The days worth living for

On those days when every stale morsel of food feels like a blessing,
When an unkempt bed from last night feels like a gift from The Gods, 
When you are so physically tired you finally understand what it means to 'crash into your bed', 
When you are so exhausted your brain shuts down even before your head hits the pillow, 
When you are so drained doing what you love that you have no strength to pine about what was and what could have been,
When you give so much of yourself to doing what you love, that you have none left to give to people and things that only hurt, 
When dating means showing up completely fried after a hard day's work simply because of the promise of food being involved, 
When you're in a train full of people who are too close for comfort,  and yet you sleep your soundest sleep, 
When you want to feel sad, when you want to weep but simply don't have the strength to do so, 
When you can afford to pay a premium for a first class train pass, but have no shame in sitting cross legged on its floor like you never had a class to begin with, 
When you don't have the time or effort to spare for silly good morning and good night messages, and when someone tries to simply 'catch up' you let out a slight chuckle because you realize you're going way to fast,
When sleep is just a blink that lingered too long on your eyes, 
Those are the days worth living for. 

Bukowski has said, "Find what you love and let it kill you.", I think this is what he meant. 

How to deal with silent treatment

I've plunged into the depths of page number 2 of Google results to try and find an answer to dealing with parental silent treatment, but without results. Too many articles on dealing with spousal silent treatment, but what do you do when your oppressor (as harsh as it sounds, the word fails to do justice to what really happens) has an upper hand in your relationship?
My country was able to send an orbiter to Mars in the first attempt but we still don't know how to handle that thick silence that looms over every desi kid's adolescent and struggling years, what a shame!
So, backed up with years of pain and frustration and suffocation extensive research, these are my typical ways of dealing with the silent cry for Indian respect demanded by the makers of you. 

1. Usual suspects: It is a game of egotistical up-man-ship, a who-blinks-first saga unfolding in your own living room, so considering the fact you need their money over the next few years and would also enjoy an honorary, passing mention in their will, blink first. Send you sorry texts, emails, voice mails, random post its on mirrors, walls etc and see how it goes. 

2. Accept that you suck. You failed them. Question your purpose in life. As an Indian kid, you had one job, ONE JOB! and you suck at it. Feel depressed, upset, annoyed, wonder why it is so difficult for people to talk. Contemplate suicide.

3. Weep. To quote Sarah Ockler, "Weeping is not the same as thing as crying. It takes your whole body to weep, and when it's over, you feel like you don't have any bones left to hold you up." 
Do this, feel empty, and then fill yourself empty self with ice cream. Or Chocolate. S'more ice cream! OR CHICKEN! Oh yeah. Chee-kaan!

4. Watch Mental Floss. It helps. Move to Denialsville, watch movies like Hum Saath Saath Hai or 2 States and convince yourself that happy endings are possible. I mean that dude did IIT, IIM and his parents still hated him for wanting to fuck a female who didn't match his jaat. In the end, love prevailed, he got BOTH the parties to agree to let them bang each other, holy matrimony, parental blessings, et all! You can deal with this man, this is nothing! 

4. Realize that you're dealing with the absolute scum of humanity. What kind of person wants to play 'guess-why-I-hate-you' with a self conscious, overtly self critical 15 year old for months on end, when clearly, the game is no fun? The internetz describes such people as 'narcissistic', but lets be clear, scums the word!

5. Do what you want. It's not like they're going to say anything about it! (See what I did there?!)

6. Honestly, once you understand that they hate you, not matter what you do, it's liberating. Look, it's that one tiny thing you did ages ago, that makes them hate you. So everything else you do today is cool. You will be punished for this in around 20 years, when you'll be doing your kid's science projects and they'll withhold information from you about the right way to do it. But they'll probably be old and wrinkly,  sitting in some neglected old age home by then, so it won't really matter.  

7. At some point, you will be desperate, for human touch, companionship, affection, love, etc. Remember that there is nothing a big tub of Ice cream or a giant greasy pizza cannot cure. You've always earned it for still being alive. I promise. 

8. Whenever you try getting help from relatives and other adults you wish you could trust and they dole out crap like, "You know, God could not be everywhere so he made parents instead" look them in the eye and say, "...and that is exactly why I'm an atheist." 

