This post is for the three people out there who think I have a small face. More along the lines of, “Itna sa toh muh hai tumhara.” To clarify, I have a round face. Completely round. Yes, you can draw an outline using a compass and it’ll still not be as round as my face. The five extra chins I’ve added help me maintain its roundness. Recently, I was also told that my face probably has a radius of just 6 centimetres. Seriously? 6 centimetres? That’s it? Thank heavens, they didn’t say a diameter of 6 centimetres. God thought that all the symmetry he/she forgot to take care of while making my crooked fat fingers, can be made up for in my perfectly round face. And then God was like, “No more curves for her,” and then proceeded to make me flat footed. The only other curves I have are in my hair. Curly af. You might even say, my circular face is an indicator of my (rapidly fading) interest in mathematics. I sincerely hope that’s the sole reason why people have said I look like a person who studies mathematics. If that’s not the reason, please tell me the correct one. If you’re wondering whether I measured to check if my face actually has a radius of 6 centimetres, yes I did. No, I won’t tell you my findings.
Category: Creations of a weird girl
Wanna read some fantasies and fan-fiction….you’re at the right place.
To All The Boys (People) Who’ve Misnamed Me Before
S W A S T I. Yes, with a double S. Simple six letter word. Two syllables. Refers to a person who does good for others. Names I’ve been called instead:
1. Swati– Now it would be foolish not to expect this, right? Clearly, this one is the more popular name.
2. Sawasti– Okay, maybe you just added an unnecessary syllable. No worries.
3. Swaasti– Every teacher ever. You might have forgotten to close your mouth after that first a. Manageable.
4. Sasti Masti– This one really took off after the release of Cheap Thrills. Fml.
5. Softy– Yes. Yes I am a nice adorable scoop of vanilla ice cream.
6. Shwasti– Maybe your terrible handwriting added the H between the S and W. But who knows?
7. Shwasthy– Umm, maybe you thought I’m from South?
8. Samakshi– Clearly it was my fault that I was standing next to a girl named Kamakshi and obviously your brain just clubbed the names together. My bad.
9. Sanskriti– Please tell me you mixed me up for another girl named Sanskriti and not actually said my name like that.
10. Shrishti– Are you even putting in any effort at this point? Or you begin with an S and going where your tongue takes you?
11. Shashwati– I mean come on! Are you serious? This one’s as difficult if not more and you still manage to call me this?!
12. Swastik– Know what? Still better than number 11.
Sometimes makes me wonder why my parents bothered to think up a unique name at all. All their efforts have gone down the drain. As for me, I respond to any and every name that starts with an S, including the ones mentioned above. No, it does not include predominantly male names. No use calling me Suraj or Sandeep.
Green Cup and Me: A Love Story
“It’s been going on for so long now. Every time I try and escape, it just pulls me right back in while making me feel guilty for ever thinking about leaving. It has affected my behaviour and personality towards others. I have bruises on both my knees along with a nearly broken back. It’s made me cry, it’s made me laugh. It has left me waiting for hours, sometimes even days. I have skipped meals for entire days. I have possibly developed a caffeine addiction.”
I wrote this a couple of days before we finally managed to get that Green Cup and successfully survived the Flower Show. Now I look back and just wonder how did I ever manage to get through all of it. And let me assure you I didn’t without many breakdowns.
Green Cup was my aim right from the Handing Over ceremony wherein the previous union of Prakriti metaphorically ‘handed over’ all the responsibilities to the new one. We then filled every single sliver of free time with a workshop on sustainability, or a trip to a biodiversity park or a seminar on dragonfly conservation or a meeting to discuss the latest issue of Ankur (blog of Prakriti) or a talk on this or a presentation on that. Every single seedball made, candle wax melted, stone painted, flower stem cut, meal missed, sleepless night and visit to the Principal’s office was for the Green Cup.
From getting screamed at for no reason at all, to screaming at others for no reason at all. From questioning why the lawns are forbidden territory to aggressively defending the locks on the gates. From teasing others for helping out in the hostel lawns to becoming nearly a Head Gardener of the same. From hiding in my room during last year’s hostel lawns inspection to nearly crying tears of joy on winning the Hostel Cup. From labelling even the most trifle of things to losing the glass base of my flower arrangement. From being ignorant of even the names of marigold to learning about Ikebana and Moribana. From being a micromanager to getting my earphones marinated in glue. From voicing disapproval on usage of paper for decoration to actually leading several departments to do the same. From being a skeptic of the Flower Show to being a resilient one waiting in pouring rains at its prize distribution, huddled under umbrellas. From 100% attendance in even tutorials to begging teachers for leniency for the same. Green Cup has truly shown me all the colours of the wind.
I have prioritised it over my reviewed research paper, art exhibitions, internship opportunities, flirting with a guy, paper presentation functions and my academics. No one from my school would believe that I actually put anything above my studies but I did. I’m not saying I abandoned all these opportunities, but I could have performed so much better in all. Okay okay, I wouldn’t have flirted anyways! Nonetheless, I have no regrets. I am glad of every choice I’ve made.
Early in the month, while chalking out my calendar, I knew that it will be nothing short of a Fuck-It-February. And now with the onset of Marvelous March, I am engulfed with emotions of gratitude and a deep sense of accomplishment. But I am sorry for all the scissors, knifes, markers lost. I am sorry for all the eyerolls. I am sorry for all the snaps. But in the end I am tired. More tired than I have ever been.