Post Number 41 : The Loneliness of Superheroes, Revisited

Warning : Possible spoilers ahead

I am not a huge Marvel fan. That’s not the greatest way to begin an article this week but it is what it is. That didn’t stop me from watching ‘Avengers: Endgame’ though. I was perhaps in the minority there even though I’ve read a fair amount of the comics and know the characters. Judging by the screams and shouts of the people in the audience as superheroes came and went, I definitely questioned my place in the hall. It was the sensation of being an outsider, like someone who is new to a social setting and can’t figure out what the joke at the party was about. However, this piece isn’t about that. While watching the movie, all that was playing in my mind was the article written by John DeVore called The Loneliness of Superheroes’.

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Post Number 40 : The Dying Art of Being Present

I recently attended a show which was 20 minutes of non-stop death-defying stunts. Instead of your usual jumps and tricks on bikes and cars, the artists created an interesting storyline and built the stunts around it. There were wheelies done through cars, a ‘Hot-Wheels’ track in real life, bikes rotating in mid-air and a Mortal Kombat styled fight sequence. It was so engrossing! Yet I was so amused at seeing how so many people were more interested in filming it than actually watching it. Was documenting that moment really more important than living it?

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Post Number 39 : Learning to Deal with this Adulthood Thing

I remember being younger and smaller and looking up to people in their 20s with this rose-tinted lens; of hope, of admiration, of wonderment. These people looked so aspirational, so sorted, so aware of who they were and what they did. While I observed them with a glass of Pepsi in my hand, they looked so damn cool discussing ‘office’ with a beer in theirs. Office. It seemed like the be-all-and-end-all at that age. All roads led there. It was to be the outcome of the rigors and pain of filling notebooks and giving exams during school time. Life would be sorted, I was told. Just work hard during school.

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Post Number 38 : Dilliwali Diwali

Ooh that beautiful smoke in the air. Smoke that’s so potent that all the bling on people’s clothes look just like…. Nothing. They would mean something if you could actually see a meter in front of you but since you can’t, you wait for the next day when people post their FABULOUS Diwali pictures on Facebook and Instagram.

Image result for crackers diwali delhi

Courtesy – The Financial Express

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Post Number 37 : Reconnecting with Reading

I used to go to school in a yellow-green DTC bus that roared and wheezed as if it was seconds away from a breakdown. And many a time it did. But what I remember most from that time was the unadulterated joy I would get from reading on the 45-minute journey. The light breeze, muted chatters, and (mostly) sleeping kids made for an interesting reading environment. I would either read my textbooks or if I felt fancy, a novel that I’d take with me. It didn’t matter what others thought or said. If my eyes were in my book, chances were, my other senses were oblivious to the world outside.

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Post Number 36 : Coping with Change

I recall reading somewhere as a kid that “The only thing constant is change”. I’m sure I was impressed with how fancy it sounded, its play of words and the juxtaposition therein. I am certain I noted it somewhere so that I can sneak it into any essay or debate I could, to get brownie points. And I’m confident I did write or quote it whenever I could. But like most, I never really paused to think of what it meant, until now.

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Post Number 35 : Surviving the FIFA World Cup –The 411

Q: Did you hear that Chelsea doesn’t have a website?

A: They can’t string three “Ws” together. 

Q: What does a fine wine and Liverpool have in common?

A: They both spend a lot of time in the cellar, cost too much and are only enjoyed on select occasions. 

If these jokes went past your head like Engineering went past mine, then we’re in the same boat. Fret not if you can’t recall 10 footballers’ names if a gun was pointed to your head. If you too, like me, find football a S-pain in the ass, then Ronaldo-n’t worry, I am here to get you out of this Messi situation. I helped you survive Cricket World Cup season a couple of years ago and now I am back with my totally unneeded, entirely pointless brand of social assistance by using the opportunity of the World Cup to Russi(a)n and Putin as many puns and tasteless jokes as I possibly can.

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Post Number 34 – The Whole Damn Bouquet : Part Deux

Candid Wallflowers came into existence during one clammy summer evening, when the two writers, in midst of their gossip sessions, thought to share their infinitely wise observations of the people around them. With the utmost humility, of course.  The very first article was an attempt at decoding the kind of people we are mostly surrounded with in college. You can read it here. With time, the old groupings have disbanded just as people keep shedding old habits and come into new ones.

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Post Number 33 – On The Brink Of Farewell

The season of farewell is upon us. As we move into our last few weeks of college, the level of nostalgia and happiness is palpable. My Facebook and Instagram feed is already inundated with tons and tons of pictures. Pictures that are a lot more than just the few seconds it took to click them. All of them carry within them stories, laughs, tears, friendships and so much more. They are sacred, in some mysterious way. And we have the luxury today to document each and every one of these moments. But I can’t bring myself to share mine on social media. Come to think of it, I haven’t properly wrapped my head around the idea of what college and college life meant to me. Read More

Post Number 32: Holi – in the days of Social Media

There used to be a time when Holi meant you wore your rattiest clothes because who’s even going to care what colour and print your clothes are? Nothing survives the onslaught of permanent colours and water. Is it supposed to be a Chikankari kurta? More like a kurta with chicken curry splashed on it. And who even cares if there’s that extra stitch around the waist or near the shoulder to give your clothes the perfect shape? They’re going to stick to your body like a second skin anyway. You might as well wear that old night suit that you’re planning to convert into a pochha (aka desi name for a house cleaning rag).

But lately, Instagram, Facebook and WhatsApp statuses have ruined that for me too. Now as soon as I go on WhatsApp, I am flooded with pictures of my friends wearing the classiest clothes. It’s like they’re straight out of the video of “Do me a favour, let’s play Holi!” where they are the impeccably dressed backup dancers for Priyanka Chopra. Their clothes look as if they were gently caressed by a naughty breeze with a little splash of colour.

courtesy – IBTimes India

In between their fabulous Holi celebrations, people make sure to take pictures of these said fabulous Holi celebrations. After all, your Holi isn’t fabulous enough if you don’t have a hundred pictures to prove its fabulousness. Add a dose of carefully choreographed pictures and videos where they are just randomly throwing gulaal into the air and bathing in its disintegrated form. Why couldn’t they just ask someone to smash some colour onto their faces is beyond me. Who even plays Holi like that? Can you imagine me alone on the street and blowing gulaal into the air and dancing around in it? Let’s just agree that my neighbours would preferably stay away from me in the future.

And what is it with people going out to play with seemingly perfectly blow-dried hair? Aren’t we supposed to drown our hair in oil before Holi? You know, so our hair can look perfect once again the next day, saved from the devastating effects of irresponsibly sourced gulaal? Looking at Instagram it’s clear that I am the only champu in Delhi (a goofball), who is glazed with oil all over her body just so it’s easier to get rid of all that colour later. Forgive me if I don’t want to look like “Jaadu” the day after Holi.

Related image

courtesy –

What I feel the most sympathy for, is my 500 rupee, extra-power, extra volume pichkari or water gun that I bought a few years earlier and still worth its weight. Now, that’s something that deserves to be clicked from every angle. I can just imagine the caption that would go with those pictures, “A nozzle to bamboozle the crap out of anybody in a 50 m radius!” or “Is that sweat I see on your face? ‘Cuz there’s fear written All.Over.It!” But in a neighbourhood full of Instagram models, my dorky water gun is no longer a participant.