#her only flaw is that she never studies hindi

[phsycodesi]

When one talks about RSS who is a part of RSS, they usually only see the light side if it and agree with it’s many views and opinions. Others, who are not a part if RSS seem to lump us all in a group as complete bigot leftists. They don’t see the people in between, like me.

Me, who hates the plain homophobia and Islamophobia that exists but loves the gatherings and benefits from the discipline and personality programs. Who groans at the constant upholding of BJP, but loves the classes on sword fighting, staff wielding, lezim, band instruments, etc. Who can’t help but think of its golden years of the past and its lifelong reputation for helping those in need.

Me, who has grown up with RSS and seen both the good and bad in it, and still dutifully attends the meetings almost every Sunday to meet my friends who are NOT stuck to their phones (like most of my friends usually are) and can keep up with me in a history debate.

So, I’d prefer if you think rationally and realism that when you speak of RSS as a group and not individual exceptions of that group, you also talk of the children who don’t know better, people like my sister who knows I’m lesbian and turns a deaf ear to homophobia, and still loves the organisation for its core principles and values. Who still loves the events and festivals we celebrate.

This is the same sister, I tell you, who loves watching Minecraft with a burning passion, has had muslim friends in school and who misses the sounds of the mosque outside our windows when we still lived in Mumbai.

I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you're an idiot if you think we're all bad apples. Again, sorry for calling you that but something needs to be said.

[asterigos]

GENERAL INFORMATION

► FULL NAME: Jayesh Patel ► NICKNAMES: Jay ► GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Man (He/Him) ► AGE: 38 ► BIRTHDAY: August 30 ► SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual ► OCCUPATION: Owner of a major sports team / Pâtissier

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

► RELIGION: Agnostic ► EDUCATION LEVEL: B.A. in Business Economics ► ECONOMIC STATUS: Wealthy ► SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English (fluent), Hindi (fluent)

PERSONALITY

► JUNG TYPE: INTJ ► ENNEAGRAM: Type 9w1 ► MORAL ALIGNMENT: Lawful Neutral ► TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic ► QUALITIES: Creative, Loving, Meticulous, Nurturing, Punctual ► FLAWS: Dismissive, Irritable, Passive, Self-destructive, Tense

APPEARANCE

► FACE CLAIM: Rahul Kohli ► HEIGHT: 6'4" ► EYE COLOR: Brown ► HAIR COLOR: Brunette (dark) ► TATTOOS: None ► SCARS: None ► PIERCINGS: None

BIOGRAPHY

Trigger Warning(s): bullying, toxic masculinity

Jayesh was a fortunate child who was born into wealth, but with the money came the expectation of having a certain image. He was an obedient son, but he always wondered if the values being pushed upon him were the only correct ones and if that was all there was to life.

His father was owner of The Lakers and he never let anyone forget it. All Hamid seemed to be able to talk about was sports, gossip about other team owners, the players, and the managers. Sports was Hamid’s entire personality, which was wrapped up in toxic masculinity that Jayesh later came to the conclusion must’ve come with the territory of athletics. Hamid taught him to always be tough and act tough, never to show emotions and never ever cry. Crying was the ultimate show of weakness as was any other gentleness. Jayesh already knew at a young age this wasn’t going to work for him. Hiding frustration and sadness behind a mask of cacophonous anger and elation behind a false sense of pride proved to be more difficult for him to adopt than his father had liked, and oftentimes Jayesh found himself enduring the deafening tirades his father shouted at him for it. This led to Jayesh losing his enthusiastic personality as a young boy and became more withdrawn and quiet.

School was his escape, but only to an extent. His peers treated him either in foolish and undeserved reverence or picked on him and pushed him into lockers taunting him to have his father come put them in their places. His sister was of no help as she often spoke poorly of him in order to make herself look better. When Jayesh mentioned this to his mother she only shook her head and told him he would have to learn to deal with the problem himself. His father told him to “man up” and fight back.

Getting his degree in business economics was something of his parents’ choice rather than his own, but it kept them off his backs somewhat so long as he also did well, which he did. Jayesh began to frequent bars and lounges, hooking up with people whose names he didn’t and never would know. It never meant anything, after all. Hamid began to interrogate Jayesh asking why he never had a girlfriend or wasn’t pursuing anyone, and Jayesh never had a satisfactory answer beyond focusing on his studies. Once he was known to be a ‘player’ in college his father would slap him on the back with approval telling Jayesh that he had to enjoy his youth while he could by engaging in relationships and parties. None of this was anything Jayesh wanted for himself, but continued to maintain the image of otherwise.

It was during his time in college when Jayesh picked up a job at a patisserie and fell in love baking cakes and making chocolates, turning basic desserts into incredible works of art. This was what he discovered he wanted to do, but he knew his family would never allow it. They barely even accepted him picking up the job at all as it was.

When he graduated Hamid had Jayesh shadow him as he was taught the ropes of owning a world-famous sports team. Jayesh couldn’t have cared less, but he absorbed the information as best he could until one day Hamid told him it was time Jayesh become “a real man” and passed ownership of the team to Jayesh. Hamid told Jayesh this would teach him what it meant to be a man and to help him toughen up as he had always thought Jayesh was still a little too gentle. Jayesh felt cursed and without a way out of the predicament.

While he continues to do his best, or at least put in three-quarters of his best effort, Jayesh never stopped dreaming of being a pâtissier and would practice the craft in his home that he bought himself with a spacious kitchen.

RELATIONSHIPS

► MOTHER: Hamid Patel (real-estate agent) ► FATHER: Hamid Patel (retired; former sports team owner) ► SIBLINGS: Inaya Patel (interior designer)

MISC. INFORMATION

► Hates sports. He’d much rather be in his large kitchen at home baking. ► Always happy to share baked goods as he can’t possibly eat everything he makes by himself. Get him on the topic of baking and he’ll light up and become much more enthusiastic. ► Doesn’t like talking about sports but because his profession requires him to all his responses come off scripted, bored, and dismissive when that’s not who he really is as a person. ► To distract himself from the hollowness he feels he has he frequents bars and lounges and has meaningless hookups and flings when he doesn’t have the time to bake. However, this makes him feel even worse about himself.

[humangods]

GENERAL INFORMATION

► FULL NAME: Jayesh Patel ► NICKNAMES: Jay ► GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Man (He/Him) ► AGE: 38 ► BIRTHDAY: August 30 ► SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual ► OCCUPATION: Owner of a sports team

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

► RELIGION: Agnostic ► EDUCATION LEVEL: B.A. in Business Economics ► ECONOMIC STATUS: Wealthy ► SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English (fluent), Hindi (fluent)

PERSONALITY

► JUNG TYPE: INTJ ► ENNEAGRAM: Type 9w1 ► MORAL ALIGNMENT: Lawful Neutral ► TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic ► QUALITIES: Creative, Loving, Meticulous, Nurturing, Punctual ► FLAWS: Dismissive, Irritable, Passive, Self-destructive, Tense

APPEARANCE

► FACE CLAIM: Rahul Kohli ► HEIGHT: 6'4" ► EYE COLOR: Brown ► HAIR COLOR: Brunette (dark) ► TATTOOS: None ► SCARS: None ► PIERCINGS: None

BIOGRAPHY

Trigger Warning(s): bullying, toxic masculinity

Jayesh was a fortunate child who was born into wealth, but with the money came the expectation of having a certain image. He was an obedient son, but he always wondered if the values being pushed upon him were the only correct ones and if that was all there was to life.

