When life gives you a 2020 –

I have finally found out the cure to my writer’s block or if I could put in in a more appropriate way the cure to my long lulls of writing inactivity even though my 2020 resolution was to write frequently, and I have ended up making it the resolution for the upcoming, right at the door 2021.

So, the cure to it is free time and a mind at rest. After a whirlwind year that has changed my life completely – I am finally bidding it a goodbye right where I started it – the city of my aspirations and inspiration – Hyderabad; with the people I love the most and I couldn’t be more motivated to come back to the greatest love of my life – writing. So, here we go, the blogpost wrapping it all up.

Admit it or not 2020 was the answer to everyone’s deepest adulting wishes – to relieve childhood once more.

2020 shuttled every grown up, self sustainable, independent, hard working, frustratingly mechanically living 20+ adult back from their stereotypical weekday pe kaam-weekend pe aaram locked down in their hometowns. A huge flush of all my IT friends “making it” in their metro lives came back to my sleepy town. My own brother left for Odisha for what was to be the longest stay after thinking that the day they left for their engineering college was the last day they got to spend time at home. I was also a recipient of the new normal for a few months then, after being shuttled out of Chennai from my carefully curated life back into my hometown – short-lived until I started my residency. It was a twist of fate for everyone. The lockdown opened our eyes to all the words that came after the “what if’s we had been keeping in our minds. It gave us all the time to be kids with pastimes that didn’t just involve chugging the maximum number of beers again. From Dalgona coffee to playing Ludo King, from jamming on my guitar on Zoom call to picking up those unread novels again; the lockdown gave us life beyond careers – making us realize what we had been missing. Making me realize what I had been missing. It gave me all the time in the world to get over the things I thought I could never get over. 2020 helped me heal.

Yet, 2020 also shuttled me to a space I had only been planning for since 2012. This was the year I got to live all my dreams. I always wanted to live and work independently in a metro city – I got to do that at the beginning of the year itself when I got a job in one of the leading corporate hospitals in Chennai and got to experience the corporate life. The sheer joy from getting a salary off my hard work, paying my own bills, getting to live a life beyond work, getting to spend and splurge on myself was a high of another kind. If that wasn’t enough, I also cleared my NEET-PG entrances surprisingly on the first attempt; convincing me of the fact that sometimes you get things when you are actively not wishing for it, so maybe the concept of destiny exists. Not only did I get a PG seat but I got that in Karnataka – a longstanding dream since a decade. I can’t explain the moments of sheer disbelief I have that I am in Karnataka doing residency! And in the college whose photos I had since and mildly wished to be in 2012. Everyday I get to don the one attire I really love – my scrubs and go off to work. Every day is a new challenge to grow better than the day before. Every day reminds me of al the milestones I have yet to reach and achieve.

I was a small town girl once who wanted to live and grow old in the same town once, within the boundaries my father had set for me – not until one day I had the courage to scale it all. Now that I have seen everything that I can have, I realize the wish list never ends. Yet you might end your peace, happiness and real joys of life in trying to achieve them.

By giving me everything I dreamt of, 2020 has also taught me how when dreams turn to reality, they might not be as dreamy as they seemed.

Life has turned for better, but it’s the adulting version of better. Everyday I wake up exhausted and tired from the day before. My sleep deprivation hits an all time high trying to juggle being a junior resident with a normal functioning human being who needs a break. Now that I am at home and can reflect on my life in Belgaum, I realize I’m far off the mark I have gone from when I started it. I was dropped off at my hostel gate with three bags and wonder-eyed; so much that I didn’t even look at my mother leaving in the cab. I made all efforts to come away from my past, not realizing that’s what kept me, me. Every day in the hospital I run around thinking everything I do is changing the world, yet now that I sit on this chair overlooking the balcony with flowers and vegetables planted by my brother, my Maa cutting up vegetables, my mom and sister trying to fit into 15″ of a phone screen because I was not granted enough leaves to be able to go all the way to Odisha and ended up coming to Hyderabad – I realized that the life of peace and love I had been searching was already here. Glamour, glitz, fame – everything attracts me since childhood – I am the kid who has always been and always loved the spotlight. Yet, the fact that I forgot the ones who put me there is dawning on me now. What’s the use of being the spotlight if you don’t have someone cheering you. What’s the use of having good days I can’t celebrate with my family? What do I do on the bad days I feel so lost wanting to run away and sleep in my mother’s lap – the safest place in the world?! I realized my folly when a patient boycotted me for not knowing his mother tongue! All the things I had left for all the things I could have not realizing I didn’t need them.

