Love is in the air(sic)

Come the month of February and the world paints itself in a nauseating shade of pink and red. Every morning, social media accounts seem to be full of notifications for some 'day' or the other. Rose day, kiss day, teddy day and what not. And then comes the mother of it all - Valentines' Day. It's a day when one is supposed to hold hands with their loved one(s) and let them know how much they are loved by taking them out for romantic dinners, giving them fancy gifts or signing up for expensive massages or dance classes together to strengthen their bond and fall in love with each other all over again.
Much has been said on this blog about the origin of this celebrated day and how it is abused by our materialistic generation. I have also written numerous posts about how feelings, whether love or hatred or fear or respect should never be restricted to one day and should be celebrated every moment through our actions. Another common theme on ze blog around February every year happens to be celebrating all the single souls who brave this red and pink circus without self - pity. However, seeing a very close friend struggling through separation this year made my focus shift to those who, unfortunately, choose to part ways with their partner when the rest of the world is busy showing their togetherness off. It's easy to be single, it's easy to accept the fact that your perfect one never happened to you and there'd be no one to take care of you, offer you a gentle kiss on your forehead when you are unwell as you slowly age. What is really difficult is coming to terms with the fact that what you had perceived to be love was nothing but an illusion and what you had invested years in, is about to fall apart, leaving you empty, alone, defeated. Getting married is a brave decision to take and I have immense respect for those who have had the courage to walk down the aisle. I have more respect for those who had their dreams of a perfect married life crushed to death after a few months of marriage and still refused to come out of it just so that their children don't have to go through the trauma of growing up in a broken family. However, my highest respect is reserved for those who were brave enough to admit that they had taken a wrong decision and chose to free the other person as well as their own selves from the bond that served no purpose, knowing very well that they'd have nothing to fall back on other than their empty couch once the final call is taken.
So, this Valentines' Day, when you see a colleague smiling politely and giving an excuse of being overworked when asked about their Valentines' Day plans, please spare a moment to wonder what they are hiding behind that painful smile. This Valentines' Day, when you celebrate the passion you and your partner still have left after six years of suffocating togetherness, consider toning it down so that the man next door, who comes home to a strange musty smell and hidden, torn packets of contraception behind the kitchen sink can take a deep breath and pour himself another scotch while watching his beautiful wife sleep. This Valentines' Day, shed a tear or two for all the love gone awry, all the dreams shattered and celebrate those brave souls who rose from the ashes of their failure and chose to live instead.

Dress - Vero Moda, oxford - Simpark Mall, earring - New Market, lipstick - Red Plum by Colorbar

Dreams born out of fear...

I'm a firm believer of dreams. Dreams, if believed in and strived for, do come true. Even with the excessive exposure to television and video games these days, I'd like to pass on the pure, unadulterated gift of dreaming to my next generation. But do we ever wonder how our dreams are born? Do we dream of becoming someone or doing something because we really want what we dream or because we are scared of becoming someone else or doing something else that we loathe? I found out the origin of my dreams and it didn't turn out to be delightful. If there's one thing that I've wanted since time immemorial, it would be independence. Independence didn't mean only being financially independent. I always dreamt of being empowered enough to take my own decisions and own up my failures. Whoever saw me as a child still talks about how my games were always about going to work carrying my mother's "vanity bag", teaching, treating patients, refusing to get married and spend my life doing household chores...However, on further introspection, I realised how this idea of independence appealed to me simply because I didn't want to end up being like my grandmothers - asking for money from their husbands for every need, quietly accepting the humiliation of being explained how hard earned money should be spent if their husbands don't consider the expenses justified, not being able to speak out if they don't want to get pregnant any more, not being strong enough to walk out of a toxic marriage, putting up with abusive fathers for years...I didn't have a very coherent idea about being independent. All I knew was that I didn't want to grow up to be one of them.

Set Theory in Mathematics explains a beautiful concept called Complement Set using Venn Diagram. If all Sets are considered as Subsets of a Universal Set U, the Complement of a Set A would be U\A which includes everything under the sun other than A. My attempt to escape the life my grandmothers have had has forced me to become everything other than what they were even if I didn't originally have the taste for some of the things I have done during this attempt.

The sudden and painful realisation of not having an original dream of my own, independent of others' influences hit me hard. Would I be a robot without dreams if the persons playing an incidental role in forming my dreams simply cease to exist?

Pants, jacket, midi rings, loafers - Linking Road, thrifted tank top - B.K.Market, lipstick - Red Plum by Colorbar

Memories unsold, stories untold...

