What not to wear!

functional, stylish, regardless of shape, height or age..

I am sharing what 'I Saw and I Learnt' at BlogAdda.com in association with DoRight.in.

IIt was a bright Sunday morning.
I got up early and happy to start a fresh new day. Well dressed in a nice short red tunic with my favorite brown skinny pants. I was with my friend. While getting down from the car in a bit of hurry, my tunic got somewhere stuck. I pulled my dress and got down the car hurriedly. I didn't realize until later I saw my tunic was a bit torn from the bottom being stuck in something pointed. It was so awkward. No wonder my friend's worried comments made me even more conscious of what suddenly happened and I was upset instantly. But luckily I had a safety-pin so I pinned it up. Moreover it was torn at the bottom of the frills so it wasn't that bad. One could notice only when one was intended to see. I went to her place and just when I was getting comfortable at her home, her mom came running to me to see how badly my dress was torn. My friend must have told her, I guessed. She was very concern. Soon a worried mother in her takes over and she said, "You girls must wear Indian dress. Girls look prettier in it and those dresses are safe and sober looking..."

Now I wonder what Indian clothes has to do with my torn tunic. But then I don't blame her, ask anyone sitting next to you will agree on wearing Indian dress as the most decent dress. I don't deny what 90% of Indian population thinks. The jeans can be used rough and tough but it's cool, it's comfortable to wear delicate Indian dress. However I still have my own few true moments of confrontations which cannot be ignored as well.

Reminding me of the most embarrassing day of my life.

A little thought-process: People in India keep forcing you to wear some friendly, well covered dress to look decent. Unfortunately this rule applies only on women. Girls must look neat and decently dressed to avoid any odd confrontations. However, it has been proven that what clothes one wears are not responsible for any kind of ill-behaviors they counterpart in public area. People think wearing tight jeans shows a lot of the figure, waist and prompt legs which is not good. Women wearing shorts or leggings or tank tops or halter neck are considered giving out the wrong signals. Although the saris when wore bare the midriff and half back is still considered sober. One must wear sari in celebration functions even when the temperature outside is 9 degree Celsius. Married women (specially in North-India) must cover their head all the time while wearing sari, being at their in-law's place. Now no matter how politely she speaks, she will be appreciated only if she follows certain clothing rules. Basically people want girls/women to wear more of Indian dress and believe this act shall safe-guard the Indian culture and keep women in control. Between a minister who said women who wear revealing western clothes ask to be raped, caught surfing porn in Assembly sometimes back!

Convenience and comfort is conveniently forgotten when it comes to the clothing of Indian girls. But they have no idea that there can be a bad day for someone despite of how decently one is dressed.

Long back when I was a college going girl.
As always wearing a nice tidy dress, went for my training covering a two hours journey by bus and followed by local-daily-train. Coming back in the evening in the fully packed bus it was utterly difficult even to put down a foot.

I could not imagine what my life could turn up next decent moment. My life's one of the most embarrassing moment which has been never shared with even my mother till this date. However, I am getting brave and hence sharing this black day of my life with you, my dear readers.

My stop was arriving and I was about to get down the bus.
I was slowing trying to make my way to the bus door. Just when the bus stopped I thought to get down and was stepping slowly holding a grip of the bus door's handle. The bus took few jerks and I was about to fall down. To save myself from falling down from the bus, I abruptly jumped off the slow moving bus.

I was just a teen, nineteen years old something and could not realize what was I doing until I saw myself hoping almost firstly in front of the car which was overtaking a bus from the wrong side. For all those people who think driving in India is difficult and one must religiously follow to break rules must think twice before they really practice that. Between scold me for jumping off the bus and risking the life but don't blame me completely for being in front of the car, which came a wrong way of it's own.

I was lucky that the car stopped and did not drive over me or else I wasn't writing this article today. Before I could calm myself down to feel my senses suddenly other girl standing at the bus-stop yelled, 'Oh! look at your dress...' I was surprised for a moment since I knew I wore a good nice free-flowing Indian dress 'Salwar-Suit' so what could happen to it or me then. To my shock my suit was completely torn from the side waist to arm-pit revealing a lot more than you can imagine. I was standing in the middle of the road and found everyone's eyes were on me or should I say eyes were on my waist and above part of the body. I instantly covered myself with the 'Dupatta'(kind of stole) and walked away. My free-flowing dress must have got stuck somewhere between the people and crowd. And must have torn when pulled forcefully while getting down the bus.

