What’s with this 'Bitchy' Trend?

There is a plain absurd trend in buzz, which is too tangy to bite and gulp down all in one breath. The reason it is too absurd is why I was compelled to take up for a long rant. The social media, where unless we are active people won’t believe we are alive, has actually become a battleground for people to show how they stand out. In this mad struggle, they have started choosing roads which are one-way and have no rules for treading whatsoever.

The new trend of reveling in calling oneself a ‘bitch’ seems inexplicable under every circumstance. So, you see pictures of girls pouting, posing weird and putting on a virtual gothic aura, trying to look like a rebel who must have done something extremely weird, calling themselves ‘bitches’. So, these new age bitches feel it is some sort of honor they have given themselves, something which makes them shine out from the crowd, giving them a distinct identity.

Mind you, this road is all one-way, for this passes like a breeze only till they use this cussword for themselves. They tend to make huge hue and cry out of situations where they are apparently called the same by people around them; for instance, strangers they bump into, hawkers they keep haggling with, drivers whose cars they keep ramming, guards who they demean or their parents, for that matter, who they don’t budge before misbehaving with. Under all these contexts, the cuss injures their ego to the point they are compelled to fill their eyes to the brim with kohl and then cry it all out. In fact, this whole drama is also accompanied by situational roleplaying of 'I-was-abused' that it takes days for them to get back to their usual ‘I-am-still-a-bitch’ self.

Call it generation gap or that I have passed the age to tune out any bullshit, I simply don’t get why wouldn’t one call herself a slut, for that matter, if it does no derogation to her image or reputation?

*slow slap (oops, clap)*

I see.

Behaving My Age

It’s that time of the lifetime when you finally have to change skins to become a responsible human being while your inner soul still pretends to be a kindergarten brat; that time when speaking shit comes as easy as a storm in a desert and listening patiently seems a task next to impossible; the age when the conscience about one’s own stupidity does not show up and everything that you say sound pearls of wisdom to yourself; when doing household tasks seem the most crucial KRA of your maid and you helping her in the same implies deduction in her salary; when the fact that you earn and work in an MNC overpowers everything else left to do in the world, including cooking and when you look in the mirror and feel tad too proud of the way you look and wonder who on Earth would be able to match that nerve and fail to find one name, even close – YES, this age, this time, this phase – PRECISELY this is when THEY decide to get you married!

It’s like taming a mad ape – accepting that you are getting married and knowing that you get to be the female in this setup – the traditional one who behaves the way others program her to. The one advice, order, request or commandment that you hear from all the directions, while you happily behave the way you have been doing since ages, is “behave your age”. “Well, I’ve been all the same!” is all I can say in return. Suddenly, everything you do right from dressing to walking, from speaking to shutting up, from eating to picking your utensils up from the table, from getting up in the morning to pretty much, existing starts to appear faulty to those people who loved every bit of whatever nonsense you did before THIS time.

Now, I try to behave my age – in fact the one well ahead of it. It will, obviously, take me some time to shed the skin I have been comfortably living in since ages. But all that I have got to do is try to monitor how I behave, timing my smile, gauging the number of times I nod, looking at all random places while keeping mum in a room where the topic being discussed seems as stupid as the arguments being thrown to defend each other by the people involved, checking the usage of words like shit, crap, fuck, bitch, booh and trying to fit in a circle of “all grownups”.

Or, I have got an easier way out! I believe in order to get a valid visa to be able to step into the shoes of an “espoused”, all that you need to do is screw this gyaan up and team with your spouse up for a bigger mess. You never know, he might already be choking himself while acting a “grownup”. Behaving your “self” over your age is a nice idea for a cool, relaxed life. I bet behaving my age would never come easy to me, especially when I know I am good when I am “a lady” but I am much more a fun when I am “me”.