His father was owner of The Lakers and he never let anyone forget it. All Hamid seemed to be able to talk about was sports, gossip about other team owners, the players, and the managers. Sports was Hamid’s entire personality, which was wrapped up in toxic masculinity that Jayesh later came to the conclusion must’ve come with the territory of athletics. Hamid taught him to always be tough and act tough, never to show emotions and never ever cry. Crying was the ultimate show of weakness as was any other gentleness. Jayesh already knew at a young age this wasn’t going to work for him. Hiding frustration and sadness behind a mask of cacophonous anger and elation behind a false sense of pride proved to be more difficult for him to adopt than his father had liked, and oftentimes Jayesh found himself enduring the deafening tirades his father shouted at him for it. This led to Jayesh losing his enthusiastic personality as a young boy and became more withdrawn and quiet.

School was his escape, but only to an extent. His peers treated him either in foolish and undeserved reverence or picked on him and pushed him into lockers taunting him to have his father come put them in their places. His sister was of no help as she often spoke poorly of him in order to make herself look better. When Jayesh mentioned this to his mother she only shook her head and told him he would have to learn to deal with the problem himself. His father told him to “man up” and fight back.

Getting his degree in business economics was something of his parents’ choice rather than his own, but it kept them off his backs somewhat so long as he also did well, which he did. Jayesh began to frequent bars and lounges, hooking up with people whose names he didn’t and never would know. It never meant anything, after all. Hamid began to interrogate Jayesh asking why he never had a girlfriend or wasn’t pursuing anyone, and Jayesh never had a satisfactory answer beyond focusing on his studies. Once he was known to be a ‘player’ in college his father would slap him on the back with approval telling Jayesh that he had to enjoy his youth while he could by engaging in relationships and parties. None of this was anything Jayesh wanted for himself, but continued to maintain the image of otherwise.

It was during his time in college when Jayesh picked up a job at a patisserie and fell in love baking cakes and making chocolates, turning basic desserts into incredible works of art. This was what he discovered he wanted to do, but he knew his family would never allow it. They barely even accepted him picking up the job at all as it was.

When he graduated Hamid had Jayesh shadow him as he was taught the ropes of owning a world-famous sports team. Jayesh couldn’t have cared less, but he absorbed the information as best he could until one day Hamid told him it was time Jayesh become “a real man” and passed ownership of the team to Jayesh. Hamid told Jayesh this would teach him what it meant to be a man and to help him toughen up as he had always thought Jayesh was still a little too gentle. Jayesh felt cursed and without a way out of the predicament.

While he continues to do his best, or at least put in three-quarters of his best effort, Jayesh never stopped dreaming of being a pâtissier and would practice the craft in his home that he bought himself with a spacious kitchen.

RELATIONSHIPS

► MOTHER: Hamid Patel (real-estate agent) ► FATHER: Hamid Patel (retired; former sports team owner) ► SIBLINGS: Inaya Patel (interior designer)

MISC. INFORMATION

► Hates basketball and not a sporty person in general. He’d much rather be in his large kitchen at home baking. ► Always happy to share baked goods as he can’t possibly eat everything he makes by himself. Get him on the topic of baking and he’ll light up and become much more enthusiastic. ► Doesn’t like talking about sports but because his profession requires him to all his responses come off scripted, bored, and dismissive when that’s not who he really is as a person. ► To distract himself from the hollowness he feels he has he frequents bars and lounges and has meaningless hookups and flings when he doesn’t have the time to bake. However, this makes him feel even worse about himself.

[newamsterdame]

a deadly education is tone-deaf at best and racist at worse; not the cure to jkr anyone was hoping for

Harry Potter’s massive cultural impact means that we haven’t seen the last of magic schools set in Britain, and we probably won’t for a long while. In some ways, the fantasy genre’s response to Rowling’s work is tiresome. In others, it’s exciting—because a generation of readers and writers have grown up to bring their own perspective to the limits of Rowling’s work and push it beyond the limits of its author. However, if you’re looking for a transgressive magic academy book that interrogates the limited morality, inclusivity, and perspective of Harry Potter, you should put Naomi Novik’s A Deadly Education back on the shelf and keep looking.

A Deadly Education tells the story of Galadriel “El” Higgins, a half-British half-Indian sorcerer attending a magic school where the consequences of any mistake might mean sudden death. El is a loner by nature and circumstance, but walking alone in the halls of Scholomance might mean being attacked and devoured by one of the school’s monsters. This puts El on a crash course with Orion Lake, the shining hero of her year who takes it upon himself to save the lives of his fellow students, including a less-than-grateful El.

The set up honestly sounds pretty good—a prickly protagonist, a heroic rival-slash-love interest, a deadly setting, and the potential for deep lore in magic and world-building. Unfortunately, not only does Novik fail to deliver on any of the premises’ strengths, she also chooses to weigh her narrative down with reductive, tone-deaf, and downright racist details.

El’s particular class of magic relies on language. El speaks English and Marathi, and picks up Sanskrit, Hindi, Latin and Old English in her study of language-based spells. It’s a little uncomfortable that Novik lumps dead and defunct languages like Latin and Old English together with actively spoken ones like Mandarin, Hindi, and Spanish, but that isn’t where Novik’s faux paus end. El approaches languages like computer programs to be downloaded onto her hard drive. Despite languages being the basis of her magic, she has no personal connections to the ones she’s speaking. She views other students and their languages the same way, identifying groups of students as “the Mandarin speakers”, “the Arabic speakers,” etc. Novik seems clueless about the relationships between the languages she’s building her world’s magic around, putting Sanskrit tombs in Baghdad and declaring that the Scholomance has a library aisle containing all of India’s languages. (About 800 individual languages are spoken in India, fyi.)

This clinical approach to diversity extends from language into character. El doesn’t try to make many friends, and honestly it’s not hard to see her classmates don’t try to befriend her, either. She doesn’t describe her classmates as people—she describes them as assets. And while that could be explained away by the premise that half her classmates won’t make it out of school alive, and El needs allies more than friends to survive, it doesn’t make it any better when El refers to others exclusively by the language knowledge they offer her. A character named Ibrahim has no personality or backstory, but he conveniently pops up when El needs someone who knows Arabic. A character named Kaito is thoughtlessly grouped in with the Mandarin speakers. An Argentine character exclaims in Spanish when she’s excited or relieved. There’s an uncomfortable distinction between the languages that get written out in the text—Spanish, French—and the ones that get narrated away—a character exclaims in Mandarin.

Novik goes out of her way to let us know that the population of Scholomance is diverse. There’s a group of South and West African students (only one of whom is named, and none of whom are important). There’s a “civilized” enclave of magicians in Toronto who value family and human life more than other groups. One character might graduate and go to Bangkok, but he’s looking to secure himself a place in Shanghai instead. Naomi Novik really knows the names of cities on at least four continents, and she’s not about to let you forget it!

But aside from names, languages, and cities, Novik has given no thought to what diversity means, or who these characters are if they come from diverse backgrounds. El calls on “Mandarin-speaker,” Yi Liu, exclusively by the name Liu. Is Liu meant to be this character’s first name? Or her surname? El doesn’t call anyone else by surname, but Liu is a Chinese surname, one of the most common in the world. El’s father is a Marathi-speaker from Mumbai, but El has no personal connection to Indian culture. Her father’s family prophesied that El would be a destroyer, and other than that rejection El has nothing to say about India or half of her culture. She refers to her Indian relatives in clinical English descriptors (my father’s mother, my great-grandmother, my uncles), even though she is purportedly fluent in Marathi and should know words like Panaji, Aaji and Kaka. El says that her Indian family is from an old Hindu enclave, and yet they have djinn as servants. (Djinn aren’t a typical part of Hindu cosmology, though they are a significant part of Islamic texts.)