9. Make a list all the expensive indulgences you want. In a weak moment of *silent* truce, (e.g., festivals and family functions, where your oppressor is forced to talk to you to keep the facade up, it's all about societal approval in the desi household, you know) be prepared to strike. 

10. Take them on a guilt trip. Record yourself crying and howling and re-play that every night, at some point, they will hear it. (Statistics, byotch!). Leave out your diary for them to accidentally find out. When they are at their weakest, strike. Oh, that 10,000 rupee pro keratin treatment you wanted, now is a prefect time to ask. 2,000 rupee shoes, ask away. The Leprechaun will only dance for so long, you know, Indulge!
  
11. Go on tinder. The quantum of emotionally frustrated and desperate Indian boys will surprise you. They will compliment your non existent dimples and will also claim to love your ah-la-chewbacca back hair, cause you're amazing, just the way you are! *Croons*  Strong self confidence boost initiated.

12. I mean it, nothing will make you feel more wanted than receiving compliments from random males. One nude selfie is a cheap prize to pay for something you're not getting at your aadarsh desi ghar. You've done all that you can to get parental approval, and when your demands aren't met one way, you look around for other sources. (Economics, byotch!) You've stooped low enough to pick a vocation you hate to please them, sending nude selfies for a few kind words is nothing. Absolutely nahh-aah-thing. 

13. Listen to 'White Trash Beautiful' through the process. 

14. Honestly, what can you do when someone refuses to even discuss the problem? Raising a child was a 20 year full time project they willfully undertook, and as sorry as you are that you suck, it gives them no right to emotionally scar you like that. 

15. As always, writing a sassy blog piece helps. 

Hey, someone had to justify this comic! 

When words are your only solace

"All women speak two languages,
 the language of men,
 and the language of silent suffering.
 Some women speak a third,
 the language of the Queens"

-Mohja Kahf, The Marvelous Women 

"Your soul has fallen to pieces? 

 Good. 

 Rearrange them to suit yourself"

-Hermann Hesse. 

 "You may break, you may shatter, the vase if you will,

but the scent of the roses will linger there still"

-James Moore

"We are here

 to laugh

 at the odds

 and live our lives

 so well that

 death 

 will tremble 

 to take us"

-Charles Bukowski 

"Sometimes, your only available transportation is a leap of faith"

Are you comfortable?

Dentists should just shut up and stop asking questions like, "Are you comfortable?"

Are you serious? Are you really asking me that? 
I'm sitting here on mutilated chair with multiple arms, which looks like the evolved version of a medieval torture instrument, with a high focus light on my face, you pulling my cheeks apart, shoving your fingers in there, along with sharp pointy metal objects, spraying disgusting anesthetics on my gums with a decent possibility of you touching my raw nerve endings, and you're asking me if I'm comfortable?

And while we are speaking about it, you're shoving your fingers into someone else's mouth. Who knows what has been there and since when! How the hell are *YOU* comfortable?!

You know I'm not comfortable, you know you're not comfortable, so why this hypocrisy, dentists?! Hah! Whyyy?!

Surviving with Style!

Survive with style, Progress with a panache! 
A result of depressed Googling post the shocking failure at May 2014 CA Final Attempt. 
Oh, I still don't know why I failed, and the bigger puzzle is how some other people passed, but that's a hate-post for another day. 
Any do, here goes

1. Your job does not actually define you, unless you want it to
Enjoying 8 hours of what I HAVE to do cannot, in the short run define an ideal life. Being legally bound to be working under a jackass does not make me a jackass. I'm becoming more Zen-like after this realization, to be honest. "From Jackassery to Zen Mastery: 101 ways to be a better human being!" Publishing houses, here I come! *Weeee*

2. It's not your time yet
"Mera number kab aayega?"
 "Aayega bete, aayega!"
 (If this does not ring a bell then I am sorry)

3. Be grateful for what you have
The colleague who said I don't even like your face has to serve ONE ENTIRE YEAR of extension. At least I have the assurance that this shall be over sooner. Oh, and also, Karma is a b-y-o-t-c-h. *Cue snickers and giggles* 

4. It isn't always about you
Just me acting like a demure, mature 20-something. 

5. Commit to a process/ system, not a goal
If my goal was to pass the CA-Final May 2014 attempt, I've failed and I'm allowed to cry. But the process was to improve my knowledge from what I knew as a IPCC passout. And that has been completed. I know much more now than what I did when I cleared IPCC. The subject that was my nemesis at IPCC level has been conquered so well I teach the same to other IPCC kids and they love it. 
"When you focus on the practice instead of the performance, you enjoy the present movement and improve at the same time" ~Borrowed Zen-liness.

