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Tag Archives: Misguided Wayfarer

Home, I Will Miss You…

13 Wednesday Jul 2016

Posted by Misguided Wayfarer in Family, Random, Uncategorized

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90s Kids, Anjali Mariam Paul copyrights, Apartment, Chennai, Home, Life, Love, memories, Misguided Wayfarer, nostalgia, Querencia, Sreshta, Writing

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I know that by the time I wake up, the morning pooja of our neighbours downstairs would have begun ringing through the apartment. I know that a waft of jasmine will be in the air because someone would have just plucked them and very soon, the smell of coffee will invade my nostrils and the rhythmic sound of feet tapping the wooden floor from the Bharatnatyam School next door will gradually set the mood for all of us. Sadly, it dawns on me that I won’t be home to experience all this tomorrow morning because I’ll be far away from familiarity and closing in on alien ground very soon and there is this indescribable ache which has started somewhere in my chest.

I was running around my apartment over the past few days and as I bumped into the resident auto driver, Subramaniam and greeted him with an “Neenge eppidi irrikinge?” (How have you been keeping?), old grandmothers chatting and talking, neighbour aunties asking what I’ve been upto and how much I’ve grown, how my friends were… I felt safe and protected. I knew that within the four walls of my apartment, the world couldn’t hurt me. If you’ve stayed in an apartment, you know how everything you do is scrutinised be it a friendship with the opposite gender, a new piercing, bad habits (they’re waiting to see you fall so that they can parade how their children are better than you), good habits (they’ll lecture their children to become like you), what time you come back home, what you eat, where you go, what you wear… the list is endless!! These neighbours are also those aunties who will give you cold water when you’ve been locked out of your house, lend you money to buy ice-cream when your parents aren’t home and babysit/help with your homework when working mothers get caught up. These aunties are those that soothed you when you lost your child to cancer and helped you move on gingerly. These aunties are those that got competitive when playing table tennis and made unwarranted comments about your playing but they were also the same aunties who patted you on your back when you did well in your exams.

I’ve had many of my most memorable moments in this apartment, which may sound silly to many who’ve never stayed in an apartment before. To begin with, you’re famous because nearly everyone knows who you are and your name will be yelled at the top of their voices on many occasions, like when they’re outside your apartment and you’re doing your homework (it helps when your parents don’t let you out often, sometimes they just let you go to stop the yelling!), your parents will definitely be informed if you’ve broken windows or banged up cars (eh… don’t even ask!) and yes, the all famous… ‘whose got a crush on who’ phase when the entire apartment would be informed, within a few minutes of that secret being let out to that ONE confidant. I used to babysit kids when their parents pretended they had a social life for a few hours everyday, watched them have fights, soothed their wounded hearts when other kids wouldn’t play with them and kept them happy and smiling. I would stand guard when my friends did unspeakable things on the terrace (remember the bad habits?) and I have easily helped out at least 3 friends with their record diagrams because… that’s what friends did back then!!

My flat friends are either studying abroad, engaged, married and parents to children and it seems so wrong that we’re not children anymore. We’re not still worrying about marks or whether our white canvas shoes were polished or whether our friends would love the new pencil box you bought. Strangely enough, we still keep in touch through Facebook and it’s wonderful raking up these wonderful memories which make our apartment, the perfect home to so many of us.

My grandmother from the neighbouring building would be out on her evening walk on the terrace and she could see every single thing I was upto here. I know they would never admit it but I think this was an intentional act to check up on me and it used to be tedious having to explain to her why some boy had his arm around my shoulder, when honestly it would have been nothing but friendly. I missed my ammachi a bit then when I looked up at the terrace and didn’t see her there and it made me a little sad, knowing that those days are gone. Our apartment complex have these benches where I’ve cried my eyes out to Karthik who has been my closest friend since I was 13 or 14, I think over broken hearts and bad grades and those small things seemed so enormous and life threatening then. And now… even though out relationship has been nothing but platonic, the aunties wonder when we’re getting married to each other.

I used to hate their inquisitive nature but once you’ve moved around a lot, stayed in a lot of hostels where you were close to invisible, an aunty asking you why you look so tanned isn’t as bad as you’d think. An aunty commenting on how your dressing sense has changed over the years makes you wonder how much they really noticed about you and how much they care. If you’re ever faced with the decision of choosing an apartment over a house, I would suggest you choose an apartment every single time because as invasive as we might think they are… they actually have your back!!

