a terrible painter, a dreamer, a rebel , a feminist and a self certified bisexual Witch. Who is always trying to visualize whats on the other side of the canvas she paints,just another human- Living alive Life. Now also a green tea addict.

Sunday, 24 March 2013

Celebrating Girls, Celebrating Women’



Being the second child always had its advantage, being second girl child was a bliss. I was raised up  by the  strict yet friendliest mother. But being born as a girl was not easy. I did not face discrimination at home nor did I grow as a delicate flower.


I grew up, playing with dolls, I was in love with pink, pretty and cute. May be that was the fate I was destined to have. I had girl best-friends, I was growing ignorant and prejudiced. This attitude of mine turned around when I was in fifth grade, when few boys were disturbing us. They called girls "weaaaak!!" and it hit a cord in my brain. I was already a bulky child and had good energy I challenged one of the boys for Arm wrestling, I defeated him. It was after this incident, and few other discrimination faced in school and other places that slowly pink started to whether away from my closet. I happily chose the Armour of being a boy. I claimed I was a boy, the one who carry family name forward. I technically became the first tomboy discovered in my class. I slowly found being a boy was easier at times. I acted tough like a man, in school plays dramas I became boy, I rode cycle with boys I fairly became blind to the girly and beautiful aspect of me.

This attitude resulted in my isolation in my teenage, I was expert with slang at times better than boys. Sharing beyblade trading cards, watching guys anime all had become my nature. But with onset of puberty, when chest remained no longer flat and periods occurred, I was knocked off like a a boxer punched me. Here I was a girl claiming to be a boy, I dressed like one spoke like one, suddenly I was entering Pink world again. At this point I lost my buddies who no longer found me a boy, since during periods you are not to jump around. Taekwondo became my new friend, all I ever wanted was to be strong like boys. But when Bra came to my life, all hell broke loose, I found it as an instrument of captivity. My persent condition made me a person so alone, I neither belonged to boys anymore and girls found be rough to be with.The whole question to become strong became pointless, soon I realised I was stronger than any boy could be. I bled yet I did not faint it was an achievement. In this clumsiness and self doubt I started to hang out with the rotten kids, older, younger my classmates, to point where my grades drop to almost drop me out of school. I became a rebel without a cause, violent and ruthless.

Soon I was rescued from the rotten group by my best friend and I started to see a clear world. I gained my senses back and with help of my mother and best friends I was saved from the unwanted Isolation created by me. Now I am 19 and all fueled up feminist at heart. When I look back I find the weak me was trying to grow up. All the novels we read in childhood spoke about adventures of boys, the fairy-tales always had princess rescued. I wanted to be my own rescuer. Girls were always painted in pink and this made me hate Pink. I don't blame myself for my childhood distraction. We have always stereotyped girls, girls cry boys don't, girls were pink boys don't, girls are weak boys strong, girls cook boys don't. Still in our society, we ask the well being of a girl with her relationship tag. Married? Unmarried? Divorced? Widowed?. May be all this complexities were hidden to my childish eyes. But the more I grow up the more complex women's position is.

I take pride that I am the sixth generation of girl who is getting education in my family. One of my classmate was amazed when he heard my grandmother was a matriculate just after independence and even more astonished when he found my mother was a graduate with history major. If we have to celebrate being female we have to remove stereotypical thoughts we implant. Today I accept my weakness and strength. I don't wait for the stamp to be me. I fight, I protest whenever I see injustice to women is done. Just celebrating being a women is no longer enough we have to instigate a sense of pride to be born women.

Now I am happy to be a girl, soon I will work and earn a living for myself and achieve my dreams. I take pride in my existence. Today's women are empowered and forth coming. My elder sister has been my inspiration but my Mother my Ideal. My sister taught me to be unapologetic and fierce in my motives and my mother taught me to carry  my dignity with me. If we have to empower girls of my age and younger we need to give her freedom. Freedom from prejudiced thoughts, from virtual captivity created in name of tradition. Most important teach each and every girl, like mentioned in my previous posts "Respect Thy Self".  We have to tell their is no shame in being me.

Every girl is precious, because she is not some Pink Gem to be embedded in a locker but a spirit force to create change. Celebrating Me should be our motive, to live for our dreams not to keep a face in society. I believe I have a power to help women and girls of my age, I want to grow, be the change. In the end I want to make a difference. I don't want young girls to become misguided tomboys and end up being isolated, I don't want girls of my age to be married off, I don't want many things. So instead of shouting I need to make every other women aware of her potential to grow and rule the world. May be feminine, may be masculine, may be both but we have to grow together for the welfare of the all the women around the world. So that one day all women can say she celebrates being she.