But then I cannot be that ungrateful and dissuade everything over a toxic workplace and workload that takes a toll on everyone’s mental health – when I also have few things to be thankful for. Starting off with my friends – when people said you won’t be making friends in residency they were so far off about my lot. I might not have them on the days they are also busy and broken from the department – yet I have them tugging me on food cravings, Sunday brunches and spontaneous Goa trips. When I fall sick I have someone getting food to my hostel room door and through the scary dark room ultrasound finding. Life has found a small address in hurriedly drunk coffee before morning OPD and after evening round blasting. The picturesque residency images have been replaced with barking seniors, unreasonable demands and a department that is bent on sucking your peace and blood. Yet every single day that I see my naivety slip away I also know that all of it is preparing me for a future I never had the courage to dream of. I know that when I became a part of a glorious institute I should have been prepared for the yin and yang that came with it. I know exactly who I am and how too much of goodness is also an invite for the world to feed on you like vultures – and all of this is toughening me up for the greater battle that lies after residency.

So, here’s wrapping it up – my 2020 with all it’s highlights and lessons – knowing that this year has given me the time, space and opportunity to rise ahead in life and emotion exponentially! I started this year off with red wine, long drive and UNO with the fam – and my entire 2020 has a slow melt of it. Hoping that 2021 gets us out of the lull with all the essential teachings from 2020 and adapting it to a hopefully COVID-free world.

So, when life gives you a 2020, you learn from it to make all your years better! Cause admit it, we’re never gonna be this chill ever again. So, enjoy while it lasts – exactly three more days of it.

Happy new year (in advance) folks!

मौसम

He said he can’t tolerate
Shades of me
As varied as the weather of the city we lived in then
He couldn’t tolerate
The way I had an opinion
Loud enough to break the glass his thinking was entrapped in.

He said I wouldn’t be
What they said was “domestic”
I had ways too unbridled
Too free
Too uncharted
For him to a put a finger to

That my unique was a hindrance
My different was a difference
Both could never meet
And he was happy to let go
And shove another on my face

One who knew how to play the cards well
Knowing to push and pull
Knowing not to be everything to him
Knowing how guys like him detest girls like me

Girls who want to be something
Before becoming someone’s
And for a long time I thought
The fault was in me.

He said he couldn’t tolerate
How I was as moody as the city we lived in
But now I am in a city
With a weather moodier than me
And people seem just as eager to love it.

CAN YOU AND I STAY POSITIVE IN THIS LOCKDOWN? Ft. Coping Strategies

It’s so hard to stay positive when we are trapped in a pandemic situation and on the top of it depressing news are getting added up – it only makes me think of the times which were simpler – like drawing a smiley face on my bread loaf in Apollo when I finally got to eat food after working at a strech till 5pm. The truth is even those days were hard, but we were too caught up in our lives to debate why it’s hard – now we are stuck, in our homes without work – some unfortunate ones away from home with a lot of work and recession looming overhead.
It’s frustrating and frankly depressing. What can we do? I created a list for myself to turn to whenever I’m depressed and want to check myself. I hope it helps you too 🙂
1. I find that sometimes the best way to get out of the cycle of negativity is to count your blessings amidst it. You can keep a journal – count the things you are thankful for. I keep one, and it’s a great thing to look back when you are caught up in the dark with no sight if light. Just spend 15 minutes with it every day and record the things you are thankful for! You might realise you are having more fun in this lockdown that you realise 🙂




2. Makeover. This the absolute best time to get yourself a makeover. And I don’t mean the outer one – an inner, spiritual makeover can gift you a better future where you have the right coping  techniques to deal with tough situations in a better way. I started therapy for this; and I am being tremendously helped by it. Ofcourse I am still not done yet, progress is slow – but the slower things are the deeper they impact. I can’t wait to come out as a better person and be a better friend, daughter, sister, partner to people post this lockdown 🙂



3. Pamper yourself. Skincare. Haircare. Yes, now I am talking about the outer makeover too. Now that you don’t have to show up for work expose yourself to pollution and grime – it’s the best time rejuvenate what you’ve lost – oil your hair everyday : No one is going to call a champu, because no one can see you sitting at home! 🤷🏻‍♀️ Geddit? Moisturize, scrub, detan, massage yourself with inexpertise (salon wali ka massage bohut yaad aata hai 🥺). Just unlock that lockdown glow.