In the flinching light, I saw.
I saw traces of memories
from last night,
unpenetrated by the harshness
of morning reality,
strewn about the floor
like virgin jasmines.

Maxi Dress - Sudder Street, cuff - New Market, neckpiece - Linking Road, shirt - Nuon, lipstick - Passionate by Colorbar

It's an understatement to call this maxi my go to piece of clothing. Bought from a random shop in Sudder Street during a lazy afternoon walk with a friend on a marijuana hunt for some 250 bucks, I have worn this maxi at least thrice in the past two years on the blog itself! Same goes for the cuff that has been my staple accessory for the past four years. And even though the neckpiece is no more alive, thanks to a wild encounter one Saturday night, it has served me well for the past six months.

I'll be back with my 'oh how I miss Kolkata winter' posts but till then, take care and like I always say, keep it stylish.
P.S. If you are travelling from Kolkata to Mumbai any time before February, you can also get me some nolen gur. *Wink*

Setting priorities

A considerable part of my childhood was spent making plans on things to do once I get a job. Buying all the books under the sun, going on a shopping spree and signing up for expensive, day long dance classes topped the list. It hit me the other day that working has only taken me far, far away from the person I had aspired to become once I start earning. I've not been able to pursue my hobbies as much as I used to while studying, let alone more. I kept wondering whether it was worth it. Sure I love my job, I love living in the fastest and arguably the biggest city in India, I love being independent...I love it all! But with every passing day, I lose touch with my true self a little more. I wake up every morning - fresh and beaming with energy, ready to take on the world but what about the early morning newspaper I used to read till 12 p.m. before researching more on the topic the editorial that day was written about? What about the leisurely breakfast I used to make myself and wonder if it'd feel this satisfying even when I'm eighty? What about the hawker I used to chat with every afternoon irrespective of whether I buy Popsicle from him or not?

Life is cruel. It lures one with promises of things they have always fantasised about and then takes even their bare necessities from them. I've learnt it the hard way and therefore, decided not to let go of the few principles I've, the few people I care for and the few things I'm passionate about, come what may. I decided not to give up on my early morning exercise, reading a few pages at least once every week and talking to my parents everyday. Putting my foot down and taking this decision not only made me feel empowered but also a lot lighter. Setting our own priorities is important in order to stop disappointing ourselves everyday. What are your priorities? How do you ensure you don't compromise on them?

Pleated maxi skirt and tan tote - Jabong, tussled crop top - Max, black oxfords - Simpark Mall, silver neckpiece - Linking Road, lipstick - Arresting Pink by Colorbar
Picture Courtesy - Anu

These pictures were rotting in my draft for almost a month. Crazy working hours and hectic travelling(and a laptop that's obsessed with crashing) didn't help. But I finally showed them the light of the day! Looking at these also reminded me of the super, super fun evening I spent with my best friend during her Mumbai trip for Lakme Fashion Week almost a month back. This skirt has been my go to piece of clothing for almost a year. The crop top was a gift during my recent Hyderabad trip. Together, they make for such an effortless, chic look even though I wish I had enough energy to take better pictures.

These days, I've also been introspecting a lot regarding my blog. More on that later though. Meanwhile, if you are in Kolkata at this moment, do let me know how the kaash phool(the nerds tell me that they are called saccharum spontaneum but I find it very difficult to believe) looks now and if the Dhaakis have already started beating their drums. Oh how I miss this pre - pujo madness!

Unequal Role Perceptions

I was fifteen when I had told a friend that I want to be a single mother because "I don't want to share my baby with anyone else." I told her that I felt my mom was capable of doing everything that my dad does if she wants to but my dad can't do the same. So, I can imagine her bringing me up on her own but the idea of growing up with only my father scares the shit out of me. I also admitted that I like boys but I'm not sure about sharing things I love with them(chocolates and books being my obvious choice back then). My friend was horrified and even though she didn't tell me, I'm sure she thanked God for not being my daughter. A decade has passed but the story remains the same everywhere.

                                                                                                                        I'm not a staunch feminist. In fact, I have chosen to call myself "not a feminist" for at least the past five years. So, the idea of some people perceiving women as weak, fragile and dependent doesn't annoy me, it amuses me. Yes, I have seen women who always need someone to fall back on but I know for sure that I can bloody well protect my child in this big, bad world and provide for them as long as I have a job and I'm physically fit.

