FemiNazi’s

A very quintessential trend has come into existence that stems from Feminism which, as most of you are already aware of, has been a movement led by women when centuries ago they were still fighting suppression, which is unlike the actual movement.

Equal rights were, without a doubt earned years ago but hints of suppression can still be found in today’s ‘modern’ society.

Well, let’s generalize first and then come to the point. What is the younger generation like today? If I’m not mistaken, we want to prove our point without taking into consideration whether we’re doing it the right way or not. We feel the need to justify ourselves when patience & silence can do it way more efficiently. There’s passion, aggression & disrespect but for all the wrong reasons. On top of all this there’s lack of in-depth knowledge but everyone has something to say whether or not they’ve done their research.

I’m not against feminism. But I don’t support Feminazi’s destroying the whole purpose of a peaceful movement that seeks to bring equality between men & women. If he can, why can’t she? Is the question that has been answered. Now, you need to find a method for implementation.

Bringing your male counterparts down isn’t an answer. It’s simply repeating history, making them go through what you did decades ago. Provided that we differ in our physical strength history can’t entirely be repeated obviously. But such useless attempts to bring equality can take a toll on mental health which, both men & women are prone to.

Let’s rephrase the questions according to this century, What really is feminism? What is the suppression women went through decades ago & what is happening right now? Are all men the same? Does having an anti-male approach really help? Will proving one gender’s superiority over the other cater to a solution?

I think what we need now is Global Equality. Even if men & women are equal there are so many grounds on which we remain separated namely, race, religion, etcetera.

Uploading statements like, ‘All men are the same’ as soon as news of a rape victim appears on your screen is not feminism. What are you willing to do for women & equality in the real world, where real problems exist?

It’s easier to show support, hate & sympathy online. The advent of technology is inherently an advantage without a doubt as long as we know how to deal with life, movements, equality & gender issues when we go offline.

An Exploration

What’s art? Is it colors that are splashed on a canvas, poems brimming with metaphors or a heart-warming prose?

For me art is an exploration. Over the years it has helped me on a personal & mental level. It has carried my emotions in ways no human could have. I’ve been able to explore my inner self as well as my surroundings. From observing people’s expressions to the nature that surrounds us, I think painting has compelled me to do it all. Writing has been my outlet, teaching me to be independent. Sometimes even mere observations prove to be a source of exploration.

Art isn’t necessarily confined within a canvas or a notebook filled with words. It’s an exploration of who we are & where we are.

So, what is your means of exploration? What’s art for you?

Apollo 13 : A Failure

Was it the unlucky number 13 or the sudden change of a crew member?

Not really. It was the oxygen tank that exploded.

All they could do was gaze at the moon & wave it goodbye. Can you imagine what it must have felt like to traverse all the way across the universe to mark ones name in history? But one explosion in the space craft put an indelible end to their dream. It was sheer failure.

They should have been forgotten. After all, they never set foot on the moon. That’s what their predecessor, Neil Armstrong was known to the world for. But against all odds, they were remembered. What for?

They were remembered for their journey, for their failure & courage. Having strength in a time when you have leaking oxygen with a broken space ship that turns out to be your only vehicle, you only chance to travel through unending blackness back home.

The astronauts engraved their names in the books of history. Apollo 13 was known, despite its failure.

(Left to right : Lowell, Sigwert, Haise)

There’s a life lesson to learn from this true story. You don’t have to let your failures define you at all. There’s insurmountable courage in accepting them. But once you’re back home, safe & sound among people you love, you’ll know what really counts in life. Maybe the moon was never meant for them, maybe it was the journey that was supposed to mark their victory. You never know what’s rightfully your goal until you achieve it. One goal leads to another, which might happen to be yours. But that doesn’t mean you stop trying, not even when you fail. You’ve to get back home, remember?

These are few of my favorite quotes from the movie, click here to view more.

  • I’ll be walking in a place where there is 400 degrees difference between sunlight and shadow. I can’t imagine ever topping that.
  • I sometimes catch myself looking up at the Moon, remembering the changes of fortune in our long voyage, thinking of the thousands of people who worked to bring the three of us home. I look up at the Moon and wonder, when will we be going back, and who will that be?.
  • We have never lost an American in space, and we’re sure not gonna lose one on my watch. Failure is not an option.
  • You never know what events are to transpire to get you home.

