The Opportunity Cost

Disclaimer: I love my job.

Before reading further, please commit to memory the above mentioned disclaimer. 

Good. 

Now.

This post is about how much I hate my job.

I really shouldn't say this, but I will because parents need to know what monsters they are raising. I mean for the sake of sanity of people everywhere, please stop spoiling your child. STOP. The next time your kid throws a tantrum at a toy shop about some shit expensive toy they want and you think "I'll just buy this so he shuts up" STOP. Turn around. Look your kid straight in the eye, smile and then SMACK THAT LITTLE TWERP UPSIDE THEIR HEAD. Then turn around and walk away.

No child, no matter how filthy rich their parents, should be brought up believing they can get away with everything. Teach your kids the value of hard earned money. And if your child has that kind of retarded idea about life, then you are to blame. You were too lazy to raise them right. So smack yourself upside the head. Or better yet. Let me do it.

But this isn't really what this post is about.

This is about the most basic right a person gives up when they decide to become a teacher. The one right every human should have to express their pain, their anger, their frustration. 

The right to swear like a sailor.

Or a trucker.

I mean what am I supposed to do if my finger gets caught in the cupboard door? How can one NOT scream out obscenities when in such utter pain? But no. I am just expected to eat, drink and be merry. How is that fair? 

Sometimes I feel like a nun.

Chasing The Starlight

One hot summer evening, a young girl of about fifteen was lying on her roof. The heat was suffocating, the air balmy and the only thing that made it bearable was the occasional breeze that cooled the body as it came in contact with the beads of sweat. 

The girl often came here when she needed to think, sometimes when she didn't want to think at all. She would lie down right at the edge of the roof; it felt to her like she was at the edge of the world, she only had to roll over and she would float away into space, never to return. She liked it best on a clear, starry night. The twinkling of the stars calmed her soul. Her father had told her that God had made the sky, then blown glitter all over and they formed the stars. Later on, when her science teacher had told her that stars were just big balls of fire, she had chosen not to believe that. A sky sprinkled with glitter felt much less threatening. 

Long ago, whatever long ago might be for a fifteen year old, she had come home to find her mother in one of her moods again; the one she got after she had stared at her childhood pictures for hours. Then she would sit by the window and cry silent tears. So the girl quietly filled water in a dirty, smudged glass and kept it on the table by her mother. Then, she climbed the cold, cemented stairs barefoot to the roof and watched the sky go from a clear azure to a murky orange to dark plum and finally a gloomy black. 

Once, her father had then come up and lain down next to her. For a while, they both said nothing. The silence was a bit awkward at first, but then it felt completely natural; like when you meet a best friend after a few years, in the first few minutes there are a few awkward silences, but once the comfort zone is found, its like you never even parted. 

Then he had asked her about how she felt and what could she have said? She didn't have an answer. She didn't really feel anything at all and that left her feeling guilty. Her mother's depressive obsession with her childhood home and memories had nothing to do with her. It didn't affect her at all. She wasn't sad or alone or miserable. She just was. 

Her father misunderstood her silence to mean that she didn't want to talk to him. So he left her alone, but before he did he told her that if she ever felt the need to talk things out or share a secret or make a confession, she should do it out loud to the stars. They would listen without judging and they would be her secret keepers till the end of her days. She had liked what she heard so she heeded his advise and under celestial skies, had found safety and comfort. 

This particular summer evening was different. It wasn't that it was hot, there was an uncomfortable aura all over the place that had nothing to do with the weather. She had come home to find her mother's chair empty, something that had never happened before. The kitchen was sparkling. She picked up the glasses, none of them had smudges on them. She should have realized right away, but she checked her mother's room anyway. Completely empty; she had taken everything with her. On the bed was a note with one word, "Sorry". 

And so, for the first time in her life, the girl felt truly alone. Her father had left a long time ago, that was inevitable. Her mother's presence in the house had been enough for her. Now, she was gone too. 

As she lay at the edge of the world under the summer sky, she had no one to call her own, but the stars. It was a simple decision, really. 

