Today I woke up with this strange feeling in my chest. Yes, I have cold but this is other than that. Yesterday, I deleted Twitter. Goodbye 1.5k followers of which Im sure 40% were just spam. But I was tired of talking to myself and some others who actually replied. I believe that I didn’t have anything to say that mattered. Not now while I’m still figuring life out.
As kids we fall to stand up. As (young) adults we get confused to figure ourselves out.
I hope that’s true. I have a few dreams, okay. And I’m telling it out, straight. This is probably what every one who feels they are artsy wants and you might have seen this all over the internet. But I’m putting it out there anyway, in the Universe so I can get it straight, too.
Its simple, I can write. I’m not Rushdie or Thayil to make magic, yes. And sometimes I just start typing without the knowing the story myself and like countless others, I abandon it. And it remains a word document file waiting for well, it doesn’t know itself.
I’ve travelled a lot being that cool army kid. Truth is I was the one getting into trouble for being violent, not having too many friends until we moved to Delhi where I changed full circle into a nerd and a disciplined kid with a younger sister who looked up to her. I was a very happy kid. I was never into special things like sports teams. I did a little bit of poetry, elocution and recitation events. I can sing and I also took some lessons in classical music before discontinuing it, too.
That’s when I began reading and oh God, did I love it. Enid Blyton, Nancy Drew and Harry Potter. My life was full of their characters. I also had the Disney-fangirl phase where I knew Camp Rock songs by heart and started my 14th Birthday listening to This Is Me in the first gadget I ever owned. A tiny black mp3 player I named slinky. God, why do I even remember that?
I loved coming back home for Rajma (kidney beans)and my home (trust me , I still do). Watching cartoons, playing with my sister, trying to be awesome all in all while others in my class got a life.
We left Delhi. This was the Time my parents read my personal diary *by mistake *No I’m never forgetting that, yes.
Vacations used to be my Grandparents’ place in Chennai. I used to love the place until one day we shifted there for my Senior Schooling. I did excellently in tenth grade, topped. Got an appreciation certificate from the Government. Now its part of all the other certificates that have gone missing. I try not to think about it or I’ll die. The fact that my entire existence fit in one damned folder upsets me beyond belief. Thank God college took the main certificates of passing school or they’d be gone too. My mom has my Driving licence.
I took science for majors as that was the obvious thing to do. Everyone in my family was either Humanities or Science. Commerce was unchartered waters and I was not going to be the one stepping in it. I wanted to be a doctor like all the other 4 lakh odd kids in India. But I screwed up because I was lazy, I dreamed too much and well, I’m just being honest so if You’re judging me, I don’t care. I wrote a lot of poetry then. One of it actually got published in British Councils “Inspired By Tagore” and that was my moment of glory. I met Shreemumar Varma Sir who is an excellent playwright and author besides being an amazing person. I lost my Grandmother that year and learnt the meaning of being someone, matter to people and death.
I wanted to do Drama and writing. But I chose architecture because apparently, its a professional course. Its when you enter you know you’ve got to be the best to be happy. So I toiled again. First year was agony because I was prepared to work hard and study but there was none of it. The system had trained me to be a nerd and here they were loosening us up. It took me a year to realise my reality and find a hack in the course to actually do well. And its been 2 years since then. I’m still in architecture. I still haven’t decided what next though I have a few ideas. And sometimes it makes me miserable but you have to attend classes to get the degree. I work because I’m programmed to do so. Its a scholarship seat but there’s hard earned money and hopes going in it. Sometimes when I realise my 60k – NVIDIA Graphics-Hewlitt Packard-Slim Screen-Dolby Digital-1Tb etc laptop almost costs my Dad’s entire month’s salary, I ask myself if I deserve it all. I see kids going to all these flashy places in Bengaluru. Its not like we can’t afford it. Its not our thing. I’ve been to parties and acted all cool. Felt lonely. Slept in a corner and been the first to wake up and leave. Happens every single time. So, is it because I’ve not found the right crowd or am I miswired? No its not a real word.
There are times when I’m so deep in my own craziness that only Mum can bring me up. She is this strong woman changing lives and actually making a difference. People actually come up to her and love her for everything she does.
We do things to be someone else so we are not left alone. No one’s blaming anyone. I see Cara Delevingne and all these amazing people on the internet and how figured out they are. Whatever the reasons.One day I wanna be that person. Because I’m sure there is no law in nature that states that only some people deserve to have a brilliant life while others just follow their Instagram pages. If it is, then I will change it.
I love this movie : The Science of Sleep. Its about inverting Dreams and reality. There is this character Stephanie in it. She’s this calm person living her own little creative life in a tiny apartment in Paris with all these books and things she’s made herself lying everywhere. She is happy. She smokes cigarettes but she has a piano and knows to read sheet music. She has no TV or Facebook and she is happy. She has one best friend Zoe but that’s all. Simple.
I’ve also seen Amelie Poulain. She left home once she could earn. Worked at the two windmills , had a lovely place of her own. Was a dreamer with a peaceful life. Of course life caught up with her but she ended up real nice.
Yes I love independent women in Paris. With original love stories. And Woody Allen and Wes Anderson movies.
That’s my dream. To travel, to read, to experience, to just be happy in my corner. Be able to be there when people need me. Love more. Life is not all about instagramming pictures where you are wearing Chanel and driving a Mini Coop or doing Pilates (though I need to do that). Its about being happy and not wishing for vacations.
You’re obviously doing something wrong when all you want is another vacation or holiday so you don’t have to show up in class. I have a low self image and people can’t stop talking about it. Everyone’s living their own life but they Will stop and comment. I can’t blame them. I’m lazy to my fibre and I’m doing nothing about it. I plan of doing something but something else is just waiting to happen. I have a friend who cycles to work and everywhere else. And he also writes and lives awesome. I have a friend who studies in the US and makes jewellery. A friend who is doing her Bio Tech but is into drama. One who is interning for Tommy Hilfiger. And many others.
I think I want to intern at various design places…no matter what they design, do theatre, video-log, do a TLC show where I show people places they need to get going to. Visit all the places we stayed in when I was a kid.
I’m Hoping I find my way soon. Be it travelling or writing! Or owning an apartment. But when I achieve that dream, I hope that it is what I’ve waited for. It better damned be.
I’m taking baby steps and not blaming situations. Happens to everyone. You have to make gold, anyway.
I just wanna be happy
A little something you’d like to see. Housing’s got something for you to Change your life..
– Just Another 20 Year Old: Shreya.
(Peeps at https://housing.com inspired me to share this experience with you all )