All we need is to teach that  no prince charming will make us happy unless we stand on our feet, grab our dreams, love alone cannot fight the world. Yes we all want happy endings, but whats the point in running away and getting married leaving education behind, whats the fun in waiting to get money from your husband when you can earn your own, whats the point in being perfect if you ain't respected for your efforts?  Isn't it better be to be perfect for our own self then pretend and be uptight because society said so?

for a while lets us Celebrate being us....

P.S- its a blog post for another Women Webs contest, I dont care if I win or not, but its a great chance to make my feelings heard.

thanking you to bear with me
paulOaries


Saturday, 23 March 2013

Print A Smile




On 14th of this month one of my wildest dream came true, yet I didn't feel happy the way I should. The dream was to have my photograph appear in newspaper. This twist of fate happened in an Assamese Daily but I failed to get the thrill when I bought my copy.


On 10th March, late morning my door bell rang, there was this romantic junior of mine. He came without a warning and very next moment we were in my room downstairs. I knew he was approached by our Philosophy Professor to write out something for the Assamese daily. He had to write it out with five other people from Pink College. So this was a Pink College project and I wanted to stay away. But junior Poet is a boy of enthusiasm and madness. So unwillingly I became handcuffed to this young man's madness. So our whole afternoon was spent writing and dialing the number of the confused Sub-editor. With every moment passing we realised that the topic was unclear and really out of our reach. First we were given a story in place of topic, she kept narrating and our mind went twisting. Finally we changed the topic to "Internet and Human Relations". Now the young man found another way to trap me, I won the extempore speech competition with Internet as my topic. The article was going from the Pink College, we needed six people's face to print with six different points. So our junior poet was there, he dragged me in, I dragged my walking mate in simultaneously three others were dragged by the young poet. 

We were given a deadline till 10 am next morning, so we had no time to run to four different houses to collect opinion. The easy way tempted us, my walking mate messaged me a point for the topic. Young poet came up with two and I came up with three. The whole writing trouble fell on baby poet. For him writing is not a tough job, give him a quill he will cast spells upon you. Right that moment he was elaborating six points. I gave my ideas, he translated it to Assamese. He was writing and I was jumping around creating virtual pressure on him. At that moment I felt like those Shojo Manga characters -the editor shouting at her subordinates. When he was penning down I decided to edit and choose the photos that were to go for print. I was protesting at times that it was the young poets work and not ours. Just giving points doesn't  make us equal, but my cries were unheard. We were done writing, next we needed to scan it, I don't have one so, the professor who is our tenant tried to help us. But the scanned product was not a good product. So the professor helped us and scanned it from the cyber cafe. We should thank him, for him we were right on time. So we emailed the articles and photographs to the confused Sub-editor.

As twist of fate had it, the piece got published on Thursday. My walking mate and me got threats from the young poet. He made it clear if we did not buy the newspaper and uttered about the cover up writing he would kill us. He was happy as his photograph came, so were we after all we were in the second page and a special edition of a daily. Six shining faces in color still we could not cheer up and put credits to the young poet. Neither my walking mate was super excited nor was I.The terrible feeling was more in me as I had no proper grip over the Assamese Language. Here I was happily claiming my share on his hard work. It was cruel of us to claim our share from ones hard work. But young poet did not care, I doubt will he ever care. Well my Mom knew I was not the happiest of myself, she still became happy as I contributed something, she just needs a reason to love me more. My grandmother, sister and brother-in-law don't care what I contributed, all they cared was I was on paper and that made them smile for next three days. The irony stays, we produced the piece behalf of Pink College, but that newspaper doesn't grace our library nor did any one ever knew that our college got published in the special youth section. If anyone asks me why I still dislike Pink College, the answer is simple, the college doesn't know what deeds happen outside its boundaries. 


I feel I sound moralistic, idealistic, pessimistic creature, but that young man deserves all the credit and I fear the worse that he will remain unsung and unknown hero till his graduation. Pink College had good many journalist, photographer, high ranking bureaucrats, social workers, good lawyers walking its ground, but no one knows about them. 

Off course I am proud that I could help him but this inkling is to stay, we could not say it to everyone. All works small or big belongs to the person who do it, sometimes its hard to put a name on others work. 

P.S- wish I could do my part better and contribute to the fullest. And Bootly Booted thats Witch's Obsession is updated with new shoes.  



thanking you to bear with me
paulOaries



Friday, 8 March 2013

Wow(O)men's day.




