In many news

Over the years my parents have taken up different roles. For eg my Mum is and will always be doubting Thomas and my dad forever will be the encouraging coach. or thomas. :/

Its amazing how if i just have one conversation with him he manages to pull me up from the lows. I was just moping literally tearing up trying to distract myself with some crappy tv and nothing was working and i dont want to pile on the boi and i am just about to have a nice cry when he calls and i am like nah. why depress him too? but he is a persistent caller. ring ring ring ring.
So i pick up, he calls me my favorite name *insert name kutty, whats up!
Me: Nothing much cha, will talk to you later. But he wont let me hang up, he will cheer me up with random stories of his driver and his masala dosa disaster and of course he will bring up how god has meant extreeemely god things for his little girl and how i should do some kind of veg eating penance day on coming 6th of march because its our Ancestral home's temple founding ceremony.

:/ what can i say? he has his ways. soon enough i am not crying but laughing at his jokes and generally happy. Then he will want to hang up and il be all asking random questions to make him stay!! but he will say "ok ok ok sheri ok bye and sometimes say thank you :/ weird man. :)

On other hand. hmm. we have the lady who is very strange in her consoling methods. if i tell her hey guess what i got published! she will say, oh did you get paid?
Me: uhm. no?
Her: oh ok. so you know whose wedding blah blah
ME: whaa? < silent curses and mutters about i got published!!>

she is also thoroughly misguided and still lives in some world of only doctors and engineers are really succesful in life. I am done arguing that esp since i am in that sad spot thinking maybe she is right.

writing. pah.

I also doubt/ feel/think she loves my sister more. In the long term aspect of things well i could be ok with it. esp now that i am married and away etc. well ideally i would think she would love me more now that i am gone but nope. she is obsessed with my sister. you should see them, not pleasant at all. i have decided once my sisters finishes her medicine, i am taking her away. she needs a big break of alcohol, boys and smoking up. and me to supervise these activities.
Obviously mum thinks i am the worst influence over her and she also thinks i am the only one my sister will really listen too, so you see? bit of a quandary there for her. ha.

In another news. its sunday, boi is off playing cricket, i am off reading Joyce carol oates and making prawns fried for boi, i am allergic to prawns as in not symptom showing allergic just buuuuah....
and in other other news, my first univ rejection letter came in mail. official fucking rejection: sorry at this moment we are unable to offer you a spot in our creative writing bullshit. Thank you very much. and fuck you. and not like a good fuck, just a pity fuck.

kthnxbye.

hi

hi
june sys i shud eitee tisy umm stipys blog pts i mean blog pontst. posts. i wnt rrase so dt i no how foolsi i am.
oh no
lme tru again tuopsy
ufff tipsy ah yes
smiley facr :9 :( es yes :)
i manaed. mabaged. aaaah manaed aaaaah managed,. yes. uh
jnue says unc pai poassed awya. shikari sjambu. letme try rememebering kalia daklin no dakini ammoma no that wass meting else.
 oh this ia tioug, ugfff,. tough,. ie. my god. ts three mornign. solleeep. now. girl.
bye

Just a pot of happiness

Is super happy for the kid who gave her such good news today.

Just to remember the day.

To the kid and his girl.

Much much love

s

and here we go again

Dear S

Your short fiction, Because the world is a round place, will shortly appear in the Your Space section of Muse India. You may further contact Dr Kumarendra Mallick, Editor, Your Space at:kumar.muse@yahoo.com.
 
Also please email your latest passport size photo and brief profile to GSP Rao, Managing Editor, Muse India, at: 
gsprao2003@yahoo.co.in.
 
Best regards.
Atreya.

-- 

U Atreya Sarma

Editor (Short Fiction & Book Reviews)

Muse India

Rant.

Sad, analyzing of why i am the way i am plus childhood rants of misery and so on coming up. Feel free to ignore.

So not a disclaimer but i do really love my parents. These days they are not so hard to love. But they were before. Hard to love i mean.

Quick fact: This is all happening because of a stupid book. Or Amazing book, Freedom by Franzen. Tons of people dislike him but i feel him crawling under my skin writing every thing i have thought as a kid. Anyway since i might be even considering having a family of my own and also what kind of a mum i would like to be etc, this book is exceptionally horrid for me right now. But i just cant stop reading it. I keep putting it down dismayed saying " Thaaat is enough out of your franzen" only to crawl back to it.

Well to begin with i had confused parenting from two extremely confused people. They were first off too young to have kids, too ill fitted together, one was too arrogant and the other, well frankly a pain in the ass. They set off alarm bells in each other all the time. They agreed on nothing. They mocked each other. Their parents were even worse except for my maternal Grandmom. One of them was a schizophrenic and the other a henpecked poor wonderful man. They did nothing to help my running around in circles parents. In fact the evil thing from space also called Grandmom, paternal made it as worse as she could. Man, I dislike her. Anyway so these two people in a years time had me. Now, they sort of thought of me as a thing, one they would come together on with fully merging opinions, a thing that would be like their ultimate correction of all their mistakes together. Except underneath they really dint quite agree on that too.

As they continued with their antagonistic behavior i was pretty much left to my own devices. They occasionally yelled at me as a kid. But that was it. Even the yelling dint make much sense cos it was never about a specific point. It was generic yelling. He would ask me questions like what if the difference between truth and reality. :/ she would say things like women are always trampled on if they dont have a career and you, you want to be what again? A  librarian? Ha.

