The Tale of the Four Eyes

I’m in the first grade, sitting in my classroom, when all of a sudden us kids were told to form a line to go somewhere important

Turns out, this little trip to the school medical center would change my life completely

All of us were weighed, measured, our vitals were checked and then in the end, we had to cover one eye and read these random alphabets placed at the back of the door

It was my turn to do this. I was confident because I’m a first grader so it’s obvious I’d know my ABC’s. But when I did the thing and started saying the alphabets, this lady near me says that I am telling it all wrong. When the lady asked me to stop, I saw the alphabets with both my eyes and could see it all – except the last two lines

The lady wrote something on a paper and told me to give it to my parents. That this was urgent

That piece of paper, turned my life upside down

The first thing I did when I reached home was hand this piece of paper over to my parents. Dad told me that we were gonna go out later in the evening

We reached a building and went in. The receptionist told us to go inside. I was still clueless but I thought this was gonna be something fun!

Boy oh boy was I wrong….

This doctor, asked me to sit and then all of a sudden started to examine my eyes with a small flashlight. I was then made to sit in front of various machines which were moving and was told to keep my head still

My head didn’t feel normal towards the end of it. I was made to wear these weird glasses and then lenses were put in these. The doctor kept asking me to read the alphabets and numbers again and again. It sort of felt like magic. When it was over, he asked my parents how is it that I have survived for this long without any aid? My parents were confused with this question, and I was convinced I was dying

Okay come on now, I was five! The doctor said stuff like, “How have you not noticed this before?” and “It might have been too late had you delayed the checkup” and child me thought I had some terminal disease

I didn’t want to die before I could finish watching my Barbie movie…

You see, I have a condition that I was born with. My corneas, are damaged. There is a tear in them or something like that

The doctor asked my parents if there was anyone in the family who wore glasses and they replied in the negative. The doctor was in disbelief and said that there has to be someone because my condition is a genetic one. I inherited it. My parents were in complete disapproval of this theory and argued with the doctor. The doctor said that it was possible that someone has it but was never diagnosed with it. But my parents said that not a single person has ever complained about their vision. This argument went on for about an hour

This was a whole lot of new information for my little brain to process. The only explanation I gave to myself was that I was adopted. I was the introverted child of two extroverted parents. I also somehow inherited a condition that no one in either of my families has
My conclusion made sense. With this I will also admit, I was an extremely stupid kid

Two days later we visit the doctor again. He went into detail about what this condition meant. He also spoke about how the power of my eyes were extremely high and were always fluctuating. I had both the “plus” and the “minus”. The plus was somewhere at a 3 or a 4 and the minus, well one eye was 8 and the other was 6. My eyes basically defied normal eyes

He said that the only way to stabilize my eyesight would be by me having to sacrifice a huge part of my childhood. Summer vacations were going to start and obviously I wanted to play and dance my heart out, but I’d have to do that without my complete eyesight. I was made to wear this eye – patch which was essentially a band – aid for my eye. I had to cover one eye of mine and see the world through the other eye. I had to train myself to go about my day with just one eye. The only time I was allowed to take this eye – patch off was when I was sleeping and when I was to take a bath. I did this for an entire month and you’d think that the misery would be over after this but nope!

I then had to wear an eye – patch on the other eye and go on with my life using my other eye which I previously had closed off. I now had to wear this patch for 15 days. I don’t think even ninjas have such rigorous training


The entire experience was just so awful. I was just a kid and half of my eyesight was taken away from me. I also had to apply eye drops thrice a day, everyday. Oh, I also had to wear glasses 🙂

Going back to school with an extra pair of eyes was not fun. Half of the people didn’t recognize me while the other half asked me if I watched way too much television during my summer break and so ended up with glasses

How was I supposed to explain to them that I had some weird condition related to a part of my eye I can’t even pronounce?