Few days back my great sister had uploaded a photograph of hers on Facebook eating a huge chicken leg piece cooked by my brother-in-law. Above that photograph she had written perks of being married. The comments in genuine were all funny and light hearted. One of our relatives wrote "you should be ashamed of yourself" off course it was to leg pull my sister. I too commented that I was proud of her. She was doing role reversal after all.

The day my sister's wedding date was finalized, I knew she would not me sweet typical newly wedded bride. I am very proud she is not like those new brides trying to be all sweet and no fire. My brother-in-law has become the apple of the eye for us. He is good looking, well behaved, hard working and he can cook awesome dishes. So his performance of six months of marriage gets him an A+. 

But why are we talking about my sister's life? Today is International Women's day.  This little background was to make us relate to things I will write now. 

Through out the world women have been sketched as mother, daughter, sister, wife, aunt, grandmother etc. Women have been linked to a certain role in every aspect of life. We have been covered, commercialised, objectified and have been the bearer of culture around the world. In today's era where women are educated and earning for themselves and creator of her own life, we still pull her back. 

The jobs like cooking, washing, cleaning, taking care of children have been ingrained to the word Women that, it counts as a duty. When the same thing is done by man it becomes good quality. In the movie English Winglish actress Sridevi says " If Woman cook its daily job, duty and Man cook its art". We often find Feminist women are branded as dykes, man-haters, angry and off course insane. But when we find a man feminist we tend to soften to him. I am neither man hater nor insane, but a proud Feminist. 

On women's day we speak about empowering women, equality of sexes, equal pay, education of women and a list of endless. Something that hits my head time and again is we should teach women all over the world- RESPECT EVERY WOMEN. I have a very bad habit of gossiping about people I don't like and most of them are my female classmates. To be honest at times I really wan't to kill them, still I am at fault. Why can't I accept them the way they are.??? We teach people to be honest, good, hard working. Most of us forget to teach how to respect others. 

One day I shoved of my classmate who was about to tell something horrible about women and her position. She was justifying the existence of male is above female. According to her women were naturally weak and her roles are limited to family and now days work and family. May be she was made weaker then the other, but so that she can balance the power, not to be  burdened with abuse and be mistreated by power. Problem with we women is that we gladly accept bondages given to us. We so happily take it, that we brand it as duty. I often find young couples of my age all lovey dovey. The girlfriends of mine often complain that they need to ask their lovers to wear certain clothes, take permission to go somewhere, or butter the other to upload photos on web. My question to all these great women is "Where is your self respect lady?" Our parents have provided us education, great upbringing yet where do we find this inner quality to be tamed my someone?.

Other day again one of my classmates, came to tutorial wearing a dupatta (the long scarf to cover upper body) above T-shirt and trousers. So we asked her why did she wear dupatta. The reply which she gave was meant to be funny in her brain, but was vulgar to our ears. She said, the things which are eaten and drinkable are meant to be covered. May be it was a joke, but I failed to catch it.

I don't know about the rest of the world, but in my country when a female is born she is always associated with marriage. We are raised like cattle and sold to the most promising buyer. When my mother's cousin was taunting me that they would fix my wedding after graduation, I had to shut him up hard. The thinking has to change, we have to change. I am not against marriage, but this one word has done lot of damage all around the world. 

So on international women's day we must teach our girls following point

1. Respect fellow female
2. Education is better partner than man
3. Marriage is at times THE END
4. No one can decide your life and movements other than you.
5. Respect housewives.
6. Stop blaming women for the crimes done to her.
7. If you can't help, don't stop others from helping
8. We are not objects to show off, we are the other half of world.


March 8th is not only one day reserved for us, rest of the 364 days are there to celebrate our existence, our dreams, our joys, our sadness, our hopes and our life.

 Women, cook, clean, teach, takes care, loves you. She might be our mother, sister, daughter, wife but she is a woman first. She has her unsafety days, she bears children, she is the superwomean not found in comics, but in homes, she is the true multi-tasker. Doesn't she deserve few extra credits for it.???     



P.S- its a day when should  say Wow(O)men's Day.... hence it says wow its women's omen day in short. 


thanking you to bear with me
paulOaries

Tuesday, 5 March 2013

Miles to go before she Sits...




A year has passed since the departure of our beloved Little (Litu). We miss him, the corner where he sat felt so empty, the barking no longer heard, the smiling face no longer seen. He was a glamorous addition to our home, and beautiful delight to our heart. I so miss him. But we cannot live without pets, to us pets are like our family members. To my Mom we, that's pets and my sister and me are same. 


