We are all of Orsino’s Brain

“If music be the food of love, play on;

Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,

The appetite may sicken, and so die.”

Does Orsino’s superfluous love for Octavia, narcissistic behaviour change when he likes Viola’s ‘inner character’?

Who are we!?

We are all Orsino’s

Or maybe we are mollusks

We are music and food

And lights and trains

I see the jawline

I am Orsino

I see the inner soul

Viola met me

Am I meant to be beautiful for the swan’s neck or know the lines to all your books

You deserve what you look for;

Oysters. Mollusks

Viola.Or the Other.

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Backpacking McLeod

Backpacking McLeod

We had our mid-semester break. I cannot remember the month it was.
I believe Eid-ul-Adha was the following day. And we decided to flee the humid, sticky, and polluted capital.
There are many factual errors in this blog, it has been more than a year, or maybe two (and nobody is discussing weed here).
We boarded the bus from around North part of the city around 5 that morning. Trying to recollect people who came with us, lies we told, things we did, food we ate, cigarettes we smoked, and songs that one of us sang, mars and snicker bets ( I and M had it about J).
We have had a lot of crazy trips when four of us were in college. But, somehow I distinctly remember this one.
I tried sleeping on the bus, the only condition that I had: We are never taking trains (I did once in my life, and almost died). Indian trains have their way of killing you; with the things, you see, and see again, and die, and smell and die; and meet and die.
They were preconditions, they all had conditions. Oh no. Wait, V did not. Instead, I had one for her, that she cannot bring her laptop to this trip. She had brought it along on our previous trip, and it made me cringe. The other conditions by V, M, J are not worth mentioning (but I cannot copy their intellectual property). I sat with M, and she gets sick all the time when we have to travel (makes me sick), but I tried being the nice to her ( the best friend that I am).
We reached MecLeod Gung after I believe 10 hours ( it has been a long long time).
I remember reaching Dharamshala and waiting for the small orange mini-bus. On our way to MecLeod Gunj, it was picturesque and perfect opportunity for V to click pictures, but everybody was too tired to move or do anything. We reached the central market around 7 that morning and had to walk around the city to find the place one of us had booked (well there was too much drama around that too, maybe after 2 more years outside St.Pancras you can pick a copy based on the events).
I remember it was as cold as it is now in London. Windy, cold, freezing. We were glad to breathe the cold wind, and wear mittens, and all the bunny things we had bought along. I and V got a wool cap. I still have it here with me, it is a pink one. V got a turquoise colored cap.
We were happy to see our rooms, I was sharing one with M. We had a balcony overlooking the fir trees and scary gorges.
We changed and went out for breakfast in the  ‘Carpedeium’ ( I had written the name of the places, cafes we visited in my journal and am looking at it right now; should have mentioned the name of the place we stayed in).
We went around the city, visiting the Buddhist Monastery, the museum, the waterfall, contemplating life decisions and discussing our lives in the Capital we had left behind. I remember how J had her leopard print shawl loosely draped around her shoulders, in an unnecessary fashion ( the shawl that would save our lives the coming night). We walked around the mountain, ended up in some Tibetan Market ( I have the turquoise ring from this place).
There is story attributed to that day, but clearly, I am no storyteller. It is just somebody had to document this trip, it was me. V documented all the pictures, and now they are in the Archives of Archeological Surveys of MHH.
We woke up early the next morning and had breakfast at ‘Pancakes and Crepes’, where I tried buying the translated copy of The Quran (did not happen). We had packed our backpacks with nothing.
Nothing .
The Triund Trek:
We started our trek with two big rucksacks. I was pretty excited, dancing with all the free electrons I had. After all, I had trekked all my life, courtesy Sir Gabriel and The Mallinson Camps.
I was confident and sure that we will be fine. We the naive souls were the spontaneous kids, which is why we did NOT:
Take a tent along or our sleeping bags
Take food ( although the trek has small stalls selling water, junk, and cigarettes )
Take first aid ( I just had Tylenol, sanitizer, some sheets, jumper, toilet paper, and tampons)
Take a functioning torch
A lighter
An idea of the distance we were going to cover (zero ideas) on that one
And whatever is essential according to you

After three hours of surviving on water, and five Kashmiri apples, and biscuits. We started getting irritated, losing our patience starting with J ( she got her period on the mountain . Lord !), we had lost our phone signals. M was wearing her stupid flying painted Converse shoes ( slipped a couple of times). I lost my patience when the people trekking ahead of us on this arduous trek started playing all the songs that I disliked. We reached the place where we were supposed to camp for that night. I remember feeling victorious, and then the hailstone hit me. And the temperature fell, it was around -6. We huddled up in the only tea stall on the mountain. It was warm compared to what was happening outside, and we needed shelter. We had some cup noodles, coffee, and chocolate. I hugged J, and we covered ourselves with her shawl.