4. Workout, workout, workout. I can’t stress on this. A simple workout has the ability to make yourself feel better by decreasing stress hormones and increasing the serotonin, the happy chemical. Today morning I felt so fucked up after reading about the vizag tragedy I spent minutes scrolling my twitter feed, reading, debating, getting stuck in a negative loop – but one dance fitness class with my favorite trainer Naveen on Cult. Fit later – I was back on track.




5. Practice clean eating. It’s hard I know, when your body wants to make that 10th plate of maggi when you’re so lazy to cook for yourself three times a day when the maid doesn’t come – but c’mon yaar! That new diet you’d been waiting to try but couldn’t because of bad hostel/ PG food/ cook adding too much oil to stuff – now you can happily indulge in it. Clean eating with lots of fruits and vegetables and minimal oil has been shown to boost happiness. So add those reds, greens and orange to your diet, will you?




6. Try spending time with your family. If you are away from them video call and talk. If you are fortunately like me stuck with them in this lockdown, you can spend a lot of them with personally. Help them with their chores. Try to make their lives and home brighter as our parents are getting old and need our support now more than ever. Some of us who are going away for higher studies, this might be the only time we get to spend them – so use it wisely. Talk to them even if you risk running into awkward conversations that make you want to break the lockdown and runaway like – marriage! *Squeals and hides*



7. I remember when I was a kid we used to have very long summer vacations. Summer in Odisha can get pretty hot and you could be pretty sure whatever date they had given for the holidays to end – it would keep on extending – just like this lockdown. I loved it then, I wonder why this was bothering me now – mostly I realised because then we used to appreciate our time alone – now we need a lot of distractions to make us feel better about ourselves. This lockdown is the perfect excuse to indulge guilt-free in your hobbies. If you are a photographer then improve your photography skills. If you are a writer, write each day. If you love to read books, read one if you have or download a PDF and read everyday. I feel this lockdown is God’s challenge to everyone who said they needed time to be able to follow their passion. Aapke paas duniya bhar ka time hai ab, fir aapka excuse kya hai to have a profession that compromised on your passion?




8. Last but not the least, chill the fuck out of this lockdown. Kya pata itna free time dobaara kal ho na ho!


Cheers,Parnini.

To my grandfather with love

Dear Jeje,

There’s not a day I don’t miss you.

I haven’t eaten a orange candy since days,
Noone gets it for me while secretly buying paan from the local shop now.
The pan box and the art of paan hiding is lost to me,
There’s no one I have to worry to choke on betel nuts now.

Papa made me cut his hair that day,
While I combed through it,
I could only think of the texture of your hair and the number of greys in them when you said –
“French, Russian, Chinese – which hairstyle will you give me today, Sanu”, and enjoy while I made you look like a clown.

I play songs and mamma sings to them,
I watch movies and mamma watches with me,
But I don’t dare to watch Anand, Padosan and Sahib Bibi ghulam again,
You won’t laugh crazily when “Ek chatur naar” plays.

Some ask me how being a girl I am interested in cricket
They don’t know the number of fours and sixes we have cheered
The number of time I risked the dining table top falling over,
As I danced on it when Sachin beat his six.

When someone tries to tease me I think of your goofy smiled jokes and pinches,
I am still irritated easily,
But I tone it down than I did with you,
I could do anything to you and you would still love me – they won’t.

I remember you sitting on the porch
And call out to me for tenth lemonade as you chat happily with your best friend or welcome me whenever I came back from school,
I don’t see him now,
I don’t even see the porch now.

I remember the midnight I was pressing your feet tired from studying
You woke up from sleep and said my face shines brighter than the moon
It’s still better than the dozen compliments I recieve
From the half-hearted men that half love me everyday.

Emotions aren’t honest once you digitalize them,
Maybe writing this would mean I am showing off
My poetry skills or humane touch
But we don’t have to be sad and still miss someone everyday.

I might not be your favorite grandchild,
But you were my favourite grandparent.
I can make a dozen friends
But none of them can fill the void of a grandfather like you.

A letter to my beautiful self

Hey sweetheart,

You call everyone a sweetheart

You call everyone “mine”

But how long will it take you

To handover that same gratitude

To your very self

And make yourself your “mine”.