An Answer To The Darkest Times

Tough times don't last forever. There is no greater truth than that. 

The change will come, in moments that you don't even pay attention to.

But have no doubts, it will happen. 

When you're Skyping with a friend late at night and you find yourself laughing again.

On the drive home with your friends as Travie McCoy plays in the background, telling you you'll be alright.

In the kindness of a stranger feeding pigeons on the street.

In the happiness of two boys you don't know, but whom you just bought juice and chips for just because they asked.

When you fall down the stairs and your grandmother laughs so hard, she gets tears in her eyes and you realize its a side of her you've never seen before.

In your father's arms as he dances with you to Stand By Me.

When your younger brother comes into your room, shows you some crazy dance move and then waits for your approval.

When you're sitting with your cousin, doing nothing, saying nothing and there is comfort in the silence.

In the sounds of laughter that drifts down from the kitchen into your room.

When you find yourself giggling with your friends about the cute boy at the coffee shop.

When your four year old niece falls asleep in your arms.

When a really sad song plays on the stereo, but it doesn't remind you of anything.

As you stand and cheer for hope among a crowd of thousands.

When you stand on the prayer mat and find yourself at peace with God.

When the coffee stops tasting bitter all the time.

When the cold wind doesn't bite.

When the pain is just a memory.

So wait. Wait for these moments and let them take over. Don't fight them. Don't push them away. Let them work their magic. And in the meantime, just sit back, relax and take it easy.

The Truth Shall Chew You Up And Spit You Out

Received some new information about something you're trying to forget.

Initial emotions: Anger. Anger. Pain. Anger. A moment of silence. More anger. Just plain fucking pissed off. Sadness. Self pity. (repeat)

Reaction: Curse (preferably in Urdu), kick the door, open the door and slam repeatedly, fill a glass with water and throw it in the air, pick up beanbag and throw it across the wall, get irritated because it's too heavy, kick beanbag instead, cry, cry, cry more, question the higher powers, hide under covers,burn your lungs, cry. BBM friend about your misery and force them to tell you how awesome you are. Feel better. 

Take a break: eat an entire box of ferreros. Down the coke(imagine its an intoxicant). Stumble down the stairs as though really intoxicated. Investigate the refrigerator for more comfort food. Grab box of galaxies. Get new box of tissues. Go to mom's room. Find it empty,but find comfort in it anyway. Avoid looking at self in the mirror. Can't resist so look at self in the mirror and feel pathetic. Curse. Go back to the room and lie on the bed.

Break over. Converse with God. No answers there. Try to bribe with galaxies. Still no answers. Empty out the box. Give up. Get back in bed. Cry, but not sure whether its from pain in the stomach or just plain heart ache.

Stop all thoughts.

Replay entire year in the head. Question every word spoken, every effort made, every step taken in light of new information.

Stop.

Forget everything everyone tells you.

Listen to your heart.

Find the truth within.

Accept the truth.

Move.the.fuck.on

Cry some more.

Move.The.Fuck.On

It Is Written In The Dust, It Is Whispered In The Wind

You, who I met through some horrid twist of fate. You, who in an instant took my breath away. You, who swept me off my feet with your laughing eyes. You, who held my hand in the garden by night. You, who showed me a world I never knew before. You,who plucked away my doubts about the existence of happiness. You, who made me dream of dreams I had never dreamed before. You, who made me laugh like a child swinging up high. You, who made me feel as beautiful as a swan on a crystal, clear lake. You, who whispered sweet nothings in my ear as I fell asleep. You, who said you loved me. 

And you, to whom it was nothing, but a game. And you, who walked across my heart and crushed it to bits. And you, who took my spirit and dragged it across a bed of thorns. And you, who has left nothing except tears in my eyes. And you, who is the reason for these endless, sleepless nights. And you, who never even dreamed one dream of me. And you, who told me I was worth nothing in this world. And you, who made me feel smaller than the smallest creature on this earth. And you, who told me nothing I did was ever good enough. And you, who left me with pitiful glances and questioning eyes. And you, who I can't hate even if I tried. 