Soon we realizedimg_4822 that we could not go back to the base, and so V and the other friend started looking for some shelter, while I, M, and J prayed to them.
They came back drenched in rain, wet, and cold. They had managed to get us two tents, and I went out to help set those tents. After getting our dinner, we sat in the big tent, grateful for what we had. I sat there with M, the sky looked beautiful. The stars, Himalayas; I was too cold and dead to decide how beautiful everything looked. The others moved out to the other tent, they tried drinking something ( I prayed hoping that it was not methyl alcohol, otherwise I and M would have had to trek back alone ). We tried sleeping on the cold ground, and I regretted pitching the tent on the slope. And we all believed in the power of gravity that night; it was M who suffered the most. She was the base, I was on level one, and then our other friend and J was on level three. I could not move and begged M not to. I probably slept on her bosom ( she told me that the next day). It almost killed me, when she went to pee around 3. I swallowed some Tylenol, hoping it would do something. I believe I was the first to get out from our tent and dragged J with me ( we had our paste and brushes ). We were alive! I tried looking for V and her friend to make sure they had survived the night. They were busy clicking pictures near the frozen lake. After we were done packing our stuff, we decided to run back to the base. Took a Toyota cab, and landed into our rooms. We took turns to shower in V’s shower ( we had checked out from the room). I thanked God for the hot water (which has other story linked to it).
We had brunch at ‘The Four Seasons’, J ordered twice, and then V and our other friend decided to tell us what they had encountered last night when looking for our tents, last night.
That is their story to tell ( they had had an encounter with a person who was possessed by a spirit they believe . Had attacked our other friend ). V was flustered, she always pretends to be the wise one (even the times when she is not ), brave, but M and I could see how scared she looked. She was smart enough not to tell J and M. We probably would have jumped off the cliff.
And then we all started contemplating the events, and charting our beliefs in the supernatural, sipping coffee.
Later, after J was done putting pictures on SnapChat, I shopped for some trinkets ( turquoise bracelet and earrings). They got some post cards, and Tibetan stuff.

A lot happened on this trip, and it has made its way to my personal journal.

MINT forever.img_0866

Eating Dis ! Orders

 

The post is a prompt response .

equinox-skinny-fat

 

 

We might all know what eating disorders are, or at least know that they exist.

What is important is how you treat the person who is suffering from one, or just accepting that you are suffering from one.

 

It is a person’s indifferent attitude towards food, or eating, or swallowing.

 

It might be linked to the body image issues the world is facing, but it might also be a result of anxiety, or some sort of depression.

What you have taken in, is exactly how you are going to feel about yourself. Which is why eating disorders dominate people’s lives socially, emotionally, and psychologically.

Depending on what type of eating disorder you have, it will affect the way you look at food.

It might seem to you as a bare necessity, and you are not comfortable swallowing it, or decide to starve yourself, or are not comfortable eating socially, all these symptoms are linked to Anorexia Nervosa.

 

With binge eating, consuming enormous amounts of food in a short period, which is related to both Bulimia and Binge-eating disorder, could be linked to social pressures, body shape, and weight issues.

 

The former is more common in people with anxiety issues, and the latter is common with people who are dying under social pressure of having a perfect body.

 

It could be cured by therapy, dietary counseling, maybe family could step in to help the sufferer. But, what is important is identifying the disorder, and acknowledging that you have one.

 

Eating disorder is not just a result of the societal pressure, it could also depend on the biological, genetic makeup, environmental factors. It could also depend on the kind of space a person occupies or the surroundings he is living in, and the people around, all of these are major contributing factors leading to eating disorders.

 

It could also present itself as an offshoot of the medication the patient is taking for some other condition, and may present itself as a side effect in the form of depression, and may lead to an eating disorder.

 

So, if you realize that you know someone who is suffering from an eating disorder, do not push them for their eating habit ,be considerate. Maybe you could be a part of their healing process.

 

 

 

 

Happy eating!

 

 

Love

 

 

Of Poems

I can clearly see the traffic lights, the car lights, the crowd lights of the  street,

As I lay huddled inside my room.

 

I am thinking about the bus to Victoria that just went by

And I am thinking about poems and the poet

 

What is a good poem?

 

Is it a subjective domain? Or is it wrapped inside what you think the poet is, or who he represents, or what he does?

 

A poem about a political struggle may seem powerful but has its limits of making an impact

A poem about your lost land, romanticizing your character’s voice may seem appealing in the context of post -modern poetry. But, does not work anymore.

Or does it?

Last week I was moved to tears after I heard a poet. Heard words, but translated them into his native language.

So did words overtake me, or were the words reciprocating my social need of fulfilling my emotional ones.

In legal terms, when adjudicating a case, it is of prime importance, to list that case under the banner of, or categorizing it as a case where both the parties are aiming at the same goal, or are in a relationship which works on the principle of reciprocation (such as the institution of marriage).

And yes, the point is we link ourselves to a reciprocating relationship with the poems we come across. If it does fulfill what you are missing, you like the poem.