Most of my childhood passed in everyone asking me how many fingers are they holding when I took my glasses off, and also holding objects really far away and asking me to tell what exactly it is. I felt like a toy for everyone

But on the other hand, all the struggles I went through paid off when the doctor said that my eyesight had stabilized. He was shocked at how quickly it happened! I got rid of my “plus” power and the “minus” power was now at a normal number

But I had to wear glasses permanently. My parents weren’t happy with this

They asked if there was anything they could do, any surgery or operation to rid me off my glasses. But the doctor said they’d have to wait till I was eighteen years old

You see, my parents were young and knew no better. Societal standards didn’t allow glasses. They weren’t “pretty”. I don’t blame my parents, they just wanted their daughter to fit into the world. But alas, that wasn’t possible

So, I grew up with an extension to my body – my glasses. But little did tiny me know that this part of me which I loathed would end up being the most inseparable part of adult me. Because I had to wear them from such a young age, I grew attached to it

Today, these glasses of mine are what make me feel normal. They’re a part of me. They make me feel, me. They have become my identity now. Honestly, I feel naked without my glasses

I know that according to the rules laid down by the society we live in, glasses are “unattractive”. So many people have told me to “take my glasses off” while I’m going out or while taking photos. I find it funny how people react when I say I feel uncomfortable without my glasses. They show me others who don’t wear them on a regular basis and I always say, “to each their own”

Shouldn’t we all just do what makes us feel comfortable? Can’t we just choose what we want to do and wear rather than conform to some stupid notions?

And wow sorry my inability to see makes me “not – pretty”. I’ll choose having an aid to help me see things better over idiotic beauty standards any day 😂
I do believe I rock wearing glasses though. I completely own the look!!

And so, this is the story of my “four eyes”
Do you have any such stories? Ones where you or your condition(s) defied the normal human body?


Weight Issues

I’ve always struggled with my weight. It’s probably one of the earliest memories that I have. Everyone that saw me always had quite a bit to say.
Quite a lot really.
And it has never stopped.
Not even now.

I was born underweight. It wasn’t a huge deal to my parents as this is sort of common in my family. Growing up, I never really put on much weight. I was an underweight kid. Skinny and small – these are the perfect adjectives to describe my younger self.
Somehow these adjectives followed me till I grew up. It’s these words that still describe me till date.

Yeah, you guessed it. This is a rant about being skinny – shamed.

So yup. I’m excessively thin. I’m not the dictionary definition of “skinny” but that’s the tag I have gotten by everyone. Who knows, maybe I am skinny but my tendency to take words literally is what makes me not believe it.

I, on a regular hear comments about my weight. I hear things like,
“Be careful the wind is strong! You’ll fly away!”
“You buy your clothes from the children’s section right?”
“Do you not eat?”
“Eat more”
“Girl, exercise”
“You might even fit in my pocket”
“You can be folded”
“How are you even standing?”
“Anyone can just pick you up”

What doesn’t help my case is the fact that I’m short. Short and skinny, can you even imagine what I hear everyday?
No you can’t
Because you probably say it too


Two weeks back, I had some relatives over for dinner. These are the kind of relatives that I love.
As I was staring at my wardrobe (this is how I select clothes. I just stare at them 💁) this one kurti spoke to me. I took it out and first thing that came to my mind was, “This kurti doesn’t make you look too thin. Wear it and you’ll escape the “you’ve lost so much weight” comments that are coming your way”
And I did.
I wore that kurti.
Because I didn’t want to hear those comments.
And that’s when it clicked me.
This is what I have become now.

If you were to see me when I was seven years old, you’d always find me in overalls. I loved them so much, I had around five kinds of overalls. All different from each other.

This aunty once told my mom, “She looks more thin in overalls. She looks like a stick. Frocks are better at least.”

I never wore overalls after that.

Which kid is supposed to think about their body and not just wear what she wants?
Is it right for a 7 year old to be subjected to that kind of cruelty?

I looked at myself in the full length mirror in my parents’ bedroom and said to myself, “I really do look like a stick. No wonder I hear such bad stuff. I look bad”

And that’s when I started getting super insecure about my body.

