As an aspiring journalist, one does not have the common privilege of ignorance
A middle aged wealthy Man sits in his 4BHk apartment in Mumbai watching the presidential elections on Fox news. ‘Ah’ he thinks to himself, ‘What a time it is to be alive… a woman contending to run the most powerful nation on the planet. Equality has truly been achieved’ he says as his son watches item songs in the next room.
The Man glancing at the grandfather clock, shouts for his evening tea. His wife realising the maid is attending her 10 year old daughter’s wedding in a nearby village, scurries to make the tea herself.
He switches channels mechanically as a girl in a neighboring building is being dragged into a room, her underwear ripped off and her genitals being “circumcised” to rid of her unnatural sexual urges.
The man impatiently inquires as to what is taking the tea so long, incessantly stating how late it is, as a woman down the street waits for her impending bus which carries a predator and his natural sexual urges.
Somewhere in another shanty town a boy dumps his books and ditches school to play cricket with his friends while his older sister prepares meals for her family, having giving up attempting to read the unfamiliar markings on her brother’s textbooks a long time ago. The man back in Mumbai finally receives his Chai; ‘Ah’ he exclaims, ‘you forgot the sugar’.
There is a problem in India. A serious one.
There are problems in India. Serious ones.
And the only reason they aren’t being recognised is the misconception that equality has been achieved. Comments like ‘ Hey, even the West hasn’t had a female president dude, but we have’ help people like me identify the problem; the problem lies within the fact that we compare our battle with the most popular one but in reality we are multitudes of phases behind them. In the West problems like the wage gap are addressed by feminists but in India we cannot simply skip over and address that same problem when most women aren’t even educated enough to do those jobs.
The problem lies within all of India; each religion, socioeconomic group, age, gender and occupation. However if the most educated, most privileged of those people fail to recognise it then how can we expect anyone else to.
featured image from http://www.dnaindia.com
It’s those sleepless nights.
The hours that tick tick slowly by to greet the rays of the sun.
When youve had too much of a calm phase in life, hours like these are necessary to remind you. Remind you that there were moments like these too.
Where nothing is necessarily wrong in your life. Oh no, it is actually something wrong with the past that comes back to haunt you. To hover over you and remind you that there were moments like these too; moments where everything had been going to hell… where you thought you wouldnt live to see the calm.
A sudden halt on your dead-end rollercoaster.
Where all emotions are snatched from you and replaced with burning, new, implacable ones.
Where there’s no room for the glorious miscommunication that usually goes on between your soul and your body.
Grasp at these moments because it doesn’t come with the risk of permanent emotional damage… just a slightly stinging sorrow.
It’s life’s gift to you. To help you rid of the monotony that comes with happiness. To encourage you to cherish contentment. To remind you that there used to be moments like these too; moments where the night just tick ticks by.
Ambition is just constant dissatisfaction.
It’s the sadness that pushes us. The gnawing, tugging, inescapable emotions that drag us into our creative zones. Writing is a catharsis and there’s no need for it unless you’re looking for an escape; for the reason a reader reads and a writer writes is the same.
And when you’re content, there is no need for an escape- *introducing the all new and improved ‘writers block’. Now in 4 different shades of frustration.*
It’s every artists internal conflict. For them to create they have to have inspiration, for inspiration they need an extreme emotion, for an extreme emotion they need exhilaration or depression, the latter being much easier to achieve when you have no inspiration and thus the vicious cycle begins.
What to do, what to do, what to do.
Take a break I guess. Go out, switch off, forget. I say I guess because evidently I still can’t write. Atleast nothing along the lines of profound or mildly entertaining.
Sorry for wasting your time if you made it this far.
But a word of advice because I never publish a post without something quotable ( ✔️ ) and something kinda sorta not really helpful- Don’t force yourself to create something that has to be appreciated… just. create.
Well, i woke up to that faint blue light that I now so easily recognise (c.e. https://itswaypastcurfew.wordpress.com/2016/06/01/stage-7-34-progress/ , where i flipped out, seeing it for the first time)
WordPress informed me that it was our 2 year anniversary. Possibly the longest any of my relationships have ever lasted (platonic and romantic). *cringing at this sad truth*
Also I haven’t been able to write at all lately and this is more or less a forced post and I have to end up asking myself the question ‘ why can we write so much better when our life is going to the dogs?’
