this girl is on fire!

 your a girl.... and your on fire... you rule the world with your smile.... you could break anyone with just one word... you have the power to turn things your way... your a woman.... you help people even when they come to your rescue later... you can be a bitch you can be sweet.... your on FIRE...... you are a sister... a mother... a loving girlfriend/wife....your a friend... your an enemy.....

recently i watched this video.. "this girl is on fire" by Alicia keys... i just loved the video... i kept watching it over and over again...

its beautiful... its true....

it starts with how the woman manages her house her kids her husband her family... the food... keeping everything clean and tidy.. making sure everything is right...

so it took me back to those stories written on women... its amazing... so many roles... and how she sometimes loses her own identity compromising and tending to others needs... but.. she comes back... she always does.. she tells others where she belongs... she shuts them up she tells them shes worth it... the current status of women being treated ill or not safe it doesn't matter much because she knows shes strong... she doesn't realise it always.... but she is strong..cz she is a girl.. a woman...

its amazing being a woman.... don't lose your identity.. be strong and be proud... !!

you are one of a kind.. you take care of your little kids.. you cook for your brothers when the maid doesnt arrive teach yur sister all about fashion... you act serious when you explain a point.. and the next moment pose funnily in front of the mirror or camera... that's you!! your unique.. your on fire...

Oh, she got both feet on the ground
And she's burning it down
Oh, she got her head in the clouds
And she's not backing down

dont back down.. rise high ;)

~ NauGHty n Nice *

A Neurotic Mutt's Boogeyman... Who would've thought of it?

Almost everyone I get acquainted with learns one thing very rapidly about me. I am the resigned owner of a furry banshee, who detests the entire human race, barring a few exceptions.

Her name is Nemo, she’s a 10 year old Spitz and she’s the epitome of the saying “Appearances are deceptive”. To look at, she’s nothing more than your average cute-n-cuddly toy dog but once you get within hearing range, your opinion changes quickly.

Nemo is one of those ‘one-man’ dogs. My father is her ‘only one’, her “person”. The hierarchy crumbles pretty quickly post that. She barely tolerates other family members, and hates all other humans.

Her first instinct on seeing a new face is to charge at full speed and then rear up on her hind legs against the new person. Not especially intimidating, since she only reaches your knee even at her full, vertical height, but there are those cyanophobes who freeze or panic when they see just about any kind of dog coming at them.

Another possible reaction of hers is to sniff a person’s feet vigorously and then bark the place down. As you can tell, house guests aren’t entirely too happy with her and she’s always confined to my parents’ bedroom whenever people come over. But she’s not happy with that arrangement either. She claws at the bedroom door making a din equivalent to rebels with a battering ram, tearing down a castle’s ramifications. It’s not easy owning an anti social mutt; let me tell you that now.

Other people such as the driver, maid servant, milk man, newspaper delivery boy are met with furious volleys of barks loud enough to resurrect the dead. It’s a shame is what it is, because she could have been an extremely popular dog with people because of her looks. She just chooses to throw it all away with her defiant attitude.

Communication with other members of the canine species has been extremely limited for madam. She doesn’t know what to make of other dogs.

But, at the heart of it all, Nemo is just a coward and a bully. That’s why she appears extra aggressive and ferocious. It is to hide her own insecurities. It actually doesn’t take much to frighten her. A bucket falling over. The clatter of steel utensils in the kitchen. Slight shifting of a dustbin. Fireworks. Brass bands.

Well, many people own pets that scare easily. But yesterday, I came up with a hypothesis that summarized Nemo’s biggest fear, and then it just made me ROFL.

See… Nemo was once bitten by another dog when she was a puppy. Since then, she actively avoids others of her own species and we ourselves don’t let her get too close to any other dogs. Being the neurotic specimen that she is, who knows what she’d do? She’s utterly unpredictable.

Her only connection to all other animals are the scents that my family and I carry on our clothes or hands after we meet another dog. Whenever we get back home in the evening, she sniffs us from top to bottom and we oblige her by telling the name of the dog.