Picture courtesy: http://www.craftshub.com

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When 2016 Comes To Shove…

09 Saturday Jan 2016

Posted by Misguided Wayfarer in Family, Friendship, Random, Rantings

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2016, Anjali Mariam Paul copyrights, Bangalore, Blogging, Happy New Year, INDIA, Inspirational, Karnataka, Love, Misguided Wayfarer, Photography, Querencia, Writing

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Picture Copyrights: Anjali Mariam Paul

Sometimes, the road less travelled by ensures that you get lost, fracture a leg, break down and lose your sanity, amongst other things. Things get better as everything is momentary, nothing is permanent. What is water today might be ice tomorrow… It all depends on how long we want to wait it out and see what we make out of life’s obstacles and challenges. Learn to respect everyone around, be it a 5 year old child or a cow on the road. Your perception of the world doesn’t necessarily need to be anyone else’s and your right of opinion is just the same as anybody else’s. Be kind, as you never know whether your mere presence, your smile or your words could be the altering point in someone’s life. Don’t waste time being mean because that time could be spent in falling in love with a new song or a new book or a new concept. Eat what you want, when you want and how you want despite how you think you’ll look in those figure hugging jeans. It’s not worth giving up that yummy sinful looking piece of chocolate cake. Live everyday like it’s a special day because you never know when it’s going to be your last.

Write about Hitler if it makes you happy, do a nude sketch of someone if that’s your thing, travel to unknown places if you want to, click selfies to cherish every moment if you’re scared you’ll forget it… just stop worrying about anybody else. You are you and you have every right to be YOU!

Don’t try and be somebody else because there is nobody as unique as YOU! Wear clothes which you’re comfortable in, do things you want to do and most importantly… learn to say NO.

Tell your friends and family how much you love them every chance you get because they deserve to know how much they mean to you. Finally, love with no conditions because you’d rather have loved with a whole heart and lost than not loved at all.

A new year asks for new beginnings and here’s mine to being the childish, immature, spontaneous, gluttonous and silly ME!

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Provoking Thoughts During A Bus Journey

09 Monday Nov 2015

Posted by Misguided Wayfarer in Uncategorized

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Anjali Mariam Paul copyrights, APU, Bangalore, Bus, Development Student, INDIA, Journal, Journey, Lady, Misguided Wayfarer, Querencia, Students, Thoughts, Travel, Travel Diary, TRAVELOGUE

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There’s something soothing about a long bus ride, taking you to a world away from the one you’re stuck in. (If you’re staying in Bangalore, then you know that it means a daily commute to anywhere. As a matter of fact, it’s faster for me to cross the border to Tamil Nadu than to reach MG Road from where i stay, in Electronic City.) But, that isn’t the point of this post. I’m referring to that same bus journey which takes forever but is a journey into your past, reminiscing about moments lost, fleeting moments of love and betrayal…

A few hours when you can let your tears fall, without people intruding in on your pain, telling you that things will okay when maybe you don’t want it to be okay… What if you just want to wallow in self pity for a short while? Shed tears where have been left unshed for hours, days, weeks and months… Enjoy a song a little more emphatically than you would otherwise… cry a little harder at something which didn’t require even a fleeting thought… remember people who walked out without saying a word… And as you wait at a signal, look into the eyes of random strangers and see your pain reflecting in their eyes.

Give someone your best smile, knowing only too well that in this city so big, there’s no chance in hell that you’ll meet them again and if you, you can consider it serendipity.

What is it about bus rides that makes me creep into this new avatar who is oblivious of the physical constraints and just lets me be… What is it? I cry a little harder, I smile a little wider and I enter this world where I am one with myself.

I stare a little too deeply into the underlying violence that exists in the lives of the hawkers on the road. I can see the police lurking close by, probably for a cut or to drive them away once they’re give the order. How did they get to live a life like this? Did they ever get a chance to enjoy a childhood when the main concern was enjoyment and not sustenance? Do their children go to school? Do they dream just as I do? Do they dream at all?

