Blogging With Malvika

I’d almost turned five when I experienced loss for the first time. It was grandmother. It’s been a long time since then and I don’t remember a lot of it, but there was a certain emotion attached to it, and that feeling never goes.

People have asked me countless times what it is that drives me to volunteer so much. To do so much social work or be a part of so many organisations and clubs. The initial reason was that I realised how much I truly have and how underprivileged some people are. It made me want to do something for them, anything. For the first few years, I remember being called “too young” to work for them, I needed to work on myself first. Fair advice, even if it didn’t agree with me. So the most I could do is clean out my stuff which I seemed to have an endless amount of that I really had no use for, and to donate every few weeks or so. I still do that honestly, but now I also have the freedom of being able to put in actual work. I’ll be honest with you. A big reason I love going to work now is not just to see their faces light up; it’s because I have so much fun in the process. The focus has somehow shifted from charity to building relationships. Whether it was with other volunteers, or the people we help themselves. A lot of times, we look at their plight from the outside, convincing ourselves of their misfortune. We forget to look at them as being other PEOPLE and not a case to be rescued. The first time I visited a slum, my first thought raced to looking at their living conditions. All I could see was a drain running on the side, cold hard ground to sleep on, unhygienic places, lack of opportunities. But that interpretation now seems like looking in from a glass window. Once I began talking to them, the kindness of the old ladies who sat at chulhas making rotis took over. We went inside to call them out with their plates so we could serve them the food we got. Instead, I found myself with three soft and warm rotis in my hand to share with other volunteers. Here I was, on my very first drive expecting to hand them food, and instead landing up with these people who despite their conditions had it in their hearts to feed a complete stranger. This one experience was the hook for me. I had soon forgotten that I was the one who was supposed to be helping. We ended up all sharing the food together and chatting with the people. Similarly, I found myself coming back once again to another such drive, this time meeting a bunch of kids who I saw take care of each other while their parents left them to go to work. Once again, I could not help but pity the small kids, some of whom didn’t even have pants or shoes on them, or barely-two-year-olds neglected by their parents. There’s no excuse for a situation like that, but the energy and playfulness of the kids was hard to resist. This again, was my first time visiting the place, but not once did I feel I was a stranger to them. Little kids jumped and shouted greetings to me while others asked me to pick them up. I don’t think I have ever received as many hugs as I did that day. They found happiness even in broken swings and liquid handwash. Yes, liquid handwash. An item so common in my house I barely ever pay attention to it. But then here come 50 kids begging me to let them wash their hands again, blowing bubbles out of soap and one short step away from just bathing in it. They rang their plates when it was time to give food, some 10 other kids jumped on a half-broken swing while asking us to swing them, while others posed excitedly for pictures. In the midst of all this exhilaration, the line between “us” and “them” vanished, and we were as much a part of their group as they were of ours.

Whether it’s learning a stranger’s life story or stopping and sharing a bite with them, whether it’s playing Holi with little kids or dancing with them; being a part of an NGO is so much more than just helping. It has a way of making you appreciate the smallest things in life, and takes you off the high horse of thinking that privilege has any kind of say in what kind of person you are. At the end of the day, we all need a little support in our lives, and I’m glad that I have the opportunity to be able to give that kind of support, even in a small way, to someone else.

Anand (happiness)

A movie that betrays you with the name itself, it’s one about a character with the same name suffering from cancer which leaves him with less than 6 months to live. The irony that comes with this, however, is his joie de vivre, which is so infectious that it makes you want to learn how to live from a man who is dying.

There is one thing about this movie that pulls me back to it over and over again. The simplicity that comes with it. The screenplay, the dialogues and the lyrics are no fuss, but even without the plot twists and loud moments that accompany most films nowadays, it doesn’t fail in its delivery.