Now I know that dogs have pretty short term memory, but then I like to think that Nemo associates each dog with their own scent and forms a picture of them in her little doggie brain. She may not have seen my other canine friends first hand but maybe she knows who I’m talking about when she sniffs me and I say “Guess what Nemo? I saw Crusty again today!” or “Ooh Nemo! Mishka smell!” or “Patches smell”. Yup, that’s the cue word that my mom and I use. “Smell”.

Now, the problem arises with puppies. Not all puppies have names. Especially if they are road side mongrels. I don’t always stop to pet every dog I see, but I sure as hell stop to pet every damn puppy. Who can ignore a litter of chubby, fluffy puppies? Anyway, whenever I get home and Nemo does her customary ‘sniff-over’ I say, “Look Nemo! Puppy smell!”

Poor Nemo must be thinking that ‘Puppy’ is the name of yet another dog. And in her head she must be thinking What strange creature is this? Smells like four to five of my kind at once! And every time this one comes home the smell changes! How can the smell of the same animal change?

She visibly feels afraid if you say “puppy”. In her skewed mind’s eye, maybe ‘puppy’ is a huge fire breathing demon with contradictory smells of a thousand different dogs which is out for her blood.

That explains yesterday. My mom had taken her out for her customary post lunch poo-n-pee and spied a litter of puppies in the storm drain. She said, “Look Nemo! Puppy!” and this dog’s first reaction was to tuck her tail between her legs and dart away from the place as if my mother had proclaimed “Look Nemo! A mad axe murderer!”

Nemo is a sociopath. Indisputably. But the funniest and most endearing thing is to think that this terror fears chubby fur balls. Now that, is irony.

-  ~ Inquisitive I

The Power Of A Song

They say that change is the only constant in life. You get older, you change, your preferences change, people come and people go. It would be so nice if every change was a clean *swish* wipe of a slate and a new beginning would be really a “new beginning”. But, as everyone knows, that is not the case. Some aspects of life change, while some remain painfully the same.

Music! The universal, eternal language! The ultimate comfort. A constant companion for most people, myself included. Like everything else in life, no one goes through life’s journey with the exact same taste in music. People devote years to a single genre and suddenly one day, the attraction for that kind of music is just gone. Much later in the future, however, strains of a familiar song bring back memories of the past, both dreadful and wonderful.

Why must music be such a trigger? It is said that music can be healing. But the opposite is also true isn’t it? Music can also be devastating. A damaged person, walking on the path of recovery, can be pulled down the black hole again because of this trigger. Ask me. I know.

I once knew a guy. Let’s call him ‘X’. X told me to listen to Breaking Benjamin. I got hooked on to Without You, Diary of Jane and I Will Not Bow. X and I became friends. And then came turmoil. X dated Y, while secretly crushing on Z. He dumped Y to date Q while still crushing on Z. Z went on to date someone else. Things ended badly between X and Q. X wanted Z. Z did not want X. X promised to kill himself and then X became a cradle snatcher. The friend I once thought I knew disappeared beneath oodles of sleaze and a false exterior. I had seen him without his mask of innocence and I didn’t care for it. Breaking Benjamin was swept aside by Train and Daughtry.

Today I was listening to music and the miracle known as the “shuffle button” took me down memory lane as the all-too-familiar lines of Without You started playing.

Searched for the answers I knew all along

I lost myself

We all fall down

Never the wiser of what I’ve become

Alone I stand

A broken man

Without meaning to, my thoughts drifted to X, more popularly known nowadays as “The Jackass”. I haven’t heard from him in almost two years. I have nothing but pure simmering hatred for him coursing for him in my veins. I had tried to forget him and get on with my life. I thought I had succeeded until Breaking Benjamin proved me otherwise. Life seemed so unfair! Who was he? What had he thought of himself, that he could just waltz into my life, turn it upside down for me and my closest friends and then waltz out just as coolly? And despite all my attempts to bury the poison, all it took to drag the wound to the surface was just a song. Just. One. Song. The hatred, renewed. The hurt felt afresh. The betrayal stinging just as much as it did two years back. I never thought only a song would make me feel this way. It shows that I still have a long road ahead to recovery. When do I know that I have recovered? The day that I can finally utter the last words of the same song:

I forgive you, forget you, the end.

~Inquisitive I