                    On a related note, I was reading an article the other day about male rape victims finding it difficult to share their pain and seek medical help because being raped isn't "manly" and trying to carry on with their so called normal life despite the regular bleeding and the pus-covered anus. A little more research on the same topic made me throw up and cry. I kept wondering what purpose such skewed role definitions of our society served other than alienating people and breaking their hearts. Putting your wife through indirect mental torture because she earns more than you do is as bad as leaving your husband because he is a rape victim. Forcing your son to go for Cricket coaching instead of Odissi classes is as bad as not letting your daughter go to school. When would we accept human beings as human beings? I see so many brave, intelligent, powerful women wasting all their energy on the eternal I-can-do-it-better-than-you fight with men instead of trying to find out what it is that they are originally good at and focus on being the best at that instead of always trying to be better than someone. If one always strives to be as good as someone at something, the person would never be able to rise beyond that someone. I should aim to be my best. If I end up being better than a few people in the process, that's only an added bonus. Is it that hard to achieve? I dream of a society where sex would be just as menial an information as someone's blood group on a form which is meant to be used only in case of emergency. I dream of a society that welcomes both a masculine woman and an effeminate man with an open embrace. I dream of a society where I won't be judged for being a single mother and my son won't be called names if he finds my aanchal comforting even after the age of eighteen. I dream of a society where I'd be a human being first and then a woman.

Maxi dress- Emami Market, cuff and rings- New Market, silver kolhapuri- Shreeram Arcade, lipstick- Orange Punch by Colorbar

Summer Stories...

Summer is officially in full swing, fellas! And for some reason, this year, I'm hating it less than I usually do. It might have something to do with the evening breeze here in Mumbai or the weekend beach outings though. Humid as it is, there's no denying that Spring-Summer shouts out 'bright' and 'happy' loud while my favourite season Winter can't really escape the 'dark' and 'gloomy' tags. Given my obsession with layering, I try to find ways to layer even in this heat. Back home, Summer used to be about kaal-boishakhi(Nor'wester) followed by post-storm raw mango collection, shorbot (sorbet is close but not quite the same)made with gondhoraj lebu(a variety of lime available only in Bengal), himshagar aam( again, a variety of mango available only in Bengal), staring at the scorching sun during lazy Sunday afternoons while reading and wondering if life, too, is as unforgiving at times. Things of course, have changed quite a bit here but it has been a welcome change, to say the least. The clock is ticking and with every passing day, the dreadful moment of leaving Mumbai and going back to my least favourite place is approaching closer. But this time, I'm on a mission to be happy and enjoy myself till the doomsday arrives. On that note, say hello to my daylong semi-sexy tan and my current obsession with this denim shirt!

Over-sized denim shirt, eagle ring- Colaba Causeway, maxi dress(worn as a skirt)- Sudder Street, earcuff- Linking Road, jooti, cuff - New Market, lipstick- Arresting Pink by Colorbar

I'll be back with my third obsession stripes(denim and monochrome being the other two)hopefully before leaving. Till then, take care and like I always say, keep it stylish!

The City of Dreams

You know how some people say the entire concept of a place having its own distinct vibe is overrated? Well, let me tell you they are ABSOLUTELY WRONG and I'm a living example of that. If you are a regular reader or connected to me on social media, you'd know about the slow and dangerous depression that started taking over my life ever since I had moved to Indore. I tried embracing the place- exaggerating the quality of dahi at 'Joshi ke dahi vada' and extending the time in the gym but with its not-so-charming small town vibe, closed people living in an age where women are supposed to do all the household chores and keep quiet if they are harassed on the streets, banners and hoardings urging people to quit drinking and eating non-veg or be hanged if the non-veg happens to be beef...Indore just never worked out. I was slowly turning into a person I didn't know- introvert, pessimistic, cynical, irritable and snappy. I also kept falling sick often and the experience of going to a doctor and describing my problem in Indore had been so bad for me that I preferred gulping medicines down day in and day out and stay indoors instead.
                                                                                                As they say, after every dark phase, there is a silver lining. In my case, it was an intimation from the Management regarding my temporary posting in the Mumbai office. Even though I was still recovering, I was elated and couldn't wait to leave! And then came the much-awaited day when I could finally say goodbye to Indore even if for a few months. I woke up the next morning, somewhere near Sion, already feeling the infectious positivism I find Mumbai synonymous with. I could already smell the fish and seafood, see the bustling vada pav stalls, feel the sand and water under my feet, hear the Colaba hawkers calling out to me in my mind. The City of Dreams represents the undying, indomitable spirit of life to me. People do everything they can here to earn themselves a livelihood. And despite poverty, inflation and all other common problems(other than safety of women) Mumbai shares with the other Indian cities, the people in Mumbai just refuse to let these get to them and make them unhappy. Every person has different sides to their personality and each place uncovers one of these. I'm no exception either. The moment I arrived in Mumbai, gone were the depression, the urge to lock myself in a room and cry for hours, the withdrawal symptoms and everything else I had been struggling with. When I ordered my first vada pav in two months at a roadside stall near Chandivali, I was a happy soul and it hasn't changed since then. Small, small things make me happy in this city- a long walk all alone post 11 p.m. without the fear of getting groped, watching people rushing about in one of the local railway stations during the peak hours, looking at the street lights and the cars whooshing past them when I wake up after a rare nightmare(traces of Indore I'm slowly and methodically getting rid of), the city talking to me when I stick my head out of the auto to embrace the fresh morning air on my way to gym early in the morning, the vada pav wala near LnT crossing who never forgets to make my vada pav with extra green chutney and no sweet chutney...and all I feel coming out of my heart is gratitude. Gratitude towards life for giving me a chance to be happy again, to get my dreams back in exchange for the nightmares I had been dealing with for the past few months, to live...
                                                                                                                                         And since this city has healed me so soon and so perfectly, here goes an outfit as a tribute to my second favourite city(Kolkata would be Kolkata and hence, my favourite city always, no matter what)-