After almost 50 years of its release, it continues to be a timeless classic. Still relatable in times that are so different from when it was made. At the risk of repeating myself, I would say that the beauty lies in the simplicity of the movie. You see relationships build and realistic, not-so-perfect characters as they journey through life, and over the 2 hours of screen time it seems like you have built a relationship with them too. The elegantly written dialogues and music of the film adds to the rollercoaster of emotions felt through it. Anand, much like his name, seems to be such a cheerful spirit that it is difficult to not get caught up in his positive outlook of life. From the first moment you meet him, his energy, friendly demeanour and charm catches you off guard and his light hearted nature makes it difficult not to laugh with him. But seeing as the movie is a flashback and it is known that Anand has merely a couple of months to live, you’re caught up in a bittersweet emotion throughout, already mourning a soul that was so full of life, and desperately wishing that maybe this time when you’re watching the movie, it takes a turn and Anand is not caught in the arms of Death.

The relationships he builds with every person he meets, and his silent suffering and want to live, his remembrance of moments of his own life and refusal to share his pain makes you fall in love with the character even more.

The end doesn’t disappoint, and if you somehow got till this part of the movie without tearing up, the unforgettable climax of the film is sure to make you reach for more than one tissue. It is the small moments that make this film, and as Anand reaches his end, you see him reach a breaking point. His nature of hiding his sadness turns into uncontrollable cries about wanting to live a little more, and as he asks his friend Bhaskar to stay beside him, a sense of urgency and looming end fills the room. Anand urges them to play his tape recorder which has their voices and conversations recorded on it, his final cry of “Babumoshai” brings tears to your eyes as he passes away and we see a new side of Bhaskar too, who has lost his control this much for the first time in the film and is shaking and shouting at Anand to wake up. At that exact moment, the tape plays an earlier conversation between the two of them and we hear Anand say “Babumoshai” once again, as though replying to Bhaskar’s calls, with the hope of a miracle that has somehow brought him back to life. However, as the tape plays on, their laughter eerily fills the room as the camera zooms in on him, and somehow you know that he has changed the lives of the ones around him for the better.

In the end, the film leaves you sobbing uncontrollably, but with a new appreciation and approach to life as the delightfully woven music rings through your ears and the defining persona of Anand leaves a mark on your mind.

DAY 16-the unrest of the waters

Recently I went to Goa, and while most of you may know it as The Party Capital of India, for me, it was more of a place to have a relaxed vacation before the storm that is going to hit me this year (12th grade is sure going to be busy). So, being the very cool person that I am (that was sarcastic, chill guys) I happened to spend the first couple of days of the new year there. And as most of you must know by now, it is certainly a difficult business pulling me away from the sea.

I love the sea not just because of the beauty that surrounds it, but because of the unrest lying in its waters. There is something calm to be found in the chaos of it; the sound of the waves crashing into each other, the touch of cool water when your feet are burning in the sand, the feel of the wind in your face and the sun on your body. I think somehow the sea becomes a voice for us; it represents our inner turmoil, the constant disarray of our thoughts, and still manages to be scenic. There is something to be learnt from it, nature is imperfect- never in order, never in symmetry, never in line- yet it is beautiful.

Death and Despair, the oldest of friends. Death comes in a flash, Despair marks the end.

They come to everyone, anytime, anywhere. And they never come invited you can never be prepared.

You may not be ready for them just yet, but they’re something you just have to bear. Because human kind’s greatest weakness, is its inability to share.

We can’t share our land, we can’t even share the air. So of course when they face us, we can never accept the dare-

They’ll walk into any ground, thoroughly unaware, of any dreams we had planned, of the one we promised our future we would share.

You can’t face them alone, you certainly can’t push them out. You need someone on your side, someone who’ll stay throughout.

So I before I get lost in a whole monologue about this, I’d just like to point out that I accidentally deleted the entire thing I wrote so this is me writing again and it’s a pain but okay.

So my sister recently got married. I know, exciting right? But Indian weddings come with both fun as well as a ton of responsibilities and tiredness. I mean, the actual wedding itself happens usually at night anytime around 11 or 2 or even 4 in the morning. So not only are you awake since early morning just getting ready, but also have to take part in many many many different ceremonies. And don’t even get me started on the clothes. The traditional wedding dress for the bride, the Bridal Lehenga (usually red in color), is at the very least 20 kilos. It’s ridiculously straining and the dupatta that you are supposed to drape on your head is in itself very heavy. So now not only are you the center of attention, but you’re tired and being weighed down on and now have quite literally hundreds of people wanting to take photos with you. Plus, wedding anxiety and the godforsaken jewellery which you can barely carry. I mean, who makes backs of earrings that thick? How are we supposed to wear it?

