Blood Cycle

You’re uncomfortable, it’s too hot, it’s an uneasy feeling, the cramps and then of course the bleeding. 

You want to sleep in and not wake up till the pain goes away. You simply want to do nothing at all, but sleep. Your breasts are sore and you feel like someone is punching your abdomen and your lower back. Having a civilised conversation, at times, feels like such a chore. 

You want to cry and then you want chocolate and then you cry while eating the chocolate. You want a hug, but you don’t really want anyone to touch you. You’re emotional and annoyed at the same time. 

And yet, most women have work to do, household chores or otherwise. They have to take care of others, do their chores like routine, as if nothing has changed and still do it without grimacing from the uneasiness. And most women won’t even complain, because it’s just something we all go through. It’s not like we have much of a choice. 

It’s just your uterus being pissed at you for not procreating. At the same time, for those who don’t want to procreate, bleeding for a few days a month is a blessing and a curse. 

And to top it all, tampons and maxi-pads are considered luxury items and taxed a bit more. Thanks for that, peeps! Also, around here, it’s not supposed to be seen. Like, getting your period is a shameful thing. It’s wrapped carefully in a bag and given to you. (Just like condoms, might I add, because, well, safe sex is also a terrible thing apparently.) We are bleeding and in pain for crying out loud. The last thing we care about is if anyone might just see a green or blue pack of pads in my bag. Deal with it. Just the way we all deal with the pain of the bloody cycle. Month after month, the same bloody routine. 

We should all be given discount coupons for Cadbury’s and Baskin Robbins during that time of the month. You know, just in case you need that little extra boost. 

I’d ask for others to cut us some slack around this time, given that we are generally primed towards feeling a bit low, tired and irritable. But, hell. That’s too much to ask for. Ugh. 

Yeah. Chocolate is always a good idea. 


Dating or some such Thing

Dating in your 30s is a whole different ball game. I guess it was easier before. At least that’s what I feel personally. I got introduced to my ex through a friend. I was with him for a whole 7 years before we decided that we weren’t meant for each other. We split up and moved on. I think we made it easier for each other when moving on because neither of us wanted to be with the other person.

After the split, I did try what everyone else was doing. Tinder and those other dating sites. And the one thing I found most common was that people didn’t want to date with the intention of taking it further. And that might work for some, but “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” isn’t really my style. Some suggested being in an open relationship. And some suggested that they would like to be friends with benefits. I never understood these concepts before and I certainly am not getting with the program now. These concepts are literally alien to me and I’d like it to stay that way. 

Sometimes I feel like the romance is just lost. So what is it that people want? “Hey! Let’s be together and pretend like we’re in a relationship. But at the same time we want to be able to see other people. You can’t be jealous if I’m on a date with someone else, but we’re still loyal to each other and have great sex, but we won’t do dates and dinners and movies. We won’t meet each others’ families but friends are okay. Let’s act like we’re married and almost live together, but if we need our space, we can stay away from each other and finally, if this isn’t going the way it’s supposed to, we can call it quits and move on because we were never in love in the first place.

Well, that’s what it seems like to me. I’m quite sure there are a lot of benefits to being in this sort of relationship, but I just don’t see the point. I don’t understand it and I don’t care to. I suppose I’m a tad old-school. If you’re with someone, be with them. Fall in love, go on dates, spend time with each other, invest emotionally and be in it whole heartedly. Don’t like it, break up and move on. It seems quite half hearted otherwise. 

I want the whole deal, I guess. Considering I felt like I was cheated out of it before. I want flowers and cuddles and forehead kisses and a man who’ll say my most favourite words, “I’ll do the dishes.” 

But perhaps because I’m a tad older than 20, I’m a bit more set in my ways and it’s difficult to look at things from a different point of view than what others can do with ease. 

In any case, I’ve currently put a hold on this dating business. For now I’m content with my life. Life’s good. 

Soft, Sweet, Skin 

Okay, so I was never one of those who enjoyed the extremely female ritual of rubbing sweet smelling lotions or creams into my skin. At best I would just use Vaseline for my cracked lips or a bit of hand and nail cream if my hands got too dry. 

However, very recently (about six months ago), did I find great pleasure in using these products. And they just made me feel great. Anatomicals is by far one of my favourite products, followed by the sweet smelling body butters from Bath and Bodyworks. 

Even if I’m running a bit late because my hair took longer than usual to do, I still make sure I rub some lotion on my hands and legs and feet. Not only does it make my skin feel hydrated, but it also just smells so damn good! (Absolutely love the smell of the avocado cream by Anatomicals.) Forget about not having dry skin anymore. I just enjoy the ritual of massaging lotion or cream into my skin. The massage makes me feel fantastic and voila! My entire body feels soft. 

Better late than never, I always say. And I’m so glad I finally found some love for this! 


When I say that I’m doing nothing, I literally mean that I’m doing nothing. It means that I have carved out time from a busy schedule to do nothing. I love doing nothing. 

Nothing as defined by me is when I stay in bed, read and book and have my dog at my feet. When someone calls and asks what I’m doing, I say, “Nothing.” It doesn’t mean that that because I’m doing nothing that I’m free. It simply means that this time is my “nothing-time”.

There used to be a time when I was always up to something. Always doing something or going somewhere or simply pottering about the house cleaning or doing mundane chores. Nowadays I stop for about an hour or so either on a Saturday or a Sunday and just do nothing. It helps me calm myself down and recharge my batteries. At times I don’t even read. I just stare at the ceiling, curled up in my blanket and concentrate on my breathing — my own private form of meditating. 

This also taught me how to be alone with myself. I never knew how to do that before. It was always difficult for me to be alone. I was almost afraid of being alone. But now, I have no qualms about it. It actually gives me some space and the peace that comes with it, gives me immense joy. 