P.S

My inspiration for this post was the movie called ‘Apollo 13’ based on real incidents starring, Tom Hanks, Bill Paxton & Kevin Bacon.

Music Helps

I remained adamant to not acknowledge the fact that I was depressed, none of my so called ‘friends’ could catch a hint either. They ignored me & so did I.

Alright so coming down to the purpose behind this post, I want to share music that became my only friend at a time when I was just beginning to understand the dark side of emotions.

Black Veil Brides : Fallen Angels.
You can say that I was obsessed with BVB because I found solace in heavy metal rather than the morbid silence inside me. This song is very, very special to me.

Marina & the Diamonds : I am not a Robot.
Though I wasn’t a fan of pop music but this one song stuck with me for a long time simply because of the lyrics.

The Beatles : Black Bird.
Beautiful lyrics, simple yet powerful, this song was without a doubt my absolute favorite!

Miley Cyrus : When I look at you.
As magical as it sounds, the lyrics moved me in ways no other song could.

Pierce The Veil : Hell Above Me.
I was obsessed with this song for a really long time. I still listen to it at times.

Black Veil Brides : In The End.
Another one by BVB that dealt with the topic of death. I could listen to it on repeat for hours on end.

Imagine Dragons : Demons.
This song really moved me in ways I couldn’t comprehend back then. When I listen to it now, it simply makes me nostalgic but I’d never want to go back to that time. Ever.

There were countless other songs but these were on top of my list.

Thanks for reading!

Shapely Shadows

I fiddled with them for quite some time. But something was wrong with the key hole. The keys just don’t seem to get along with it tonight.

I dragged my feet to the bathroom, exhausted after the days work. The leftover pizza from last night was my only dinner. Leftover, the word stayed with me for more than a minute.

I grabbed the remote & flipped through channels on the tv. Gulping down coke devoid of gas made my taste buds loathe the liquid I forced myself to consume. Isn’t that what we do to ourselves as years go by? We are deliberately stuck in a life we never chose.

A movie airing on tv brought back memories. “Watch it” she said, “If you want to”, with glistening eyes that were telling me to watch her favorite movie, not asking.

With nostalgia written all over my face I was reminded of the halcyon days.

The phone buzzed on the table while I stared at it listlessly. I saw her name appear as it buzzed endlessly. Every little thing weighed me down tonight, drops of water in the kitchen sink clashing against the cold hard metallic basin, lights on the mute tv screen but most of all it was the buzzing phone.

She must have stopped calling after myriad of calls like she always did, I told myself as I woke up at half past 12. I switched off the tv & checked my phone. There was only one missed call at 9, when I might have fallen asleep. I felt stupid for believing that she cares.

No one does. I stared at the shapely shadows dancing on the ceiling as I lay on the couch. My whole life flashed in front of me, all chapters at once. Then my mind jumped to the future. I see myself excelling at the job I love. The picture of a perfect family with two kids living in the suburbs warms my heart. But perfect is just a word. What if the future is happening right now?
We collect pieces of souls & give some as we break apart. Our time, soul & heart is never truly ours. All we have is this life.
This life, I said aloud as the ceiling turned red. The shadows seemed to welcome me in their realm. You belong with us, their voices echoed in my head. They hovered around like a black veil where no light can shine through.

You belong with us, my fingers caressed the cold, hard metal I could free myself with. My salvation.

I can hear it buzz now, do it. It’s too late, do it


“Hey, call me when you get this. Look, I know we’ve our differences but let’s talk it out”, she left a message after the beep.

Sunshine poured in through the window lighting up the room like never before. The morning had devoured all shadows with the dawn of a new day. But the shapely shadows will rise again every night, as hope fades into the darkness. As long as there’s light, you’re safe. But it doesn’t last forever.

The mint green couch was painted with a dark red hue. It looked extravagant in the sun light. He lay with a hole in his head which was very small compared to the black hole he had been harbouring inside his soul all this time.

The drops of water in the kitchen had seized, the tv didn’t light up anymore, and she finally left a message for him. Nothing weighed him down anymore.

The castle

Its anonymity hovers upon me in the dark night. Something inside me compells me to take a step further. As I lift my foot with only one thought on my mind, fallen bricks arrest my attention. They’ve a story to tell. No one has ever dared to set foot in their domain fearing their hideous appearance, withered at the edges as they turn to dust. My only wish upon the asteroid descending unto earth’s surface is to comprehend their tale that has survived through time.