A long route was a longest journey that day.
My home was still far and I was then supposed to catch a train to home. I was so shocked that I couldn't even think of crying. Everything was blur to me then. I couldn't believe this bad could ever happen with me ever. For weeks I felt like eyes were still staring at me. It was a very difficult moment to go through. Worst was awaited, when I reached home I realized it was a Diwali day (festival of lights). Everyone was enjoying at home preparing for the festival. In excitement of the festival may be nobody noticed my condition. My mom asked me to change quickly and come down. She had purchased a new Indian dress for me which was lying on the bed up stairs. I quickly ran upstairs into the bedroom, locked it and fall down on my week knees. I was exhausted. I kept staring a blank wall with an absolute blank mind. Not speculating anything, just staring dumb. The flashes of the incident occurred in my mind constantly. Later I heard mom calling, I changed my dress and threw my torn dress on the floor.

I was upset...
But, I didn't cry.
I was angry!

I hated everyone who said to wear Indian dress and considered Indian dress as one of the most decent dress. The Indian dress doesn't reveal a lot of body since it is more of a free-flowing dress.
But that extra cloth or a free-flowing portion of cloth can get stuck somewhere and one can be into the most awkward moment of their life.

I have seen so many girls/women sitting with husbands and boyfriend sitting at the back seat of the bike in the most happy moods. And they hardly care how their clothes are flying while going in the high-speed on two-wheeler. The dupatta could get stuck in the back wheel and both can fall down risking their life. But who cares!

I have even seen women wearing sari the utmost Indian decent dress their free-flowing dress getting burnt by the candle or lamp while doing festival rituals risking life. But it's festival and traditional dress must be worn. Definitely who cares if with crackers the dress also catches fire.

Of course, such incidents/accidents can happen no matter what dress we are wearing and I am a complete fool writing this post! If you think so, well I am not here to deny or justify...

Between it not just the dress you need to wear which you can carry it gracefully but no matter what you wear just take extra care where your clothes are flowing. It is romantic when with the breeze the stole fly and comes over the face of the beloved but it can endanger when the stole comes on his face while he is driving. Think about it..!

“I saw and I learnt clothing or covering the body was a rule everywhere only applied in women.
I saw and I learnt that it was not about being against rudely some rules made by the society or by political conflict but it was about spread aŵareness. A healthy change is to learn and understand that it is the cultured character shaping up you and not your clothes that fitted well! Be free from any rule that abide you from being happiness.

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The Past is always Perfect

pieces that makes picture of past...

A As a growing up kid, I had a very good memory to remember things.
Not that I had that ultra sharp mind to learn by heart the mathematics multiple tables or memorize the table of metals and their properties but I could retain the little things, a little longer than others.

Little things actually sums up to the moments which might change or enhance the life in the long run. It was never a forceful act to evoke, but interestingly anything and everything occurring into life was by default printed in album of memories in my mind. Be it a good bright page, bad black page or a shadow of grey, every moment was supposed to read, to learn from, and to be cherished in the book of experience and innocence.
Forgetting the past to me meant like unwilling to face the mistakes done and hesitant to learn. Perhaps, learning is ageless. One must keep learning and practicing their skills as in a pursuit of perfection. Indeed as Willa Cather's saying goes "There are some things you learn best in calm and some in storm".
Learning is after all the synonym for Life.

Gradually as I was learning and making a list of things, my likes or dislikes, my choices and my beliefs, I further learnt that at times we need to move on. To move on was a sign of letting go of things.

“Letting things go from some habits, people, ideas, desires, expectations, is always the hardest part of the life to face. Only difference between 'the lost and letting things go' is that one does not have any control over the lost and on the other hand one chooses consciously to let go things respectively. Basically at the end in the both conditions one tries hard to cope up with the change and tries setting oneself free to fly high and embrace new positive possibilities. It is not the easy step one takes on to overcome hurdles of uncertainties and accepting the circumstances wholeheartedly. However, those are the turning points and are greatest memories which we look back on our lives. Until our memories shape up into a glorifying past, we read back and forth, fine-tune it, forget what we want to forget and revise to remember and emphasize in all the good things, bending the best way with the interpretations and elucidation of the experience.

Over the period of time and hassle, the words evaporates from the whole picture of the past perceived. This picture of past blends well with colours of the feeling which actually never changes, it remains the same, tastes the same! And now we know for sure how we want to present that personal piece of history to people. I personally enjoy providing a fabric to the story!

I believe in stories.
I believe that the stories never really end, even while we are reading them in the books. The stories always go on. They neither end on the last page nor does it start from the first page of the book. There is always a lot left untold, pretended and presumed before it begins from the first page, after it actually rolling ends at the last page and sooner than the book is snapped shut. Eventually every experience becomes a story to share someday.
Pouring out the part of the story we are holding back.
Subsequently all the messed up things, today those are the moments marked where we did not lose hope, where we suffered yet supported strongly to mend up and bravely make up to the brag. Sometimes the past makes up well equipped to further face the bigger disaster. The picture of the past seems perfect at present beyond compromise, beyond reason, beyond promise and beyond peace, beyond love and beyond any loss.

Nevertheless, I was moving on but with memories! They are moments to cherish and celebrate.

