“Pass me that Lychee, please.” “Yuck, do you like Lychee? Why!”

To all my visitors:

You are not visiting at all. I have had a writer’s block since the last post. The story isn’t developing, the ideas are not coming… even the last post was mere anguish over an accidently deleted post.

In hope, I visit WordPress several times a day, more than Facebook even. So, there is a due thanks I want to forward to you all in big, bold letters. THANK YOU! This means you are more engaging than my real friends. Or maybe my real friends are boring and actually talk to me, giving the impression to others that I run a Lonersland.

Now back to my writer’s block. It could be a good thing after all. I get complacent after small victories. Let me relax a little, let the war drag on. The sudden dearth of single digit upticks horrified me. And here I am to catch some unsuspecting fish, fervently wishing it is big and tasty. Yum!


I have always had unusual priorities. I am rebellious by nature and circumstances. Unwritten code inside me proclaims, “Thou shall ignore the task closest to your heart and dearest to your future and always choose the option next to the best.”

I am in the third and final year of my college degree and getting a job or a seat for further studies is a real stress. I cannot imagine where I would go from here, plus, taking in account my below average grades, I should grind my nose harder and often. Yet I am here lazing around and updating a blog that is in turn, one by one, chipping away at my future. But let us rewind to the last year. I had another blog in my armour back then which was always lonely, more than this one at its darkest hour. Studies meant nothing at that time and Facebook was my bread and butter. A blog was the most responsible and productive thing I could do. This automatically meant I would not write it for that would have translated to breaking my holy code, damn the common sense. In the same vein, my bicycle rots in the parking and so do the diary in my closet as well as the German Wörterbuch in the bag.

Now if I think about it, rebellious still sounds somehow heroic. I am plain stupid, if I would meet myself. I am literally contradictory in nature. There are times when I do what is told to me (with everyone on this planet but more so with my family). There are times when I can readily do what is asked of me out of habit, still I consciously say no to stop being a doormat (mostly with my family). And there are times when I just cannot do anything or agree, there is no other way (with everyone on this planet, at some point or the other). And when I ponder over the contradiction, they are actually directly a result of one another.

It so happens that my father and my sister are very dominating characters. My mother and I are not. So, historically, the real hierarchy in my family went from:
CFather -> Mother -> Sister -> Me

to following, when my sister became bigger and better:

Father -> Sister -> Mother -> Me.

When I grew up a little, it became:

Father -> Sister -> Mother, Me.

And when I talk about this hierarchy, it only means what is the weight of our word in the herd. This was the situation when both of us children were still in school. Nowadays it is muddled. My father is loud, abusive, disagreeing, discouraging, pessimistic, hypocrite and everything one would not want oneself to be. He doesn’t like his wife or children and there is mostly a cold war long running in our family. However, he is still officially part of our family and it is not as bad as it sounds; he is mostly a grumbling man only and we have adapted to avoid and tolerate each other. There are some unsaid but sharp lines drawn in our household. For example, TV outside is strictly his domain; the rooms are ours.

To cut it short, his word doesn’t matter much anymore except for tokenism. My sister doesn’t say much and remains aloof but whenever she does, it is mostly sensible in a way that is selfish to her. My mother tries to put her point across and who are we as her children to counter her? Yet we do, if only because her decisions are many-a-times quite bad. More precisely, her emotional decisions are quite bad; her thoughtful decisions are the most intelligent, practical and sound you have heard. It is almost as if two people are living inside her – the good and the bad. As for me, I am the link between all three: a forced peacemaker, a hesitant secretkeeper. That is a bad thing because I myself have absorbed the best and the worst of the family; I will not elaborate because it is difficult to judge oneself. But I would concede that I can be unfair to my mother at expense of my father, if only because my father is closer to me than the other two (he has to be close to somebody and the scapegoat is me). It may sound abstract and boring, but I can afford no more masala. Is there a truly anonymous place left in this world?

Here, after having a glimpse into my family you could see I why always counter others – their actions, opinions, facts and whatnot. The question remains: why did I not develop a thick skin like my sister? Anything and everything can needle me for days, months and years. Nobody knows how much guilt I have gathered inside me over the years. It strikes me at any random moment and I have decided multiple times to actually apologize to them. For an example, I once met a friend after school who had failed a class a few years back. We made small talk and I – being silly and dumb – pointed out her sister too failed at the same time. She, of course, did not remain friends after that. This incident remained an albatross round my neck for too many years until I realized the fact was true after all, just rude and unthoughtful. Another time, relatively recent, I was calling names (“komal-Kamal”/ “delicate Kamal”) to a tuition-mate on my way back home. When I persisted, he turned around, faced me head-on saying something I don’t remember and continued on his path. I was dumbstruck and realized only then what I was doing; it had seemed funny a moment before. I was trying to bully him; this was rare for me and never so obviously. I cannot even shrug this lame attempt at bullying under the carpet since I was at least 15 or 16 at that time and had faced it myself. I turn away even now when I spot him on the street. These examples illustrate the bad I have done but I suffer internally much more than I deserve. I wish there was a way to forget my bad Karma.

Where was I? Oh yes. Talking about my paper-thin skin. I don’t know if I am even digressing any more since I have stopped making sense of the post. I wanted to merely write about a part of my personality, but we all know memory is a strong giant. It is pushing me deeper and darker in my past and making me feel bad, but fear not my readers! I will shift all the heeavy parts around to get you the most relevant bits I can manage before breaking down.

And back. I have a tendency to counter a statement, no matter what. My family used to expect so much from me, unchallenged and inconsiderate, that I developed a rebel attitude. “I will NOT do anything you say to me, no matter what”, has become my motto. But my teachers in school used to misunderstand and appreciate this odd quality of mine. “You are so intelligent!”, “Full of questions!” and some more hot air. My ego was inflated, I would confess. I would reason to myself that there are so many more intelligent people than me and my teachers are just fond of me. Truth was, I hadn’t encountered a CFL bulb ever and was content being the best sodium lamp around. And I went on from being genuinely inquisitive to just questioning. The worse side of the coin is that my personality vecame questioning in every sense of the word.

Now it has come to a point that “really?” or “I don’t believe it!” or “I don’t think so” escape my mouth regularly, however much I try not to. I can only imagine how frustrating it would have been to others. And that too on regular basis; my friends must be angels. Even then, there have been times when I blindly follow them. So eventually it cuts each other out. On the other hand, with my teachers at college, I stand out for my unrelenting questions. But because we are expected to be sheep, when I take my teachers for their word, it is okay and normal. Thus overall, they find me – their actions speak for them – repulsive and disrespectful. This has been another guilt that I am carrying with me for some time now since I genuinely like some of them. Remaining teachers: hah!

Even disregarding it, I have developed too many other bad habits out on the road till now. Being ever the analytical, I have identified many of them and am trying to get rid of all of them. I am lazy therefore the 30 days required to build a new habit is really difficult for me. It is like inventing a new Con Anon. But I know that rather than cry, cry, cry… I just have to somehow try, try, try.

I would love it if you go "tippy, tap" with your keyboard here :)

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