Didn’t get it?

I couldn’t at first too.

But that’s how it works

This thing with one and two

Of every one around the world

Who have learnt the trick

To keeping their self loved.

They wake up everyday

Even wash their face

But when they lift their face to the mirror

They keep it there

(Not the way you flinch away)

And tell their horrid selves

I love you,

I love you I love you I love you

Like I’ve never loved anyone else.

Like I’ve never felt for anybody else.

I love you like you are the only thing that can love me

Or make me happy

So I’ll love you and keep you happy.

I know it now,

I am writing on the back of my palms and hands

Getting it tattoed on my skin

I could dream of a hundred men

To come save me

In a hundred ways

Yet a single none of them

Would ever love me

The way I can love myself.

Love,

P.

PARASITE – #AMovieReview

There are movies you watch, and there are MOVIES. The last time I felt this mind fucked was when I had watched Gone Girl. I try to avoid dark movies / series by choice (life is already grim enough) but after being repeatedly recommended I had to watch this.

The movie starts off, and you are latching on to a sort of predictability considering the reviews you’ve heard. As it progresses you get gripped by a sort of uneasiness, as you watch a family out from the sewers literally latch on to the Kim family as “Parasite”s, you wonder if this is what the movie was all about? Because, honestly, the class difference movies where you try to use your poverty to dupe someone rich as your birthright without working for a life, irks me to no end.

Then there is a sudden twist on a rainy night and you are introduced to the actual parasite living in the sewers below – the commotion that unfollowed is borderline comical. Soon, though the scene changes into something entirely unpredictable and the main thinking point of the movie as the family escapes out of their borrowed piece of Cinderella life and are ejected into the sewers where they came from. As the aspiring con guy yet naive at heart Kevin beseeches his father over the royal catastrophe that their plan had become, you resonate with these characters for the first time across the movie – What kind of plans do not fail? No plans at all!

A soothing jab to my dreamy self at the beginning of this year thinking 2020 will be mine; that a tiny virus couldn’t ruin it.

The climax is an outburst of class difference, solitary confinement and Stockholm syndrome. The part where Kevin realises that you cannot borrow someone’s life, and you have to create your life if you want to enjoy it permanently is where I gave it another 💯. If you are looking for your next movie in this dreary lockdown – This is it!

Let them fly!

People close to me know that I own a parrot. Not many know it’s origins though. We never bought it. It came by itself – flying and got trapped in the loft on our terrace – there was an occupant present, a guy who lived there then – who took the bird, bought a cage and kept it in that. In the evening when he presented the parrot to us, we were on the verge of freeing it, but my little sister who had taken a fancy to it; and quite a small child at that time, couldn’t be shushed – so stay with us, it did. My sister grew up and over the years her fascination with the slowly aging bird diminished. I am quite fond of the bird as well, even though it has bitten me several times in trying to befriend it; but keeping a bird trapped in a cage hurt my conscience – so, after considerable thought, I decided to set the bird free. I have this evening ritual, where I go up to the terrace, sit on the ledge, watch the sunset and contemplate. What I did was take my parrot alongwith me, as well. I would rest the cage on a surface and open it’s door and walkaway, continuing with my business, hoping that it would fly out. To my disappointment, it didn’t. This went on for days. I tried calling it out; luring with mine and his favorite Marie gold biscuits, but it won’t budge. One fine day, it even came up to the gate, and slammed it shut on my extremely astonished face. I gave up! It had got used to it’s bondage. It deeply saddened me.

When I think of Indian women, the ones occupying the nitty gritty of the country – I see a woman who has got used to the bondage. The pattern of behavior and character mould set by years and years of patriarchy. These are not the women twisting the definitions of feminism to suit their demands for a twisted lifestyle. These are the ones deprived of equality. These are ones who do not question why the entire load of household falls on them. Why they are made to feel an outsider in the home they were married to, made their own but didn’t own them in return. These are the ones who are not allowed to enter kitchens and touch items during menstruation. These are the ones who are silently molested, raped, burnt, violated every single day in some or the other part of the country with no hopes of justice. These are the ones not allowed to love; flogged, tortured, killed or made to succumb to demands of family honour. These are the ones who bow their heads while someone decides how their life should be lived. These are the ones who are handed out a sentence of marriage; while their careers are considered unimportant. These are the ones struggling for basic human rights to live while their urban sisters ignore and raise a hue and cry over extramarital affairs, polygamy, ‘free the nipple’, and other shit. These are the ones who are trapped in a cage, and will soon forget how to fly.