As the bus takes a route where I’m surrounded with skyscrapers, I wonder how many of them come out of their balconies and think of jumping off just to feel the exhilaration of not being caged…

I hear a child laughing ecstatically at something at the back of the bus and as his mother tells him to quieten down, I want to tell her to let him laugh because the innocence of his laughter will be lost in a few years an his gurgle will be the only thing that resonates off the walls when you’re worried about his tests, exams, fees, extra classes and future dreams. Let him laugh as much as he wants… Just let him be.

Picture copyrights: Girl on the bus saved me (Can’t seem to source the artist. If anyone knows, please let me know.)

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Freedom from Fear

19 Tuesday Aug 2014

Posted by Misguided Wayfarer in Women's Issues

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Anjali Mariam Paul copyrights, Fear, Independence, Independence day, INDIA, Jaipur, Misguided Wayfarer, Querencia, Writing

“Living fearlessly is not the same thing as never being afraid. It’s good to be afraid occasionally. Fear is a great teacher.” – MICHAEL IGNATIEFF

Gone are the days when a girl could walk happily down the street whistling a happy tune, listening to music on her phone, unaware of the world around her. I don’t remember whether those days ever existed but I can clearly say that those days are no more. It could be the news freaking me out or the choice of posts and books I have been reading off late but when I step out of my room which is a little cuboid, my mind is paralyzed with fear.

I have been groped, brushed against, touched inappropriately and jeered at as though I were an animal in a cage and the fear comes from knowing it won’t end there. The fear comes from knowing that I will always need someone to protect me, that I am powerless alone. I want to walk out on the road, not clutching a bag to my chest in fear of being groped. I want to shop at a bazaar, not being mindful that the hawker’s breath is in my face and it reeks of alcohol. I want to sit in an autorickshaw at night, trusting him to take me to my destination without a sideways glance. But, no… I am always wracked with fear, although I may seem fine on the outside. I am always cautious; always second guessing every man that I meet; always alert that the next man I meet might be the one to take undue advantage of me. I want to trust you, dear man but it’s just that I can’t.

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I am surrounded by kids all day and my mind becomes so alert when I see one of the help smiling a little too much, while talking to the elder girls. I am glaring at the driver as he innocently throws the pre-schoolers up in the air. I am stealing glances at the shopkeeper as he spends a little extra time with one of the construction worker’s children. I don’t trust smiles anymore. I just can’t find it in me to wholeheartedly trust any man.

I watched this performance by a few of the school girls on Independence Day and I cried, a little because patriotic songs get me teary eyed and a little because of the irony… girls celebrating the freedom of a country when they are honestly not free, when they are shackled by the clutches of fear and doom.

It might be me but I don’t wish you a happy Independence Day, India… you don’t deserve it yet.

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I’m Just A Twenty-something Dirtbag

08 Tuesday Apr 2014

Posted by Misguided Wayfarer in Uncategorized

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Anjali Mariam Paul copyrights, Dirtbag, INDIA, INSPIRATION, Jaipur, Life, Misguided Wayfarer, NGO Activist, Quarter-life crisis, Querencia

“The only sin is mediocrity.” – Martha Graham

All of us have dreams. We are taught to dream big, from the time we were just a few feet tall, trying to wrap our heads around the idea of a dream and what it can do. We are taught to dream of big things happening to us like settling as a surgeon who is well renowned or an engineer who graduates from an IIT or NIT and then goes on further to study at a top MBA college (what do Engineers do otherwise?). If you aren’t earning the big bucks by the time you’re 30 and you aren’t flashing brands which have abbreviations which are easier to remember than their pronunciations and aren’t taking trips across the globe, you are in all respects… a degenerate. Your parents must be banging their heads against a wall, wondering what they did wrong (which temple/church/mosque they didn’t visit and pray for your well being).

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What about us, huh?! The ones stuck in-between?! I’m turning 30 in a few years and I am honestly nowhere closer to my dream of being half the things I thought I’d be a whole lot closer to, by now. We are the mediocre lot, who aren’t married and settled down with happy honeymoons and baby showers; neither are we closer to reaching the pinnacle of success at work… We are losers, in the eyes of our friends and families, and even bigger losers in our own eyes. I thought about it and God knows how I racked my brain trying to convince myself that there is something better for me in the future, when it hit me. This could be it. Mediocrity.