Anecdotes from a Crazy Love Life

This is the first time when I am narrating an instance from the very personal corner of my life to my readers; I am sure you would enjoy reading this as much as I have reveled in writing it and, most of all, in living it. This is surely one of those few moments, which keep cracking you up even after days or months when they happened. So, here goes a short, funny reminiscence which makes me laugh, cry and wonder all at the same time, thinking how my fiancé never leaves any stone unturned to add spice to our lives.

This happened a week back while I was happily chatting with my husband-to-be, sitting several miles away from me. I had been envying a lot of cute, just-married, couples on social platforms leaving mushy, gooey, cute messages for each other either in the form of posts or comments. Call my groom-to-be shy or hesitant, he doesn’t find it fit to spit his love out on social media (as if it’s venom) where there are hundreds of eyeballs trying to find some fault in it, if not any than grammatical. I hate his this habit as I am really active on social media and I don’t feel mollycoddled through his words on my posts or pics and I particularly hate it because we are engaged and there’s immense societal pressure (I feel, eh) on me to prove it to the world that my man is good with words and how!

So, I uploaded a pic, which looked somewhere close to this, but I surely looked way better; I always do, even in my out-of-the-bed selfies!

I knew my bae is never going to comment on the pic, as the best expression of his love is his “liking” the pic, and I fail to make him understand that out of 100 likes I got on the pic, his special love-filled ‘like’ will get crushed and tramped down (Sigh!).

But this time, I collared him (virtually, of course) and forcibly asked him to comment on my pic. Poor he, he thought this was probably the toughest time of his life, tougher than taking board exams. He immediately started ‘Google’ing severely romantic shayaris ever written and after half an hour, came out with this (on a pic that has me smiling and pouting, all at the same time):

Koi Aankho-Aankho Se Baat Kar Leta Hai.. Koi Aankho-Aankho Mein Mulakaat Kar Leta Hai…Bada Mushqil Hota Hai Jawaab Dena, Jab Koi Khaamosh Rehkar bhi Sawaal Kar Leta Hai…

Sawaal?! Bearing a question mark on my face, I complained about his bad judgment and how he could not think of something as simple as ‘looking pretty’! Why, at all, he needed to Google compliments?

He started digging further into the world of internet and this, for a moment, made me feel guilty wondering if I am asking too much of him. Never mind, this feeling was as temporary as my thought bubble which was again pricked by my beau who had found something he thought worthy:

This pair of small eyes, Help in saying big things, Love not expressed from lips, Is confessed by a wink. At any place in the world, Her eyes keep searching for me, Sparkle of her eyes is moved to her lips, After she finds me. Each feeling of her heart, Is said by eyes of hers Whenever I leave her, Droplets of water stroll down in form of tears. Can always find, Unconditional love for me in her eyes, Confirming the thought to be true, That the pair never says lies. I have a feeling, She has a straight heart to eye connection, As she expresses everything, by her eyes, That's needs to be mentioned. When I can't find her eyes around me, Don't know what happens to my day, Smile from my visage, Remains at bay. In the night when I lie on a gathered hay, Under the starry layer of the endless worlds, I trace your eyes in the maze of stars, Like a pattern laid out by two beautiful pearls. This pair of small eyes, Help in saying big things, Love not expressed from lips, Is confessed by a wink.

Well, I did not want a lengthy, 200-word essay on my pic, which already had some 10 odd comments by now, so I frowned a bit and asked him to quit whatever he was doing. To this, he so innocently said “but I’d honestly fallen for your eyes. I think they add spark to your beauty”. Well, this worked! I was flattered and thus, he got another chance to look for some nice comment to post on my pic. Here’s what he fetched:

Girl I'm not a shy guy, but you got me feeling like I might die. Those beautiful eyes, got me melted inside.