And you, with a smile on your face and a dagger in your hand.
You, who I could have loved forever. 

I'll Never Learn To Be Just Me

"This generation and its lack of seriousness towards marriage and commitment is scary," said an old acquaintance of mine recently.

You know what's really scary? This country and its bloody obsession with marriage. No matter what you do or whom you meet or what you watch on television, everything fucking boils down to marriage. My question is why are all these old mothers and aunts so bent upon every boy and girl tying the knot. Is there nothing more to life than two people getting together and building a family? I mean, I'm not anti - marriage, not at all. But life has to mean more than just this. God has to have had more purpose in creating us other than just having to play the role of match maker right?

Of course, as in everything else, girls get dealt a tougher hand. From the moment there is a daughter born in the house, all the parents can think of is getting her hitched. So much so that the girl always grows up feeling disconnected with her family; she's always being told that one day she will have to get married and start her own family. Then who the fuck are you? She grows up a stranger in her own house, nothing really belongs to her. 

What happened to raising a daughter with her own dreams and goals? Why can't parents teach daughters to grow up and achieve more in their lives than just cooking for her husband and popping out more babies than rabbits? What happened to teaching her to be so independent that she never has to see a man as just a person who provides her with a roof over her head? Why does marriage have to be the ultimate goal in her life? Sometimes, the only reason a girl is even educated is to improve her marriage prospects. I mean, why can't she be a doctor just for the sake of saving lives or an engineer just for the sake of creating amazing things? And that's another thing, a girl can either be a doctor or an engineer. What is she going to do with a business degree anyway? It's not like she'll actually be allowed to follow that path. Why can't she be an architect and build structures that would awe the world? Why can't she study to be a scientist or an astronaut? Or even a NASCAR driver if she wants? 

Of course she can't! Who will marry her then, if her mind is so full of ambitions? Bullshit I say. 

And sadly, this marriage pressure doesn't just apply to the fairer sex. Even the boys are sucked into this whirlpool. A boy must study and get a job so he can support his family. There is nothing else but that. Luckily, the boys can escape this torture for a few years longer than girls. Once a girl hits 27, something has to be wrong with her. Why else she not married? Maybe because there's more to her life than just being Mrs. So and So. 

And you know whats tragic? That this type of mindset ingrained into our brains from generation to generation has created this severe fear of dying alone in everyone. We are taught that we cannot survive in this world unless we are married. Even if the marriage is a total sham, even if there is no connection, physical or emotional, between the husband and wife, it is better than being alone. And I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm not beyond this trap. Many a times I have been sucked into this hole myself and I'm not proud of it.

So this blog goes out as a message to all the women and men fooled into believing that marriage is the be all and end all. Have dreams and aspirations, aim to be more than just a husband and a wife. Achieve more, want more. This country needs its youth to be enterprising and industrious; we need great teachers, writers and artists; we need zealous doctors and resourceful businesspersons; we need honest politicians. 

What we don't need is a million more married couples having thousands of children raised with no other purpose than to look for their better half. 

And get married when you are good and ready. Don't get married because the world is telling you that its the right thing to do. Don't get married just for the heck of it, because trust me, that is not all there is in this world. Don't get married because you feel that you can never support yourself if you don't. Because that is just not true.
And when you do get married,do it with a person who will support you in your dreams and help you pursue your passions. Be more than just a husband or a wife; be a successful individual in your own right.

Arrest This Man

The problem, I believe, is that the men of this country are raised with absolutely no sense of responsibility or accountability. They go about causing absolute chaos in the world; saying what they want, doing whatever they like with such total lack of concern for everyone and everything around them that it disgusts me to no end. Their parents treat them like little gods, giving in to their every whim and letting them walk away from every mess they create without question, let alone having them clean it up. And I don't mean the mess in their room (although I strongly believe it starts from there!) 

They grow up with a feeling of total immunity because they are never held accountable for any wrong they do. And that is how they spend their entire life. They do what they want whenever they feel like it without any clue as to how their actions affect others. They just don't understand that things they do or say can hurt another human being. They throw their weight around thinking its their fucking birthright. 

