#GirlLove

Ladies,

How many of us can honestly say we have been genuinely happy for the successes in the lives of the women we know. Not the ones we like of course, but our colleagues, neighbours, acquaintances, cousins, even sisters.

Many argue that another person's success or failure doesn't affect them and that their focus lies on themselves and the wellbeing of the ones they love. But it cannot be so. We either love or we don't. If there is an in-between, that has an inclination. 

Here's why. 

Humans are a race. We cannot detach ourselves completely from our species with the exception to sociopaths. We cannot isolate unassailably from other humans. If we refute, we are either lying to ourselves or too proud to accept.

Women on women hatred is a real thing and ugly at one. But it need not be. I think when a person realises their worth in their own eyes, and equips themselves to pursue their purpose, hatred loses its luster. People with  passion and purpose tend to steer clear of envy. From then on its self love, girl love and one love. We've heard that a happy women is a pretty woman, but I'd say a women happy for another woman is a powerful woman.

Song of the fighter woman

She swayed in the current 
Whilst thinking she had a plan
She was moving but not forward
Continuously inspired but insipid to act

Oh she talked of many possibilities
So much so, that her own words wearied her

She knew what uniqueness she was made of
Yet doubted her underlying greatness

She waited for life to take its course
And boy, did it not; There were many

seasons and she embraced them all

She pocketed them and harmonious

Her presence in the present seemed non-existent
Yet wise to not let mediocre prevail

She knew comfort meant trouble lurking
She had to had to take a stand

Life comes with only a finite number of  cards,

And here she was, already over drawing
She knew time has been racing her all along

Poor time couldn't see the competitor in her

Her hopes pinned on her steadfast heart

Her dreams now worked out as anchored plans 

She uncoiled, brought her feet to the ground

Leapt to take off and set sail

What remained now was for the world to see
See her fly in the vast compass of  the sky

Against the current, along the mighty eagles

Soaring high while conquering the storm 

About last night.

In the glum darkness of the night, I sat up on my bed. My heart heavy as wet laundry. My tongue stuck to my palate, my eye balls hid under its lids in despair. I straightened my skimpy clothes and considered the life I was given. Contemplated on every opportunity presented, the decisions I made, the experiences I had, the pain I carried, and the tears I wiped.

The sound of thunder and lightning alarmed me and I looked at the fierceness of the bolts savage through my window. I watched nature in action from my melancholic room as the curtains swayed in the mild wind. Is the weather outside painting the accurate picture of the turbulence in my heart? Thoughts rummaged once again pressing my spirit to the lowest pit and I partially went deaf in the ear and numb in my being for a brief while.

Why is it I always feel like I am walking on a rope, why can't I take risks, face challenges and make something out of myself? Why can't my stomach be flat and legs be slim like its meant to be, why can't I have eyebrows that are arch shaped and not like a straight line drawn by a child. I investigated and dissected every meaningful, trivial situation I was ever a part of. Shed drops of salted distress on forgotten heartbreaks, unsavoured relationships, awkward moments, meaningless friendships, self pity and the need for validation.

Sometimes, we women look into our entire lives because we want to be in control, some other times it's just PMS.

Beware of the office flirt.

I have an appetite for unhealthy food and so does my heart for unhealthy relationships. The desire to feel belonged is the first hit of shovel on the grave of independence. Being in a relationship; the idea of someone dominating you out of their possessive love for you is what romantic best sellers are made of and what unadulterated teenagers in their adolescent prime crave for. But that is not what a liberal, forward thinking, independent girl like me can stick up with.

Boys come in all sizes and shapes (pun unintended, really). Yeah, there are the cute ones with vacant brains, the brainy ones with narrow minds, the douche bags border-lining as smarty pants and the wannabes trying to scale up at their charismatic game.

Every girl loves a little pampering, unfiltered compliments, a little tongue in cheek moments when *conversing* with the guy she is crushing on. You know the coquettish behaviour of flirtatious laughs, uncontrollable giggles and obvious drooling action? Yes, we all love it but hey, don't interpret all that coying to be a green signal to take things to the next level, cause buddy there is no next level in office flirting unless you are immature, sad and do not see your self-worth or is driven on attaining your full potential.