The castle stands tall, its grey walls barely visible in the dark night. My heart speeds up as its enormity slowly dawns upon me. Turn back now, I hear silence speak to me in an ancient tongue.

The door rests upon hinges that have seen many souls come there way. Whether it’s curiosity or lost roads that brought them here, I’ll never know.

As my mind delves deeper into the pool of curiosity a soft rustling of dead leaves warn me voicelessly. My heart is racing faster than a galloping horse on a race track.

As I touch the door it feels cold ‘gainst my hands lined with trickling drops of sweat. I push the door with all my might. My eyes can barely wait to seek treasures of the past waiting to be discovered within these melancholic chambers. Yet the unending darkness inside tells me otherwise.

I had made up my mind to explore what lies beyond the human realm. But now I wasn’t so sure if I could go on. There wasn’t even a faint flicker of light to help me find a path.

The ancient walls closed in on me, suffocating me. An evil presence made itself evident. I was no longer in my curious pool for things beyond men, I had to turn back now.

You can’t turn back now.

Mine

Art, words & poems
All are mine
Except for you.

-Nameera.

18 & melancholic!

Today was simply one heck of a morning!

I was sound asleep in my room when distinct voices woke me up. At first they were unclear but soon I could make out what my mother was saying on the phone, “Oh, how much did you get? What about Nameera?”, the last line was a signal enough for me to figure who it was & what they were talking about.

I leapt out of bed frantically. Days ago in my mind I had come to the conclusion that I’ll get around 76 per cent in 12th grade board exams. “Nameera, tujhe 79 aaye!? (Nameera, you got 79 per cent)” as much as I was hoping to somehow get 80 per cent beyond all odds, just the number ‘8’ followed by a zero would’ve made a huge impact on my mind. But 79.6 wasn’t bad either considering the fact that I did Accounts on my own the whole year round. I needed tuitions badly but I didn’t join any because I wanted to concentrate on subjects that were my strong point. Initially I did feel a bit low but hey, guess what? It’s my b’day today! Nothing could keep me down for long. Not when my parents got me THIS :

Every B’day I’d demand art supplies but this time I’m glad I picked something worth my time(not that art isn’t). Yes, it’s still hard for me to comprehend classics but it’s definitely not a waste of my time.

Coming down to the purpose behind this post, I’d advice students who just received their results like me to not fret over the past. Accept it & get over it. If moving on seems difficult, read a book, watch your favorite movie or simply flip through old pictures of your school days.

I’m sure there’s just enough room for you to grow academically & personally in the coming future.

Have a nice day!

It Came

It came like a soft breeze through the window, pushing past the purple curtain. Caressing my back it traced my flesh in a way that drowned me in melancholy.

It came as a melody so deep. Imbibing in me an incongruous longing for the past.

It came like palpitations as blood dripped from my wrists filling the air around me with dreadful silence.

It came every night,
And crept in my head.
When I tried to fight,
It stuck to my flesh.

The cold breeze,
Felt like your fingers.
When I was at ease,
And life was simpler.

It was a song,
Stuck in my mind.
Each lyric made me long,
For a life past time.

It came through words,
It came in poems.
Between pages of books,
I devoured to escape.

It found me thinking,
About only you.
Nostalgia came,
Through words
Lines
Quotes
Songs
Lyrics
And the cold
Breeze.

It came,
Unabashed
Breaking my
Walls.

-Nameera.

The home away from home

My mother received a call from her friend yesterday. So, we’re at her place today. It isn’t grand but you can’t exactly call it average. Three chandeliers lined across the ceiling are intricate in design. There were other women already present when we got there. All of them stood up as we greeted them by saying Salam followed by softly touching each other cheek to cheek, which can be termed as the Saudi greeting style, in a way. They’re all wearing burqas’ with different hues. The colors range from grey to caramel to black but sorrow has only one color; grey. Now, here comes the interesting part. The women here speak fluent urdu/hindi pronouncing a word or two with a heavy Arabic dialect. They’re Saudi no doubt yet they weren’t born one. It’s an interesting sight to behold but the purpose that brought us here is a grave matter.

My mother sits in the corner consoling her friend who just lost hope or in simple terms, a mother.

There are chocolates laid out on the table. The Arabic coffee (Qahwa) and dates are never missing in any Saudi house.

I see women from different walks of life share their stories. In a way, this is the only means to share grief in a home away from home.