But apart from all this, if you pay attention, you realize how beautiful the ceremonies actually are. How every small detail is symbolic and purposeful. Like why do you hold rice and flowers in your hand, or the seven rules that the groom is supposed to agree to before the Pandit officiates the marriage. Even the seven rounds (saat phere), which represent that, as believed in Hindu tradition, we have 7 lives, and the turns around the fire is a promise to be together in each one of them. It is the small details of the rituals that attracts so many people and makes the Indian wedding such a big affair. That, and of course the food. And music. And dance.

Check in with yourself every night before you go off to sleep. That’s something I’ve learnt to do and it is something that has helped me a lot over the years. It’s actually the reason I began writing. Reading made me lose myself in the fictional world when I decided I’d had enough for the day. Writing brought me back to reality. It was a time when I could pour my heart out into my diary, knowing I wouldn’t be judged. I’ve smiled while writing, and wept as well. Being a shy person since I was small, I’ve always had trouble putting my feelings into words, whether it was to protect someone else from their bitterness or myself from the truth.

Whether it was reading random quotes off the net that seemed to reflect my feelings more than everyone I’d ever met or every word I’d ever read, or just talking to myself at night when I couldn’t fall asleep. Over time I saw how much something as simple as this started to change me. Sure I still have trouble saying some things out loud, but this atleast helped me accept them to myself.

Checking in with yourself means doing any activity that relaxes you, brings you peace and helps you hear what your heart, mind and body say. For some it might be playing the guitar, others might find shelter in a corner near the window, with a hot coffee as a boost. The thing is, we are so connected to everyone nowadays through a text or a call, that we forget to be connected to our own selves. We depend on others to pick up the call and listen to us rant, instead of sitting down and figuring out our own feelings for ourselves at first.

It had been on her mind for a long time now, the words just waiting to be said. She hesitated. Once they were out in the open, there was no turning back. Once they had been spoken out loud, it made it concrete, final. Was she really ready for a commitment like that? Would it make a difference? Of course it would, she knew that, there was no point living in denial now. Those 4 words would change her life forever. It wasn’t easy accepting it, it wasn’t easy bringing it out for the world to see. She had spent her whole life pretending it wasn’t true, pretending it wasn’t there, keeping up a façade of perfection. “Hah! Perfection. As if anything in my life could ever be right. My existence is a sham; I could never be who I’m meant to be, who I’m supposed to be.” she thought. She’d known this for a while now, and she knew she had to come clean before she finally broke under all the lies. What would her parents say, what would her friends? She lived at the top of the world for now, everybody’s favorite, the girl next door. She had the life everybody seemed to think they wanted and could never have.

What do you write about when nothing comes to your mind? You could write like the philosophers do, about the sky and the stars, and the infinite space. Or like the heartbroken poets, comparing your love to a rose, to the sea, to the storms and the rain. Maybe you could write like the businessmen do, about how the next big innovation, and the changes in the economy. You could also go in the direction of famous personalities, with a history and a past, writing about their struggles and their life.

When the world comes crushing down

When you lie in the darkness unable to sleep

When you’re moving forward and trying to let go

When even small things remind you of them

When the tears come streaming down your face

And the darkness wraps every space

When you wish it all would go away

And you wish it all would come back

But you know it can’t

And if it did

You don’t know if you’d be strong enough to go through it again

But right now, you have to

Because you have no other choice

And if you could change something

You don’t know if you would

I recently had the unfortunate experience of having to deal with an extremist. And oh man, I can tell you, it’s not easy. He kept fighting with me on the most random things that came out of nowhere, they weren’t even related to the main subject of our conversation. He went from taking care of animals to fighting with me on vegetarianism, and somehow racism and slavery got into it?

