New year? The fuck?

Freezing, shivering, drinking coffee and introspection at the same time. Asking my brain/mom/boyfriend/friends/random people on street 'Where the fuck did the whole year go?' The year ends in 15 days and almost everyone I know feels they have been struck by the Obliviate spell.



So I planned to have a serious lets-try-to-go-into-the-flashback session with my brain.

Here's what the interrogation led me to.



January: January was the start of Cost Accounting and Financial management classes. Insistent on not leaving my beloved blanket, Mom forced to resort to the lets-throw-freezing-water-on-her-face strategies, wrapping self with five layers of wollen and leaving at 6am in the morning just to travel half-sleeping half-dead in a deserted metro. Getting off and almost getting myself trapped between two metro doors, to catch the next one. All the efforts, all the pain was worth it. Courtesy the half-burnt Bread Pakoras and the yummiest Green chutney we had in the break. [Three days in a row and you ll be making the washroom your first second home, but thats not relevant]



February: The Valentine's month. The dread of having no one as my valentine and dying alone in a house full of cats happened. Caught hold of the first non-gay boy I could find. And we have been together since. This involved lot of filmy pallu-udna, pehli-nazar-me type background musics and violins.







March

&

April:    Gymming-for-2-hours-regularly-and-still-not-losing-weight-depression happened. And to cure this, I hogged on all chilly chickens and kebabs I could find. Though I wonder why it never helped.



May

&

June: Started my blog with a post that went like : "Hey guyzz bloggin 4 d first tym. Hw r yu allzz?"

Discovered the whole new world of blogger, HTML, tweeting, tumblring. Bid goodbye to the real world.



July : I have no idea what happened during this. The fragments which I remember are : Finally realizing 'typin lyk dis' isn't cool, changing facebook DP every day makes people believe that you have a life, saying I love you to friends on Facebook you just had a visit to the grocery store with is how it is meant to be, making sarcasm on people's tweets is the only way to get famous on twitter and the fact that aliens donot exist. And I think you can guess what among them was the most heart-shattering.



August,

September

&

October: Studies. Depression. Thoughts about hanging myself and blaming it on Cost Accounting's professor.



November : First half: A birthday overshadowed by exams. Second half: Convincing Mom how the papers were very tough and there's a huge chance that I might just fail. A feeble attempt to dampen her over-reactions when she'll witness my result in February.



December: First half: Sleeping. Eating. Cursing net speed. [Repeat]. Second half: [That technically starts today] Searching for the perfect gift to present to the King of Awesomeness on his birthday.

P.S: Brain's creativity is on a New year vacation in Hawaii.

P.P.S: I have a Guest Post lined up. Any ideas what should I write it about?

Being a girl is the last thing you would want to be.

Do you want to be girl? Like, Forever?



The answer to this statement being a ‘YES’ is as rare as a good hair day on your first date. Especially if you are an Indian. I have nothing against my country but when it comes to being born as a girl, India would be the last place I would like to be born into.



The only day you might have wanted to be girl would be when you accidently went to an interview without fully buttoning your shirt and your man boobs just quite didn't impress the boss, or when you had to hand over your 'hard-earned' money to your sister on Rakshabandhan.



If you still say yes “I would gladly be a girl” answer me:



Do you want to be ranked on a scale of Nicole Richie to Scarlett Johansson on the basis of your size of your boobs by random roadside people on the street as soon as you leave your house?



Do you want guys to look at your tits instead of your eyes and pinch your ass instead of shaking your hand?



Do you want to be offered a job because somewhere in the back of your boss’s mind he thinks that you might be very good in bed and he has a chance?



Do you want to be called a slut just because you wear revealing clothes?



Do you want to be raped and then hear it was your fault because you were wearing a mini skirt?



Do you want to see your brother attend all night parties but not going yourself because, well you are a girl?



Do you want to be called characterless just because you have slept around with more than one person unlike a guy, who is called a stud?



Do you want to reconsider your option of wearing white according to the weather?



Do you want to be stared at when you walk into a room where people are telling a dirty joke and they awkwardly stop midway at seeing you?



Do you want to wait an hour to find a decent washroom on a road trip?



Do you want to be paid less for an equal amount of work that a male colleague does?



Do you want to buy condoms with the shopkeeper imagining you naked?



Do you want to writhe in pain bleeding every month?



Do you want your parents to fuss over wherever you go, because they think everyone is going to rape you?



Do you want every guy commenting ‘hot’ on your Facebook picture just because it has a slight glimpse of your bra strap?

Yes I thought so too. You don’t have to worry about permissions when le`ving the house. You don’t have to worry about any pain or bleeding when losing virginity. You don’t think twice before introducing your girlfriend to your family. You don’t need to act dumb to make a girl notice you. You don’t have to worry about your underwear glimpsing while doing weights in the gym. Unlike a girl, you just have to have sex to have a baby.



You don’t get people lecturing you about problems in future pregnancy if you smoke or drink. The girl’s parents do not assume the fact that you are a Sanjeev Kapoor when you marry. Your name and your parents live with you forever.(or till when you want). You do not have to bear with the pain of hot wax (especially nowhere near your private area.) You do not have to worry about making crotch adjustments in public. And this is a list when we are talking about a girl who is born in a middle class family who have somehow managed to break free of the clutches of ancient practices of not educating the girl child.



Being a girl is very difficult. But its not like we had a choice. The very least that you can do is respect us.