6. Goals will be at odds with long term progress
If the goal is to lose weight, I'll stop working out as soon as I hit my target weight. My reasons for gymming, in the long run are to remain fit and active. The short term goal of weight reduction really doesn't do much to help. Must-give-up-need-for-immediate-results.

7. Goals suggest that you can control things you have no control over
You cannot predict the future. Building a system that signals a need for adjustments makes much more sense. CA paper checking shoddy? Hard work and knowledge deserve better recognition and pay? Working towards a more transparent degree sounds like a good course to take. 

8. Goals help in planning progress, systems are good for actually making progress
Goals are milestones, the destination is  progress. If you're 0.001% better version of yourself from what you were yesterday, you're doing good. 

If you're at the gym, doing some dumb bell crunches, you're on your last rep, and you feel a slight muscle pull, would you man up and finish or would you stop?
If this write up has affected you, you'd simply realize that you'll be doing this process for a very long time, and if the long term plan is fitness, an injured muscle does not fit the bill, even if it suits your short term goal of calorie burning. 

Bonus tip: Hold on to a couple of good mates, they'll add the necessary good humor that would spice the process up for you. And when that's done, see rule #3!

~WispySilver

Title Credits: Just Someone! We good now, Bro? 

A CA Student's handy guide to non verbal communication

No matter how important communication is in day to day professional and personal life, my Boss strongly believes that sending out proper invoices to clients for work done are so useless. Why waste precious white paper when old, parchment-yellow chits do the work just fine? Simply scribble an amount in pencil and send one of your bonded laborers articled assistants over, because future Chartereds need to know how to look and act like goons. 

Much Practical, Very Wow. 

This anti-communication stand works best if you're the kind of pansy ass pussy professional individual who hates confrontations or discussions. Why waste energy talking when you could simply make faces at your articles?! Let them play the guessing game. Work should be fun, no? 

As an ex-teenager, I'm not new to the whole I-hate-the-world-for-not-understanding-me-even-though-I-refuse-to-speak way of life, I'm well placed in this organisation to act as an unofficial (we don't really bother with formalities here, but you've already realized that?) translator to explain the workings of a mind as numb-fucked as my Boss' is. 

So, here is a list (Listicles aren't for hipsters anymore, are they? *sigh*) of the faces your boss makes and what to make of them. 

(If I was an American I'd have made tall claims like how this is the #1 list to improve interpersonal communication stuff, but well, its tough to improve on something non-existent, to be honest)  

1. Someone-shot-my-right-kneecap-face: Totaling Mistake, casting posting errors. Thou shalt work on thy calculator skills! Maybe don't have such thick fingers, looser!

2. Someone-shot-my-left-kneecap-face: Why on earth would you accidentally take a BRAND NEW printer page to print just a rough draft of something?! Whyyyy?!

3. The-Ball-Crusher-Pain-Face: You're the kind that plans their potty around work. Getting paid to poop is exhilarating. Guess what, Boss got a wind of your stinky stinky plans. It hurts him right where it should hurt the most! Your poopoo isn't meeting his expectations, is it?

4. Someone-twisted-my-arm-real-bad-face: Client gave you bad news, you gave it to Boss. Boss believes it's cool and hip to shoot the messenger. 

5.  Weird-cramp-in-my-calves-face: DATA LOST! DATA LOST! Don't touch anything. His Holiness is backed up by 100 legit hours of ITT (Information Technology Training) from the ICAI, oh wait, No, he isn't! Never mind. Well he's a first attempt CA after all, he will figure this shit out, eventually. Infinite Monkey universe typing out the entire Shakespeare is also almost possible. And we're an optimistic bunch of bobble heads!

6. Something-has-been-shoved-up-my-arse-face: You're wasting time. He is giving you the gift of gyaan, so much priceless gyaan he doesn't need to pay you a penny. And now look what you've done. You're on the phone again, aren't you? Throw that wretched bewitched metal thingy away man, Gyaan is being baatofied. What is wrong with you!?!

Or, maybe he's just looking the stuck up bitch he actually is. 