“ I value the things from which I have learnt the most.
Perhaps, those things have been let go due to strange situations.
Yet I found out that most of the worth things I adore are somehow the lost one.

...really good time sometimes are already the one we regret
the end of it..

May be I feel that I gained more and lost less. I gained strength, I learnt to move forward, gained more determination to focus and the good list goes on. May be the lost is significant because of the perfect memory constructed in mind. They never fade. They though been lost, do not lose the charm. They never rusted. They are made up of the tough yet in high spirits series of memoirs, be it good or bad, they still been so far the best recollections. Those memories of ones we had turn brighter, enlightening, which only grows rosier day by day with the revision. They are made up of hopes, putting our faith in aspirations and dreams of magnificent things could have been. A hypothesis of eternal ‘if it could have happen’ should never bear with the fact of reality of non-existence. Yet no matter whether it dwells or not, really good time sometimes are already the one we regret the end of it. The lost is the love, the commitment, the excitement, the joy, the bliss and the growth that occurred in the passion we posses. Those are ours to keep them secured forever to feel the warmth.

Perhaps only things we no longer have due to fluttering tranche time ticking, have been so flawlessly real that it will always be poise to perfect eternal in our memories in the final trumpet destiny-destination of life.

It's very much like before you participated in a running race, you aspired, aimed and thought of winning the race which will eventually follow a grand success party, cheers and celebration by friends and family. Yet after all that what you thought, the running race did not turn up like it could have, you might have not won not even near to the catch. Against all the odds, loss and agony you go through in looking at the broken promises and dreams, you try thinking that in-spite of all the hurdles and tough time, you sincerely participated in the contest. It gave you bliss and joy even if it was for a while. It made you feel blessed, loved and cared. You literally lead the best in the marathon of memories and above all the experience counts. Finally, I’m glad that it happened (even if it was hypothetically)...  

Indeed, this is a marvelous moment to remind myself that I'm in the present and my thoughts which I'm sharing right now are coming from my past. Hence, Past is Past, past is and has to be always perfect to me!

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Lets have a conversation

heart to heart.

When the sentences are incomplete but make full sense within seconds of the blinking candid eyes. A successful small talk does not command tossing up a tired opening line, to impress to be in a limelight. Where picking up words won’t be difficult for one chooses a flow in feeling. Further never difficult to pick and start right from where it has been left off, be it over the months, years or decades.

A single sigh is a sign of a sound sound. How I wished it was easy to talk nevertheless much comfortable to understand. There are some things in common nonetheless at different poles of chronicle. Where crawling across the sky, slowly until gusts rise and speed up the sentiments of the story echoing in the empty space of synergy. 

Where the glory is listening
and beauty is in telling!

How I wished the circumstances would not control the colour of our talks.
As we stop chasing and come closer, the clearer the picture gets. The secret lies in believing that it’s never the end but beginning of the endless voyage of celebration. Not losing any chance of chatter, whiff out in world of words. Comic-notes need not to be explained, nor do they sail over the other person’s head.
There lies magic when the little humble hands that illustrate the bunch of infinite words. Well, sometimes our talk is just okay, sometimes it’s comfortable, sometimes wonderful, sometimes boring and sometimes unpleasant. At times we whisper, swallow, blabber, stammer, murmur, gabble and yet sometimes we simply speak sense. If the talk is not perfect, it just another time to sparkle and enthuse commune again. Find spark even if it's a slow-burn.

Where an undertone whispers, shouts, stirrer and settles over the top over the whole lot.
It’s a stolen moment, a slice of life, shocking and surprising at the same time shared while stepping forward through the shadow and shades. Taking a piece out, everything falls apart perhaps it’s all conjures connected.

Sometimes we step aside our conventional way of thinking, we step up above all the scattered thoughts and said-unsaid words, only to try and see a big large whole picture which we have been missing for a while to watch.
Up till then there are times we hold back a breath before it slips and spills all the beans.
We know there is still something incredible left to behold.
However when a silly rumour murmured, it creates a buzz. Where the lines on the lips which are neither re-framed nor tangled, the phrases are free and the courage chase the rhyme of the heartbeat.

When the expression of the emotions is not judged or measured by the majority or weight but patiently waited to watch the precisely perfectly, the stillness, silently secretly survive after every blink pursued by the curve on the lips. Perhaps, silences are not awkward!

“I realised, the rarest, the bravest tales are the one with broken ends thus far gathered integrated with hope, harmony and a lesson filled with bracing compassion. It's fulfilling for a while at-least, sheltering each other from the cruel world. Here being in the cocoon, there is a collective spirit in the crowd, with chaos around, creativity hounds, new chapters, old characters filled with novel ink calmly wraps words with compliment. Every little bit counts and contributes in continuing their commitment to complete a conflict-free conversation.

Such a simple concept, all I know,
all I can comprehend how I wished there was a conversation followed with the CHEMISTRY! Just camaraderie!

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