DIY distressed denims and crop top- Jabong, satchel bag, ring and spiked loafers- B.K.Market, waistcoat- Colaba Causeway, shades- Myntra, lipstick- Orange Punch by Colorbar

Ever since Debi distressed this pair of denims for me, I find myself reaching for it at least once every week. And since my love for layering refuses to die even in the humid Mumbai weather, the waistcoat had to find its way with the crop top. The serene beach, the wind in my hair and the sand under my feet took care of the rest. I'll be back with more florals, pastels and everything girlie and meanwhile, you take care and like I always say, keep it stylish.                                                                               

Pushing yourself too far?

Sorry for the absence on ze blog, people! After almost a month long sickness and a week long stay in the hospital, I'm slowly getting back to normal life. Well-wishers everywhere have been reproaching me for pushing myself too far, for continuing with my grilling schedule despite being very unwell. And that's when it struck me. We, the so called independent women today, often struggle with striking a balance between being tough and neglecting oneself. Managing everything from household chores to working for at least nine hours to sweating it out in the gym on my own taught me valuable lessons. It taught me to value my health. It taught me to be grateful for being strong enough to take care of myself. It made me nostalgic for the home-cooked meals I had grown up with, the smell of turmeric-cumin-coriander wafting from the aanchal of my mom's saree.
                                                                                                                Speaking of saree, I wore this beauty by Howrah Bridge for the grand wedding of the designer herself. The royal colours, the traditional atpoure drape, the heavy jewellery...everything added up to the grandeur of the evening otherwise known as my bestie's wedding. Those five days of eating like a starving soul, dancing like a drunkard on loose and crazy, crazy fun ensured I survive the coming dull months(thanks to my empty pocket)without a complaint.

Saree, blouse- Howrah Bridge, earrings, hand chain, bangles- Vardaan Market,bindi- local shop, lipstick- Passionate by Colorbar, wedges(not in picture)- Metro Plaza

With the groom

And with my favourite bride under the sun

Summer is officially here! So are the happy florals, pastels, shorts, maxis, evening breeze and delightful fruity concoctions. Go indulge into a few poolside parties flaunting your skimpy shorts or flowy maxis depending on your preference while I nurse myself back to health and hope to start working out soon. Till then, take care and like I always say, keep it stylish.

New beginning or the means to an end?

There can't be a better time to talk about new beginnings than December! Of course talking about new beginnings has special significance for me this December with the move to Indore. But then again, without taking any credit away from the new for all its positivism, why don't we talk about endings? How do we start something new if we don't end the old? This year has been a year of changes in more ways than one. I've changed so much throughout the year that I barely relate to the person I was when 2014 started. Most of the changes have come with heartbreaks in one way or the other but I learnt to be thankful for what I have instead of complaining about what I had to let go of. 2014 has been a year of disappointment, liberation, failure, self-realisation, loneliness, passion and of course, love. These are the things I'd always remember 2014 for-

• Girls' Week Out- I've never been much of a traveler. Most of the times, I didn't have money, I didn't have anyone to travel with, I was stuck in my monotonous and hectic schedule...excuses are aplenty but this year, I finally took a trip to Gangtok with two of my best friends. And it was so liberating! Three girls travelling together, facing challenges of every kind and getting over them all, it was an experience I'd never forget.