Making El biracial seems like an afterthought, not something that affects her character in any way. It just creates some truly unfortunate optics, like when El goes on a three-paragraph description of how unnecessary she finds showers and how dirty she is at any given time. El’s father died making sure her pregnant mother (and therefore, El herself) would live, and yet El barely thinks about him. His name is mentioned once in the entire book. El complains that (presumably white) British people “assume she speaks Hindi” or call her the color of weak tea. But her Indian heritage is a veneer placed on top of a character who is otherwise just a default white protagonist.

All this adds up to a character (and a world), that reads as nothing so much as colonial. El feasts on the languages of others for her own edification, power, and survival, but she doesn’t see her classmates as people, and she doesn’t see language as a living thing related to real cultures. And I’m given to believe that Naomi Novik holds the same views, what with how she throws around the word “mana” as part of her world-building without considering its roots and real-life meaning to Polynesian and Melanesian peoples.

However, nothing makes the cultural tone-deafness of this book more evident than this passage:

Dreadlocks are unfortunately not a great idea thanks to lockleeches, which you can probably imagine, but in case you need help, the adult spindly thing comes quietly down at night and pokes an ovipositor into any big clumps of hair, lays an egg inside, and creeps away. A little while later the leech hatches inside its comfy nest, attaches itself to your scalp almost unnoticeably, and starts very gently sucking up your blood and mana while infiltrating further. If you don’t get it out within a week or two, it usually manages to work its way inside the skull, and you’ve got a window of a few days after that before you stop being able to move. On the bright side, something else usually finishes you off quickly at that point.

El’s pithy commentary about imminent death aside, I have a hard time reading anything but casual and thoughtless racism from this passage. The nefarious and deliberate myth of dreadlocks being unhygienic (and by extension, Black people being endemically dirty) is pervasive to this day. And Naomi Novik decides to include this passage in a book that has no major Black characters, in which dreadlocks never even come up in any meaningful way, just to remind us that in this magic world of hers, dreadlocks are dirty! Monster insects nest in them! The consequences are death! There was no good reason to include this passage, and all it does is draw on inaccurate and racist myths and perpetuate them into a world where anti-Black racism is never contended with. Although, I suppose, why would it? El never has need of any languages from the West or South Africans.

A Deadly Education bills itself as a subversive, even feminist, response to Harry Potter. But just like J. K. Rowling, Naomi Novik is a white author who uses other cultures thoughtlessly to build her own magic world. Other cultures and peoples exist, but only to serve the aims and needs of white (or mostly white-coded) characters. Novik has no empathy, no care and apparently no ability to Google anything about the cultures she wants to draw on. And the result isn’t just insulting—it’s boring. The world-building in this book is as dry and dusty as any history written by 19th century British colonizers.

Using some foreign names and making your protagonist biracial does not shield your work from racism. It does open you up to more pitfalls in depicting other peoples and cultures, if you don’t care to look out for them.

It would be nice to close by saying that despite its flaws, A Deadly Education is an enjoyable book. But it isn’t. It’s just a badly-researched, emotionless story told by rote.

[wecouldbelongtogether]

Not your typical love story because a girl woke up and fell in love with a gay sweetheart. It's a tough journey.

I'm a bisexual girl who happens to like girls a lot. I had two ex girlfriends and zero boyfriends in the past though I dated a few guys too. For the past years, some people considered me as lesbian already as my interest in men almost hit the rock bottom while women gets my attention effortlessly. As I get to meet more people and evaluate myself, I kinda realize maybe I'm demisexual or something. It's so easy to be interested with anyone but it's a different story to fall in love with someone.

I have this circle of friends at school called marupokswhom I am badly attached and close to. We go on adventures together, share little secrets, get drunk, sneak out, cry together and I have to say that there is one special person in my circle, let's name him 'K'.

Let's drop the bomb, K is gay. Not the guy looking gay but he is very gay. The moment he speaks, the moment he moves, the moment you hear him, you know he is that gay. So cute.

In our circle, we have bisexual guys too who acts feminine too but I have to say that K is the girliest of them all, maybe even girlier than the other real girls in our squad lol. Still cute.

K and I? We weren't really close. We share jokes — he is witty and very funny — and stories and hang out but we're not that tight. If you leave us together in a room — just us — there might be some awkward silence. You know?

I don't really pay attention to him that much, he was just a normal school friend before though there are times he is there drinking with me and some of our mutuals, he heard my tragic story about my ex girlfriend, he heard the complicated stuffs about me and my love life and my mind bleh. He's a good listener in my opinion, but then one day I woke up and asked myself: He always listen, not just to me but to each of the squad's stories, but did I ever try to listen to him? That's the time I started to notice him.

His eyelashes are so long, his skin glows, it fascinates me to stare at him when he talks. Our squad is composed of about 11 members so it's kinda hard to speak in big groups, some won't pay attention, some gets distracted, some may not even know you're speaking but when he speaks, I try my best to listen. And then I knew a little bit about his story.

He's either sleeping or laughing or smiling. But then behind those happy and sleepy bean, there is another book.

A broken family that he keeps wishing to be complete again. Struggles in life to survive this cruel world. He needed to work while studying to help his family and himself. Jeez. I can't imagine myself being in such situation considering that I am so lazy and my family are well and stable, we never really had financial problems or anything related to that.

I remember what K said, he was like the mother and father to his own family. Masyadong maaga pa but he had no choice. Sucks. Now he works at a fast food chain — Jollibee, my favorite, lol!

You know what's so fascinating about it? He loves his work. I don't think it's just because of the money he earns from it but he is that appreciative kind of person. Maybe he appreciates his colleagues, his manager, the fast food chain itself, the operations, the memories that he learned to naturally love what he is doing. Imagine that? Instead of cursing and going like "Hay nako may duty nanaman ako." He goes like "May duty ako." There's a difference.

I can feel his passion and care for the place he works on. It's amusing and sweet at the same time. He is really appreciative of things — very.

He also do sidelines to earn, that's so diligent of him. I remember him selling coin banks. Ang sipag samantalang ako tamad tamad. Lol! He is also a student council treasurer of our school's organization ACES-PICE. Btw, he won the elections by a super landslide (I'm so proud! He deserves all the votes yessssss!!) He hosts civil engineering events on our school too even without any talent fee — just love. Ain't he the nicest?

Last year, November 2018 we had a ball and he hosted it. He had a co-host and it irked me to hear that there was an instance where a student officer handed a food for his co-host and had nothing for K. Jesus. What the actual fuck? She even asked K to hand the food to his co-host.

Man, I saw all K's efforts for that whole week, for that whole event, he hosted the event without asking for any fee but to treat him like that, like "Wag ka na bigyan ng pagkain, sayang budget."

Where's the appreciation? Where's the consideration.

Ano ba naman yung kahit food nalang oh. Sick. Don't get me wrong but that student officer is a trash. Sorry not sorry. I'm so angry lol.

As a busy officer that night, I still managed to eat at the buffet, K was so occupied with the hosting and the only time he was able to munch something was when I brought my plate backstage and he had a few bites of my food. I hate that I wasn't able to do anything for him that time. Ugh.

After that night, I appreciated him more as a person. I didn't have heavy feelings yet but I barely noticed that the path I was taking was on the way there.

I started with throwing banats and cheesy jokes on him on our group chat. Our friends laugh at us a lot because I am their friend that they can't imagine being with a guy more because I AM THAT INTO GIRLS FOR ALMOST MY WHOLE LIFE and K is so gay that he's like created by the heavens for a guy. Then it went on and on then one day I realized, I really like this person.

