You succeeded in transmuting the book-lover in me to a “Facebook addict”.

- Once a bookworm

Superheroes

Dear ALL,

Thanks for making our generation believe that you need a cape to be a superhero. Thanks for making us believe that without killing a dozen villains and smashing a car or two you aren’t even qualified to be a superhero. Thanks for making us fallacious that you need to be extraordinary and outshine the other 7.6 billion humans to be one.Thanks for making a feeble woman debilitate by making her feel picayune. Thanks for making the belief dawn on us that you need a costume to prove your worthiness as a superhero and a muscular body seems to top the criteria list to be one. Thanks for making us believe in the illusion that after giving your all for the people and doing acts of heroism fame awaits for you where your heroic deeds will be acknowledged by millions.

But does a cape really make that evident a difference in your role as a superhero? I see superheroes everywhere. I see them in different shapes and sizes-some young and some old. I see them in their old rags. I see them wearing formal suits and attending business meetings. I see them wearing burkhas and protesting for their rights. I see them wearing a simple sari and moulding the souls of future denizens. I see them wearing a military suit and fighting in the Siachen glacier making their country safe. I see them cooking for their families, doing all the housework and making their kids a good human. I do see a lot of them every day. I see a superhero in every individual who does their job with utmost devotion. I see a superhero in a loyal husband who loves only his wife throughout his life. I see a superhero in a woman who dedicates her entire life to the needs of her family. I see a superhero in a young boy sharing his candies with his maid’s son. I see a superhero in a young girl teaching her maid’s daughter A….B…..C….D.I see a superhero in a Hindu feeding the Muslims during a famine. I see a superhero in Sikh feeding langar to his Muslim brethren on the occasion of Gurunanak Jayanti. I see a superhero in a cricketer playing for his country with pride. I even see a superhero in a prostitute who literally sells her body to feed her family. I see a superhero in everyone who dares to break the stereotypical norms of society. YES, I INDEED SEE A SUPERHERO IN EVERY FIELD. A superhero in everyone. BECAUSE superheroes don’t need capes or costumes to prove their heroism. They need to have a pure soul as their first criteria rather than supernatural powers.

– Once a Marvel fan

A letter to Indian parents

 

Dear parents, 

If you are one of those thousands of parents who think that bestowing all the gifts and giving whatever their kids' wishes is love. You all are thoroughly mistaken. There’s a difference between showing your love and buying all the goodies for them this is for all. Her mom used to buy her a new dress whenever she went shopping. Her dad bought her a bar of chocolate or a cake whenever he went to the store.

Pencils.Pens.Notebooks.Paint.She always got the best ones. A new brand of pen or for that matter any cool stuff was launched: her dad brought it for her the very next day. Most of her wishes were fulfilled. (most because she was just a 12-year old girl .and even she wanted her parents to bring the moon to her balcony). You all must be wondering that despite having the majority of the things of the children in the world is deprived of why did she despise her parents, why was she rebellious to them. The answer was quite simple…………..her parents never spent time with her. On one hand, when all her friends celebrated their parents’ anniversary in restaurants, planned surprise gifts for them. She was hesitant to even wish them so making even a simple card was out of her league. Her parents bought everything, gave her all the materialistic happiness. But somewhere along the lane it is the love and cares that a child years for. LOVE.CARE.AFFECTION.These emotions were far beyond her means. Life was too mean to her and chose to keep with itself these expensive gifts. Her mom was too busy in her worldly affairs to spend even a minute with her. She was happy. Oh! Wait that was just a pretence of happiness. Behind her smiling cheeks camouflaging her real self was a weeping philosopher. She loved her parents, loved them a lot. But there is a distinct line of difference between loving them and being close to them. Her mother never sat with her and asked her “Tell me beta, do you have anything to share?” and neither did her role model-her dad. She distanced herself mentally and day-by-day she was going far away from them. Every day she craved a hug from her mother. Every day she craved praise for all the laurels she used to win but evidently, life was too hard on her. This was muddling up in our heart, getting piled up and finally changed into loathing intense loathing. AND FINALLY, THEY HAD SUCCEEDED. SUCCEDED IN TRANSFORMING A JOVIAL, YOUNG GIRL INTO A REBELLIOUS TEENAGER. SOMEONE WHO LOST FAITH IN LOVE, CARE AND FAMILY ALTOGETHER.

-Once an “ideal daughter"

P.S. Your valuable comments regarding the improvement of this article will be highly appreciated.