I might not be one of the best at most things that I’ve done and well, that’s something I’ve just got to get used to. I jumped from Architecture to working in an NGO because I wanted to do something which made me smile and made a difference in somebody else’s life and if that is going to make me mediocre, well I might as well live that life well. I am twenty-something years old and I’m staying in a hostel, alone with a lizard for company. My personal life is a mess, but then again… whose isn’t?! My plan doesn’t go past what I’m going to have for my next meal and I live my life as spontaneously as it comes. I have probably started and quit on so many hobbies and extra-curricular activities that I should be called a quitter. I recently had a nervous breakdown which was then followed by a physical breakdown which needed 10 days at home and a whole lot of medication to get me back to working condition.

I did everything right in school, I got all the grades required to get me into a good school and then life took me for a ride and the mediocre me is who came back, hurt, scraped, bruised and damaged… physically, emotionally and mentally. I can either mope and cry as I do on most days when I feel low or I can go ahead and live my life like the crazy misguided wayfarer that I become when I’m on my high… What I’ve learnt from my life so far… don’t quit on yourself… ever! You will find your inner strength when you least expect it and from then on, there is absolutely no turning back.

To all of you mediocre people, I raise a glass to our stubborn mule-like virtues… We will teach our children that being mediocre is okay because guess what, we turned out alright!! If there comes a time for us to shine, we will… until then… we bray our way into insignificance.

“The highest level than can be reached by a mediocre but experienced mind is a talent for uncovering the weaknesses of those greater than itself.” – Georg Christoph Lichtenberg

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Remembering Happiness

19 Sunday Jan 2014

Posted by Misguided Wayfarer in Uncategorized

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Tags

Anjali Mariam Paul copyrights, Blogger, Happiness, Heartbreak, INSPIRATION, Journal, Life, Love, memories, Misguided Wayfarer, nostalgia, Writing

Every morning is a challenge, waking up and forcing my brain to not go back to comfortable memories and times when I actually woke up with the widest grin on my face. The funniest part of this is that it has been a long time since I woke up like that but my brain remembers only happiness, forgetting the tears and hurt and pain. It’s constantly telling me to let go because of the illusion I had created in my own head that I was happy when I clearly wasn’t. I know that is true and trust me when I say this, I really KNOW this. I have had these panic attacks when I wanted to presume the worst and run for my life because things seemed so bleak and so difficult when I looked ahead and saw the fight for which I believed I had no strength. But you know what, I didn’t.

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I cry so much that when I laugh, I feel like I’m fooling myself. I post pictures of happiness when all I honestly feel is everything but… I talk about hope and love when I truly am thinking of despair and hate… Is this fair? No, it isn’t. “Life isn’t fair…”, he said. I find myself talking to myself like a crazy person and looking away when I know someone can see through my fake happiness.

Why am I doing this again? Yes, for love. I would rather be alone than have someone come and take it all away again. I stay true and loyal to love only because I remember the happiness… the only question is, “Will my love ever return?”

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Bad Haircuts

26 Thursday Dec 2013

Posted by Misguided Wayfarer in Uncategorized

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Anjali Mariam Paul copyrights, Bad, Blog, Bloggers Journal, Child, Entertainment, Haircut, Horrible, Immature, INDIA, Indian, Kids, Life, Misguided Wayfarer, Teacher

“A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life.” – Coco ChanelImageI tried really hard to come up with a post to support this picture but honestly, I got squat. I think I’m suffering from blogger’s block or something but I won’t let that stop me. I stared at this picture for as long as I could to imagine what would have plagued me to do such a thing, to realize that this was as original and raw as I could be.

I chopped my hair off because I wanted to piss somebody off (yes, that is a valid reason) and the stylist warned me that this is a cut only middle aged women get. I got it done all the same, half way through which the stylist decided to give up on my hair and the very renowned name of where he worked. I was horrified at my hair and wore a cap to hide it for as long as I could, until the kids at school saw me and told me how awesome it looked. I even let the kids style it out and voila… the picture!!

Who said bad haircuts can’t be entertaining?! I’m living proof!!

 

 

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Barbers

08 Sunday Dec 2013

Posted by Misguided Wayfarer in Uncategorized

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Amateur, Anjali Mariam Paul copyrights, Barbers, Beautiful, Black and White, Blog, Fun photography, INDIA, Jaipur, Journal, Life, Love, Misguided Wayfarer, Photo Journal, Photography, Photos, Stories, Travel Journal

I’ve got this obsession with barbers and I intend to document them all by updating these pictures as and when I click them. Keep your eyes peeled! This was my first set of photos from Khartarpura, Jaipur. I should remember to spend some time with these barbers and listen to their stories the next time. That will do for an interesting post, I think. (Note to self!)

