Remembering death and that we must all one day surrender to it.

I hold his soft hands and let them wrap around mine. We walk out the door, and it takes all my patience to match my steps with his. The road is rough and I look around to see that the rain has melted the red sand to form orangish-brown ponds. He promises me he will make paper boats for me to play with when we get back home, only because I enjoy it. It makes me smile, and I know that makes him happy.
The rain has started to pour again, but we have an umbrella. I want to leave his side and enjoy the rain, but he holds me close promising me things far better than the feeling of tiny droplets running down my face. 
I don't remember where we were going or why, for some reason my memory did not consider it important to remember. My memory however, remembers the journey.

On another day he calls out to me while I'm playing upstairs. Dark sunglasses adorned his face and he was sipping tea. He enjoyed every slurp he took and smacked his lips, " Would you like some?", he asked. And since having tea was a sign of maturity for me as a young child, I hastily grabbed it from his hands. Burnt tongue, too fast I reminded myself.
His hands were soft, fragile but not weak, the skin wry and hanging and I'd play with it without actually realizing what it implied. The past experiences embedded in his skin and the years that were left, the end beckoning." How do I look with these sunglasses on?", he asked. To me he looked great just the way he was, thin, beard covering his face filled with wrinkles and with sunglasses that sat perfectly on his nose, he never owned a pair until then. For me a  pair of sunglasses was an insignificant commodity for him then, a luxury.

Bottom row : Third from the left.

I try to unlock most of my childhood memories, cautious not to touch the memories that I don't want to remember and unwrapping the ones I never want to forget. As a child 10 years pass by as 10 months or less which is why I feel the time I spent with my grandfather ran faster than I wanted it to.
Stories. A grandparent favorite. Stories of how he juggled professions, teaching being his favorite. And that is exactly what he is remembered as,"Momin Master". He valued education far more than money, which is why he traveled to the north all the way from the south with very little money, to attend university.

As I walk by the grounds of my university I see dry leaves fallen on the ground, blown far away from the green and blooming tree it used to be a part of. But old leaves must fall and be replaced by fresher and healthier ones. New leaves. Sigh.
And I look at my father now, whose attitude is very similar to what I remember my grandfather's to be like. I look at his strong hands fearing that one day they too would wither away into just a memory.

The mirror stares back at me as I watch my life pass me by. What do I want to be remembered as? What do I want to be remembered for? Because today is all I am certain of and I have yet to imprint my memory on anybody.

We often forget that not all deaths are mourned. Not every death is a loss.

My grandfather, me and my sister.

Glitter and magic convolved with blood and passion.

GlowPhoenix 7975! Finally I'm granted admission into Pottermore. Just last year everyone was scrambling to be one of the Beta users, this was when Pottermore was to be opened to a few lucky fans. I, being an ardent lover of the Harry potter series hurried to answer the riddle that would allow me to be part of this magical world. Once I was done answering it I helped my sister with it and both of us waited with bated breath for our welcome message. My sister had to probably wait for two minutes for her acceptance letter whereas my owl never arrived. Heartbroken would be an understatement to describe my plight. Muggle siblings of wizards and witches, I know exactly how it feels.

Nevertheless, Pottermore has finally opened its doors to all muggles and so begins my road to reminiscence.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, the first book in the Harry potter series is by far my favorite, so going through the web chapters of this story on the Pottermore website was nothing short of a joy ride. From the shopping in Diagon Alley to my wand choosing me, the Sorting ceremony (they put me in Gryffindor), 93/4 train station and so on. The website is so excellently constructed I am actually reliving my preteen and teenage years where I would often be wandering the hallways of Hogwarts with my then crush Harry Potter. Harry Potter not Daniel Radcliffe. The undesirable no. 1 in the wizarding world was the most desirable among muggle teenage females.


Quite obviously though,  the website cannot substitute for the feeling of excitement we as  fans had waiting outside bookstores for the latest Harry Potter book or for that matter even the movies. Now all we have to make do with is the Twilight Saga, Vampire Diaries or any other blood sucking and mindless stories.

Though both the past and present obsession is with stories that are based on imagination, one is more closer to reality than the other. Harry Potter revolves around the notion of family, friendship, loyalty and how a combination of these can stand up against any dark power. On the other hand all vampire stories circle around a girl who makes an angel out of a devil man which hardly ever happens in reality, they do not really concentrate on any other human emotion besides that of love and lust.