Each and every comment made about me by family members and friends’ parents were audible now. I heard everything but never reacted to them as my parents also always seemed to agree with them. It just broke me because I started to believe that I looked horrible. I started believing every word that everyone around me said.

The girl who loved wearing knee length skirts one day just stopped wearing them because she heard a comment saying she had, “chicken legs” once. She doesn’t even remember who told it, but that sentence haunted her for the rest of her life.

Tell me, is that really normal?

When I was around 15 years old, I decided to stop feeling this bad about myself and try and turn things around. That it was time I stopped feeling ugly and owned how I looked completely.
I need to feel good about myself because I should.
None of this is my fault. I shouldn’t punish myself.

I did just that. It took me years to finally feel good about myself. To feel comfortable in my own skin. To actually be okay with how I was.
I put the whole world on mute.

But somehow now, everyone isn’t on mute anymore.

The past two – three years or so have been incredibly tough on my body. I’ve been losing a lot of weight. I personally don’t mind it because I know why it is happening, but somehow everyone around me has something to say and it has started pricking me.
Because this time, it’s worse.

What I hear today, are jokes. Actual jokes made in front of other people.
And these hurt.

Somehow my identity today is that I’m super thin and can “fly away at any given time”. Anything that I do or say in life doesn’t really matter anymore. It doesn’t contribute to my identity.
This one, physical attribute of mine, upon which I have no control over, is what I will forever be known as.

And you know what? That’s wrong.
Because these “jokes” have brought my insecurities back.
And that, isn’t fair.

How dare you joke about me?
When did I tell you that it’s okay?
Who told you that you’re allowed to make me feel insecure about my own self?
Who gave you permission to make me feel ugly?
Who asked you for your “advice”?
Why can’t you understand that you need to stop when I tell you to?
Why do you feel it’s okay to comment about my body?

There is a limit to everything. Sure, the comments that my close friends tell me don’t affect me one bit. On the contrary I laugh with them. Not a word they say on this topic affect me or my self esteem in any way.
Because they don’t say anything that hurts me. They, are in there limits.

But not everyone is. You can’t joke about how you will just pack me in a suitcase or how I shouldn’t really pay for a seat because a person’s lap is enough for me.
That my friend, is where you cross all the limits.
And I don’t think you should be told all of this.
This is something that should come from within you.

If today, I have gone back to selecting clothes that make me look less thin as I go in front of the people that I love and care about, it’s your jokes to blame.
You have scarred me to such an extent that the little girl who was horrified of her body is back.
The one I took so many years to get rid off, is back.
And it’s your fault.

Today when I look at myself in the mirror, all I can think about are the jokes you crack as I look at my body.

And I, have had enough.

I have felt helpless and ugly all my life. It took a lot of effort for me to be comfortable in my own skin.
I can’t let my efforts go to waste.
I can’t let you and your jokes win.
I can’t let that little girl come back again.

You, aren’t allowed to break me anymore.
You, aren’t allowed to make me feel ugly anymore.

The next time you crack a God – awful joke about someone’s body, think about how it could affect them.
It doesn’t matter if they are fat or thin, there are lines which you shouldn’t cross.
Because you never know which joke of yours could lead to someone feeling disgusted about themselves.

I know plenty of others, my own friends, who have been subjected to this kind of stuff. I know how low they have felt about themselves too.
And it isn’t right.

No one should feel like they are ugly.
No one should feel that their self worth depends upon how their body is.

So choose your words wisely, because you don’t know what the other person is going through.
You don’t know their struggles.
Your words, your jokes, can break someone.

You don’t know how the sentences you let out of your mouth can shatter even the strongest of people.
Because this is a sensitive topic.
And it’s time, you find a topic that is genuinely funny.

Let’s not make people insecure about themselves.
Can we just agree on this?

Countries Apart

It’s been a long, long time. The amount of time can’t be numbered. Well it actually can be, but it honestly feels like forever. It feels much more longer than what it has been.

