Detoxing with Intoxication

Clink clink puff clink puff puff clink puff strumm clink puff puff puff strumm strumm stru..CLINK puff sigh smirk puff.. Gulp gulp gulp.. Whoaah.. Whooaah.. Puff gulp.. Puff gulp.. Clink gulp.. clink gulp.. clink gulp... clink gulp.. clink gulp... Dizzzy.. Whluuuooooyyyyy... Thud!

It was a fine but a lousy morning, trying to recall made me fall. I felt like I was repeating every single word do tue da intoxicatoxiincation..
Everything was moving in slo-mo.. Trying to recall made me fall. 
Everythi.. Was movin slooooMooo.. Tryin rcall made me fall...

A throbbing pain in my head and suddenly THUN! 
the hammer fell on the floor on my nail, I scried to tream!! And again the hammer fell THUN! 
by the fird and thorth time I kinda got used to the hammer.. 
A friend rame cunning to me and srew wome thwater I felt a cold shiver run up my spine.. Boosegumps made my stair hand. 
The water was dripping from my nose.. The pinnnnn'nosechio.. 
I sat ther in all my senses.. One friend was taking care of me.. 
As the others I lost them last night.. Shouldn't have drunk.. Shouldn't have got high.. 
More and more the sober I got.. 
The more and more I wished it not to happen. 
Those mispelt words, were far better than the once that made sense. 
The bitter truth was better than the sugar coated fallacies. 
The hazy picture better than a 1080p clarity. 
F.R.I.E.N.D.S better than friends.
A backstabber better than a back-bitcher.
A Dark Knight better than a false Hope.

Eyes flickered and as they opened wide I could make sense of the over-exposed light, people were visible, faces were familiar, and the slap hurt a lot more than the earlier ones.. "I am okay now" I yelled. Or was I..?

Felt sick, and healthy too.. 
Maybe the hangover wasn't really over.
Battery was dying at a thin !4 percent, I was charged but drained out as well. 
The show was over, but the audience stayed..
They hated me, but stayed cuz they loved me.
The bottles lied right by my side, empty and hopeless. 
Things made no sense, but nothing was as meaningful as this.
I rinsed, I brushed, I again rinsed, looked myself in the mirror, we weren't the same.
By lunch, I got completely sober, that seemed more dangerous than being fully drunk. I decided "I ll never drink again"he said..

And I heard a    ¡CLINK!

The ATTENTION seeker

198... 199... 199... Come on, come on just one more... I sat there transfixed to my profile picture on the screen, but it had stopped at 199. 

I am called a wannabe.. pateli.. show off.. an attention seeker... I am all of these, and at the same time I am none of these.

Popularity, fame is something everyone has a craving for; being praised for something you possess, trying to be modest, you have to agree that you have been wanting someone to compliment you.
Few get their popularity by default, others really have to work really hard to get it.. I was in the latter group.
A bimbo, a numbnut, and that time actually called as Appy (means अपंग which in english means handicapped) that was my impression through out the school life. A jackass of all trades and master of none. The nickname was disturbing, but could not really do anything about it.. I had no choice but to deal with it, first felt humiliated, but as time passed, the humiliation transformed into some weird coolness which I got accustomed to.
I was famous for my unfortunate weaknesses; those held me back from trying to overcome them. The name Appy and my jittery confidence had a symbiotic relationship... No matter how much I tried, I just could not get rid of that sick, sorry nickname.
Then one fine day, school and the reign of Appy finally ended.
After 10th Std. Board exams I had a period of 4-5 months of vacation.. that is when I went under total internal reconstruction. I made conscious efforts to change my approach and outlook in everything.
Started watching meaningful entertainment, not just for the fun but also to study character traits.

Developed a reading habit that I never considered.
Studied Chandler and Sheldon for the sarcasm and humor department.
Finally college commenced, this was a completely new world, a new stage, a new play and slate was neat and black. Now the first chalk strokes on that slate were going to decide whether it would be the introduction of the new Me or would the reign of Appy return.
And I surely did not want the latter part. This time luck favored my side.. So as I started out, my first challenge was to have a smooth normal friendly conversation with a girl, but as we all know.. unless you stumble on the path you would never learn to get up and move on.
It was painfully funny to be turned down by a totally out of my league girl. But it was fun.
Then my life introduced me to the Mithibai Drama Team. This league was altogether a whole new level.
Here, no one judged anyone on how they looked, how you talk, how you present yourself, you are nurtured here, the ones who joined this team instantly become a part if the family.
They molded this deformed clay into an impressive vessel. Five years now, I have still been a part of the family.
The popularity and fame that I had wished for so long, was finally coming to me, and this time the reasons were me overcoming those unfortunate weaknesses.
The attention I seek is not to show off, but it is the justice that I try to give to that Appy who deserved a lot better than what he got during school.
If I demand for fame I do it because I know I earned it.