I went crazy. I locked myself in a room and evaluated myself and my feelings. Maybe I'm lost? It's just a crush but no it wasn't JUST a crush. I kept it for myself for a while. I never saw it coming — me liking a friend who is gay who is biologically a man. That is like against all my rules and against the norm.

I remained silent. I didn't want to make things awkward but people were right. The more you hide what you feel, the more it demands to manifest.

Then I couldn't take it anymore. I had to tell someone about it and I told one of the marupoks, Abbi, about it (love her). She was startled because as I've said, it was against all my rules and the norm but she is the most understanding and open minded person in our group, she knew how great K is and there is literally nothing not to like about him.

Then I continued to keep all my feelings to myself. Some of the squad started to ask me who am I blushing to, who is my crush but I kept it hidden and when I drop K's name, they won't take it seriously. I thought it was a good coincidence.

I gave him a polo top as a Christmas gift from H&M. I thought of buying it because I remember one time he showed me a polo top from a shop (I forgot) and he looked so amused by it. Hindi naman siya maluho that's why I thought it wouldn't hurt to buy him something he can use and might like, right?

Man, it's been ages since I felt that feeling. You know? Going to a mall and thinking what is a good thing to buy for him? This looks good on him? He might like this. I forgot myself and that's so rare.

My friends think I'm joking whenever I put efforts for K but the truth is I'm actually expressing. I thought maybe K would find it as a joke too because I've been very playful with him ever since but then as days go by, I don't know if I'm getting off guard or if he is just that sensitive to notice. Some of them started to worry about me.

Baka masaktan ka.

'pag ikaw umiyak—

Control control lang.

I always tell them he's just my happy crush but I knew I was in love.

HOW WEIRD IS MY LOVE FOR K?

I knew I was when I thought about rejection but I was ready for the pain he might cause and I wasn't afraid of it. I knew I was in love when I didn't care if he tells me he doesn't feel the same way because the only thing I want is for him to know.

I didn't want him to know because I want to oblige him to love me back or to pressure him to reciprocate what I do, I just wanted him to know that there is someone believing in him, there is someone appreciating him, there is someone out there loving him for who he is because that's what he deserves.

You deserve all the love in the world.

I always tell him.

He said he was so touched when I said it to him the first time but I always wonder why nobody has told him that yet or why isn't there anyone reminding him that? Jesus. He's so wonderful, it hurts.

Ever since I had my heart broken from my first girlfriend, I've been very wary of the people I date and people I get interested to. My walls went so high, I may get interested but when I see one flaw in the person I date, I tend to just choose giving up and stopping everything because I was traumatized by my past. I was destroyed when I gave almost everything to my former love, courted her for half a year even if she was straight. Nabasted for a couple of times but I thought she was worth the struggles, I won her but then she just ended up cheating on me after being with me for two years. I just find it hard to be interested with someone and trust them completely. I was tainted, I had trust issues with everyone thinking they will just all end up hurting me like my ex.

I dated a lot of people but honestly, I haven't felt the strong admiration I had for my ex to anyone until K came along. He was special, even I was surprised.

Akala ko di na ako makakafeel ng ganitong kilig, ganitong devotion and determination for someone. I even wrote a song for him. He inspired me that much.

Man, I have so much words for him. He is perfectly imperfect and I love his assets and flaws — I don't mind seeing more.

We already talked face to face.

He said he thinks I'm out of his league. I'm above him, he said. Then I told him "Eh I'm looking up to you." Hoping he'll realize that I am not in anyway out of his league and he is wonderful, don't he ever dare to put himself down.

He said he doesn't deserve me, I deserve someone better because he's just him. Common line but I know my worth. I know what I deserve but put me out of the picture — YOU are the one who deserve so much more. You're amazing.

He said when he knew that I liked him he was surprised, he couldn't believe it. Then when I started to be vocal and showy about my feelings, he had no choice but to take it in and he confessed that it overwhelms him to have someone to put so much effort on him and he just couldn't help but think of how to return the feelings, efforts and gifts. I told him I don't need him to return all of that, I don't need him to think HOW to reciprocate and return all of it, I just want him to think WHY I do all of those efforts and WHY I give him all those appreciation and surprises. Simple. Because he deserves to be treated that way, he deserves to be loved that way, he deserves to be spoiled that way.

He deserves more and all.

He once smiled with a face of disbelief as if everything he's hearing was surreal, then he asked me bakit ako? Then I laughed because I couldn't believe he had to ask why? Is life that shit to him that he doesn't know how wonderful he is? I replied bakit hindi? He was silenced. I hope he realized his worth, bakit nga ba hindi?

Then I looked at him in the eye and told him how most of the people close to the both of us ask me why do I like him, it's weird, it's unusual but then I told him alam mo kung ano sagot ko? He asked what? I told him: What is not to like about him? What is not to like?

He once told me he is afraid to take risk and he doesn't want to take risk because things might go out of hand and he doesn't wanna hurt anyone or me. I told him it's okay. He can reject me that very moment face to face and I will accept it. I told him I might be even proud na nabasted ako ng isang katulad niya knowing how great he is. I won't be ashamed of it. He is really something to be proud of. Best thing I never had.

I told him not to worry about me. If he doesn't like me back that's okay. I saw it coming already, I was half ready for it. I won't be lying but that shit hurts but what is pain? It heals and when it heals,it leaves scars and scars remind us of lessons.

I'm so enchanted. I'm in the state of wanting him so bad but I won't complain if I won't for as long as he is happy. I don't care if he reciprocates the love or not for as long as I see him smile. My walls are down for him, kahit masaktan okay lang, I'm such a masochist but the pain he is inflicting on me reminds me that I still feel and I still know what love is — thank you for that.

I have no bad words for K. I'll stick to my words. He is wonderful and I know whenever I get hurt because of him, it wasn't his intention. His intentions are pure, I trust him so much that my guards are all down.

I admit it hurts me to think one day he might find someone else but then on a second thought, I won't mind because seeing him happy is at the top of my list — masasaktan lang naman ako for a while pero at least siya forever na masaya if he finds his perfect pair, what's so bad about that?

Nevertheless, after all the talks, I knew the feeling wasn't mutual and that's okay. I told him you can reject me everyday but I won't stop putting efforts for you. Just because he didn't feel the same way for me ibig sabihin he became less wonderful? E he deserves all the love nga 'di ba? Why stop? Just because nasaktan naging hypocrite?

K is worth pursuing, K is worth fighting for.

I think he lost words already and he knew there is no way to change my mind about him so he just told me to just stay and we'll try to get through it without being weird around each other. I agreed. Kinda hard at first but kakayanin dahil yon ang gusto ni crush. I'm just a puppy. Jk.

I told him to just let me appreciate him because I'm happy, if he's in the state just not being ready, I can wait for him but alongside, I promised him that I'll stop when he finds his perfect man — I won't interfere, I'll let go, life goes on. In return, I asked him to promise me to choose the one who will treat him the way he deserves.

NEVER SETTLE FOR LESS, K! YOU DESERVE ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD. :)

[faruangeldiary]

A Real World-Freedom and Challenges

It’s been almost 1/2 month since i arrived in Malaysia for my Master program in Digital Film and TV. The best thing about living here is that i am allowed to go anywhere, wear and eat whatever i want. I have explored Malaysia by myself except Kaula Lumpur. I will visit it very soon. Currently i am living in on-campus accommodation at Cyberjaya where my University “Limkokwing University of Creative Technology” situated. 