Nearly two weeks ago, while chatting up with fellow students a guy asked me, “So, do you like it here in India better or Dubai?” And the speed of my response was that of the speed of lightning. “Dubai!” is what I blurted.
He was taken aback with how instant my response was. That I didn’t even blink my eye and just uttered my answer.

When I was about eight months old, my parents took me to this magical little country called the United Arab Emirates and I have stayed there for majority of the life that I have lead until now.

Indian by nationality, India is this place I’d come once every year or two years to visit my grandparents and extended family. A vacation spot you can say. A two month summer vacation would all be spent in a country which is my own. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.

I never really formed an opinion about how I liked India as I never spent a good enough time to do so. But ever since a little kid, I didn’t really enjoy the time I spent here. I love my grandparents but the country itself never had much of an appeal to me. I never felt a connection. Well I was a kid, what more could I expect?

Growing up, I was surrounded with voices. Voices that held the words, “India is your home country. It is who you are. You love this country!” so tight, that these voices felt like it had an underlying honesty in it. And I felt like U.A.E. is just this temporary place that life had us stationed at. India is home you know? India is what I should love.

Oh how this word echoed in the back of my head whenever I started feeling affectionate towards the country I resided in. Whenever I’d see those news headlines. When I entered this country.
A compulsion to love a country only because I’m from it. And I felt guilty that I didn’t.
What can I say, I was a kid!

It was only when I started growing up, started experiencing things by myself and stopped listening to the voices around me that I realized – it doesn’t even matter. What matters is how I feel. And what I feel is something I can’t help.

I love U.A.E. I love the life we lived – I lived – there. It was a life I could call a life. Not what I’m leading here, living here.

The guy then proceeded to ask me what is it that I love about U.A.E. That makes it better than India. India is my home country you know? India is my home, how can I not like home?

Here’s what I believe. Home is where your heart lies. Home is where you can be yourself, unafraid of being judged. Home is this sanctuary where you are accepted for who you are and are loved without any strings attached. Home is where terms and conditions aren’t applicable. Home is where you are surrounded by family – a family that loves you for who you are.
And I found all of this not in my apparent ‘home country’ but in a country that housed me for an unaccountable time of my life.

U.A.E. was this place where I could un-apologetically be me. A country where people from all over the world live in unity, one of the very first things I learnt was that humanity comes first. Humanity is what is more important than that passport you hold in your hand which indicates your nationality. Humanity trumps everything.

I grew up with quite an open mindset. And I knew I had a so called ‘open-mind’ only after living here. Because up until now my thoughts and my mentality was something so frequently seen, I never knew it was such.
A country where religion or the state of India you’re from doesn’t matter, I grew up celebrating various festivals from all religions. I grew up with friends all over India and not only learning but also enjoying their various traditions and customs.
We all were different and we liked being different. We accepted it wholeheartedly.
I grew up in a country that was incredibly safe. A country where my parents and I never feared of our safety. A country so clean. And looking at the number of parks and beaches that are present you wouldn’t believe that it is actually a desert. Ha!


Let us not even talk about the food and the malls there. It’s where I learnt that food is love, food is life.



All I got in India is a sight of aunties who are professionals in stalking people and have mastered the art of poking their nose in other people’s business. All I got to see is this unimaginable amount of bullying done in a school, a school which is supposed to be a child’s second home. All I learnt till now is how in the end a girl is supposed to learn all the household chores and that you’ll receive a stink-eye if you don’t know how to by those around you.

All I got to learn is how to keep my mouth shut because people here can’t stand opinions that stem from an ‘open-mind’. All I have observed is that it is very well possible to fake yourself in front of people. That it is possible to not only lie to others but to yourself as well about who you are. Faking who you are at the core only to please the people around you. To lose the essence of who you are because being nice to those aunties and nodding with whatever they say is more necessary than voicing those opinions in your head and demanding respect for who you are.

All I learnt is that it isn’t safe for me to step out of my house. All I have heard is how we can be divided according to our genders. A boy is a boy, a girl is a girl. There’s a box for everyone and you dare not break it open. After all, you are who you are right?