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Picture courtesy: Anjali Mariam Paul

 

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The Bullied Teacher

18 Monday Nov 2013

Posted by Misguided Wayfarer in Education

≈ 3 Comments

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Anjali Mariam Paul copyrights, Bullied Teacher, Bullying, Classroom, Education, Help, Helpline, INDIA, Indian, INSPIRATION, Jaipur, Misguided Wayfarer, Psychology, School, Sensitive Parenting, Students, Teacher

I was recently assigned a new class to teach because a teacher left suddenly in the middle of a term. Initially, I was glad because this is a class I used to co-teach with an accomplished and super young teacher but little did I know what was in store for me.

I walked in with a smiling face, having the kids pull me into their class with wide grins and smiles because all this while, I played the good cop while Sheeba played the bad cop. Oh, but only now… I was the bad cop and they could smell it through all the layers of warm clothing and a scent of confidence which was slowly fading. I walked into a verbal feud between the boys and girls over someone tattling to the principal and it all went downhill from there. They didn’t want to sing rhymes or songs; neither did they want to listen to stories nor learn spellings. All they wanted was a boxing ring and a referee to tell them who won. I tried to be patient and calm them down, laughed at how silly they were being expecting them to laugh along of course but what I received in return were stern, grave faces wondering why I was kidding through World War Three. I showered them with love and praises which then slowly faded into me bribing them to listen to me. Did it work, you may wonder… Do kids get tricked into eating spinach?! You have your answer.

I threatened them that I wouldn’t return, believing that they would want me to return but then again; you’re dealing with conniving seven and eight year old children. The cuter they are, the harder they bite. I repeated this for 3 days and then finally, I left the class actually vowing never to return, believing heart of hearts that I didn’t have it in me to teach these ruffians. They didn’t bat an eyelid when I said I was leaving.

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I walked back to my room for some alone time as they broke for a half an hour of music before they came back for English and I was almost certain that I would break down and cry. I went to a senior teacher who teaches them Hindi and begged for her to talk to these kids. She smiled her all knowing smile and came down to help. She took all of twenty minutes to quieten them down and ask them to reflect on their actions and even brought the naughtiest child in class to sit down and write six words which my co-teacher and I had been struggling to get done for over 2 days. How did she do it?! Good question. I shall give you the answer.

She asked each one of them to name all the naughty things they did in the past three days, not to complain about another but to reflect on their own little mischievous acts. I had kids sitting in my class and making paper boats while I was trying to teach them spellings and these kids owned up to that and many more. One of them even confessed to eating in class (after I reminded him of course) and another confessed to yelling in class for no reason. The naughtiest child in my class who doesn’t keep silent for a second was seen pondering over her naughty actions and confessed to being super disobedient. I watched these devils turn into angels before my eyes and I just didn’t know what to make of it. The class was over and I stared at these children, diligent as ever… writing down sentences in English when a few minutes ago… weren’t even ready to listen to me!!

I was baffled and I still am. I remember talking to friends who were going to become young parents and telling them how they could learn from their other friends’ and family’s mistakes in bringing up children. They laughed and said that they would definitely face new challenges however much they tried to read and be prepared. It’s true. I totally get it.

I hope I become that wise one day to handle these ruffians but until then, I’m voraciously reading up on sensitive parenting and attacking the psychology of the child to get through 7 hours of class with them. Can you blame me?! They can smell fear and it’s definitely on me.

Kids are BULLIES!!

Picture courtesy: http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2011/04/20/article-1378829-01E93DB500000578-611_468x306.jpg

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Today

13 Sunday Oct 2013

Posted by Misguided Wayfarer in Uncategorized

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Anjali Mariam Paul copyrights, Beauty, Blog, Groucho Marx, INDIA, INSPIRATION, Jaipur, Journal, Life, Love, Misguided Wayfarer, Nahargarh Fort, Photo, Photography, Quotes, Serenity, The day that was, Today, Writing

Image“I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I’m going to be happy in it.” ― Groucho Marx

Picture courtesy: Me (Nahargarh Fort, Jaipur)

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