Lets read my first journey going to another country alone. It wasn’t very easy decision to study abroad. I had to struggle with lots of things. I was not sure if i able to reach here as i had four epilepsy before coming to Malaysia (3 in August and 1 in September). My flight was on 23rd of September, 2018. I was afraid but mustered up my courage and prayed to God that my journey would become a stepping stone for recovering my disease.

When i arrived in the plane the air hostess helped me in everything which i never asked to do so till i arrived in Malaysia. Even the staff of airport accompanied me for so many hours till the guy from my university came to pick me. I was so moved by their kindness and gesture. 

 When i arrived to University then i got know that I was allotted the room at the 3rd floor and they have no lift for physically challenged students. I got shocked from this even i mentioned about my disability to the counselor so many times. The online recruitment team had also given me wrong information about fees structure and then when i arrived here, i had to paid more fees. Thanks God the head of International Student Services immediately allotted the room at the ground floor which is actually a male floor. Dont worry the male students are very respectful and helpful.

The real struggle started when i had to walk in every department in different floors to complete my registration process. I am disappointed there are no facilities available for physically challenged students not even ramp for wheel chairs. The strange thing is there are two lifts  for VIP but only one lift for us which is still not working till now. When one day i need to go to the 3rd floor, i stood in front of the VIP lift. The girl was standing and asked very rudely “Do you want to talk to me?” I replied, “I have a problem, I am physically challenged.” She didnt even let me to explain my disability. She immediately refused by saying “This lift opens to the Founder office. You cannot go.” She then looked at the guard and said “SHOW HER A WAY!”. I felt i was discriminated. I was about to cry. The guard also felt bad for me. He even called other guy from the management to let me use the elevator but he refused as well. He revealed that that girl is from Iran and she is in management. The guard felt my pain and he was a emphatic person. He asked my nationality. I said “I am from Pakistan.” He replied, “ Then we could speak in Urdu/Hindi. I know your current PM Imran Khan.” Then our conversation started. After few minutes the guy came from the lift and asked me “Do you want to use lift” and i replied. “Yes” and the gentleman gave me permission to use the lift. When i needed to use lift again and i asked Malaysian girl (from the management) for permission and she humbly let me to use the lift. I had a very rough day. I even complaint to the staff of the marketing and international student service department but they seemed helpless. The things which management supposed to provide me, my hostel mates did for me. Here for the first time in my life i celebrated Halloween and enjoyed alot.

Lets talk about the outside of Malaysia. For the first time i experienced to traveled alone in cab, visited malls, explored Sunway and meeting new people. Malaysian were so generous and kind where ever i went. I really moved by the girl when i went to Tony Moly at IOI City Mall Putrjaya. She was humble and helped me in every possible way. She even took the photo with Seo Kang Joon ( not the real one XD). 

The staff of TGV cinemas are so helpful that they take me to the hall every time i go. I had so much fun while exploring Malaysia by myself. It seems i got my freedom back. I got the chance to see favorite Korean Celebrities too. In every mall i visited, they have more facilities for physically challenged than my university provides. Even staff in malls are more cooperative than my university. I think my university should invite these malls staff to give training to the management.

If the students and Professors and guards weren’t helpful then i would have changed my university. The Professors are cooperative but you need to show your interest in course. My Pakistani class fellows scared me to death about the reputation of this university. I was starting regretting upon my decision to study here. If some other good Pakistanis fellows weren’t there for me to show the reality,i would have return back to Pakistan which i don’t want at any cause. My brother and that Pakistanis warned me to avoid such people. They always complain and don’t want someone to see ahead of them.

The message i want to give to every students who always complains

In abroad, you need to find opportunity for yourself. You need to stand out and initiate the changes you want to see. No one will ever pamper you. This is not Pakistani society where you depends on your parents. This is real world. Though i have also found flaws regarding facilities for physically challenged students otherwise the education is good. No one is ever fool enough to awarded so many awards to that University where the education is not up to at International level. 90% students are foreigners and mostly are from China. It has different campuses in Asia and London too.

The biggest challenge of mine is that I don't have prior experience of film making. Mostly students are way ahead of me. I need to cope up with them. I want to have independent life and face challenges in order to be successful in my career. No one will ever be successful if he/she has not experienced hurdles in life.

The good news is that i have not experienced any epilepsy attack even after facing so many hurdles in Malaysia. The environment around here is helping me in  recovering my disease. I hope i will get rid of it completely.

[diarrheaworldstarhiphop]

A British Islamic State fighter who carried out a suicide bombing in Iraq this week is a former Guantanamo Bay detainee who was paid £1 million compensation by the government.

Jamal al-Harith, a Muslim convert born Ronald Fiddler who detonated a car bomb at an Iraqi army base near Mosul, was released from the US detention camp in 2004 and successfully claimed compensation after saying British agents knew or were complicit in his mistreatment.

He was freed following intense lobbying by Tony Blair’s Labour government.

Al-Harith, who used the nom de guerre Abu-Zakariya al-Britani, entered Syria via Turkey in 2014 to join Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, leading to questions at the time about the monitoring of terrorist suspects.

It also raised the possibility that compensation money paid by British taxpayers had been handed on by him to Isil.

Earlier this week Isil released an image of him sitting inside the bomb car grinning broadly, with wires and what may be a detonation button in the background.

A statement released by the terrorist group said: “The martyrdom-seeking brother Abu Zakariya al-Britani - may Allah accept him - detonated his explosives-laden vehicle on a headquarters of the Rafidhi army and its militias in Tal Kisum village, southwest of Mosul.”

“Rafidha” is a derogatory term for Shiite Muslims, who Isil considers to be heretics.

His brother, Leon Jameson, told The Times Al-Harith had “wasted his life”.

He added: "I didn’t think he’d ever do anything wrong but, if he’s joining extremists, then, you know ... I’m not ashamed of him, I never will be. But it’s his own decision. I can only just give him advice if he needs any.”

The 53-year-old said his brother had been a keen sportsman in his youth, playing football, basketball and table-tennis and winning a trophy for karate when he was a teenager.

He later converted to Islam after meeting Muslim friends at a sixth form college.

“All I know is one day he brought a Quran home,” Mr Jameson told the newspaper.

“We were supportive of it, yeah,we didn’t see anything wrong with it at the time and the trouble only started later, seems like he’s been dragged into it."

The 50-year-old, originally from Manchester, was arrested by US forces in Pakistan in 2001 as a suspected Taliban sympathiser, before being sent to Guantanamo Bay in Cuba in 2002.

At the time of his release, the then home secretary David Blunkett said: “No-one who is returned...will actually be a threat to the security of the British people.”

Earlier this week Isil named him as the man who had blown himself up in the car bombing at the Iraqi army base, and released a picture of him.

Al-Harith’s wife Shukee Begum travelled to Syria with their five children to try to persuade her husband to return to the UK, but failed and was taken hostage before eventually managing to escape.

Al-Harith, the son of Jamaican immigrants, converted to Islam in the 1990s and worked as a web designer before he travelled to the Pakistani city of Quetta in 2001 for what he claimed was a religious holiday.

He has insisted he tried to enter Iran when the US invaded neighbouring Afghanistan, but was captured and imprisoned by the Taliban on suspicion of being a UK spy.

When US special forces found him in a Taliban jail, they assessed him as a “high threat to the US” who was “probably involved in a former terrorist attack against the US”.

Al-Harith’s prisoner file from Guantanamo Bay, published online by WikiLeaks, refers to him travelling to Sudan in 1992 with “Abu Bakr, a well-known al-Qaeda operative”.

After his return to the UK - where he was released without charge - he joined three other former prisoners known as the Tipton Three in a failed attempt to sue Donald Rumsfeld, the then US Defense Secretary.

