Storieo

Category: Life

  • A Social Butterfly to Recluse: A Breakup Tale.

    A 20-year-old girl 5 feet tall with a darker skin tone and medium-length straight hair is as dark as the forest. She loves to do everything with joy. Without hesitation, she helps others. Everyone says that no one will work like Rebecca. She works for four houses. Her work is to wash the clothes, clean the houses, wash the vessels, and so on. Rebecca is a good soul, and anyone who talks to her will fall in love with her. But her life was turned upside down when her father and mother died in an accident when she was in the 8th grade. 

    One day she went to the park on her off day, and there she met a person called Harish. He was playing with his dog in the park. Suddenly, Harish’s dog came to Rebecca and barked at her. She was frightened. Harish ran to her and asked, “Sorry.” The next day, she again met Harish and his dog. They are both playing at the same park. She went to them and joined them. Harish and Rebecca become friends. They used to meet every evening and talk about many things about themselves. Later, their friendship moves to the next level. They fall in love with each other. 

    Rebecca was so happy that she found her soulmate. Harish seems like a nice person to her. She believes him. As she longs for a good relationship, she profoundly loves Harish without knowing him. Rebecca didn’t have a chance to say about her work to Harish. Somehow she tried to tell him everything about her work but couldn’t. Time flies, and it’s been a year since they both fell in love. 

    Later on, Rebecca wants to marry Harish. So, she wants to say everything about her to Harish. On the same day evening, they both met in a coffee shop. There she thought about speaking about her life and her work. But Harish didn’t utter a word to her. Because he came to know that she was working as a maid, but he didn’t want their relationship to move to the next level. She somehow tries to convince him. So he broke their relationship and went on. After the arrival of Harish in her life, Rebecca thinks that he is everything. She is so sensitive to getting herself away from him. So she went into a depressed state. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. An extroverted young lady becomes an introvert after her breakup. 

  • MOVIE REVIEW: THE GREAT INDIAN KITCHEN 

    MOVIE REVIEW: THE GREAT INDIAN KITCHEN 

    “The Great Indian Kitchen” is a Malayalam film and i don’t understand Malayalam so i watched it with subtitles and it was worth it. So even if you don’t understand Malayalam you can watch it with subtitles but please don’t miss out this masterpiece.

    The Great Indian Kitchen, a Malayalam film is a very powerful film made on patriarchy in the recent times. The movie makes us question the deep-rootedness of patriarchy in our society. The film received universal critical acclaim and won Kerala State Film Award for The Best Film.

    The film begins with the short of the protagonist portrayed by Nimisha Sajayan as she is happily dancing while snacks are being prepared in the kitchen. The characters in the film have no names because THEY ARE US . A few shots later she is married in renowned family. As the newly wed becomes a wife , her life becomes a monotonous routine which is seen as her duty and is taken for granted. Kitchen plays an important role in the film as she tries to juggle among multiple chores to keep the house in order and the men of the house comfortable. It looks like the story of every other Indian household where the women of the house spend their whole day working on the household chores whereas the men sit and relax. They are not appreciated for their hardwork and love.The shots of the food being prepared in the kitchen makes us wonder how lip-smackingly delicious they must be but then the shots of women preparing those dishes in the most horrific conditions is a stark reminder of the reality. The movie is a reminder of how less we have progressed in achieving gender equality. We remain so oblivious to the condition of women in our own households and we assume that the world has progressed and women are empowered and independent now. They still face subordination and oppression in their own households.

  • Image Fallacy…

    We are not the same person as we were yesterday. It sounds scary but it is true. Yes there are a few habits which do not change or may take years to change, but our needs and wants keep changing as we grow in years.

    In time we realize that what gave us joy no more excites us, what made us tick is now become a relic of the old. There is no issue as long as we are aware that we are in a flux, but far often that is seldom the case.

    As a human we have tendency to create and hold on to an image, this image is a result of our experiences with ourselves and with people around us, we hold on to aspects that made us feel good, happy, sad, angry, joyful, jealous etc. Slowly these tendencies start dictating our behavior with ourselves and others because we already have a mental image of the outcome or way someone will react, which is open to change and may not be true anymore.