If not, you land in the world of contemporary poetry  which deals with social, economic meltdown ,hard times ,relationships, patriarchy ,love, system ,agency, sex, poverty ,the glaciers ,and the rules which you have binding towards, constitution you are legally entitled to and your emotional dispraises .

 

And I go back to watching the street lights .

 

Marble Arches

When poetry becomes a sin

And the oysters crawl by

Towards the written rules of Ivory

Towards the marble arches,and rocks of power

And the oysters crawl by

Taking away the wisps of forgotten desire

Poetry,your words ,before Ivory they said  .

Thank you!

I have a terrible headache .Nothing seems okay.

Oh by the way ! Remember my previous post,which also had a picture of a Maroon Lacy Bralette in it (which I am not telling you belongs to me). People kept messaging me,even stalked me on facebook,and tried calling me to ask me about the bra. Some abused me ,some were too embarrassed to share it with their friends;some even threatened me with some really dangerous *stuff*.

Wait ! Am I responsible that your kid subscribed to my blog and is getting to see stuff you are supposedly shielding him from ? No,I am not. Use parental controls sweetheart. Review and scan stuff your child has access to and then have the guts to call me.

Actually, you win !  Now that I know children are reading my blog,I do not know if I should feel happy or fear for my life.

 

To all those who appreciate what I write or stand for.Thank you !

Thank you ! for being there and helping me out.

To those who were sending me hate mails, well you just made me feel like a Victorian woman,who probably should write under a pseudonym. Thank you for suppressing me. You win!

Lord what is happening ! When my religion and my book are discussing woman’s needs,her obligations,sexual desires,menstruation .Then why are not children taught all that stuff instead of immersing them into a capitalist institution?

Ramadhan,the month when we Muslims fast has Alhamdulliah begun. Yesterday ,I could not fast ,courtesy my uterus . It decided to shed. Now ,some fourteen-year-old ,who probably should be aware of this and should know how to respect a woman,decides to call me “kafir”,a disbeliever,infidel.Becuase I told him I was not fasting for the obvious reasons. Becuase it was my time of the month. Then,it took me a while to realize,the little person who has access to  all the nonsense,all the websites,knows what porn is,knows what sex is ,and now probably knows how to demean women.

I was confused and shattered. I inadvertently searched for support.I still do not know what was I hoping for. If he were my brother or my son (which he thankfully is not) I would have given him “the talk ” ,which would have included how to respect your body and how to respect  a woman’s body . I am sure I know nothing about parenting,but I know what kids should know,I know feminism and I know how institutions are being created to kill it.

Well,go on tell me what you think. I still love the glorified souls as much as the ignorant ones.

 

Still love.

 

 

 

Bralettes ?

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So,as I am taking my study break and going through my Facebook newsfeed,whilst munching on a chocolate chip cookie. I am dying of all this heat ,dehydrated and need some energy to survive.
My curls are dancing around,which is making me even more frustrated because they are touching and irritating my skin. Yes,that is my level of patience in 45 Centigrades.
Anyhoo, back to my newsfeed,I see three articles of interest :

1)A new advertisement campaign by Victoria’s Secret. So ,what is new this time is that they are asking women to shun their bras for bralettes . A brand that stuffs their bras with thick padding is suddenly asserting that you do not need it;and I am like okay ;yes,hello! What !
And I google the bralettes that are available online . So does La Senza have it? Maybe I should go to a mall and buy it. And then I look at myself and see a victim of postfeminist media trend . Yes,homies that is right . There are no footnotes to this article ,as I am sick of writing academic papers. So,a quick rewind; Bralettes are basically bras without padding and something which is a mix of a camisole ,bra,and a crop top. And what is Postfeminism , a trend that came ,according to me after the invention of contraceptives ,where women felt liberated and had sex like men(mocking every bit of it)? For further reference see all Carrie Bradshaw episodes,of Sex and The City . If not,then understand this;the media culture,most of the 1960’s started picturing women in the media, who are smoking ,and wearing power suits and at the same time at home doing laundry in a washing machine ,which meant that appliances are equivalent to happiness ;and that woman can have it all. They have achieved feminism and what they need to do is to juggle between their home and work . All these trends were basically ,patriarchal society giving agency to women ,but in a disturbing way,where women were made to believe that they need to use some product,or act in a certain way to show that they are empowered or liberated . Sexual freedom was actually nothing but a patriarchal structure that was constructed as a mirage by men to meet their own ends . For further reference see Foucault’s “History of Sexuality “ and the lovely Julia Roberts movie “The Mona Lisa Smile”.

So,is it relevant today?
Hell Yes!
If some Lingerie company is compelling me to look at myself in a certain way ,then yes it is. Will I use them,yes maybe,to see what the fuss is all about! A new cage for your girls !!
Say that to my D cups,says a friend !
love

The other two articles will be discussed in my next blog .