Apparently, Appy is happily staring at the screen that displays 199 likes, whereas Shaunak is eagerly waiting for the 200th like

MOVING OUT, TEACHES MOVING ON

12 years have passed by, but even today I go into retrospect of being a 2^nd grader, whenever I go there. ‘Garden Estate’, my former home. A complex of roughly 13-15 buildings, somewhere in Thane. There were three magnificent gardens. There were swings with whom I had a connection. The air in that complex had the aroma of my childhood in it. That was home, still is. Today when I go to that place just to visit and meet old friends and family, a mixed feeling of happiness, of being there and feeling of grief, of not being there.

That place has an aura of being attached. After four years of living there, my family and I shifted back to Mumbai. I was intentionally kept unknown of the fact of us moving out, because it would have broken me down. Eventually it did. I cried my eyes out after made acquainted to the fact that we no longer would be staying at Garden Estate. That was the first big blow I had received in my life that took a very long time to digest.

I somehow tried getting accustomed to the new life. I made a new friend in the building, he reminded me of my friends at Garden Estate; but fate wasn't done with me yet, this time he shifted from the Mumbai to Dehradun. I was just almost getting out of one trauma, when life threw another one right in my face. I still gathered some hope and made friends in 5^th grade, hoping they wouldn't leave me out of the blue. Fortunately, they didn't.

I shifted another couple of times but never felt the same as I had felt when I shifted from Garden Estate. Shifting from one house to another house, was actually moving out of a home to an unknown place that you would have to start getting used to call it your new home. This moving out taught me to handle the most difficult situations in life, to let go of people, things, situations. This behaviour of mine was misunderstood by my friends, who called me unemotional, stone-hearted, detached and impassive, but I sure as hell am not wholly responsible for that behaviour.  

Being a 'Sexist' does not make you SEXY.

The advertisement we see on the television these days, #VogueEmpower, starring Madhuri Dixit a short film by Vinil Matthew. A brilliant ad about female sexism. We watch these ads exchange looks with each other appreciate the message being portrayed and then are back on track with the ridiculing of the female mannerisms.

A lady driver, is always mocked for her driving no matter how good she is. One small mistake cannot be spared for these female drivers. Men have the freedom to drive the way they want but women are just never spared. 

Girls are emotional about things because they have a deeper connect with particular things. But this emotional maturity is deliberately misunderstood to be their weakness which is made fun of and now being used as a phrase.

What astonishes me seems to be the fact that the female themselves use the phrase in order to set an example for the male class. For instance,

When a boy crys for some reason, to make him stop his mother asks, "are you a girl? Then why are you crying?". When the mother, who was a girl once, accepts the fact that the female is weaker than the male. Then and there, she is proving the men right, about them(men) being superior to women.

Another thing noticed, is that people who are sexists, rather than realising their flaw, they are proud of being one. Even I m a sexist, or rather I was. I had promised to not pass any ill sexist comment about women, because if you want to change the mentality, start with yourself. 

I was glad I had come up with this decision, until today. 

I was out with my family. While getting back in the car unknowingly my younger brother closed the door without force and the door wasn't properly shut. The very next moment I automatically commented ,"are you a girl? You can't even close a car door properly?"

Pursuit of my Happyness

A day you always crave for, (apart from the day of the month, where you receive your paycheck) is your ‘Birthday’. As the month of your birthday begins, you start a countdown on the calendar that you never referred to in the entire year. Anxiety and excitement begin to see-saw up and down with every passing minute. Friends start planning discretely for a surprise one week before. Mom and dad are inquiring about the birthday gift, whereas rather than being honest you pretend to be modest. 

Finally the day before your birthday arrives. Your enthusiasm knows no bounds.

This year on the eleventh September, my supposedly high spirits seemed to be low. Coincidentally, my birthday and the One-Act Drama Competition were clashing on the same date. Before the big day, I had left from my college at seven in the evening after the exhausting rehearsals of the drama we were performing the next morning. Glancing at my phone, all of a sudden made me realize that next day was not only my big competition but also my birthday. All the excitement fizzed out to anxiety.

The next day’s performance was to decide the mood of my birthday. I had dinner with my parents. Prepared for tomorrow and crashed onto the bed. My best day of the year begun with the constant ringing of my phone and my parents standing in front of me wishing me birthday wishes. It was twelve by my watch and in a drowsy voice I somehow mumbled a thank you, soon followed a dozen of phone calls from friends and relatives striving hard to be the first ones to wish me. The feeling was so unique and requisite; you just never want it to end.

I somehow managed to attend the calls and then went back to my hibernating mode. After some hours, my mom woke me up, taking me to the living room; my friends from the Drama Team had shown up at my place at 4.30 in the morning. That’s when I realized what amazing true friends are. We talked cracked jokes for some time, then cut a cake and then they dispersed as we had to report to the venue of the competition at seven. This pleasant surprise had started my birthday at a very high positive note.