Fights, tears, all kinds of crap. Il be honest, i was a pretty good kid. I really wanted to please them. And i even tried, vaguely recalling but the thing was even my trying dint really get their attention. Though this sounds terribly whiny, i dont know how else to explain it, i really started grudging them initially and then started disliking them. Soon the only thing i really wanted to do was piss them off. Which i did. Brilliantly.

I dont think i could have done anything more to punish them. It was quite the worst they have ever had to handle. perverse pleasure, even to this day. This day when i have forgiven them, mostly and this day when i quite like them. And today some part of revels in the misery i inflicted on them.

And i thought, when i have kids. Il do it differently.Thoroughly differently. I thought A, is wonderful.Together we will fare brilliantly.

The nagging points are.
1. we are after all our moms. ( women mostly)
2. I am worried i will transfer some twisted values to the kids
3. With my i-got-no-attention so i am going to shower it on you will only result in negativity as in the case of girl from franzen's book.
4. I might actually not like these kids i bring up
5. I am still a very selfish manipulative person when it comes down to it. Will i still be that selfish with these poor kids?

and so on and so forth. In my worst moments with my mum, i have told her " God i hope i never turn out like you to my kids"
what a horrible thing to say and yet sadly true.

Because you know food. Me. Existence

There are quite a few pictures so, scroll down.

Boi's own invention which we called, Kibala. Its Potatoes, Bacon,Sausages and Cheese

Fish Moily:

A part of Boi's bday dinner

Boi's awesomeness called Biriyani, chicken

Boi's Roast chicken. With Bacon, for my Benefit

My Paripuvada- chai time. In memory of grandmom days and happy days

When its just me for lunch, Spinach Erissery and Pickle and one fried egg:

Noodles with pork and stir fried Broccoli and Capscicum:

and the last was fish in coconut sauce with cumin rice.

Ps; we do eat veggies, i just dont put them up here.
Yes, you are welcome to come stay with me. :)

Spidery Dreams

Why are the bad things so much easier to believe? You tell me, i suck. I gladly believe you. Well i mostly believe you.
The thing is i have absolutely no confidence. I look terribly confident but i got none. I had no self esteem too, but we are working on that for a while now so we might actually be good there.
I am the most pessimistic there could be. I wait and wait for the bad bits.

My mum as wonderful as she is. now. i think she is to blame. though of course i wont outright blame her.
I was that really spaced out kid and she was the worried nagging mum. she would be all doctor/ engineer some other crap and i would be all librarian/writer/ Journalist.
she kept telling me what a good for nothing i am. After the initial hurt bit i got over it. I am the good for nothing.cool. if it means not doing maths and science well, i am your girl! but i guess i never forgot what a good for nothing i am. Till perhaps this moment.

So the best thing that could happen to me in terms of a career or passion might actually happen. I wont jinx it by saying it out aloud and making you all happy for me. but as soon as i know il put it up. But the best thing could happen and i still cant believe. i cant buy that someone other than my dad, A, and P thinks i could be good. No exaggerations but I, stunned.

Maybe i am not not-good for nothing. whoa, there is a thought. 

An Art

Then

Because then fighting was an art, one that you pursued actively, giving it your all each time it happened. You picked them out neatly and carefully, chose your moments, planting words in the other persons mouth and then shooting accusing dagger looks when they spilt them out, the confusion in their eyes spurring you on.
Then you fought because you wanted to win and you won. Because you didn't give a shit about the person. You told yourself maintain eye contact, stare hard, dont fumble, sometimes you even practised them prior. Yes, you were sick like that. Twisted in pleasure.

Your spine upright, very aware of the hair standing upright on the back of your neck. Obscene words, each one landing where it hurts.Glee, terrifying glee that accompanied their defeat. You almost never lost a fight. You picked on them more when they finally, in an last attempt, a last resort told you- Why are you like this. I love you.

The disgust in your eyes that someone would use those words to win a fight. Yes you were sick enough to think that there was no other reason they would say that. That they might actually be in love with you, never once crossed your mind. You were so held up in building up the barricades.

They looked to you like wilting flowers. Flowers that were so beautiful  but alas grew in places where no one ever visited, they bloomed regularly hoping this time someone would notice the way the suns rays caught their petals, wishing for a photographer to capture the morning dew drip off in a single drop. A beautiful pearl drop. They grew sometimes on the downside of dangerous cliffs. Places where you never see them, unless of course you were on a suicide mission and you were jump off this cliff. And as you went down, you glanced at them. In that moment you wished for your feet to be planted right on earth and not tumbling through air, hurling downwards, spiralling out of control. In that moment you wished you hadn't jumped, you wished you had stuck on and tried harder but the truth is. You did not.

Now

Now you have lost the will to fight.In fact you want to avoid it as much as possible. Because when you hurt him, you end up hurting more. Its pointless you know. Nothing is worth the defeat in his eyes.Even then the old flame that you have quelled, torches up sometimes. In unpredictable moments it flames up. But you kill it slowly.slowly you let it die. You are no longer that person and he isnt just any other guy.

Well, there you go.

We have a winner

I am accepting your story for the Feb issue, which will be up tonight. I was wondering though, when i put it on the page, there was an anchor there. Can you tell me what that was for? I deleted it of course.



Chris


Tada: Thus ends the Saga of The same world. It has been accepted and will now sit smugly sniggering at my other stories.
Very tempted to put the link here. My greediness for praise will end my anonymity thus i refrain.