His legal action against the British government was more successful, resulting in a payment of up to £1 million in return for which he agreed not to talk about his ordeal.

Cage, the controversial human rights group, still features a profile of al-Harith on a part of its old website, Cageprisoners. It reads:

Born Ronald Fiddler on November 20, 1966, to devout, churchgoing Jamaican parents, al Harith converted to Islam in his 20s after reading Malcom X's biography. He has two sisters, Maxine and Sharon.

His family say he is a gentle, quiet man who rarely spoke of his faith unless asked, and after four years learning Arabic and teaching English at Khartoum University in Sudan, he seemed happy enough to return home where he started to study nursing. At this time, he also established a computer business. He later moved back to Manchester, where he worked as an administrator in a Muslim school.

He travelled from the UK to Pakistan at the end of September 2001, retracing a journey he had made to Iran in 1993. He paid a lorry driver to take him from northern Pakistan to Iran as part of a backpacking trip, but they were stopped near the Afghan border by Taliban soldiers who saw his British passport and jailed him, in October, fearing he was a spy. He had been away from home only three weeks when he was captured.

As the operation to mop up al Qaida forces went on into the spring of 2001, he was captured by US forces while being held in Kandahar Jail. He was interrogated by the CIA in Afghanistan before being taken to Guantanamo.

He was released from Guantanamo and returned to the UK on 9th March 2004. After a few hours of questioning he was released without charge and reunited with his family. Jamal was the first of the British detainees to speak publicly about his ordeal. He married in late 2004 and has three children (aged 3,5, and 8) from a previous marriage.

Tim Loughton, a Conservative MP reportedly said: "This is a scandalous situation. So much for Tony Blair’s assurances that this extremist did not pose a security threat.

"He clearly was a risk to Britain and our security all along. It adds insult to injury that he was given £1million in compensation because of Blair’s flawed judgement that he was an innocent."

John Pugh, a Lib Dem MP, said: "This raises serious questions about the reassurances Labour gave us that this man posed no danger.

"It is a kick in the teeth that he was given a fortune in taxpayers’ money after claiming he was innocent only to flee to Islamic State and pose a risk to the UK.

"The Home Office needs to explain how he was able to leave the country so easily despite his background mixing with those at the very top of Islamic terrorism."

As many as 850 people regarded as a national security concern have travelled to fight with jihadis in the Middle East.

Just under half are thought to have returned to Britain while 15 per cent are believed to have been killed.

The Foreign Office states:

The UK has advised for some time against all travel to Syria, and against all travel to large parts of Iraq.

As all UK consular services are suspended in Syria and greatly limited in Iraq, it is extremely difficult to confirm the whereabouts and status of British nationals in these areas.

1. Mohammed Emwazi / Jihadi John

Emwazi was reported killed in a November 2015 air strike, with US forces saying they were "reasonably certain" he was dead.

Isil later released what appeared to be an obituary to the fighter, who it called Abu Muharib al-Muhajir.

It featured a smiling picture of the militant, who appeared unmasked looking towards the ground.

Emwazi shocked the world when he appeared in a video in August 2014 in which he condemned the West and appeared to behead US journalist James Foley. He emerged again in a number of other videos released by Isil, including those in which American reporter Steven Sotloff and British aid workers David Haines and Alan Henning were murdered. Kuwait-born Emwazi attended Quintin Kynaston Community Academy in north London and was described by his former head teacher as a "hard-working aspirational young man". He went on to gain a degree in information systems with business management from the University of Westminster. 2. Reyaad Khan Khan was 20 when he appeared in an Isil propaganda video titled, There Is No Life Without Jihad, in June last year together with two other Britons urging Westerners to join the war. The man, from Cardiff, is thought to have travelled to fight in Syria late in 2013. His Facebook page revealed that he was a Chelsea FC fan who enjoyed playing computer games FIFA 12 and Call Of Duty. After appearing in the video with a Kalashnikov assault rifle against his shoulder his mother said she believed he had been "brainwashed" into joining Isil.

In a direct appeal to her son, the woman, who asked to remain unnamed, sobbed as she said: "Reyaad, please come back home. I'm dying for you. You're my only son." Before leaving for Syria, Khan attended Cardiff's Al-Manar Centre (ACT) together with Nasser Muthana, who was also filmed for the Isil recruitment video. The mosque denied the pair had been taught extremist views there and blamed the internet as an "alarming source for radicalisation". David Cameron, the then Prime Minister, said Khan had been killed on August 21 2015 when he was targeted by an RAF remotely piloted aircraft while travelling in a vehicle in Raqqah, Syria. 3. Ruhul Amin Amin, 26, featured alongside Khan and Muthana in the 13-minute Isil recruitment video under the name Brother Abu Bara al Hindi. Wearing sunglasses and a white headscarf, he could be heard saying: "Are you willing to sacrifice the fat job you've got, the big car, the family you have? "Are you willing to sacrifice this, for the sake of Allah? If you do Allah will give you back 700 times more." Also known as Abdul Raqib Amin, he was born in Bangladesh and grew up in Aberdeen before reportedly moving with his family to Leicester.

In July 2014 he boasted on ITV's Good Morning Britain that he had been "involved in a few combats" in Syria. Explaining the moment he left Britain, he said: "I left the house with the intention of not to go back. I'm going to stay and fight until the (caliphate) is established, or I die." A leading member of Aberdeen's Muslim community, who did not want to be identified, said he was not someone who "stood out in any particular way". He was killed in the same airstrike as Khan. 4. Junaid Hussain Computer hacker Hussain was described as a key Isil operative before he was killed by a US drone strike on August 24 2016. The 21-year-old, from Birmingham, was said to have been number three on the Pentagon's "kill list" of Isil targets. It is believed that he fled Britain to travel to Syria in 2013, and in June last year he was linked to a plot to attack an Armed Forces Day parade in south London.

The plan to explode a pressure cooker bomb - killing soldiers and bystanders on the route - was reportedly foiled after Hussain unwittingly recruited an undercover investigator from The Sun to carry it out.In June 2012, aged 18, Hussain was jailed for six months after he admitted making prank calls to a counter-terror hotline and publishing former prime minister Tony Blair's address book.He was a member of TeaMpOisoN (TeamPoison), a group which claimed responsibility for more than 1,400 offences where personal and private information has been illegally extracted from victims in the UK and around the world.Hussain was reportedly married to a Muslim convert named as Sally Jones, a mother-of-two from Kent who once was a member of an all-girl punk rock group.

[nbareadathon-blog]

1973 Winner: The Siege of Krishnapur

This was the second book in J.G. Farrell’s Empire Trilogy and this was also the book he won the Booker Prize for while he was alive. It is my favorite of the books I have read thus far. It tells the story of a Victorian outpost that gets besieged during the Sepoy Mutiny. Once more, it’s interesting reading books about a crumbling empire during this time in American history where I feel like all the ideals I grew up with are completely gone. Apparently right now Americans are the most pessimistic we have been in the modern era, and with good reason. All of the hubris of these characters in this book are like literal slaps across the face. “You think your culture is superior, we are going to literally watch you slowly perish.” The Sepoy Mutiny was caused when British people suggested using animal lard from both cows and pigs to grease their guns. This angered both the Muslim and Hindu population- this is what I have heard and I’m sure it’s much more complex and due to all kinds of the toxicity of colonialism. Farrell never really described what happened and like in Troubles-the arrogant English are completely taken aback. What makes the book even more interesting were the Victorian values which were horrific.