It is so important for parents to raise their sons right. Get him to fucking pick up that wet towel and hang it up to dry. Make him clean up his damn room and pick up after himself. And what the hell is up with not making them do their own dirty dishes. My own brothers will just come at random times of the day or night, eat and then just leave the dishes in the sink, never bothering to wash them. And whose fault is it? They really expect that everything just miraculously gets done. If they do something wrong, hold them responsible. Make them realize that they screwed up and need to fix it or else. Otherwise they just go through life selfish and self absorbed, like little babies throwing tantrums when things don't go their way. They have no semblance of respect for other people and cannot cope when real life suddenly hits them in the fucking face. They cannot grasp why the whole world isn't doing their bidding. Suddenly, they have to work for the respect and love they once got without question. They can't figure out why people aren't willing to wait on them hand and foot regardless of the jackasses they are being. Heck, they don't even understand that they are being jackasses. They don't understand why people walk away, why relationships break down, why they lose their jobs, why their children alienate them; the list of why's is then endless. 

This destructive attitude that parents have really has to change. Loving your kid is one thing, but smothering them with it so that they know and expect no other kind of emotion is another. Everybody needs tough love. 

Because your love can protect them from a lot of things, but karma isn't one them. 

DMCs

Last Sunday was an interesting day. It started of as most Sundays have been for the past two months. I woke up crying, but then again what woman doesn't? We just have different days of the week for them. 

So anyway, I woke up crying, wallowing in self pity over how my life sucks and shit isn't going my way and I never, ever get what I want and no man will ever love me and I'll never have what Brad and Angelina have (money, power, money).

After a more severe break down than usual owing to the recent break up, I dressed as only a recently broken up girl should be, unwashed jeans from the laundry and an old shirt, hair not brushed and makeup-less face. 

My friend, Asim, picked me up and lo and behold. He actually got off the car when I walked out. If there's anything we need to learn from the Brits, its how to treat a woman. He was opening doors and waiting for me to walk in first everywhere we went. I felt like a princess.

I was actually expecting a very low key day. No serious talks, no meaning of life discussions. I've been having those with myself a lot lately. Besides, everyone knows the meaning of life is 42. Or, as an anonymous friend likes to say, 69. 

However, the stove didn't work as is the way of life in third world countries. You're hungry and you can either afford the food or the gas. As a nation, we take Dorothy Parker's quote very much to hear. "Take care of the luxuries and the necessities will take care of themselves."

Gas Be Damned

 So what else was there, but to heat up some leftover pizza and talk about the meaning of life or as Asim calls them, Deep Meaningful Conversations. Its that kind of a house you know, with bay windows and balconies looking out to the ocean. How can one talk about anything except life issues. It will also be a very good place to have a party and get down and dirty.

I can't really mention what discussion took place. I believe that would be an invasion of privacy and even though we, as a nation, don't understand the concept of privacy I think I should keep my mouth shut. I guess I should be grateful. Not only did I get free chicken and pasta (how can I not appreciate free food) I also got a lot of perspective on things as a whole. 

a) Life sucks for everyone, even for those delusional people who think it doesn't

b) Things could be worse. I could have been married to a crack head. 

c) Even break up me is pretty damn good looking

Never Looked Better

d) Always check your stove before inviting people over for lunch

e) When you move into a new house, always buy a dustpan when you're going to have clumsy people over for lunch. 

f) Nothing is more beautiful and peaceful than a sun setting over the beach. 

g) Everyone, even the people you think who have it all figured out, have broken hearts and crushed dreams and we are all just looking for a way out.

h) People sometimes do the right things and bust their asses for all the wrong damn reasons.

I just stopped for half an hour to have some rice and daal (lentil soup) and have totally lost focus now. So I'm going to call it a day. 

For all the women out there, don't put all your eggs in one bastard.

For all you men, what's it matter. You're probably thinking of Uncle jack anyway.