Ink and thought

While going through my Snapchat memories on my day off, I bechance upon a video from 6 years ago. A trip to Victoria with my roommates and homestay guardian. I was an 18-year-old girl who had just moved abroad! Exploring a new country and waiting for new life experiences, I entered Victoria starry eyed. Living in the small town of Comox Valley, the drive down to the capital of British Columbia was a big deal. An epic realization of the difference between small town and city life.

I read somewhere that if a city attracts you and beckons you, it is because there is someone in the city who you’re supposed to meet. Or that your story in that city is already written! And here we are- 6 years from that day, now I work at the historic Empress hotel that I had once seen from the window seat of my guardians car. The people I’ve met, the memories I’ve made in this city are fuel to the blazing fire that is my life abroad.

And with every passing year, I grow fonder of the charm and mystique of Victoria. ✨💫

What is freedom?

A cab driver that dropped me home from work at midnight thinks that being in control of your time is real freedom. Not being chained to a 9-5 job, to work according to your own schedule and freewill defines freedom for him. To not be caught up in the western society's "American Dream" scheme. And enjoy every minute of your life is freedom for him.

The young woman in me thinks to myself that freedom is being able to work late at night and not have my family worried for my safety. To live on my own terms, and to choose to work the same 9-5 rut that might not leave me until death, is freedom.

It's a different kind of freedom for women who work in the west. Not chained to the dreams of their parents; living a new norm of singlehood in their late twenties that their mothers could not.

What is your definition of freedom?

The Women In My Life

“I have been r***d thrice,”
I was too stunned to react,
“My dad made it seem that I was at fault,
Since I was out partying and drunk”;

“The guy who r***d me is a free man,
Might live with subliminal guilt and no scars,
But every time I think about my past I shiver,
Little things act as a trigger,”

“Men can never be your friends”
A girl friend told me once
“You might see him as your friend
But you never know how he sees you,”

The male gaze is different
Than the female craze
A man- objectifies, s*xualizes and trivializes
Objectifies her body
Sexualizes her soul
Trivializes her ideas
A woman- obsesses, dreams and desires
Obsesses over a Prince Charming
Dreams of finding The One
Desires to be cherished as the only girl in the world.

We claim to be woke,
Talking of consent
While snorting coke,
A time of feministic ferment
A rant that is more of a lament.

Vulnerability is not a female asset
It casts a formidable silhouette
Of the ghosts of our future
And traumas of our past
You never know how long this phase shall last.

The world is changing
Equality is ranging
But She stops and looks back
Wondering if there is something we still lack.

P.S.- this musing is a personal rant that helped me process my chaotic thoughts into words. I feel mentally at peace now that I’ve written this piece.

P.P.S.- do not come at me about NOT ALL MEN AND NOT ALL WOMEN. This is an opinion piece and I will not argue with you about your thoughts and biases.