Sidebar-I am a white woman but I have known people of Indian descent since I was 5. My father’s best friend from grad school was from India and I spent time in my childhood between my childhood best friend and Ragu with Indian people. I grew up in a community with a large Indian population as well. Needless to say, I have been fascinated with Indian culture since I was little. I remember watching “The Jungle Book” and my Dad being like “that’s where Ragu is from.” I had so many questions. He told us about all the poisonous snakes in India and then in class we saw Rikki Tikki Tavi and it proved to me that snakes were evil #stillafraid. I wore bindis in middle school and I did own a sari that I wore to a family function with my best friend. In 2017, I am aware of how problematic Rudyard Kipling and the Secret Garden were. I’m trying to be aware of cultural appropriation. If you want your mind blown, watch The Story of India which is amazing. I learned about the amazing scientific discoveries and beautiful art that they never get credit for in Western society. I learned about how the Hindi language and English are from the same original language. As a Western woman who knew actual Indian people but only learned about them in school through Victorian English people, we learned so many things wrong. Also, after my father passed his friend Ragu wrote us the sweetest most thoughtful letter. I posted a picture of my son and Ragu said “100% again” which is something my Dad used to say when everyone was together. I am so lucky to know him.

Anyway, this book...it’s not a fun read although it has some really funny parts. The things that stuck out to me were hubris and callousness of the besieged, the insistence on possessions (in the beginnings of mass production), the treatment of women, and the issues of science. There is a character who is a fallen woman who wanted to kill herself after losing her “honor.” Apparently, she may have simply let a man kiss her. She was totally shunned by the other women and had to stay in her own space. Such was the idea of womanly “purity” back then. It was really gross and their meanness to her was a way that a lot of the women kept the rigid hierarchy going during the siege. But let’s get gory and talk science. I am absolutely fascinated by how science evolves and they talked about evolution. As someone who grew up with it, I didn’t understand how people could fight it so hard. Growing up in Southern Ohio, it was still controversial (sigh) but the Padre used the perfection of animals as proof of God. It also worked in justifying the hierarchy of things. I also loved how Fleury was a mopey poet and how that was going out of style. If you truly believed in a static world it would be so jarring to think of things evolving. It would put your whole worldview out of whack. The other absolutely fascinating (for me at least) was the fighting between the doctors McNab and Dunstaple. Basically Dunstable believed that cholera was spread through the air and not water. His examples were disproven evidence but he kept on shouting these old school ideas about cholera as evidence based. McNab was like “there are these things called germs and hygiene. People do not get sick because of a character flaw it’s because oftentimes poor people can’t afford better water.” People were totally confused and their huge fight-in which Dunstaple drinks “clear rice water” from a cholera patient to prove his point is absolutely fascinating. Basically, in medicine (and in other things) if there are variations in outcomes things can be changed for a better outcome. Is it difficult? Yes. Is it worth studying? Yes. I’m thinking specifically about CLABSI and how pediatrics changed the game in studying it.  I mean this is when people were discovering washing hands as preventative care. McNab makes his point using controls and variations and Dunstaple screams at him that he is liar and that he is morbid for writing down his observations and creating statistics. Once more, it was a huge cultural shift. Who do you trust and what is evidence? This logic applied to everything and you can see how it discredited colonialism. Because science involved accepting the reality anything could be possible and that the hierarchy of things was not set in stone.

I really enjoyed this book and it has stayed with me for a long time. I really suggest reading it because there are a million things to study about it. Excellent work by J.G. Farrell. He did all kinds of research on this including reading journals from people who were descendants of people who lived during the siege of Muttra. It was incredibly well researched and the setting was particularly vivid. The Collector was based on a real person who was based in Muttra. At the end of the book the Collector is asked about culture and he says something along the lines of “culture is a cosmetic for the rich.” Fascinating ideas that stick with your for a long time.

[paocaparas]

I am coming back in my lame writing world. Yihee!! So goodluck to me! New tumblr site! Lets goooo!

To start, I am giving the position of the First to my Momma, Merly Matanguihan Caparas.

Today is Mother’s Day. Yes, another year, another day that I am not with Mama on one of her special days. Let’s try to sum it up. Hmm so it’s like18 years or more. Too bad, it’s a lot and still counting.

I grew up as the only child for 6 years and I am with her all the time. Close much! I can say that she really is my first and the best teacher I ever had. She pushed me to be the best I can be, as in she’s so focus and strict that I need to perfectly write my name and read words when I was just 3 years old. Pressuuuure!! She kept on giving me all the things I need. I think she was also the one who inspired to me to travel. Lakwatsera kasi sya so no choice kelangan nya ako isama. Nonetheless, she also scolds me for all the silly things that I do and I really get a hell of punishments from her. Haha tinali kaya nyan ako sa poste!

Anyway, after so years, I had 2 siblings. She wanted to give all the best for us so she decided to go abroad. I didn’t want to. I cried a lot. I don’t know what will happen with me especially she’s not around. I told myself that I will not do good in everything and that I will be rebellious (in which di naman nangyari) so that she will come back. I started to get lazy. I did not grab any honors. She didn’t feel bad, however, she continued to support me in what I want. I know, she did everything for us. She went away just to give us what we need and for us to have a nice education. I know it’s not easy. I know it’s not your choice but you need to.

Although you’re not with us physically, I can still feel you. It sucks that you’re not there in all the special occasions of my life. It really is hard. But I guess it’s harder for you. I know you wished that you would’ve been there.

Now, I realized that I should’ve done better. I should’ve studied harder. I should’ve chose the right choices. I should’ve gave all my best in everything.

But I didn’t. And it’s okay with her. You know what, I had experienced a lot of shits and bummer in life, and every time, as in lagi lang siyang andyan. She will always say na “okay lang yan, ayus lang yan, may next time pa’, and all those encouraging words just to make me feel fine. I know she dreamt of big things for me, but until know, I feel like di pa rin sapat ang mga nagawa ko as pay back for all of her sacrifices. Ang daming “sana”. Ang sarap bumalik sa nakaraan, but I guess, this is it, and we just have to move forward. So yeah, again, I am trying to prove her that everything’s worth it.

I have come across watching Jollibee’s Mother’s Day commercial and I realized how much she means a lot to me. I could relate to everything. As in. Nakakaiyak! Here are some of the lines:

*Ma, narito ako ngayon, dahil sa walang katulad mong pagmamahal.

Yung pagmamahal na kayang tiiisin ang pagod, mapagtapos lang ako

Yung pagmamahal na kayang tiisin ang sariling gutom, maibigay lang ang gusto ko.

Yung pagmamahal na kayang itago ang lungkot para maging masaya lang kami.

Yung kayang sabihing okay lang ang lahat, wag lang bumigat ang loob ko.

Alam kong hindi naging madali para sayo pero kinaya mo ang lahat lahat.

Each word suits you ma! I could’ve give the best award to you mama. Pero sorry olats ako.

Sorry coz I couldn’t give you the life that we dreamed together. Na by this age sana wala ka na sa abroad. Sorry coz we are not there when you need a family. Sorry coz you’re still working just to help us all. Kaya naman I pray to God to bless you and guide you always. I just wished you good health. Also, I know you have flaws but we worked on it and we are still working on it. Ryt?

I would just like to thank you for everything as in sobra! Thank you for being my bestfriend, because I guess, I really can tell you anything. Thank you for being the coolest, funniest and masalaw na nanay! Thank you for the advices and for your support all the way. Thank you for surprising me with all those things that will make me happy. I will never forget all of it. I wish next time, I’ll be the one to surprise you in the best way I can. Thank you dahil lagi kitang kakampi lalo na kung badtrip ang buhay at mga tao. Thank you for pushing me to strive harder and to achieve my dreams. Thank you thank you talaga sa lahat. I may not be the perfect daughter but I love you with all my heart. I sure do. Naks! I miss you so much mothergoose!