    It is easy to test this hypothesis, by thinking about a good friend whom you have lost touch with, just listen to the mental chatter you get in your mind while thinking about that person. All of what you hear may have been true for the time when you were connected, but may not be true anymore, but yet we hold on to that same image. This may sound a small e.g. but try applying this to your own self image.

    It is not easy to fall out of this trap, I am still learning and it is an uphill task to challenge the ways of your own mind which seeks refuge in the illusion of that image perhaps because it finds meaning but at the same time it restricts us from growing, giving second chances and be open.  Choose wisely. 

  • Game of Cricket taught me.. 

    No this is not an exercise in acknowledging the virtues of team building, patience, perseverance and countless other stuff that the game has taught me. Infact this is an attempt to realize some of the short comings I as a human being can have and how one can take this learnings to apply to any aspect of Life.

    Let me explain how.. I am 37 years young and I have been fortunate to play cricket in more than 100 different places (this count includes different areas in my birth city of Bombay & elsewhere in India and the world). I realize now more than ever, that to me the game was always more important than the people I played with. I say I realize now because over the last 3.5 years in Canada, I have been part of 2 teams. One comprising players who spoke tamil and the other who spoke only punjabi. 

    The fact that there are teams that consist of players only from one community speaks volumes about how teams are made here in Canada. When I observe myself in this situation, I realize I became a part of the teams because I had a single minded pursuit to be able to play the game. So I played for the first team I found in Toronto and Calgary respectively. I respect the teams and its players to accommodate me in their teams which was a result of not only my performance in playoffs but also my apolitical attitude, my clarity on playing the game even when I did not understand the language my team mates chose to speak amongst themselves on and off the field.

    I understand that one would think what did this teach me that I am on rant about my cricketing experience in Canada. Well, I realized when you love something and are clear about your intentions, everything around it just background noise. There can never be a hurdle in letting you do what you really love to.

    This is true for everything in life which requires us to be trustworthy and vulnerable otherwise there is a tendency for self-doubt and self-sabotaging behavior. I sincerely hope me and people like me realize that there are sometimes parts of us which stop us from our own growth because of Fear. Lets operate from the place of Love instead of Fear. My love for the game did not allow the fear of not blending in, weigh on me. I just did what I did best, Keep Playing.

     

  • Death AND Relationships

    Death is not just a permanent passing or non existence of a person. We die every day and every moment. We die every time a relation ceases to exist or a relation has undergone paramount changes.

    Every time when we connect with someone deeply, it isn’t that we like the other person or love the other person, what we like or love is how we feel about ourselves in that person’s company.

    Every time one looses a person he/she connects to, one looses that little feeling about themselves while that person was around. More often we don’t miss the person, what we actually miss is ourselves.

    Everything and everyone around us is just a catalyst to how we think and feel about ourselves. We die every moment and there is nothing to be sad about it and may be life’s beauty is in its impermanence.

  • Being Inspired by the Ordinary..

    For Far too long we have looked for Motivation, Courage, Inspiration from successful people, be it in the field of Business, Sports, Science etc. We look up to those few individuals who have made name, fortune and reached a pinnacle in their respective fields. I don’t intend to take anything away from their achievements and glory, But intent to convey that there is so much to learn, be inspired and motivated by the ordinary, which in itself is extraordinary.

    Today I am going to mention about one such person whom I met 3 years back as a housemate in Toronto, Canada. His name is Murat (name changed), originally from Turkey. He had been living in Canada since 3 years when our path crossed. He knew very little English, as a result of which he always struggled to get constant work. Every now and then he would secure a temporary labor job which was a major source of living for many immigrants moving to this part of the world.

    The thing that fascinated me most about this man was his joyful state of being despite living in uncertainty of his visa status and the need to constantly renew work permits to stay in the Country. He was doing very well back home in Turkey, but moved to Canada because of the political uncertainty surrounding the minority population i.e. the Kurds. He once admitted to me that he didn’t like it much in Canada but chose to stay for his Family especially his 4 daughters who he thought would get better Education in Canadian public schools.