Add to this the new phenomenal story, Fifty Shades of Grey, I'd like to call it Fifty Shades of Sadism. The story's main protagonist is a clumsy and an insecure girl who falls in love with a dangerous man with umm different desires yet a sensitive side (Hmm, I wonder where we've read this before). Author's these days in particular E.L. James have forgotten the impact of the written word. The entire plot underlines violence, demeaning of women and glorifies false hopes in big black and bold. If any woman is in such a sadomasochism relationship with the hopes of changing her man's ways, then well stop reading fifty shades of grey and vampire stories and surround yourself with self help books.


Anyway, now that my summer, long, sunny and hard semester is coming to an end I hope to stumble across a good read. Until them I'll be filling my boring moments with lots of magic.


P.S. When I called Fifty Shades of Grey a phenomenal story I was being sarcastic. Also, to excite the child inside you join www.pottermore.com. No, nobody is paying me to advertise the website. :P

Forgive You, Forget You Not.

If someone asked you to pinpoint one incident in your life that actually defined you as a person what would it be? Something that forced you to face the harsh realities that you were earlier oblivious to.
I for one keep replaying some such incidents in my head over and over again. No, it cannot be that people are just evil. But some of them are, and most of them disguise themselves well. Promises can be broken and lies must be said. 
As children we develop a defense mechanism, block the unhappy events, put it behind a wall, imagine it's a dream and get back to the playground. As an adult it becomes highly difficult to keep this wall up or for that matter put anything behind it. Your childhood defense technique will only turn you into a psycho to say the least.
Crying till your eyes bleed, curling up on the bathroom floor and wishing you'd just die there, stifling your cries in a bustling house, all for people who hurt you, all for people who instead should cry for what they've done.

Holding a grudge, and not letting go of the anger only hurts you more than its hurts the perpetrator of the crime. Yes, hurting anyone is a crime, probably not punishable by law but that's why we have the saying," What goes around, comes around", or so they say to console themselves.

I personally think the above quote is sadistic. Why should you care? Why should you base your life's motto on someone else's unhappiness? If you are delighted by somebody's tragedy then what is the difference between you and the person who hurt you in the first place?

I disliked some people too, I could feel myself spitting poison out when I spoke of them, then I realized I was taking most of it in. Most of the people I've had a tiff with have made attempts at reconciliation which makes forgiving them easier. To ask for forgiveness is a hard thing to do, to accept your fault, to accept that you are wrong, so I believe people when they do. Forgiven are the ones that forgive.

But how do you forgive someone who has never asked for it?Someone who doesn't regret, doesn't remember, doesn't care.
Let's face it, every good deed that we do has a selfish motive behind it. As weird as it may sound, I find it extremely satisfying when I help someone, only people who have something that others want are asked to help. 

So if holding a grudge is slowly consuming you with hatred and bitterness while the other person is going about their life happily, then maybe it's time to help yourself, to let go, to forgive. It's time to yank out the double edged sword that is slowly but ruthlessly ripping you apart. 

Nevertheless, I don't encourage people to forget the incidents that hurt them. Forget the people but not what they taught you. It's what defines you, how you deal with situations when you are a complete mess, how you deal with people who put you there.

It's a reminder, a constant reminder of what people are capable of, a reminder of what you are capable of.


P.S. When I hurt someone I can't seem to get it out of my head, which makes me apologize. If you've hurt someone and you're aware of it then you must apologize, you never know who you picked out of a rut. Plus if people would make it aware that they are hurt and not play games, apologizing would be easier =)

The F- word.

Have you ever heard of the Arowana fish? The male species of this carnivorous clan of fishes bite of the female's tail before breeding. Sort of what you'd call domestic violence. And the female fish in response lays low at the bottom of the tank, to avoid the drama I suppose. I've actually seen this happen, my uncle who is a fish maniac bought two of these fishes in order to breed. Apparently, breeding of these particular species of fishes is quite profiting as long as you can figure out the difference between a male and a female fish. We didn't realize that domestic abuse is part of the breeding process and transferred the female fish to a bucket where she died later that evening. The death of this particular fish was followed by great sobbing from my sister and my uncle. The death of a fish that knew nothing about me and who I knew very little about, still left me sad. Why?