More explanations to be added as and when new faces are discovered.  

~Your friendly neighborhood translator, 

   WispySilver

CA Day, 2014

Two years ago, taking a transfer seemed like the second best option, first being dropping the CA course completely. Eventually when I did get a transfer, I landed in a place that can, at best be described as 'bittersweet'.
The work exposure was phenomenal! I was reporting directly to the CA and handling a bunch of decently smart juniors. But there was no pay. Unlike the previous employer, this one doesn't pay, simply because he can. 
And hence, there were times I wondered if quitting the first place was a mistake. 

But then, on CA Day,  I was to attend this function. And I knew my ex boss would be there. He's this big shot among the local CA crowd, so naturally, he had to be there, taking pictures of him on stage receiving bouquets from random overdressed people. And I was mentally prepared. I'd said my 'It'll-be-over-soon' mantras, done my breathing exercises through the train ride, I thought I was ready. 

But what I saw, I was unprepared for. 

I reached the venue and saw his car. I could recognize it easily because god knows of all those humiliating times I have had to unlock his car to carry his blazer for him. Like I'm not a CA Final Student but some chauffeur he paid by the hour. 

So I saw his car. And then I saw a guy, my age, dressed in decent formals, unlocking the car. A sense of deja vu crept over me. He went in, took the hanger that held the blazer and with that shy, humiliated and yet holding his head high mix of expressions, went inside the room full of other Chartereds, a few of whom he might have wanted to work for in future. But now all he was to them was an overpaid chauffeur.
He came back with the empty hanger, head still high, avoiding eye contact and unlocked the car once again and carefully hung the hanger back in place.

I did not feel pity for him. I was there. And I walked away. I walked away to the point of leaving this course completely. But I braved that. I had the guts to walk up to my dad and tell him that no matter how great he thought this profession was, it wasn't for me. But I walked away. On my own terms. With my head held high.  

And at that point I realized, no amount of money, no glorious work experience certificate could be worth my self respect. 

A striking lesson, CA Day 2014 turned out to be. 
   

The Road That Forked Into Two...

She sat crouched at the edge of the bed, her arms wrapped around her feet, her chin resting on her knee. His boxers were the only piece of clothing on her body, and the slight draft from the air conditioner that hit her bare back made her shiver involuntarily. He lay sprawled on the bed, on the other side. Apart from the air conditioner, his rhythmic breathing was the only sound that ran through the room.
She looked around the room. Neatly done, tasteful and classic. All the furniture was a dark, deep, rich coffee brown, and the entire upholstery was a subdued shade of white. Almost pastel. Bright shade of white kindred down solely to soothe the eyes.
She liked his bedroom for this precise reason. Everything had a purpose, a place and a discipline. There was no grey. Black and White. The starkness that separated everything soft from everything hard was somehow reassuring.
Why can't life be like that, she sighed. Why did there have to be so many complications? Why did people, circumstances and situations have to have so many shades to it? Why did all answers have to be 'yes but..' and not just simple 'yes's' or 'no's'? Why couldn't he ask her to go along with him? Two companions, on a journey together into unknown lands. Why couldn't she simply pack her bags and leave, wherever he took her?
No matter how much a tree sways during gusty winds, it still says firmly rooted at its place. Pain is addictive. They very things that support us, bind us, she thought.

He lay on the bed, watching her sitting on the edge of the bed, with her back to him. The dim lamp lights framed her dainty form. His eyes trailed the soft contours of her waist and the sharp line that was her spine. They watched the numerous scars on her back, looking at each one after the other, like making an invisible join the dots line. He saw her shiver involuntarily, and wanted to give her something to cover herself, but he stopped himself, lest he shatter her pensive mood.
Why did he have to leave her behind? They were perfect together. Their bodies and minds  fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, each concave complimented with a convex. He wished he could ask her to come along. But he already knew the answer to that question.
If the grand cosmic plan was for us to stay stuck at one place, we'd have roots instead of feet, he thought.

Eventually, she got up, looked around and wore one of his t-shirts lying on the floor. She always said his t-shirts looked better on her, and he never agreed, but he had, on numerous occasions admitted the truth to himself. She was humming their song,  'Under the boardwalk', and it involuntarily made him smile. 