Let’s free them, before it’s too late; before they forget how to fly. Let’s free them and watch them soar – equal with men, or even higher – they can decide the altitude of their flight; but first, let them fly!

The frog in the well

I sat down with my books on the floor, to make an attempt to finish the mounting pile of curriculum I needed to get over with. A steady stream of cold air gushed in through the open door infront, which led to the balcony. I looked up. At a distance I could see construction workers in full sway at a new multistoreyed building that was being added to the locality. A new blob of affluency; that had increased recently in my hometown – more buildings, more four wheelers, more branded stores  and glittering glassed restaurants. What caught my attention though, were the hills behind it. 

I had grown up being in love with the hills that my hometown was blessed with – lush green and reaching out for the sky, but barely managing to kiss it. I had always admired it from the tiny terrace of my house, craning up my neck to look at it and wondering – How tall it is! How would it feel to be on the top of it? How would the world look like from it? I looked forward to the day I could be at that height. 

Today though, something was different. I watched the rods jutt out from that building – a harsh piercing in my view. It rose from the under-construction terrace of that building and higher than my hills itself.

The height of my world had changed! The hills didn’t look so tall anymore, so imposing, so out of reach. . .  And I wondered, is this the height I wanted to reach or is the height I wanted to get stuck at?

Dear woman.

Dear woman, 

Do you get tired?

Do you get tired of being peddled as a body,

Just a body?

*

A lump of bone and mass,

A face with cake of snow.

Your mouth zipped shut,

A lock on all that you know.

Smile, smile, smile and blush at the ground,

“Hey, you are an object of our desire. Be feminine. We’ll do the talking, bro”.

*

Your eyes lined,

Your hair made straight;

Your lips plumped up,

Your skin – porcelain ware.

Your body corseted to angles, fit to be savoured by men and men alike.

Never a person in their eyes –

Just a butt,

Just a cleavage,

Just a pile of flesh giving them their high.

*

You strut the 7 inches walk,

with 5 layers of white, 3 tubes of red lip queen and 17 tries of winged eye.

You’re measured from side to side,

“38-36-forty? 3/10, send in the next chick, yo!”

Numbers, numbers, numbers – all that you are.

Reduced, rated and picked apart.

*

You are at war with yourself,

and with others too.

That girl he looked at when he was with you,

“That slutty bitch she tricked my perfect man’s eyes with her large boobs.”

Ha.

You try and try to be more,

while he continues to be less for you.

And in this struggle to be more, you become less too.

*

I wouldn’t mind,

but you have condemned yourself,

and others too –

to believed that it’s the only way a woman deserves love,

That she can’t be fire – just someone’s flame, lusty wants

that she can’t weave poetries, have a faraway glance,

but be moulded to the fancies of a man.

That she isn’t more than relationships,

that she needs to be tied down to someone to feel validated,

that she is beautiful only when a man tells her so

That she needs to have YOU as her parameter of comparison,

a photoshopped reality

and that dear woman, is the tragedy of you.

*

P.G.

 

THE YEAR IT WAS FT. LESSONS

As my infrequent need to do frequent blogging struck today, I was quite perplexed as to what to write about. Maybe, if you’re blogger you might have experienced this, there are days when you want to blog but don’t have the time to sit down and type your thoughts into a coherent post; whereas on the other days there’s the will and time but no inspiration. Anyway. I decided to dedicate a post to this year that is passing by at a supersonic speed. Like seriously, is it 2016 already? I am still in 2010 mode reading Harry Potter for the nth time after getting done with the damn ICSE board exams. Phew. Coming back. There are people who count years in age, some by moments of their life but I have always counted them in lessons. So, I’ll share my year by the lessons I received.

Travelling this year has struck a highpoint in my life. I visited about 10 places and each place left me a bit richer in experience and understanding of the Indian ways of life. Books are a beautiful gateway to imaginary worlds but travelling is living the new world.

Tea Gardens of Darjeeling. I could catch a plane for one of those heavenly cups of Darjeeling chai brewed fresh by the tea estate shops.