Maybe because she was helpless, there was nothing it could do to save itself. We consoled ourselves thinking that at least we put it out of its misery.
It's not animals alone that go through these situations, people do too and we all know about it. Maybe there's a lot more I can do for them than I could have done for the female Arowana.


I'm a hardcore feminist. I don't know what instigated these feelings in me but I know that its better than being  against the idea.
All the talk about how times have changed, how people perceive things in a different way, how gender inequality is slowly reaching extinction. Really, has it?


The amount of women I know who have gone through and/or are going through mental, physical or sexual abuse or a combination of the three is staggeringly high. And what do most of them do about it? Nothing. Just like the Arowana, lay low. The hidden stigmas in our society. It's a nasty circle, the son acquires from the father and the daughter from the mother. 
It's like being a pushover is a feminine characteristic, to be trampled on, to obey. Does your own happiness mean so little to you?

Have you ever wondered why a woman changes her last name after her wedding? Is it really necessary? Women who stand up against this perception are considered to be strong headed and overbearing. Women who stand up against any male privileges that are considered to be normal in any given society are considered to be too fast, ambitious, controlling and any other adjective in a negative light.

 It's hard to voice your feminist views since people are always ready to attack, to call you self centered and angry. Attacking a person voicing their opinion is a form of silencing, especially when there's a group of people against it which sadly often includes women.

"I've been through it so can you", is a phrase often used by older women to silence the growing fury among the younger women. Discrimination and taking advantage of women is wrong irrespective of what you have been through. The only way we can change the society and its absurd norms is by bringing about a change in our attitude and instilling in young minds that they are not secondary to anyone.

Feminism is often than not mistaken as hatred for men and cultures that keep them at the center. As a feminist I don't hate men neither am I voicing my opinion to revoke male privileges. I favor feminism because it fights for the rights of women, it helps break down barriers that allow women to live their lives based on their choices and decisions without facing any hindrance.

It is not a favor done by the world on us for valuing our opinion or by allowing us to vote, work and drive . It is something that women have fought for and are still fighting for. Why do we always have to snatch what we rightfully deserve?

It is not your responsibility as a woman to sacrifice and bear the atrocities committed onto you by any male or for that matter even female members of your society. It is not your responsibility as a daughter to watch your mother suffer in silence or carry the burden of your family's shame. It is not your duty as a mother to always stay at home and care for your children while your dreams take a hike. It is not your duty to be silent.

It is the duty of the world to treat you as an equal.

P.S. It's not that I want what men have, more like I need to have what I want. Plus, this is not a hate post, because I know many men would want to think so, besides men can be feminists too.

What's in a name?

I remember as a teenager my main aim was to be loved, to have the most friends ever, to be popular, cool, rad whatever adjective you were aspiring to be. It's so silly that as teenagers we are so occupied with trying to be different, listening to music we despise, to fit into a group that will never like us and doing lots of other things that at present make my skin cringe.
I tried my hand at a lot of things in the attempt to be different and possibly with the desire to attract friends like honey attracts bees. I tried to dance when undoubtedly I was so bad at it; I am actually haunted by its memory till date. I also sang a song with sound effects for a competition, surprisingly I won but I bet it was more for the comedy than talent. Okay! I'm bleeding with embarrassment. 

So parents, who are obviously obsessed with the well being of their children have now found an absurd way to make their children seem cool from the very first day of their lives. By giving them special names. I'd say ridiculous, but treating your cat like your little sister is ridiculous to many, so I'm going to try and be open minded. Apparently, these names are going to help us fit in. Wrong.

When was the last time someone came up to you at school and said," Wow! I think you have a beautiful name, let's be friends"? That is, with the plain reason to just be your friend and nothing more. A good name might not affect your social life in any way but a bad name might.

I honestly was not really happy with the name that I was given. Not my first name, my second name. I don't really get the idea of having a second name, seriously what is the purpose of it? If anyone comes up with a good reason, please let me know, I need to defend myself when people ask me the same. It's highly embarrassing for me, especially when people ask me if my second name is my dad's name. I don't blame my parents for giving me a second name, if I had any sense as a baby I'd probably scream out in protest, even though most people tell me my name is not even half as embarrassing as many others that have come up in recent times. So I decided to Google, "special names for babies" just to make myself feel better and did I come across the weirdest names ever.