    It was difficult for me to fathom then, how he chose to stay away from his family in a country where he doesn’t know the language, makes you feel lonely and is harsh in terms of financial stability if you have not been educated or worked here. Despite all the pain and hurt he secretly endured, Murat always had a smile on his face and have hearty conversation. I still remember some things he tried to convey in little English he knew “Aashish, you good man, Canada weather No good and Can (Canned) food garbage” Literally makes me smile again while writing. 

    People like Murat don’t have a label to speak of or bank balance to prove their success, but to me he still is an inspiration to learn from and also from all people like him who are giving their best despite no tangible and visible measures to account for their efforts and sacrifices. My Gratitude to all, Thank you.

  • Its been a while…

    I wrote my last and only story about 2 years back in 2019. That is when I actually decided to share my thoughts. Ironically after writing the story and publishing it I vanished, never to return to the web to check until today. Perhaps because I feared being judged, vulnerable and rejected. This may sound like feeling too much for writing a small story but the underlying fear stems from a bigger issue that I personally face in relationships specially the intimate ones. This does not mean that I don’t have other fears but I have observed and found that I am much more sorted in handling anything else for e.g. moving to a new country and starting from zero specially after living in a protective Indian household for major part of my life so far. Not that I do not value it but I think there is more needed for personal growth 

    Having said that, I am here to turn a new leaf and continue to write what i think, be what i am and want to be and be ok to be judged, criticized, vulnerable and loved, perhaps this will be small drop which will create a big ocean of change in me with respect to my anxiousness. Following is an excerpt of what I wrote some time back

    Being Strong and Having Strength emotionally, I feel are some of the most overrated or misinterpreted words in recent times. In its continuous obsession in becoming emotionally strong and to wither any pain, Mankind is forgetting what it is to actually feel.

    People associate being strong is to be unaffected by events, circumstances, pain, unhappiness etc. Unaffected never meant to stop oneself from feeling. It actually implied that one should feel all the emotions to the fullest, absorb the worst and bounce right back or face it all with some calm , But slowly and steadily by creating an artificial fence people including me have had tendency no to feel anything at all or may be it is an identified form of suppression.  

    I believe being strong means to feel every emotion to its depth and living it to the fullest. I am reminded of a phrase one of my friend would keep repeating in her stories on counselling “Har ek emotion zaroori hota hai” (meaning : All emotions are important).

  • Myth

    Myth

    They said the world used to go forward or rather has been going forward with this.

    They said it was just natural to have it with. They said life was actually moving with regards to it.

    Did you know you have also been a part of it some or the other way?

    Do you know your life was maintained because of it?

    Well, it’s called myth. A third gender once was introduced to the world with the idea that their gender didn’t even exist at the farthest corner of the Universe. The third gender was produced as a he and was asked to reduce it’s appearance as a she(I said it’s because I’m not sure how to address them, and I personally feel there should be a different way introduced to address them). The third gender remained confused for a certain number of days and then projected itself as a he, because it understood that it was the society’s requirement. Mana was the name. Mana was not sure about anything anymore, because it’s existence was just disapproved in the space it lived. Mana tried to change a lot of things by speaking against, raising issues etc. but the surrounding seemed to be deaf and blind in some or the other way. Mana was disappointed because this was never explained by his parents before they left him.

    Just a normal verse about Mana confused the writer whether to call it a she or a he!

    Don’t you think rather than laughing and making fun of them, at times, we should just look at them, stand back, and ask them normally, which adverb should we use for them? To establish their existence?

    Most of us have never even thought about it!

    Most of us don’t even care.

    But think about those people who do not get identified in the society as a normal gender and who are judged for their existence and questioned on their structure.

    Being a developing country, India has rarely appreciated these humans. Oh Yes! They are only humans just like each one of us residing on this planet.

    This evening I saw a typical married couple exchanging things to hold while waiting for a bus in the bus stand. They could exchange their desires openly in a bus stand. It was natural!

    But if Mana would’ve tried to do the same. It would’ve been judged. Does this really show where we stand today? Does this really make us understand what we actually are? Does this undress the veil of pretentious misbeliefs from our bodies – the outer self?

    Think about it some day, Think about it some other way someday, you would understand what is being done and what is the norm the society follows! The society isn’t just a crowd – it comprises of all of us together.