It was one of those boring office parties. When the usual hoopla had settled, somewhere this song started to play and both of them rose from their places, just to wiggle along to this one song. Its where they'd first met. He had no interest in juniors up until then. 

The same soft voice that was  polite, adaptive, eager to learn at work how soon managed to become the soft moans of whispered affection he had no idea. 

But now here they were, going away again.

What is worse, parallel lines that never meet or intersections that meet once, only to be cruelly separated, never being allowed to meet again, he wondered, as her soft humming lulled him to fall asleep again.

She dragged herself to the centre of the bed, near him and rested her back on the bed's headrest, slowly running her fingers through his hair. 'Cafune', she chucked.
Gradually they both fell asleep, each blissfully unaware of the storm that gripped the other person's mind.

"And then the road diverged into two, each one wanted to walk their own, and none could walk the two."

A Dozen Advices

For every female that has ever had a serious relationship going on up to the point where you probably casually added songs into a play list that you were sure could be played at your fabled wedding only to, in one day, or month, or as in my case, in one year realize that it isn't going to work out, I am belching out an 'Advice List' 

1. Dumbledore is dead. Nothing you can do will revive the old soul. And honey, so is the relationship. Over. Khatam. Khallas. Finish. Over. 

2. You're a woman, not a cow. Stop regurgitation. 

3. Re running every aspect of your time with them in your head to figure out what it is that you did, where did it fumble, at what point in time it went wrong- pointless. The only good that can come out of this ordeal is that after you torture your mind like this, mayyybe, Dhoom 3 will be bearable? No? Okay. 

4. While we are at it, imagining vivid scenarios about how you'll suddenly meet in some run down coffee shop because fate is cruel and it will propel you into the same city as the person whose absence convinced you that one more bowl of ice cream would sort your life out, isn't happening. Mostly when the time comes, when you have a choice, I believe you'll make a sane decision and not go down that path. Nothing good ever comes out of this. 

5. Your ex is a jackass. No matter how much you'd want to believe otherwise. He is. I was convinced mine was super-mega-awesomely-brilliant too, until he called after over a long dragging year of fallout, brutally convinced he was the savior and somehow after the nice little abandon that was impeccably timed, he could just waltz into my life and 'be there' for me and 'make things better' because, guess what, he was willing to do 'whatever it takes to help me'. All this while we were seeing other people and I could hear his SO in the background mumbling. Fucked me up nice for a good quantum of time. 

6. Shave your legs. So it was long distance, and he'd never see you in like forever, so you just let it grow away into the wilderness! Shave it off! Feel the soft silk of warm water as it runs over the smooth skin. Enjoy the caress, the warmth, you deserve it. If there was a list of top 10 things people do after a break up, self pamper would make it to the top, because we've had enough of being neglected. Do it. Get a haircut or whatever, you're a blossoming princess in pink land, and you deserve a tiara! Or confetti. Or both. You go, Girl!

7. Watch Mental Floss on YouTube. Therapeutic beyond words. "Hi! I'm John Green welcome to my salon THIS is mental floss."  *Gush of gooey warmth for no real reason*

8. On that note, watch YouTube DIY videos. Read life hacks. Congratulations! You've figured out more life than the ex. How does that make you feel?! Gratifying, isn't it?

9. There are two worst things that can happen to you as a person after a break up. You become that person who positively hates the fact that their ex is happy. The second is that movement when you realize what you've become. I've given you the heads up, but you'll just have to deal with it on your own, let your personality flow. 

10. Your ex's next will be way prettier, fairer, whiter, taller, smarter, and as close to a greek goddess as it gets. You'll just have adopted a pet dog or gotten a new hobby. I don't see why this would sadden a lot of people. See what it took to replace the void you left, and all you needed was a dog. 

11. Send stinkers to them. I mean, they already hate you! And the good old days when you could yell it out at a telemarketer all your troubles are long gone. So, stinker away. Emails, texts, and if you have a flair for drama, write a brilliant sarcastic list of things you'd advice every broken up female creature to do, and post it without regrets. 

12. I need the title to have the word 'dozen' so lorem ipsum dolor sit amet for all I care. But well, you'll be okay, it'll be fine, pizza helps you lose weight, ice cream is good for your internal organs, yada yada yada. 

I'll gracefully walk away now, like any lady would, when she knows it isn't working. 

'Ta! 

~WispySilver.