“She would stir the Sheer Korma (An Indian Sweet dish) standing in the kitchen” says an old woman with a walking-stick kept by the sofa she settled comfortably upon. A dramatic pause on her part makes it seem as though her memory was failing her. “She would often quote the following as I remember well:

Eid ki sachi khushi to apno ki deed hai,
Tum humse door ho to apni kya eid hai.

(Translation : The true happiness of Eid is a gift of loved ones, what’s Eid if you’re away from me)”, she said, smiling satisfactorily as my notions about her memory turned out false. The old woman’s mother married a Saudi decades ago and never went back. Years later when she asked her mother to visit their family in Pakistan she’d simply answer, “What’s the point of visiting graves?”. Apparently most of her close family members were buried 6 ft under the earth. The only home left was where she was now.

As blessed as these people are with two homes & families scattered across two continents yet the painstaking truth seldom goes unnoticed.

People like us or as the term goes, expatriates see these converts in more than one way. Yet something that always bugs me most is patriotism. How do they decide which home to put their faith in? Or are they torn apart between two like I imagine myself in their shoes? Many of my questions have long gone unanswered but a few hints here & there in conversation always reveal their love for where they’re now but no matter what, the past still makes them nostalgic.

As one of her friends asked her where her mother died, the woman replied, calm & collected, “Rourkee” followed with a briefing about the beautiful state situated in the colder regions of India. “Is it close to Saharanpur?” Asks a lady wearing desi clothes with a pixie, quite an odd sight for a native of where she comes from but it’s pretty normal for us. “No, it’s close to Dehradun” a reply is made to acknowledge the query. The chubby woman laughs bobbing her head back & forth, “Like I’d know where that is!”.

The fact that they have no knowledge of states other than their own parents or grandparents place of origin always makes me wonder if they can ever have emotional ties with a place they’ve never seen, only heard of through stories & anecdotes.

“My mother was from Dehradun” exclaims the woman who had been listening to the conversation from across the sofa. Others nod their heads in acknowledgement.

Without a doubt the conversation drifts towards fashion. “My sister sent me stitched clothes from Lahore which removed all apprehensions I had had regarding my Eid outfit” says a woman with an air of relief as others agree with her.

As consolation, advice and stories went on, a young girl with eyes that resemble a puff of grey cloud in the sky waiting for downpour, offers coffee to those who want it. Few refuse, many ask her to fill their cups twice.

Without a doubt the topic of death arises & the fact that these days you don’t necessarily have to be old to die finds a mention yet again. “She would always cry when I came back here” says my aunt, her voice heavy with vivid emotions. “But this time when I bid goodbye, she didn’t shed a tear” she ends the note with a heavy sigh. Perhaps a mere sigh wouldn’t relieve her of the pain she’s feeling. I’m sure it wouldn’t.

The girl with grey eyes comfortably settled herself on the sofa in a corner, watching all her aunt’s hover around her mother as she wailed for her mother. Her skinny feet shuffle in a manner that makes her worry evident. With eyes fixed on her mother her lips part in silent apprehension as she moves her hands excessively.

“In the beginning of this year, she told me to hurry up & visit her otherwise she’d leave for South Africa”, little did the old woman realise where she was when she asked her daughter to pay her a visit. In the care of a son & a daughter in law, the frail creature was often visited by memories of a past she cherished deeply.

As I was looking out the window in the backseat of our car, I realised how much history everyone carries with them. The part that saddens me is that they know little to almost nothing about it. Some don’t even wish to discover their origins. A new life, a new country becomes such an integral part of their lives that what was once a place they called home becomes nothing more than a distant memory.

But what really is the point of holding on to the past, right?


I’m a keen observer by nature, not by choice. This prompt is not meant to hurt sentiments of any group in any possible way. I did feel the need to let out my thoughts about this particular issue. Being an expatriate experiencing a culture that I could live in forever if I choose to yet I feel obliged to not undermine the values inside me. Even though it would be practical to consider options like safety & a lifestyle I’ve been used to since childhood. But my choices are never governed by comfort or leisure.

I’m Indian by birth & choice. Maybe I feel this way because I’ve never actually lived in my home land for more than a year but I’m sure I can find my place in a country as diverse as India. My apprehensions about moving to India demand another post which I’ll make sure to keep short & concise.


P.S

Apologies for such a long read.