So the love which use to ooze out for Litu has found a new soul to capture. Last year we hid the news of Litu's death from my sister. She was alone in an empty city. We didnot burden her with sadness. She got married last july. On her one month wedding anniversary, my brother in law gifted her with a new pup. We had erased out the hopes of keeping another pet. We were contend with Goldie and Kakri. The loss of missing Jassi was bearable, but the loss of a naughty Litu was too much for us. But my brother in law again melted us. 

 When my sister had asked us what kind of breed we wanted this time, we made it clear. A female so that she is tamable, unlike Litu who was a male and most of his life time chained and inside his kennel for his anger. A less fury one, Litu had too much of fur and suffered during summer. A small sized one, who would play and be trained properly, training Litu was a really hard job for Mom and me. Finally one who would be less angry, Litu was angry young dog.

    Following September, that new chocolaty pup was in our home. My sister and brother-in-law are newly married with nothing figured out in life. They have hectic work schedule and its a sin to keep a pup alone in home. The pup was smiling, a female, not at all fury, small, cute and she looked an angel. Lie, first impression is last impression. First impression is false impression. This puppy was Miley, a Dachshund. A brown ball of energy. Rather a rocket with never extinguishing fire. Full of life, playful, too stubborn and tameless. My sister and brother-in-law failed to train her. Or lets put it this way, Miley refused to take training. My sister and brother-in-law left the next day. 

From that very day, my Mom and me, have never had a day without a jumping dog behind us. We tried to civilize this creature from hell. We gave her to sleep in bed with me. She slept fine, but she had no control on her nature's call. For first one week, I smelt bitchy, I smelt like her. She had extremely wild movement. At first she was afraid of Goldie and Kakri, but slowly she started to terrorize them. Then we shifted her to my sister's room with a red pet couch. But all she did was bite it, and used it to cover her poop and urine. Finally now she sleeps on old rugs. She chose it, we provided her luxury, but she refused it. 

Her food habits are fine, we are pleased with her. She is a goat in disguise of dog. She speaks less, but her actions are  loud enough. Within one month of her arrival, she fell to our neighbors garden from first floor. We hid it from my sister again. She is so curious that fails to see the laws of nature. So finally her freedom of movement was chained to Litu's kennel on terrace. 

On terrace, we found no peace either, she manages to pull the clothes left for drying. She eats up the soil from flower tubs. Chews the wooden frame, she has weakened the bamboo chairs with sole power of teeth. Only she finds hidden treasure of mud, old bottles, plastic pens etc etc. When inside house, she needs to beautify herself, so she raids my mothers dressing table. She needs to read newspaper, frankly she is everything opposite to what we wanted. 

After few days of the storm called Miley ravaged our mental peace, we sought the Net God Google. Who told us that this breed was worlds, naughtiest dog. They only had one thing in mind  that is to PLAY!!!! 
 We figured out our future with Miley, the firebrand bitch is here to stay and give us a  ride of life time.   

Still we love her. Miley has replaced Litu in a different way, by beauty she looses, but by her charms she has overpowered Litu's strong aura. She is more naughty than Litu, but she is pampered none the less. She is small yet strong, everything wrong yet right. Every evening we play, its she who plays and we are tortured. She jumps from sofa to sofa. She finds a complicated path for every normal way. Its hard to make her sit in one place, she has invisible springs attached to her tiny feet. She ia a ping pong ball. If I could compare her to some movie character it would be Robin Williams experiment Flubber , from the movie Flubber. She will deliberately trip her bowl of water, will jump, will run, eat from Kakri's bowl, Run after Goldie. She will put up a good melodrama when she hurts her feet, but amazingly she never cried when her vaccinations were injected to her.

My brother-in-law had challenged my Mom, that this girl wont take training, well now she walks with collar on her neck and her rein in my Mom's hand. Her natures call has been put to a fixed time to some extent, she can shake hands, she comes to us when we call with the chain. My mother occasionally claims her defeat. But I know she can train any pet and she will win. Why am I so confident that she will make Miley Paul civilized? Its simple she brought me up? I was the hardest of all to be civilized. 

But whoever she is, how naughty she is, she is the member of the happy family, we love her, so Miley Paul it is. 


here is the picture of the Devil called Miley.







P.S :- We could not have asked anything more lively than her. But we have Miles to go before Miley Sits.


thanking you to bear with me
paulOaries