All I learnt is that perhaps humanity isn’t what comes first. Perhaps what caste you belong to, what state you belong to, which God is it that you follow is what is more important. That is what defines you, you see? Screw how good a person you are, I will form opinions about you based on an identity that you didn’t create for yourself but were labelled.
Labels. Labels are more important you see?

U.A.E. is the country where I found people who accepted me for who I am – this socially awkward girl with big dreams and a stubborn heart. A straight forward girl who isn’t afraid what others think of her. It is the country where my anxiety levels weren’t this high because I felt comfortable. I could be me.

My parents, who have lived here in India unlike me, today also long for the day when we could go back. They don’t feel comfortable here. I see a side of my mother I never saw before. She, she finds it hard to communicate with people here. To connect, to make friends here.
If a person like her, who always is the life of the party feels so, my state can’t even be expressed.

I will agree that there are exceptions in both the places. Neither of the countries are perfect. But this is how I feel.

U.A.E. is the country where my heart lies. U.A.E. is where I felt the most comfortable being me. U.A.E. is the country where I was accepted wholeheartedly, no matter how weird I was.
U.A.E. is where I could exercise my mentality without being judged.

U.A.E. is where humanity comes first. Not blood relations or nationality, but humanity. And humanity will always come first to me.

India might be my home country, but U.A.E. is what I will call home. I could be biased, after all I did spend my entire life there. An attachment will definitely be present.


This is how I feel

Call it what you may but all I know is that while I have one foot present here, another foot of mine lies in U.A.E. When that trigger is pulled and that gunshot enters the audible range, I will run.


A Quick Look At The Past Three Years Of My Life

Hey-lo humans who are reading this poorly constructed post!

So as you all know, I disappeared for three years from my blog because of a little thing called life. And for those of you who don’t know – well, now you know!

There are plenty of questions in everyone’s head as to what is it that happened in these past years. Today, as the title reads, I’m going to be addressing just that.

So let’s begin from the start shall we?

I had to move to my hometown as we, well, had to move out. My hometown is this area which neither is a village nor town. I like to call it a town-village. I have no idea how else to describe it. Is this really a term though? Or have I coined a new term? Am I the inventor of a new word? Oh my God…..

I spent seven months there with my grandparents, my aunt and uncle and my younger cousin sister. Also this dog. Can not forget the dog. Ugh.
In the start I had few bits of le internet thanks to my younger brother’s constant whining and crying but I refused to use it largely because I had to save it up for him. Things an elder sibling has to do. Sacrifices and all for the younger one. Pfft.
I only used it to keep in touch with my friends (read : annoy the crap out of them) and things were going okay, until my laptop crashed. Big time.

No internet, no system – living those seven months was a complete torture to sum it up in a nutshell. So many people, no source of entertainment, so many people, constant bugging, so many people.
Yes, I said ‘so many people’ a lot of times. Why do you ask? Well,  imagine a socially awkward girl among a whole bunch of people. Perhaps now you can understand how annoyed I might have been.
And I’m Indian. Add that to the mix. Now imagine the situation. Can’t? I never could either. Until I lived that nightmare. The horror *shudders*


Seven months later, we moved to a different place. Another crappy place. We didn’t have proper water facility for goodness sake! No internet again but finally as we were staying by ourselves, we got a cable connection for our TV. So I spent time watching a lot of series’ again. Boy oh boy was I so happy!
I’d go around saying, “My name is Barry Allen and I’m the fastest man alive! GO FLASH YESYES!!” My mom would just stare at me in utter disappointment. She’d say, “You’ve started again. Why are my kids not normal?”
Quick forward to the present day – my mom loves The Flash. When I used to watch it on TV she’d go all, “Woah!”, “My God!”, “This is awesome!”, “He’s so fast!” etc. She loves Empire the most though. She was shook by the season 2 finale and started screaming, “WHY DID THEY NOT SHOW WHAT HAPPENED AHEAD? WHO FELL?!” When I went home and binge watched my shows, she asked me to tell her what happened and I showed her the clip. She then proceeded to ask my father why is it that he unsubscribed to english channels. If he hadn’t, then she could see little glimpses as I’d watch. I miss mom..