I thought of killing myself – not because this was too cheesy, but because I wasn’t looking for anything artificial: anything he could write that could make me feel I belong to him. I guess he picked up from my cue of not replying to this message that I disliked that, too. So, here’s my bae’s another attempt at pleasing me:

I miss the beautiful eyes that I can sail through forever. I miss the smile that send me to heaven

By now, I was banging my head on the wall being frustrated to the top-most notch. I, my last try, asked him to compliment me in Italian (I remembered he had championed this language way back in time). At this point, I could guess he was baffled, too, for how he was just not able to make me happy and how he's been ignorant of this new avatar of me, a girl who’s crying for his love, spelt out in sugar-coated words, written right on her post.

I would surely have fractured my limbs laughing so hard after what happened next had he not gotten me out of that by finally saying bye. This is what he said, “Here is my username and password, can you please comment whatever you feel is appropriate yourself?” Imagine me, pretending to be him, leaving romantic comments on my own picture! All my anger and frustration was bubbled in a matter of microseconds and I was actually feeling silly for have asked him to do something he just isn't good at: expressing himself under the sun! 

I shut my laptop down and retired to bed, just when I received a notification on my mobile saying someone has left a comment on my pic. It was him and this is what he wrote: Ti voglio molto bene! (Meaning: I love you so much!). I bet my day couldn’t have ended in a better manner J   

Keep Calm and Use This!

It is one of those days when I feel the presence of so many bitches surrounding me, keeping a check on me to know what I do, how I do it and if doing nothing, then just being there like a spy counting my breaths. It’s like you were leading your life peacefully, oblivious to all the political, social and miscellaneous shit happening around and suddenly, you get poked in your ribs, jabbed on your back and punched on your face for the sheer reason that you were not paying attention. Why does the world starve for my attention to begin with? I doubt if it is made of gold!

There have been instances when I was so less concerned about the people around me that they had to do something as silly as climbing a tree on their back to get my eyes on them. And then, there have been those instances, too, when my response to any situation they pulled me in was appalled at just because my (weird) thoughts fertilized those words.

I am a person who loves to live in my dream-bubble, which is so often gemmed with luxuries like creativity, experiments, yearnings, desires, aim, talent, plans and more plans. I am so happy dwelling in my-this-prized-mansion that many a times, I do not feel the need of any next-in-number thing around me (living or non-living). Since the bitches around do not pay attention to the implied meanings of my face expressions, most of the times, they end up calling me anti-social or worse, arrogant.

This is one of those days when I see my ‘self’ getting lost in the smoke these bitches have filled my mansion with. Well, I stay calm and wait for this bad air to get cleared. I am sure moods change and so do people; for bitches, I could never say anything with absolute certainty but I am sure even they would someday get tired of being ignored and would opt for an alternate path to tread on. I wish I had something like this to shoo them all away! 

 

Shortcut to an addiction called fame!

While I was checking out today’s newspaper so as to quench my thirst for some real fascinating piece of news which I can gossip out throughout the day with my closed ones, something in there got my vision stuck. I was plainly amazed to acknowledge the work of some anonymous person getting his work registered in the front page of the national dailies while leaking out the inside stuff of Kolkata Knight Riders. Well, this anonymous claims to be the 16th player of the team and says that he is using the “blog” medium to lent out his frustration over the stuff happening there.
No matter who he is, how is he doing such an insane act with such great spotlessness, what does he wanna prove with this act, why is he as a “fake IPL player” trying to ruin down the repo that the team has or anything else, the heart of the matter is that he has got all eyes across the globe popping out and striving to hear more out of his blog. He has no doubts, secured millions of fans across the planet and has become a ROCKSTAR if we go by the words of the youth.
Well, this addiction to catch attention is indeed spreading in a killing way and has finally been converted into a slayer disease. Remember, Oye Lucky Lucky Oye, Bunty aur Bubli or Die Hard 4? Perfect examples of the craving for fame. So, one more milestone unturned.
One things for sure, by leaking out the insidies of KKR in a die hard hilarious manner, this IPL anonymous has totally bowled over all the techies out there and so easily dug up what exactly he was looking for, THE FAME!!!