Travelling light!!!

For the life of me… I can’t travel light… it’s a joke how men and women travel.. but for me it’s not a joke… that shit is real and when someone ask me what’s there to pack so much I would love to bitch- slap them and then show what I actually packed… I don’t wear jeans and you know how difficult that makes my travelling?? I have big boobs and I don’t like attracting attention to them so scarfs, bra’s, Panties, tampons, panty fucking liners, tissues, towels, bed fucking sheets, did I mention books!! Yes BOOKS.. everything goes in there… what can I go without?? Apparently nothing… people call me high maintenance… bitch please these are basic for me.

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Perfection

 

People act perfect..talk impeccably, walk, talk impeccable.. I wonder…. are they not tired by it? They want perfect scores, perfect kids, perfect hair… thats too much work isn’t it?? I was in restaurant today wearing a un-ironed kurta with mismatched pants and stole which i found in fresh laundry and came with footwear so mismatched that i am sure no one is going steal them. And then this lady walks in with her perfect hair, perfect jewellery and her dress so perfect that i was in awe for few minutes. Her dressing is so perfect that she is only showing how much boobs she wants to show and you know how difficult that is?? another girl who is simple but neatly dressed with nicely styled hair. and have seen that kind so many today.

When i wear a “party” in other words “perfect dressing” and make a mistake of showing my boobs you should know they either see everything or… no either or “or” by boobs are out of control and they are everywhere and all over the place. That applies to my hair and make up. Thats why the only makeup i use is eye makeup and lip gloss. Oh yeah my hairstylist is still confused why i pay him so much to tell him each and every time “make my hair cut with as minimum maintenance as possible.. i wash my hair and towel dry it and that it.. thats my hairstyle.

I am always in awe of them because how can they work so hard when its easy to be careless or not care about being perfect. Wonder whats going on their mind. But then they are the once who get maximum attention so who am i to judge. Yeah yeah i am judging but i am sure they are too…. I am sitting at a fancy ass place reading and laughing to myself with hair allover and with a not so neat dress… Am sure no one is even going to read this so i can judge all i want.

Shades Of Ocean

I have never seen a Ocean pink in colour. The pinks don’t do justice to the images I seen but they are not too bad 🤷🏼‍♀️

Attention seeking whores

We(women) love attention if it means that we attracting wrong kind of people or the people who is giving attention are not right for us. We try take advantage of the person who is giving attention. Why are we like this?? This includes me too. I Have noticed this so much.. Why do we need so much attention then when we receive it don’t like it? We might not like the person who is giving the attention but we like the attention. Some times we end up suffering or end up hurting others.

I met a girl who is more like this than most. Man i am in bitchy mood today alright. So here it goes. She is good looking and all over the place. She amazes me. People CANNOT avoid her.. She is like that, she is loud, she is energetic and lovely. BUT she needs attention so much that it gets tiring to just watch her. She wears really skimpy cloths and keeps saying how men are watching her and how they should get a life and how they “getting off” looking at her. Girls(me too) enough of this bull. Lets get a life or enjoy what we reap Or change ourselves. In my case i need to avoid those people or just shut the fuck up.