Back on the topic at the hand, I stayed there for around 9-10 months I believe. It was until my school wasn’t decided. And when my new school was decided and also our flat picked out, we moved out to stay at the place where I currently am residing.

How has my life changed? Well, I ended up having two gap years after my tenth grade. I completed my twelfth year in a span of three months and somehow managed to pass with decent scores! I made new friends who are absolutely amazing and have restored my faith in humanity a little bit
I know, I know. Me? Making friends? When did this miracle happen? Yeah, I’m surprised too. Life is full of surprises now isn’t it?

Currently I’m pursuing my first year in the field of Engineering in a college away from home. Hostel life. BLAAAH.
Finally a step towards achieving my dream has been taken and I couldn’t be happier! Yay!

Situations were horrible and we faced a lot of hardships. Life turned out to be nothing like we had imagined and majority of the time we all were just really upset as to how events were turning out to be. My brother wasn’t the least bit upset though. He just was happy he got to see Power Rangers………………

In short, life wasn’t the slightest bit easy. When we thought things are starting to get better, this storm would knock on our main door and say, “Did you order for a problem?”

Things are finally shaping out better now. I’m proud of all of us for managing to keep ourselves together and come out stronger from the experiences. I know that all of this has made me so much stronger, a level of strong my twelve-year-old self never imagined she would reach.

Things are okay. Life isn’t great but it’s okay. And I’m fine with okay.

A Walk That Hurts

Waking up in the morning listening to the sounds of the rain pouring out, I was happy for some unknown reason. Maybe it was a good dream that I saw which I obviously don’t remember, or maybe I just feel happy internally which is very strange. The reason remained unknown but I had a feeling it’d be a good day.

Boy was I wrong.

I put my feet down on the floor and stand up to only start feeling pain. Where is the pain coming from? Don’t know. What kind of pain is this? Don’t know either. My mind was asking too many questions and the answers were all unknown. Then it was only while I was sitting on my bed that I realized that it was my left foot which was screaming.
I look down and everything seems fine. I stood up and started walking and found my left foot refusing to touch the ground the way a kid refuses it’s veggies. (Okay even I do that at times but let’s stick to kids now)

While I reach the living room I realize what has happened.
I have managed to hurt my left ankle!

I thought I had just pulled a muscle and disregarded it. Just like I always do. But this time it was my biggest mistake.

Because in the evening my foot had swollen a teeny bit and the pain had reached new heights. I have only now realized that I have sprained my leg.

How did this happen? Why did this happen? When did this happen? Will I ever be able to walk again? What if I have to cut my leg off? Is this something big? Is this a symptom of a disease?
So many useful and useless questions were being asked. I started over-analyzing the situation like I always do and thought it was something huge and freaked myself out! But obviously it wasn’t a huge deal.

You see, I have always boasted about how I have never fractured a bone or hurt myself. This is the very first time I’m experiencing something of this sort so I started jumping to conclusions. Typical me.
There are firsts for everything right? Right?

It’s been two days now and I feel like I’m a lab rat for my mom’s experiments with home remedies. I’ve screamt so much that I’ve amazed myself at my lung’s capabilities. I’ve been in a lot of pain. A lot.

What bothers me the most is my incapability to walk. Yes I get people to do my work for me which is awesome! But I can’t even go to the kitchen to get me some food without going through pain. A simple task like walking would hurt me so much is something I never thought is even possible!

I walk only on one foot. I literally drag my left foot with me wherever I go. It looks like fun but let me tell you, it is NOT fun. I want to cry!

Give me a cane and a bottle of Vicodin pills and you have a female version of Dr. House infront of you. Minus the intelligence of course.

It’s day three today and my pain has reduced a lot. Looks like the experiments are working. But my walking it still funny. I used to trip over nothing before and I still do now. Nothing’s changed maybe? I don’t know.