I am all in for socialising, cracking up, chilling out, even sharing inappropriate jokes and stuff, but hey, know what you want. Stay focused, don't let the circumstances take its own course, be in control. Besides, some people are really sweet, don't lead them (read as use them) if you're not planning on receive them at the other end.

The other guy.

He makes me smile.
He makes me dream.

He runs in my mind.
He races my heart.

He excites my senses.
He seduces my hormones.

He lets me be me.
He lets me speak my mind.

He undresses me.
My spirit, soul and body.

He gives me hope, but he won't be around.
He says he loves me, but it is not without reason.

He makes me feel special,
Because I need validation to feel so.

He makes me feel beloved.
I enjoy that attention because I lack maturity.

He gives me much importance.
I enjoy how it feeds my pride.

He has a consuming effect on me,
Because he is not 'the one' but the other guy.

Go figure!

Every girl believes she is beautiful. How much weightage she assigns to this truth is relative, but in her soul, every girl thinks she looks beautiful (at least in some angles). I am no exception. Growing up, I did not worry much about my looks. My idea of good looking was neat looking and presentable, nothing more. Then came adolescence, that didn't change me either. I was mostly by myself and thankfully did not have a rebellious attitude. Late teens and early 20s - not much of a change, hadn't used a kohl pencil (eye liner) or a foundation on face up until then. Could say was the biggest make-up virgin in grad school.

Went to Bangalore for my post-grad. Met a bunch of good people and a lot of wannabes. Discovered myself, not necessarily my strengths, but discovered myself for who I was. I knew what I was made of, what I was inclined to, what I abhorred, what I fancied and that was a great learning. Worked for a couple of years there and moved back to Chennai, home of my heart. You know how you get your way around some things effortlessly? Like I didn't really have to work or strive for few comforts. It just happened to me every time, like I was entitled to it and the cosmic powers worked in unison to have that thing delivered to me. But with age, I got more wise and I think I jinxed it or real life happened.

I became intrigued observing and moving with people who did certain things in a certain fashion and always found good results. There was a plan, there was a pattern. They had a routine, they were conscious of everything they would think, say, do or not do. I figured the character mix of people who are beautiful and successful are hardworking, positive, genuine, kind hearted, friendly, cool-headed, empathetic, perseverant and they invariably had a high self-esteem. This list may not be exclusive but surely this is the combination. Every person's path of discovery of himself is different, but when the desire burns bright, the light is shone on the path. That is a certainty.

You're not a boy.

Stop walking like a guy they said. 

Put your legs together when you stand.
Don't laugh so loud.
Stop showing so much teeth when you smile.

Don't come near large groups of men they said.
Stop wearing fitting clothes.
Step out only for studying/work.
Make sure you return home by evening.

Don't adorn yourself to look beautiful.
It will invite unnecessary trouble they said.
Don't over expose your body or your personality.
Cover yourself, you're not a boy they said.

Women, sometimes..

Somedays you find yourself unbelievably quiet. There's dimness in your eyes, dullness in your face and overall gloominess in your appearance. You don't feel good. You either feel too restless or too numb. Your movement will be limited, your emotions at its minimal activeness.

You'd spend your day either lying down on your back or sitting up in a perfect angled posture. Your eyes will concentrate on something that's most likely inanimate and most certainly of nil significance. You would prefer less or no contact with another person, verbal or otherwise. Eventually you will begin to think why you are feeling so remorse and why you are overtaken with such resentment, however your heart and mind will not cooperate and give you a logical answer, instead, it will complicate you further. 

This is a common thing in the life of a strong woman. She has her off days. Her backpack of responsibilities sometimes disorient and distraught her in intangible ways. Behaviour such as this is her body's way of reciprocating to the crazy madness in her life. It's perfectly normal, if you're a woman.