For a truer me, perhaps!

I t was an indeed nice evening. Nice because there was nothing not-nice about it – I was having a great cup of self made coffee, the Wi-Fi was working at good speed as I was chatting over whatsapp with my bestie watching Chandler proposing Monica over last episode of Friends’ 6th season. So you see, life was indeed going good. Till I heard my mum announcing plans for the dinner about going to a get together at her friend’s house. My saturation was still intact; rather I was little pleased because it meant house would be entirely mine for a few hours and so I can dance around and have a late dinner stuck before my P.C. Things would have remained nice, until I heard the lateral part of mum’s announcement, “ You will be coming along too, Alefiya!” Wait. What? Me? “ But I don’t know any people there, Mummy” , I said in disgust. Actually, most of my mum’s friends’ kids were in their schools and those older than me had not...

No, no it is not my birthday today. And I will complete my 21 a few months later. And yes, unlike girls don’t usually do, I just declared my age correctly in public. Well anyways, the point here is something else. I mean we all have birthdays every year when we celebrate yet another year of our lives being ended (though ironically, none of us like getting older but we party on this day like hell). And then unlike every year, after 20 years of dragging ourselves in this universe, there comes this wicked year. The 21st year. Huhh! So now many of you may ask that what is the issue with it & why am I acting so pissed off. So my dear friends, this 21st year is a holy trap. This year is meant for your (sudden big-time) transformation. Like now you are expected to be undoubtedly reasonable, sensible, flexible, earnable & hospitable. All at once. All of a sudden. For no stupid reason at all. But yes, you are supposed to be. Out of nowhere your parents expect you to take charge of yo...

Shakespeare was at his best when he made Juliet say these lines, “ What’s in a name? For a rose shall smell as sweet, if called upon by a different name too !” Yeah, all of this is indeed true. As in, considering the plot and Juliet’s immense love for Romeo, these lines did fall fit there. And, at the end of the day it was literature romance & if SRK can win our hearts with open arms, then such lines can definitely make us fall for the power of true love. But let’s face the reality and come out of Bollywood/Shakespearian romance. Guys, there is a LOT in a name. And not just the name, but even in the way it is spelled, pronounced & movements of the lips while uttering it. Personally speaking, Alaphiyah or Alfiya might in no way sound as sweet and courteous as Alefiya . The same holds for a lot of our other names too. We can’t stand the injustice done to us by amending our personal identities. No. Never. Not at all. I still remember my schoo...

Trust me, no offence and being a hard core feminist I don’t at all undermine the power of girls. Especially those who are brave enough to stride upon path of engineering and are infuriated to hell by seeing horrid memes like this each time upon scrolling Facebook. Yes, though the ratio is dreadfully low of 1:20 of girl: boy engineers and mainly for those who actually had serious guts and opted for Mechanical/Civil, then such images do give some serious hormonal disruptions. Anyways coming back to the main track and progressing on a genuine note of being an engineering undergraduate myself and spending three years up till now sitting in a class where out of 4 rows- 3 are filled up by ‘Y’ chromos, I am equally frustrated. Listening to all those side comments during externals that we shall be BESTOWED undeniably by higher marks, I feel a tornado buzzing within me. Being doubted upon my capability to perform experiments with some serious machines, I feel damn boiled up t...