Eric

My first impression of the man was he that he was old. He was a wearing a black shirt and dark blue jeans and walking around with a walking stick looking at the room diagnollay opposite to my room to stay. I dint think of him much but later that day i saw him sitting on the balcony alone with a black cigaret dangling from his mouth. I found him very intriguingly handsome. He is White, English and Stylish. I smiled at him and asked him the usual question.
Me: (Smiling) Hi I am so and so
Him: (smiles Back) Hi i am Eric.( we shake hands)
Me: How long are you here for and what are you doing?(you know the usual question we ask when we are travelling).
Him: I am not sure maybe for a day or two and then i have to leave for a film shoot and then maybe i will come back after that.
Me: Ohh Wow film shoot? Really?
Him: Nothing that interesting, They wanted a White old English male who paints and i just happened to be there and being a painter they were interested in me and they asked me to act in their movie and as i had nothing better to do I said yes. (shrugging)
Me: Wow thats interesting.. So you are a painter??
Him:  Yeah.. I paint a little. I dabble with paints.
Me: Do you have anything to show me??
Him: I have few on my phone, let me see if i can find some.( he scrolls through the phone and gives me his phone)
Me: While looking scrolling I find some pics with some interesting statues. I was intrigued and i say him.. Wow these are interesting, who’s are these?
Him: Ohh.. I made them….
Me: WHAT.. you are sculptor too. Wow thats so awesome.
Him: Yeah, I collect scarp and i creat something out it. poSo what do you do??
Me: I tell him.. Blah blah blah
I controlled the urge to pee and settled down to listen to him. When he’s shown his exhibition pictures i was smitten as Douglas Adams came for the opening his show. What could be more interesting to me that that? And That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. We used to go for coffee and I started spending as much time as possible beaucase of the kind of stories he used to tell me. I was in awe of him and i guess little bit in love too.. He was such a proper gentleman with all the proper ettequet.
     His stories are funny, intriguing and he himself is quite fascinating. We used to speak about books, music, Painting (i don’t know a lot but still), Sculpting, travelling, Painters, His love life, me about My non existing love life. How he met his wife.. or how he is in India and how he once spend time with a sniper(I would love to meet him once too) I loved talking to him. He had enough storied tell to fill up my time and not being bored(which i might say, is very rare). He said how he once a met young singer who had magical voice who later turned out to be one of the bejees. I was constantly in awe. God how i loved(love) him. He is one of the Those i would miss no matter what. What are the chance of listening to rest of his stories? I wish i get to spend more time with him.
I wish some day I could make someone fall in love with me WITH MY STORIES 🙂

Hyd Street side!!!

When in India… there is a chance you might find Street side henna designers, usually you would miss them on a busy street as they are little hidden.. If you happen to see them and if you are a female or a male who likes henna then don’t miss out on a amazing experience of getting henna done. 

A grandmother’s story

I was recently driving through villages along with 3 more women who happend to be my grandmother, mother and my aunt. The places we were going through are very remote and so small that they dint have proper roads. they had old buildings and some are ruined. for me they were very romantic. being born and brought up in cities, some big and some small. always a city. So all these seemed very dreamy and romantic for my very romantic mind. But for grandmother it was her childhood and for my mother and aunt it was their holiday time. When we were in car or after that 3 days of small village exploring my granny could not stop talking about her younger days. About her parents her siblings and her oh so many memories. Mind you i have heard them all. When i was a child myself. When i used go to grandparents, my grandmother in tyhe evening after all her work was done she used to sit with me out in the night under the stars and tell me stories about her life while applying oil to my haior or henna to my hands or feeding me something or just massing my head. i used soak up all the stories and fall aslee along with her on the bed made with wires. after all these years i was listening to these stories and i thought i need to make a note of them so i get to tell storeies to kids later on or else i will totally forget them. wich i dont want to. My granmother one among the 9 kids and 2 in the line is one of the strongest and indipendent women i was lucky enought to meet let alone related to. So i am going make a note of her life. Only the good parts. I dont want her life to be gone in the wind. I am going put up pics and write what ever i vcan and what ever she can tell me or remember. She is around 80 . obsessed with telivision, amazing cook, especially the traditional telugu food, a loyal sister, papmperd daughter. A mother who still keep her kids under her thumb and grandmother who still pampers her grandkids inspite that they are grown. She is partial to male species. she has 4 kids. One Son followed by 3 daughtes. the 3rd child who is my mother. So obviosly she partial to her Son and 2 grandsons who are my brothers. This srory is hers. It does not matter even if no one reads it. This is about her a woman who did not what electricity was to a woman who uses a smart phone. a woman who loves travelling, perfumes, food. A woman who is so stong that she refuses to cry. Who is scared of dark but still lives alone. A woman insipte of many backlashes still manages to stand tall and strong. A woman who everyone loves but never cross that line she draws. Hope i can do justice to her stories and to her in some way.