As me and my team reached the venue, we started focusing on the performance which we were going to. We started rehearsing our lines to avoid any fumbles on stage. It was extremely important for me to deliver a good performance, as I didn’t want my birthday to be affected nor did I want my performance to be distracted by my birthday. As I was about to go on stage, there were butterflies in my stomach. The show started, we delivered, and we were paid with a huge applause from the audience. As we stepped down the stage, we were satisfied & dissatisfied with the deliverance of our performances. The rest of the day went pretty well, received a lot of phone calls and messages.

The results were to be declared in the evening. My phone had almost run out of juice. I was heading home in a rickshaw when my phone went dead. As I got down the rickshaw my mom was standing down waiting for me, as she eagerly wanted to break the news of us winning the gold in the One-Act Drama. I was in seventh heaven, it felt like standing at the top of the world. This birthday just couldn’t have been any better. Every year this day is the one that one always craves for.

Well this year, it took me to a whole new level. (12^th Sept, 2014)

RickshawVaala TanTrums

“Boss… Mithibai College chaloge?” what later followed was an expected nod signalling a negation to my former question, as he whooshed passed me. My supposedly ‘Good morning’ got swapped with two rhythmic swear words. It was half past six in the morning, and yet one random Rickshaw driver managed to spoil your day even before it starts.

While heading towards the college, the Rickshaw driver had an all of a sudden unusual concern about his vehicle and brilliantly smooth roads of Mumbai (sarcasm implied). As I reached college, I was more worried about the driver carrying change for the hundred bucks, than getting shouted at by the professor for being late.

If you are commuting by train and you get down the station onto the main road looking out for a Rickshaw, it’s like Tsunami stricken people run in search of food, people are pouncing on a vacant Rickshaw. The driver enjoying the view, obviously gives first preference to the most good looking one of the pack of fifteen college students (and here I strictly mean girls).

Evenings are far worse than the mornings. According to the experts (which actually means frustrated people waiting for the Rickshaw), the probability of getting a seat in IIM Ahemdabad is higher than getting a rickshaw at any station. 

After years (several minutes) of waiting for a rickshaw, having no other alternative I find myself trudging my footsteps through the busy street heading towards my home.

But all kept aside, from a Rickshaw driver’s perspective his day is far worse than ours. Leaving his house at 4.30 in the morning, in search of passengers like college students (us). Some are waiting for their turn to fill gas.

We find it unbearable to sit at one place in the lectures for 3 hours, whereas these drivers don’t move from their seat for approximately 6-8 hours. Those who drive their rickshaw on rent have to return it to their respective rickshaw lenders who have a particular time deadline. But, we curse them for denying us. 

In the end, they somehow reach home, fatigued. By the time they doze off to sleep, their wake up alarm goes off, and according to their routine they are leaving their house at 4.30.

All this makes me realize, of how wrong our perceptions are about certain people, how blinded we are with our selfish wants that we overlook the miseries of the RickshawVaala. This realization dawned upon me in the evening. I was happy for my considerate mindset.

The very next day, in the morning as I waited for the rickshaw, one stopped and as I said, “Boss… Mithibai College chaloge?”, an expected nod followed and he went off. 

I just gave him a smile and involuntarily those two complimentary swear words flew out of my mouth.

Criticizing the Critics

“To avoid criticism say nothing, do nothing, be nothing.”

Well in that case you would better be dead. Criticism is something that a person who of course has a command over the language has the courage to express his/her opinion about a certain activity.

The world is filled with opinionated people, but the ones who publicly display their opinions are critics. Every week on a Saturday we see a dozens of them exhibiting their English in a newspaper in form of a crisp, brief and an intriguing description of the new releases. Our eyes are going through all that scribbling over the newspaper shifting our focus on the number of stars that the movie has received. Anything less than three and a half stars is presumed to be watched a month later on the television or on torrent, I guess.

Now what we don’t realize is that this decision that we take of not watching the movie is the opinion/perspective/point of view of the critic who has written it. It need not be necessary that you might feel the same about the movie like the critic does.

We watch a movie and then review it. What we could relate or what we felt is what we try to share it with people who haven’t watched it yet. If they have, there is a difference of opinions and then this sharing of reviews turns into a debate of opinions. Imagine this on a large scale. Now there aren't two people arguing on opinions but there is a colony of critics imposing their reviews, their stars, making the others convince why they are right.

It’s completely natural that a certain critic might have a soft corner for an actor or a director. So, it becomes very difficult for him/her to comment on a movie of that particular actor/director because the critic has to stay unbiased by giving an honest review. Now that’s a challenge.

Now, this is my opinion which I’m expressing publicly so I guess even that makes me a, “Critic who criticizes critics”.

You can rate this note if you want to. But a kind request, let it be above three and a half stars, or else people won’t read it.