This trip in itself deserves a separate post and I promise I'd get back with it without further procrastination.

• First job- Well, it's over-hyped, it definitely is. Specially for someone who is working in an organisation that is far from her dream company , life can be pretty difficult. In addition to that, it doesn't even translate into a lot of money. But then, being able to pay your own bills gives you a sense of confidence that nothing else can match up to.

• Moving to a new city- For someone so blindly in love with Kolkata, moving to a new city, that too, a city I've hated during my week-long stay there was pretty much unimaginable for everyone who knew me. Even I've surprised myself the way I handled the entire relocation. Guess it's easy to be calm and realistic when one gets used to disappointment.

• Letting go of forever- My younger brother had shared a piece of wisdom with me long back. I was madly in love and since I wasn't in a relationship that had a so called destination, the love brought with it a lot of pain. It hurt him to see me in so much pain and still trying so desperately to hold on to it. So, he had told me that forever is ever changing. If this one feels right, it's not the last. It'd come again. I didn't want to believe him but this year taught me exactly that. Forever would keep coming even though it'd feel different every time. That doesn't make letting go any less painful but it's comforting to believe that this isn't the end of life.

Now that the end of 2014 is nearby, let me raise a toast to every beautiful moment this year has given me, the way it has broken me and put me back to shape...everything has made me stronger and braver. Thank you, 2014!

 And finally, it's time to unveil 'Sisters of the Travelling Pajamas'! It's a concept that one of my blogging idols Karishma had come up with. A group of bloggers from different cities formed a chain and each blogger had to send one piece of clothing/accessory to the next one in the chain and the one receiving it has to style it her way. I was lucky enough to receive her crop top and even though I had great plans to style it really high street with moccasins and oxblood lipstick, due to lack of resources, this is how I finally styled it-

Crop top- Karishma's, skirt, belt, shoes- B.K.Market, wristband- borrowed from Anu, bag- New Market, lipstick- Orange Punch by Colorbar

Picture Credits- Anu

I'll be back with the Gangtok post and the customary Indore guide post once I get a little time off all the cooking, cleaning, washing dishes and clothes, grocery shopping and all other side-effects of living alone. Till then, take care and keep it stylish.

Never good at good bye...

There's a saying called kupamanduk or kuo-r bang in Bengali that means 'frog in a well.' Being born and brought up in one of the most charming cities in the entire world meant becoming a frog in a well in some sense or the other.I never left the city till a certain age and all my favourites started and ended in the city-my favourite phuchka or dosa or rolls or mishti or noodles or tandoori chicken, my favourite corner to read or think or take a long walk, my favourite place for second hand books, mojris, sarees, dress materials, thrifted stuff, accessories and what not. My city has always provided me with everything I have ever wanted(and more) and therefore, I never felt the need to leave this city.
     But life has a way of throwing us off the turf. During my orientation programme, I was required to travel to various locations and among the three locations that I had visited, if there was one place that I hated with a passion, it was Indore. The very vibe of the city depressed me, I hated the food, I had difficulties understanding their dialect, the work culture in the Indore office irritated me to no end and the list goes on. But ironically, I was chosen to operate out of the Indore office for two years by the Management. Given that the fellow Management Trainees were going to places like Haldia, Gandhidham, Mangalore and Patalganga, I was in pretty much the best possible location though. Besides, I don't like coming across as an inflexible person at work. So, there I was- packing my bags and leaving within three days of being back from Haldia.
                                                                                         The hardest part about leaving is having to say good bye. I'm bad at it. My tear glands betray me and no matter how much I swear not to cry, my voice chokes. I'm not a much-loved person but the few people I care for mean the world to me and vice versa. So, this time also, no matter where it took place, I could barely speak, my eyes welled up and before long, I knew I was getting ugly. But it didn't matter because the moment itself was beautiful and this beauty was beyond words. And then it ended. I left the city that meant everything to me and arrived in a new city where I knew no one. Pleasantries were exchanged, strangers were befriended and life moved on.

Sheer maxi skirt, crop top, ring- B.K.Market, cuff- New Market, neckpiece- Lindsay Street, gladiators- Shreeram Arcade lipstick- Orange Punch by Colorbar, nail paints- Pink Champagne by Maybelline