Therefore, I say once again. I love doing nothing. Sometimes, it’s the best part of my weekend. 

Travel Bug

I used to love to travel. And then there was this period of about ten years where I just lost all hope of ever being able to travel again because I was made to feel like a bore. I am not the best of travelers. Ask any of my close friends or cousins (well, the only two who will travel with me without much complaint). They’ll laugh and tell you that my antics are hysterical, but I usually grumble about the heat or mumble about how I miss my bathroom back home. 

I am the sort that will book a ticket two months in advance, make an itinerary, pre-check, check, recheck, turn up at the airport nearly three hours early even for a domestic flight, lest I encounter a long line during security check and finally, and finally, I never forget my trusty tissues and alcohol-y hand sanitisers. 

But it was different this time around. I traveled with a friend who made me look at things differently. My grumbling wasn’t ignored, in fact, this friend took my grumbling and turned it into a piece for a stand-up show. I couldn’t help but giggle myself. It made me happy, I realised, to travel, and I didn’t miss my loo back home even once. 

There was a road trip and tiny hotel rooms and lots of scenic mountains. I still managed to get in a grumble here and there, but overall, I was a happy camper. I came to realise that I’m not such a bad person to travel with and that it probably wasn’t my fault completely when I traveled with my ex. (As someone who was more used to being left up to my own devices and antics on vacation, this was pure relief when I felt included throughout the entire trip!) 

I guess when you don’t feel left out, you enjoy yourself more. And I had only felt that the few times I’d traveled with my cousin, who basically used to shut me down and tell me to suck it up and enjoy the place instead or when she would simply have to calm me down for being much too hyperactive. And also, let’s not forget the one time I traveled with my friends for my birthday. Now THAT was a good vacation, even though I barely did anything. 

But I must say, I am in love with the mountains, where the sun rises at 5 AM and it gets dark and chilly by 6 PM. The early morning tea and the yummy eggs made me want to get up and get out. (Trust me, this wasn’t me even a year ago.) I felt like I just wanted to do every single thing. Even though it was difficult for me to climb uphill and I had to stop to pee every two hours. (I think that got on my friend’s nerves, but there was no complaint.) 

Yes, I think the travel bug has bitten me once again. And I sure am re-learning how to enjoy myself when I travel. A few things could change, such as me wanting to follow a plan down to the T, because that doesn’t always happen. But all in all, I think that I am getting back to my days of when I used to love to travel. 

Show Me

Okay. I see a lot of “What I want to tell my daughter” articles out there. And that’s wonderful. I love reading them because my mother never sat me down and told me a lot of those things. But I personally believe in nature versus nurture and that actions speak louder than words
I learned a lot from my mother even though she didn’t write to me or sit me down and tell me what to do. My father too. 

My mother taught me that food actually is the way to a man’s heart (although, I barely cook). My father taught me that exercise and breakfast are supremely important things. My father also turned me a tad OCD, while my mother taught me that it’s all right to be a tad messy. I won’t take out the trash the previous night, but I’ll clean my kitchen spotless before I go to bed, lest my kitchen is infested with cockroaches and ants. 

Since I can’t see without my glasses, everything has to be put back in its right place. I’m very particular about where things are supposed to be. That comes from dad. My mother taught me that pride goes before fall and sometimes I have to swallow my pride and deal with the situation. Although my ego is quite large and it takes a while before I bend or succumb to saying that I’m sorry. Now, that, I get from my father along with the short temper. 

They both taught me not to lie and that money doesn’t grow on trees. They taught me that it isn’t a house, but a home and that one must always take pride in it. They taught me that practise always makes perfect. 

They did all of this by example. My mother will wake up just a tad earlier than us and make breakfast. My father, unless very sick, still doesn’t miss his morning walk and hearty breakfast. My dad will do the dishes and never leave anything in the sink, while my mother folds clothes and leaves them on the bed, while dad puts them away. The bed is always made and the pillows always straightened. My father will keep things where they belong, while my mother is capable of losing her phone while she’s holding it. 

Yes. I learnt from how my parents behaved and how they treated me and my extended family and their friends. And I think it’s safe to say that I’m not completely damaged (although my teenage self would claim they were out to ruin my life). 

I still believe that children, especially in their formative years, look at their parents. The way they are, how they behave and follow suit. And that’s the time when you teach them all this. By example. That’s why I say, “Show me.” Don’t tell me. 

My Special Corner

My balcony is one of my most favourite places in my home. I could sit there all day long and work or chill out with friends or simply listen to music and sip my chai. It’s perfect for beers, talking endlessly about almost anything or to just sit down with a book and read to your heart’s content. 

And now that I have these awesome nets up, the pigeons (and other creatures with wings) can’t mess it up by pooping all over my parade. Yes. Those birds were a menace and cleaning up pigeon poop every single day is no fun. (And honestly, it’s super gross!) Good riddance to those pesky creatures, I say. (If you’re a pigeon lover, I apologise. But I really really cannot stand them.)

After the nets went up, I decided that my little balcony needed a serious revamp. I brought out the carpet and the pillows and my tiny table and made myself a little corner on the floor, beside the railing. Fair enough, that when it rains it’s not going to be as much fun, and I’ll have to bring everything inside, but it’s lovely in this season! And Bangalore does have beautiful weather right now. (You know, the kind where you can snuggle up or sit outside and have hot cocoa early in the morning.)

This is now my new space. It’s completely devoid of negativity and keeps me positive. Even the dog loves it. He sits by my side when I read my Paddington Bear stories out loud (yes, I treat him as my audience) or when I just need an extra push to start my day. It’s my special corner and I absolutely and completely love it.