The first lesson that I would like to recount was during one such episode of travelling. On the way to Gangtok from Darjeeling we decided to grab breakfast and parked our tourist vehicle in front of a medley of shops. There were medium range restaurants, thatched roof eateries and small shops selling biscuits and chips. We were confused as to which one to enter and parted in groups of two to enquire which served sandwiches. Mom and I proceeded to the biggest among the ones present there owing to its posh interiors which (should have) ensured hygiene and quality service. We asked the owner if they could pack sandwiches immediately as we didn’t have much time on our hands. Our queries received a disgruntled nod as he got busy in amassing more customers. We stood there for about fifteen minutes after which he refused us saying we had to do with whatever they had.  By that time my father and sister called us from the place they had found. Seeing the little, dark, eatery with thatched roof we frowned at the dirty interiors and hesitated to go inside, but just then the owner came with a huge smile on his face and showed us an unoccupied table where we could sit. They didn’t have sandwiches, but within minutes his daughter (I suppose) served us platters of Paranthas, curry, curd, pickled bamboo shoots and momos. He came in between to ask if we were enjoying the meal and our empty plates were refilled promptly. I sat there and observed how he delegated the same attention and hospitality to each customer. When we left the place, I couldn’t help but muse on the lines of “All that glitters is not gold.” The size of a person’s heart and nature isn’t determined by the size of the roof he’s sheltered under, I had to conclude.

Bakthang Falls, Gangtok.

Next thing this year taught me was to be more patient and deal with disappointments, which is still a lesson in progress. Have you ever wondered- aren’t disappointments, anger, sadness, etc. nothing but emotions that stem from one thing- Expectation? Be it a relationship that soured or a simple movie that you couldn’t watch due to unavailability of tickets. There had been expectations stacking up and once you add reality on the top of it, the whole pile crashes. It’s such a hard lesson for me because no matter how hard you try the birth of a thought is twinned with the birth of an expectation. Now, whenever I am faced with a disappointment I handle myself pretty well at the moment. It’s just that it mentally stacks up to a private meltdown. On one such morning when I was cornered by pretty scary devilish thoughts in my head I did one thing, from “I’m tired of waking up in tears. .” (Silhouette // Owlcity. It’s a frackin amazing song. Don’t judge it. Pliz.) I changed to Kenny Sebastian’s stand up comedy, and 5 Kenny Sebastian, 4 Pretentious Movie Reviews and 2 Abish Mathew later when I had laughed my guts out I suddenly thought,“Dude, what were you so sad about?”. From freaking cold Siberia I was in a Honolulu state of emotions. I guess that’s when I learnt no matter how end of the world you feel there is always a reason to smile. You just have to want to smile again.

The third and last thing (for this post) has to be something that has been bothering me in general – Humans on Social Media. And no I’m not gonna pull a Khan and start a debate on intolerance. Neither do I have a movie releasing around the corner nor do I have the urge to comment on everything. What has me perplexed is the unabashed self display on social media. Be it in the way we have reached a point where we need to drown another’s opinion to make our own heard. Be it shamelessly  promoting our deeds of selfish goodness on social media. Be it taking selfies at the rate of 120/day (Like c’mon I wish our trains didn’t delay the way some selfies are uploaded immediately after every hangout). The other day I was walking around in our medical college campus with a close friend of mine. She went on and on talking about her life, body image problems and people. Suddenly I realized how she had created a mental meter of comparison, the one which compared how she looked in real to WHAT PEOPLE LOOK ONLINE! I couldn’t but help smile and showed her two pictures. One that of an acquaintance taken in real and the other her profile picture. Umpteen filters later her dusky Indian skin was shining like a luminous bulb so much so that a few strands of her black were nearing light brown. We laughed over it and her insecurities were put aside for the day. But later when I thought of it, I wondered how many more women open social media and compare the number of likes on their post with others’, the number of  pleasing comments on their profile pictures, twitter followers and how many tweak everything they feel, have or look only to gain social approval? And when both of these groups meet and clash they create an insecurity over another’s hidden insecurity. Ha.

The thing to remember is that people put the most aesthetically pleasing parts of themselves online. The flawed parts remain behind the screen.

In these kinds of situations an amazing quote comes to mind –

“You can never look like the girl in the magazine. The girl in the magazine doesn’t even look like the girl in the magazine.” 

That’s it. I hope and pray that 2016 is the year we find our strengths to vanquish the ghosts of our past and create a future that’s in tune with our dreams. Love, happiness and peace to everyone.

Cheers,

Parnini 🙂 

View from a temple in Gangtok.