Kaya ako, Im proud of you Merly! *pat on the back*

[searchwithin]

Memories Remain..

 Incidents that bring back long drawn memories of yesteryears.

Just like anyone else my life has seen a series of ups and downs , event after event, chapter after another, yet I sense there’s meaning to that life because I see the outline of accomplishments in little victories, little marks I made every now and then, however thin that silver line might be, well, I think it exists and that makes it worth while , worth a thought that more can be achieved which would overshadow the primes of failure(s) and decay , that has flawed the spirit just a little bit. I believe I can try….some more. And with that thought I drive out my sword and go back to the formative years when all this high end fundamental didn’t matter… and small things made massive difference.

I was a special child. Not for any medical reason but because I was born a GIRL perhaps. My first notching point as I arrived into the big bad world. My daddy couldn’t stop doting on me from the day I popped out . My mother loved me minus the fussing ( purely as it was not her character to do so ) but Dada ( my elder brother ) was the apple of her eye. Oh! How that nudged me and got my competitive spirits high as I progressed into growing years.But my struggle was NOT limited to getting Ma’s attention. I was a complicated child. Sometimes with complexes too. After all I was called the *Ugly Duckling* by my Uncle and that made me run and hide in my closet. (Why, I didn’t even like Barbara Streisand and this awful movie called Ugly Duckling ). I wasn’t a fair and beautiful Rapunzel, but a Black Beauty as my dad called me. I hated it.

Nevertheless I had my strengths , and they came out when I was with ones less fortunate or ones I could dominate into submission… my followers who loved me as a friend, and looked upto me as their Leader. I declared myself superior who could dance , sing , talk , Lead and most of all Lie most convincingly. A tool that would be most useful during growing years and later, I thought.

Superiority “ MUSIC “ 

Music had always been a vital part of my family. Infact it was the only center of agreement and gratification, although our preference varied from Rabindra Sangeet , to Pure Hindustani classical and the superior western music that my Dada liked. I remember the hundreds of vinyls he would buy from various parts of Delhi, Kolkata and where not. I displayed more pride showing them off to friends who understood nothing of Blues , Jazz , Rock and Roll, but nevertheless , it made me feel ostentatious and elite for I could boost of having a varied choice in music in front of my friends  , who were probably listening to Like a Virgin on repeat , or so I liked to believe. So , Ma always loved Rabindra Sangeet and worshiped singers who to my mind were super dull. There were times I tried my ears at ‘that kind of music’ but it soon got the better of me and I felt exhausted at its pace and sing song variation as my Dad would call it in German ,Shnulzen ( Tearjerker ). Ma tried hard that I absorb a song or two in Bangla but come on , it wasn’t western music . It wasn’t some foot tapping Abba or revolutionary John Lennon. I would sing for friends and immediately graduate to a person of another class and creed… Or So I Thought! But there was this other side of me that would enjoy shaking a leg to songs from the Hindi films. That affair with cinema and music although had to be clandestine or I would be thrown down from the pedestal I was basking in the glory of. Unpredictably, all this elevation and demotion was a wonderful imagination that I kept safeguarded in the depths of my own right. I had no clue what reality was, and how I was perceived by friends or those few I was out to impress at all times. But never mind that , I had to like what Dada likes.Period! Oh wait… Also because it was English Music.

I was fairly talented as I already have boasted of. My life’s turmoil started when I was merely 6 years old. My parents turned out to be my greatest enemies as they enrolled me for lessons in Hindustani classical and kathak ( Indian classical dance form ) besides sending me to School. Unmindful of my mothers dedication to take me for class, be it rain, thunderstrom or illness, I cribbed and cried and started learning Music and dance from the best of the Gurus the world has produced…shamelessly blaming them for spoiling my life. Growing up was getting tougher. I had this whole lot of studies which I was completely average at , and which didn’t earn me any browny points with my relatives or Uncle who doted on my Dada ( as he was such a nice obedient boy and great at academics too ) I would like to believe I was average in studies but my report card often told another story and so did my teachers. Complains and more of it. This however never injured my parents and it almost never ricochet back on me. For this I thanked them then and don’t now.One way or the other it has always got to be the parents folly. I was a mere child and if I was not doing extensively well in studies like Dada , it had to be due to all these singing and dancing lessons. I cried nights cursing god and my parents again ….that I was born a girl and that too a dark girl who looked utterly miserable in Pink and Organe and Yellow .Those were the colours of frocks my Uncle would get me from foreign countries and I could not bring myself to wear a colour that would contrast so miserably with my dark brown skin. So I cursed some more and mostly stuck to Blacks,Greys,Dark Blues… for those were the colours of my various moods too. Most often!

 It was one of the summer vacations when my dance exams were over and I awaited my results that I felt the first gleam of success. A feeling of achievement.  Late in the night while we were holidaying in Kolkata Ma received a trunk call. Dad asked to speak with me first. What had I done now ? But what I heard from the other side brought a huge grin on my otherwise glum face. I had not only passed the examination but had been awarded scholarship of Rs100 by the Institute. I excelled and then on , expected to be taken more seriously by everyone , including my parents. I always displayed confidence except during public speaking which still brings me horrors. That day was a hallmark. I conceded much without anyone’s botheration that I was no ordinary girl. I was a hidden gem , a talent as my dad always professed and assured and I started seeing some truth in the fact.

The next incident ensued adjacently as we came back from a rather dull vaction in Kolkata. I failed in Mathematics while taking a basic test for admission in one of the best schools of Delhi. I feared Math more than ghosts and spirits. This was yet another display of my confidence when I walked out and straight ahead told Ma that I would not be considered for admission here as I have flunked this dreadful subject. My mom marvelled at my accuracy. However , The following incident changed a lot of my perspective towards life and the choices I was so proud of. I was asked to wait till later and called into the Principal’s office. I thought to myself “ great! Now they want to humiliate me in public for failing “. As I entered the king sized office , I saw a king sized table and innumerable files on it and there was a beautiful vase and a bunch of scattered Rajanigandha flowers in it. As I took tiny steps forward , an Old man asked me swiftly, “ Tell me child , Why should I admit you in my school when you have failed in a crucial subject like Math?”. I was always loaded with confidence except when it concerned my skin colour and perhaps my frizzy hair and maybe that I wore spectacles and that I was just too thin. Hence I dashed a steadfast response without any deliberation , I said “ I can sing and I can dance and I write poetry, and my dad says Im a born leader and none of that requires Mathematics ”. I knew I had spoken too much too soon and it would have its repercussion. I looked on blankly at the old man…The next few moments stay with me even today and I reminisce that almost miraculous time and how it made me feel , and I have gone over it innumerable times, since it was such a big milestone in my life. It made me Value myself and think ‘ I was definitely a gifted person irrespective of that dark colour ‘. I got a small shade of character attached to me that day which perhaps enhanced to slightly advanced layer, as time passed…

I was given admission to the school with a promise to lead the choir during assembly each day. And another promise was made to the Old man ( our Principal , a great visionary who shaped that institution which churned out various prodigious artists for India ). The promise to enhance my skills further and share with my fellow students the various artistic blessing I was bestowed with. I studied there for 5 years and the day I left there , something had changed in me, something that made me wiser,  calmer, stronger, kinder and a believer in miracles. But most of all it made me take notice of that lady who had sacrificed enormously for my achievements. Yes! The lady was my Mother, and no words could outline the efforts she made to have a difficult child like me come on to the right track.

Sohi Jan 2016