Tuesday, February 24, 2009
the moment of truth...!
My mum says, ‘life is about lending yourself, making compromises, defying & then adjusting to the situation. The sooner you accept the irony, the better you cope in the times of crisis’ .like a rebel, I always was, I kept contradicting her every time I was asked to act in a specific fashion constricting myself into the mould of societal norms. But sadly, never could I see an utter defiant, petulant & self opinionated person like me fitting into it. Partly because, way back in school, I never had the need to make myself change to be accepted, never was I expected to be politically correct to be adored, I was a rule-breaker, I was a nuisance then, slipping outa the class, roaming around the town with my shriek 2-wheeler with friends, gormandizing junk food, having brawl fights with the guys in my class ,n bullying over the less popular people was what I did the best in school but yet I was loved by many a people. Hailing from a small town , & born to a family who are as affectionate as they come, & having grown in a way...Without any restriction whatsoever …I was like a happy butterfly spreading its colors to the world, I had no clue about the satires & grieves that life thrusts on u, I usually kept myself occupied by weaving unattainable dreams in the broad daylight. Shifting & shuffling between many bizarre career options, from defense to engineering & many in between, I tried my best to be practical by deciding to pursue fashion design course in future. All I wanted was to look hep, drive a swanky convertible & brush shoulders with the la di da stars of the society. The whole of Cuttack believed that I would make it big in this field somehow. Post 12th grade, I started filling in forms to get into the premium institutes offering fashion designing…….The first jolt of disappointment was unleashed when I saw part of my 5 years old dream taking a backseat when I was rejected by the best institutes of India-NIFT & NID in the final round of the selection procedure. Through bouts of confusion, & with the encouragement from my dad ,my chemistry teacher & my drawing teacher, I finally decided to enroll myself in pearl, Chennai, I was apprehensive about the place & the fact that I was gonna be among the first batch of pearl, Chennai..This was definitely not what I had envisioned for myself. But somehow, I managed to convince myself to survive it for the next 4years. I left behind my home, my people, my language, my love, my childhood, my life…..n started my journey of pearl with huge packed bags on the day of my 18th birthday, 29th July 2006 to an unknown land of aliens, filled with people I can less relate to, to a world which looks flashy from far…. I still am trying to figure out whether it was supposed to be my best or my worst birthday ever……………On entering the premises of pearl, I was unperturbed to meet many different people from different places. I suddenly felt introvertish when I saw the people with whom I was gonna spend the next 4years of my life. I dint feel the need to socialize, I just had one thing in mind whether a stubborn person like me would survive the hostel guided by rooooolesss n regulationssss…..the way I am…I feel claustrophobic, when I am asked to do things in a manner it should be done, I might as well have turned up doing the same if I were on my own…but I don’t want people telling me, what to do & what not to..Even my parents have never bothered to do so; I am not used to being ruled by dictators. While doing the first assignment in college, on my first day in pearl, I realized the paper was wet with my tears, those two drops taught me to be stoic, taught me to wipe them away & accept the new life…..unlike earlier times, I didn’t call up my mommy to tell her how much I miss her, even when I was dead sure that she too was welling up her eyes missing me, I suppressed my craving to reach out for a pair of strong arms of any friend of mine to hug me tight…. I rather continued with my assignment…………………As days passed, I was lucky enough to be staying with my sister, rather than in a hostel, after one year of slogging day in & day out, I got to get a clear picture of what the life of a designer is…its not all that flamboyant as I had imagined. the language barrier in Chennai, where a non chennaiite is often touted as ‘hindiaa’ or ‘northie’ & sometimes treated indifferently, mocked just for the petty fact that u don’t speak their local lingo & are adamant to call the national lingo-Hindi as your own, taught me to love my country even more…I relate to hindi much more than I do to oriya…specially when people address me as a north-Indian not just an Indian, when people here prefer to cheer for Srilankan cricket team when playing against India, & when almost whole of my class was in ignorance during the period of mayhem in Mumbai attacks, but got a week off when there were chaos in Srilanka. Everything made me feel more responsible towards my country, which I will definitely work it out someday when I am in position to do something. Thanks to Pearl, Chennai.Foundation year passed through thick & thin then started the actual career route, where the rules of slogging were defined in prominent letters. Unending assignments, meeting deadlines, groupisms, less friends, no family……..2nd year brought along the air of true fashion designing. I suddenly came across a new word ‘professionalism’...Which has hell lotta deep meaning associated with…but if you stick to it, you definitely reach the peak of success in this field…I always did what I liked, designing was a passion for me, never did I feel the need to market it & sell a part of me (my idea), I couldn’t bear the thought of selling my art for money. But I had to accept the irony.2007 post august was the darkest period of my life on personal grounds, psychologically; physically & emotionally I yearned for a support to pass through this, which obviously I didn’t get….rather the ill habits that had conjured in me over time ,took a toll over my academic life or to be precise my attendance,….I was debarred temporarily….I still remember the day when I was making merry for giving a very good submission, correctly at that very moment I was summoned by the dean who broke the news……that was the first time, I was so vulnerable in front of my parents that my condition, my mistake made them cry..N for the first time I spent my new year & Christmas shut out from my school friends in utter despair…..post this phase, everything fell back to normalcy…To be honest, how much I abhor to be in this place, city, surrounding, I cant miss to acknowledge the fact that this 3yrs of my life have posed a very crucial period of my life, if I hadn’t been bitched about, hated by my colleagues for my unpredictability & sharp mood swings…I wouldn’t have ever learnt the flaws in my character traits & never realized the importance of behaving professionally. if I hadn’t been in company with superficial, ooh la la time pass friends, I would never have understood the meaning of honesty, trust that’s involved in the making of a relationship as pure as friendship, I used to take my school friends for granted, but now they are a part of me, if I hadn’t stayed away from my parents, crying all through the night craving for their hugs n kisses, I wouldn’t have learnt to stand independently & take care of myself…moreover the distance sharpened the relationship, & made me realize how lucky I am to be born to such parents who are ready to stifle their own wishes to fulfill the tiniest dream nourishing in the eyes of their selfish daughter…if I hadn’t been betrayed by the person whom I considered my God, my future, my life, I would never have become an atheist, a self dependent, more confident…& this taught me to fall in love with my own self…n made me discover that I find solace in writing, giving vent to my emotions through words became my new passion, If I hadn’t been a victim of prejudice, I would never have realized the stark difficulties of life, now I am geared to face the big bad world, If I hadn’t been discriminated on the grounds of language & place, I wouldn’t have thought of trying to become an asset to my own country…3yrs already over..just one more year to go to graduate… I don’t know what the future awaits, but I don’t want to be among the rat race, the only ambition I have as of now is to be contented n happy…I don’t want to grow old to find out that I have missed all sweet happy things of my life running after gold…My mother was always right, life is indeed about making few compromises, making you flexible n most importantly accepting both good n the bad....you can’t always wear a pair of pink tinted glass& expect the world to walk according to your terms. Now when I see myself on the mirror, I see a new, improved, matured Ipsita…who no longer wells up her eyes for petty reasons, no longer expects unexpected things, who loves her people to the core…values relationships, people, & tries to be at least a good human being, if not an ideal one….. its like opening your eyes after a spicy dream that has few a smiles n few tears….this is life…a cuddly dream or a nightmare…you are a part of it…you have to live it with a smile, that’s the best you can o for your own goodwill.