Here’s what I believe though- to each his own. No, I don’t support unnecessary and senseless slaughtering of animals, of course not. However, if someone wants to have chicken on a Friday night, i wouldn’t say they’re wrong. There is a difference between what is okay and natural, versus what is unnecessary and cruel. Killing animals on large scale just for the fun of it, is just plain wrong; however, being a non vegetarian isn’t. It’s a personal choice and has no correlation whatsoever to if you like and want to take care of animals. A person who is a vegetarian may be cruel to animals, while a person who isn’t may be caring and kind and want to take care of them. I don’t believe that this is a valid argument for deciding who will be able to take care of animals and who wouldn’t.

So I was talking to my friends and we started talking about the Harry Potter book series and how well written Severus Snape’s character was. We finally agreed on a very unpopular opinion: Snape is a manipulative prick and does not deserve a redemption arc. 

Now I know so many people are going to come up to me and tell me things like “but he loved her” and “he was helping Harry” and “James was the actual bully” and whatnot. Here’s why this is so far from the truth-

Let’s start with Lily. They were best friends and she had always stood by him. She was his childhood crush. But they were like 15 when he asked her out and she refused, which is well within her right to do so. She didn’t leave him, just said she can’t be his girlfriend, and despite everything, still stood beside Snape even when he was against people from her own house. And what did Snivellus do? Called her a mudblood, which is the worst racial slur in the wizarding world, and then further acted wounded when she refused to talk to him.

He was never happy for her, he wanted James and Harry dead despite knowing that they were her family and happiness. I mean, he practically walked over James’ dead body in the hallway and ignored the infant in the crib crying because he just saw his own mother brutally murdered and went on to clutch Lily’s dead body. He could have asked Voldemort to spare the entire Potter family but he didn’t care about Lily’s happiness and loathed James and Harry so much that he wanted them dead.

He didn’t love lily. He was obsessed with her and remained bitter about the fact that his teenage crush rejected him his whole life, so much so that he even took it out on her poor innocent 11 year old son. Even his Patronus was a doe, just like Lily’s, while James’ was a stag. This further proves my point that unlike James, who compliments Lily, he was so infatuated with her that they could never be good match.

And for all those of you who say he turned to the Dark Arts and to Voldemort’s side because of Lily, let’s not forget that he was always into this and him and his group of friends were known to be bullies and pure- blood supremacists and who all later became Death Eaters.

It of course cannot be said that he never helped Harry. He lived many years risking his own life and spying on Voldemort. But that was only because it was Lily’s life on the line. Had Neville been the Chosen One, he would never have double- crossed Voldemort and would have stayed on the Dark Lord’s side. So no, while this act can certainly not be forgotten, it is also unreasonable to think that he did all this just because he was good and kind or a hero.

He was cruel and manipulative to all the students for no other reason than that he is a lonely and bitter old man. He used his authority to abuse his students to the point that in a world of magical and deadly creatures, a 13 year old boy’s worst fear was Snape himself. He threatened to kill a small boy’s toad. He called Hermione out just for answering in class and taunted her for her appearance. He got mad at Harry and refused to teach him Occlumency at a time when it was crucial for his survival. He even embarrassed him in front of his class on the first day and continuously gave him bad marks for no other reason than spite.

Speaking of him abusing his role as a teacher, let’s not forget how many times he’s picked out favourites and punished the rest. While he let students of his house get away with bullying and snarkiness, he cut points from the other houses for the slightest mistake.

Another thing to add to this list was how he purposely exposed Remus’ lycanthropy to the class and did not just get him to quit his job, but also took away the chance for him to explain his problem in the right light to the world.

Yes, he was very brave. But just because he did good work for the Order does not make up for his other bad deeds, for which he was never even sorry for. Severus Snape is in no way a Hero. Period.

Some other times you can say he was a bully and a prick-

he invented Sectumsempra

he thought he was entitled to Lily’s love

how the only time he wanted any redemption was at the time of his death

every time he cut points from Gryffindor

how he took out all his grudges with James on Harry