Naming a baby girl He is not normal unless her parents are gay. Virgin, seriously! I cannot imagine to what extent this poor child will be bullied. Gal for a baby boy, these parents’s might as well give lessons on bullying to children because it seems to be exactly what they are doing to their child.

Another popular notion believed by many parents is that the name you give a child affects their personality. I actually know a couple who named their daughter Nimrah which is Arabic for lion, and apparently because of the profound effect her name had on her she ate like an animal so eventually they decided to change her name. It could be hereditary no? 

I however, feel that people represent their names, Hitler for example. The name probably had a different initial meaning or did not have a meaning at all but post Hitler era it does. Hitler defines someone with tyrannical characteristics, weird as it may seem I don't see anyone naming their child Hitler to disprove.

I can't change the perception and thoughts of the present parent, the damage is sadly done, but I most certainly can of the future parent. At the end of the day your name is your identity.

P.S.Not all names are horrendous and degrading, I personally love the name Blade. Also, my blog address is the meaning of my name and essenze is not a typo it's a deliberate attempt at being different. Not much has changed. Sigh.

Planning 101

I don't remember the last time I felt extremely helpless which is a good thing because I hate being there. It makes me question the amount of authority I have over my life and the authority others have over mine. Now I remember! The last time I felt extremely helpless was the last time I planned. 

I am in fact, an intense planner, I love planning to the extent that I live my life through these plans because they hardly ever work out. So finally I thought to myself why don't they? Why am I not able to see my plan to the end?

So I came up with three reasons why I think my plans usually don't work out first being, the plans are usually unrealistic. I'm not going to be the youngest millionaire on earth before turning 21 unless my dad decides to give me a part of his fortune right now. It's important to have realistic goals, goals that match your perception and your abilities. Goals that will keep you going not because everybody's doing it but because you are passionate about it. I won't be an amazing cook just because my mom wants me to be. I will however be more than an amazing cook because I want to be.

The second problem is excessive dreaming. I spend so much time fussing over an idea that I lose interest in it. I plan, research, imagine, more or less I've actually lived it to the extent that I get bored with the idea, especially ideas that involve changes,  eventually I decide to put it at the back burner for another time. Probably add it to the top 10 list of things I want to to do sometime later in my life. However, this makes me really sad at the end of the day because I have put in a lot of effort formulating the idea and probably involved a lot of people in the plan. Disappointing to say the least.

Finally, the most hugest and difficult problem to get rid of is people. When the most part of your plan depends on other people, it's probably not going to work out. Not because they don't want you to have what you want, which is not always the case I must warn, but because they don't want to do what you want to. So many plans have been cancelled, exciting plans I must add, exciting for me of course but they have been cancelled because my friends and family are more passionate about sleeping in the morning than anything else. Also plans of working abroad, moving to another country, getting a new car, getting married or any other big important decision in your life involves the opinions of others. Ever wondered why?
Because we care too much. We care more about what people think about us, about the decisions we make more than we care about the increasing poverty in India. We care about our reputation more than our principles. We care about what other people want more than what we want. We want people to think highly of us while we think very little of ourselves.
It's really important for us to realize that people are going to scrutinize. It's what they do, it's what we all do. Whether you wear a headscarf or you don't, people are going to scrutinize you. Whether you are a science major or a commerce major people are going to undermine you. There's always going to be someone who dislikes who you are and that's not your problem.
I don't want to be a person whose life is made up of someone else's dreams and aspirations. Most importantly, I don't want my life to be someone else's plan. I want it to be my plan, my idea.

And if I don't get where I want to I'm not going to mope neither am I going to force my dream on someone else. Just because I did not get what I want I am not going to assume I never will and that nobody else will ever get what they want. I will encourage people who share their dreams with me or those who need my help, old or young. Nobody is too young to dream big and outrageous and nobody's too old to dream big or small.

Maybe that's all that my plans need, a tiny grain of encouragement.

P.S. I know many people who think planning is a waste of time but we all plan at one point or another, we plan trips, parties, timetables etc. Remember if you're not happy with your present it's only because you did not plan well in your past.
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