the "In" factor
The perfect 10 body, flawless complexion, shining mane glory topped with the graceful moves that can make any guy skip a beat....yeah! Yeah!! They got all! From name, fame, physical appearance (psst-they are also fortunate enough to be wrapped in arms of guys we can only gawk at)...admit it!..every morning when we stare at our mirrors scrutinizing our flaky skin, unmanageable hair, extra bulge...we wish to wake up, the next day, as one of those beautiful models/celebs who adorn the front pages of every fashion magazine, & manage to slip into the size that we could only dream of, by crowing about things that forces our lips to mutter a ‘sigh’. Moreover, it elevates our agony when we hear their statements of maintaining that look ,confessing to be big time foodies......Right- we all want to personify the oh so “in” anorexic size zero kate moss image. kareena is the latest addition to the size 0 rage which is catching up very fast in India along with the other western countries. i, myself being a girl, feel guilty every time I put anything in my mouth, be it healthy, unhealthy whatsoever. You feel like a thief, if you treat your tongue in public. you ll be disillusioned with people from left & right, east & west staring at you with eyes showing....’jeez-have-a-look-at-your-burgeoning-hips-before-gorging-on-that-pc-of-cake’ look. Well to be honest, this is one of the reasons why I avoid eating at junk joints; i prefer packing them up for home ;).Imagine, having a burger in public, u need to open your jaws like a huge heavy dinosaur to have a portion of it. There is nothing more embarrassing than this. lol. the clothing brands are doing their very best by pilling up plus sized garments on the racks of every good retail shop, but only a handful of people manage to get in there, because they are displayed on a completely different section of the store with huge..yeah large posters of plus sized women pasted confidently on the walls of the store, that scares off many women of that size, to go in there, so, they prefer, shopping in the normal section which have got normal & plus sizes in the same section.
There was a time when curves were the most prized physical attributes that one could ever have. The voluptuous curvy bod depicted in the Indian sculptures & mythology was the true representation of feminine beauty, whereas petite was taken to be a result of malnutrition. But now, the mantra is .’xxxs size rocks’!!!...my take on this current trend is, that one should keep the near to perfect image to models, comon!! they have 100s of people around them every second to take care of their bod, skin, nutrition, garments & what not, an average person like you & me dont have that kind of time, money & energy to spend on doing those, then why do we have to expect the results so extreme as that. Trust me on this, they are painted with loads of imported make-up, concealers to screen their zits, to look on tv,mag as they do. Even they complain of acne & dark circles. we shouldn’t constrict ourselves to that glossy illusion, rather we should focus on the positive factors in us. yep!!! thats what I tell myself everytime I catch my lips salivating at the smell of a freshly made double choco chip cookie, & eyes staring blatantly at the oh-so hot model adorning the poster displayed at the showroom next to the cookie shop. Well, again, I should believe that, models should look like models, a mom should look like a mom ,a corporate female should look like one, , while a fashion designer can look like anything she wants to ;-)
There was a time when curves were the most prized physical attributes that one could ever have. The voluptuous curvy bod depicted in the Indian sculptures & mythology was the true representation of feminine beauty, whereas petite was taken to be a result of malnutrition. But now, the mantra is .’xxxs size rocks’!!!...my take on this current trend is, that one should keep the near to perfect image to models, comon!! they have 100s of people around them every second to take care of their bod, skin, nutrition, garments & what not, an average person like you & me dont have that kind of time, money & energy to spend on doing those, then why do we have to expect the results so extreme as that. Trust me on this, they are painted with loads of imported make-up, concealers to screen their zits, to look on tv,mag as they do. Even they complain of acne & dark circles. we shouldn’t constrict ourselves to that glossy illusion, rather we should focus on the positive factors in us. yep!!! thats what I tell myself everytime I catch my lips salivating at the smell of a freshly made double choco chip cookie, & eyes staring blatantly at the oh-so hot model adorning the poster displayed at the showroom next to the cookie shop. Well, again, I should believe that, models should look like models, a mom should look like a mom ,a corporate female should look like one, , while a fashion designer can look like anything she wants to ;-)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)