All of this has taught me the importance of my legs though. Must admit that and appreciate them too!

Have you ever experienced something like this yourself? Share your experiences and you won’t win anything. But you won’t lose anything either right?

A Superhero, Maybe

While coming back home yesterday after meeting with a friend, a little girl crossed my path who looked at me and smiled.  She then stopped me and told me that she had seen me before. I apologized to her telling that I couldn’t remember who she was. She smiled and told me, “A superhero like you can’t remember all the people you rescue right?”

I was confused. Why would she call me a superhero? I was pretty sure she had mistaken me for someone else but then she told me how is it she had met me and it all made sense.

Two months ago an incident had taken place below my building. I was looking after my brother in a play area built for children where I saw two girls occupying the only two swings that are there. One girl must be around 15 years old and the other one must be 14. My equation with the 15 year old has never been good as we clash a lot. Now you can’t expect me to be on good terms with someone who has a lot of ego and gets happiness from plotting against her own friends right?
I was looking after my brother when I heard a girl cry. I turned around to find that there was a little girl who was crying because she wanted to sit on the swing but those two girls weren’t allowing her. The 15 year old was screaming at this tiny little girl telling her that the swing is hers and she won’t give it to the girl. The little girl was bawling her eyes out and she walked away when the 15 year old stood up and told her, “Come here girly. You can have the swing.” I was so happy to see that this girl finally got some sense knocked into her head as the little girl came running back. But obviously I was wrong.
What this big girl did was sit back on the swing as soon as the little one came back. Upset, the little one walked away and the 15 year old stood up again and called her back. The little one came running back and what did the 15 year old do? She sat again. She repeated this routine of hers for around 3 times until the little one eventually had a breakdown. The 15 year old then was telling her friend, “Oh my God look at this kid man! At such a young age she’s acting so brilliantly. Look at the crocodile tears dude. Haha kid you can be a star!” Her friend just laughed with her.

I couldn’t bear it. My eyes were filled with tears as I saw those two girls torment and bully that kid. I walked up to them and screamt at them. This is what happened :

“Is this your swing? Who are you to tell me? I came here first!”

“This isn’t your swing either. You may have come first but you’ve played long enough. This kid is literally begging you and you are bullying her? Are you not human?”

“I’m the one sitting here. It’s my wish.”

“”Get up and let her play. You have to.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“I can’t do anything. But I can only hope that you have a little humanity in you. I know you are smart. Put your brain into use for something good – for once. I know you love bullying kids but I will not stand here and see you do that. She’s a kid and you are elder to her. Do you really want to set a bad image for yourself? I know you don’t care about anyone but yourself. I’m standing here screaming at you for this kid. At least respect my concern, if not me. Can’t I expect something good from you for once?”

Her friend finally decided to speak and this is what we spoke :

“It’s that kid’s fault! Can’t she see that we are playing here? We’ve been playing here for an hour. We are here elders. She can’t respect us?”

“How is it this kid’s fault just tell me? Because she wants to play on the swings that you and your friend have captured and are declaring your property? Let me remind you that these swings are made for kids to play not for teenagers like us. You want respect? Show some respect yourself. I’m elder to you and look at the way you treat me. Respect works two ways. You simply can’t just stand here and demand respect that too from a kid. Give respect and you’ll get respect. Simple as that.”

The 15 year old took her friend and walked away. I told them that if they want to talk behind my back then they don’t need to as they can talk whatever shit they want right in front of me. They just responded with “whatever” and went along.

All this time I din’t see the girl who was standing there all along. When I finally turned around, I saw her gleaming with joy. I made small talk with her as she was playing. When she told me that she was 4 years old, it broke my heart. I witnessed a 15 year old torture a 4 year old mentally just for a swing. What is our world coming to?

The day’s incident is crystal clear in my memory. That’s how I remember the conversations so well. I guess it’s because I don’t get to witness such incidents on a daily basis. And I so hope I never have to.

