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Most of us turn to a higher force for solace, for a patient ear, for a solution. Here's a look at the receiving end of our prayers and whining!
Most of us turn to a higher force for solace, for a patient ear, for a solution. Here’s a look at the receiving end of our prayers and whining!
One of the top 5 entries for October’s Muse of the Month writing theme, with the cue “There’s only one thing more boring than listening to other people’s dreams, and that’s listening to their problems.” taken from Sue Townsend’s The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 3/4.
My day begins as usual: first, a special bath. Then, beautification of the body or sringar; wearing a new silk saree, putting on jewellery, flowers in the hair, applying sindoor, ittar and whatnot. And then comes the waiting.
People wait outside, and I, inside. I almost feel fresh and impatient. Finally, the opening hour arrives. People come and go. Many of them are in a hurry. Some of them linger, and are eager to talk. I listen to their stories.
Some of them aspire for something, some of them want to escape. In an ideal world – all are equal, but not here. The person who spends more money gets more time and attention. For the first few in line, I am more heedful, I try to be sympathetic. After a while, it becomes routine, and I start doing everything mechanically.
There’s only one thing more boring than listening to other people’s dreams, and that’s listening to their problems.
I used to love flowers, but now their fragrance is nauseating. I have lost the lust for new sarees. I hate jewels! All I want is some “me-time”. Some peace, some space. I want to be alone and free. But I cannot run away. I am deeply rooted here, rooted for eternity.
It is always a long day. I don’t even feel hungry; all I need is a good night’s sleep without nightmares. Dreams have long deserted me. You know what my dreams were? I used to dream about a day without the elaborate bath, about an old cotton saree. In my dreams, I used to sulk away from the world, I used to sleep surrounded by non-lit lamps. But soon, I realized that I am here to fulfil others’ dreams and desires. I am here to solve their problems, so I cannot have mine. I have turned into stone now.
I wait for closing hour. After the door closes, I see people counting money. The sound of coins and the smell of notes thrills them. An ugly feeling runs through me by the sight. I feel hatred towards myself and my entire world.
I don’t remember how many days have passed since I have been here. I don’t want to recall. Every day passes like a yuga (era). You see so much in a day.
Please don’t judge me, for I judge no one. It is not easy to be a popular deity in a town.
Pic credit: Image of the eyes of a deity via Shutterstock.
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UP Boards Topper Prachi Nigam was trolled on social media for her facial hair; our obsession with appearance is harsh on young minds.
Prachi Nigam’s photo has been doing the rounds on social media for the right reasons. Well, scratch that- I wish the above statement were true. This 15-year-old girl should ideally be revelling in her spectacular achievement of scoring a whopping 98.05% and topping her tenth-grade boards. But oddly enough, along with her marks, it’s something else that garners more attention – her facial hair.
While the trolls are driving themselves giddy by mocking this girl who hasn’t even completed her school yet, the ones who are taking her side are going one step ahead – they are sharing her photoshopped pictures, sans the facial hair, looking nothing less than a celebrity with captions saying – “Prachi Nigam, ten years later”.
Doctors have already diagnosed her with PCOD in their comments, based on photographic evidence. While we have names for people shamed for their weight – body shaming, for their skin colour- racism, for their age- age shaming, for being a female- sexism, this category of shaming where one faces criticism for their appearance has no name. With that, it also has zero shame attached to it.
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