I am good at what I do
And I am so much better at Procrastination.
Let me set the scene for you.
It’s a pleasant, cool day. You stand around nonchalantly with a group of people. Banter is being passed around like a ball and a contest of wit seems to be taking place. Generally a satisfying spell has seized control of the day. That is until
Irrelevant person 1: “and then i said to her if you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the precipitate!!”
*unanimous laughter at punny chemistry joke*
You: “hey that reminds me irrelevant person 3, did you watch that documentary?”
Irrelevant person 3: …
*pause before you attempt to ask the deaf irrelevance your question again*
You: ” Did you see that docum-”
Irrelevant person 3: “Oh btw guys (proceeds to talk about irrelevant topic)”
You: *cue feelings of wanting to move to Lithuania to sell cats for a living*
Not being heard and having to repeat yourself is the worst. The only thing worse than that is having to repeat yourself and not being heard again. ( and the only thing worse than THAT is it happening with your crush but that’s a whole other post).
I mean I know it’s kind of dramatic to feel so worthless, but that is EXACTLY how you feel. I don’t know why, but the insecurities just thrive off of moments like those. It’s the most terrifying thing that can happen to you and somehow it leaves you feeling like the least important human on the planet. It leaves you feeling irrelevant.
Overthinking coupled with abandonment issues and crippling social anxiety- Life’s peachy keen.
I’m playing this world like a video-game,
Overthinking is a glitch and heartbreak is the lag.
I have taken it upon myself to write this letter to wholeheartedly thank you.
Yes i may at one point in my life, when my standards were apparently at their lowest, have wanted you, liked you, needed you. Maybe at one sad moment, I craved for your attention, your approval, your acceptance of me. But i swear to you with all the might that is left in me, I do not need it nor am I seeking it.
The word disillusioned was created for revelations like these. You’re hell-bent on bringing me down for some reason. I used to even bother asking questions, doubting myself, just to justify your actions. ‘What did i ever do to you’. It was a question that gnawed at me continuously. It was pathetic. Actually no wait you’re pathetic, I just care too much. My bad, I admit.
But now my attitude has changed. I ask myself a new question now; ‘Why am I letting you do this to me’. I can’t confidently answer that to this day but I can, however, change that interrogative into a declarative; ‘ I wont let you do this to me’. Okay enough of bullshit. I had enough of that when i was honored by your presence.
But listen. I mentioned that i wanted to Thank you and I really do! I did want to thank you, you amazing human you 🙂
Thank you for the pain you caused me. You know why? Because it made me write this post and countless others, it fueled my passion for creative (but rather depressing pieces), It brought me my followers and it brought me my reader who is probably reading this thinking of their very own Jerk. They are quite abundant these days aren’t they? But most importantly it made me so much smarter. Yes. I won’t say stronger or happier because for now that isn’t true. For now.
But smarter. I feel like mentally, i could battle the amazon rain-forest. If someone could tolerate an insolence like you, how easy does everything else seem.
So very truly, Thank you.
Go love yourself.
A person who’s moved on.
This is my personal letter to all the Jerks one faces in life. May it be ex’s, bullies or random trolls. They’re all the same and we can all get through it with a wee bit of patience and a whole lotta sarcasm.
I hit 30 followers 2 days ago preceding my 30th post. Now i know 30 might seem like an ant of a number in the grand scheme of things, however, it is a great big deal to me.
When i started blogging again in the summer of 2016, i promised myself i wouldn’t let this blog rot away abandoned like i had last time. And i didn’t.
I get bored very easily and this is an accomplishment for me. It proves to me, my passion, for writing and comforts my decision to pursue Journalism. It proves the one person who knew about my blog last year and laughed at it, wrong. It proves that I can do something if I wholeheartedly make it my priority. It proves me wrong.
So here is to 30 followers, 1000 hits (YES 1000! ), and many more posts to come.