    What do you say? Should we not change this and look for a better perspective which could provide respect to all kinds of human beings in the society? Love, hatred and disregards are there in their places but myths are just not addressed at almost every part in our lives.

  • “THE UNSAID WORDS WITH U”

    “THE UNSAID WORDS WITH U”

    The gloomy way we talked over,

    Things were tore apart,

    I hold the words as never did before,

    Might be I don’t want to untie the tags we made around,

    You came into dark world when fling of my heart was around,

    Wrapping the flings, with sowing of different reasons to grin,

    A word or phrase was never my part but the pitch that took me apart,

    Sunday evening were unsay,

    Wen grin turned to gloom way,

    O thee man, your silence is my pain

    Blues of Monday were glimmy in all vain,

    Our togetherness in tandem is a sweet harmony,

    Upon the monotony of nights

    I sit and watch for clock to hit sharp,

    Knowing morning is far

    A bit flying to see you another time,

    A bit left reading what you said the last…

  • Spell (learn to read)

    Spell (learn to read)

    Laura was her name. Every time I remember. At that time there were no such buildings. We were a ranch school. I was just received. That’s why I felt safer doing paperwork or preparing food for the kids, than teaching. I used to work with big grades. But, and the smallest? It did not cheer me up.

    I went making the life of the school. In the field, school is everything. As long as you know how to win people. They have their time, they are not very open at first, but the first May 25 got almost everyone. We celebrated with chocolate and a grandmother came to make us fried cakes. When Don Nicanor Paredes arrived at the afternoon, it was the hubbub. He had killed a goat and brought it to school. The first time he was approaching. He was the father of two of the boys, one of a quarter and a second. Very respected in the whole place, Don Nicanor.

    I knew that their presence meant a lot because it was certain that the others, who still doubted, we’re going to get closer to school.

    And so it was. By the end of the year, we had twenty-two boys. Laura, among them. She was an emaciated slim woman with bright eyes of mischief. He clung to me at once. I went where I was going and he kept giving me some frog-like jumps.

    With her I began to teach literacy. I did not really trust what I had learned. It seemed a lie to me that by teaching how little children could learn to read or write. I feared they were only false theories. But I tried. Laura looked at me patiently. It made me doubt. I was sure I was doing it wrong, very badly. But we loved each other so much that after each class we would go out together to take a little spin around. Sometimes we took the class by the river. Class, or whatever it was called that happened to us when my hand carried his little hand and we drew letters together in the sand.

    Until one day, I was correcting at the comedian table, with my back to the window. Laura in front of me, leaning on her elbows and holding her face in her fists. Something began to say. When I actually listened to her, I still took a little time to understand, because I was headlong into the failed two-digit division procedure. Also because Laura’s voice came out in bits, like breaths, with a sound or two. Song whispered it seemed. Slow and like to fall asleep.

    -Wha er … er, no! … Wha re hou se and but che ry. Warehouse and butchery!

    When he finished spelling I saw in his eyes the reflection of the almanack we had on the wall, right behind me. And I did not move, to continue seeing that glitter and the face to understand and the dazzle by the discovery, and my own braids falling in the table of the time in which mom amassed, while I wrote with my pencil bitten and dad loomed on my shoulder. And then I did not move, although I dropped the pen because I had a shake in the chest that would not let me speak. And she knew it and she turned around to take me in the face with her friendly hands and hugged me and I felt that I had started to be a teacher and that I was in the only place I should be.

    After talking to Erasma, the other teacher, I explained and explained. I hoped that Laura would go to read in one of those books that sent us the Council. Or in the notebook, we were making together. But never in an almanack, never in a sunset, never in that time when I was almost distant from her, correcting the notebooks of the larger boys.

    My grandmother could say that there is a moment when the heart begins to fly and you know it. A moment when the heart moves and it is not the beat of other times, but a beat like a tight carnation that takes the air. And that is when you have begun to fly, to exist also in another chest, or somewhere else. If so, that was my first flight and maybe that’s why I’m still here, in the country schools.

    I remember that time I took the medal of Santa Rita that was hanging and put it on his neck. She looked at me as deeply as only she knew.

    Laura was her name. Laura Antinao. And I will never forget.

    Fuente: educación y gestión