This girl called me a ‘superhero’ because that day I saved her from all that trash. She told me that now those two girls never trouble her in whatsoever way and I’m just so glad.

But me and a superhero? Really?

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A superhero would mean that I always do good. But honestly speaking, I see myself as a villain. You see, I’ve never liked those two girls. This was my opportunity to blast them off. Verbally of course but in my mind I visualize it something like this :

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And by this if someone else is benefited, then I’m going to consider this as a bonus!

It hurts me so much to think that a 4 year old could be bullied this badly by someone from the same generation as I am. What has happened to humanity? Can someone really get so much of happiness from bullying a kid?

That kid now believes that there is good out there in the world. Growing up her belief in that is most likely to get destroyed, just like how mine is. There are good people out there but the bad overshadows it. She’ll learn that not everything is right in the world, but I don’t want her to learn it now. At this age every kid feels that the world is full of rainbows and butterflies, that fairies are real and magic isn’t just an illusion. I don’t want her innocence to go away this soon. She’s a kid and I want her to enjoy her fairy-tale world – a world where superheroes exist. That phase is a wonderful one. She’ll learn what she has to when she grows up.

I can only hope that no one else will want to snatch her world away from her. From any kid for that matter. They’re just kids for God’s sake. They shouldn’t be subjected to bullying and mental torture especially when they don’t even know what it is they are going through. Let them be.

On Completing A Year of Blogging

I was simply surfing the internet to kill time when I thought that maybe I should check upon my blog and maybe read a few posts. When I logged in I was surprised to see that orange color on my header. I was even more shocked to see what followed after I clicked it.

 My blog is now one year old. I completed a year of blogging!!

I am shocked because when I started, I din’t expect to stay on here even for four months, let alone a year. To see now that it’s been a whole, solid year and I still am blogging makes me really, really happy.

I created this blog out of plain curiosity and to just try out something new. The curious part is definitely ingrained in me but trying something new is definitely not me. I don’t like doing things out of comfort zone and taking risks of sorts. When I thought of doing this, I had surprised myself because I never thought I’d put myself through this.
I know this sounds like I’m going to the jungle and have now decided to spend my life with the lion and it’s family at it’s home, but I felt like that I guess? I don’t know what I’m saying. Help maybe required…

A friend of mine had mentioned her blog and while reading it I felt that maybe I should create one too. The thought exited as quickly as it entered my brain. I din’t feel like it’s something I should do, something I’d enjoy. She told me to just give it a go and see what happens and behold, here I am.
I spent like a month deciding what name I should use and I was still deciding whether creating a blog is a good idea or not, that’s how much I think. One day I just said to myself, “This is getting crazy. I’ll just do this now. Like, right now” and went to create this blog. Little did I know that I’d have so much fun!

A year on this blog enabled me to read stories of some amazing people from different parts of the world. Being a part of it all is something really nice. I found people who share some of the same interests as me, some people who are somewhat like me. I learnt that there are people like me who are socially awkward and/or have anxiety – that I’m not alone. If today I feel better it’s because I know that this isn’t something I’m struggling with on my own, that I have people who understand me. This fact is something I find very comforting.

Maybe that’s why they say that the internet is a wonderful place. A year ago I wouldn’t have believed that but now I’m going to nod my head in agreement. The internet is a brilliant place isn’t it?

As for what happened in this one year in the real world? Well nothing great. Except the fact that I traveled the world and jumped off of a cliff and dove into a sea.
Did I make it obvious that I’m lying?
Nothing really changed in this one year in the real world for me. Things are definitely much better than they were but other than I have absolutely nothing. I did get absorbed into the world of internet. Does that count?

I’ve seen people upload their statistics when they have completed a number of years on their blog but I’m not going to do that because it’s really embarrassing…

I’ve made some friends along the way and that is something I din’t expect. Thank you for all the wonderful feedback I’ve gotten and for all the support you’ve given me. It’s all been proven to be very encouraging.

All in all, I’ve had a lot of fun and I look forward to have a lot more fun now!