For every one you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. ~~~~~~~~~~ I didn't have the best circumstances growing up. My father passed away when I was 7 and all of a sudden, I was forced to fit into shoes much bigger for my size. My mom single-handedly raised us three and I never found out about her struggles until much later. I struggled a long time to come to terms with my father's absence. I also had to deal with the fact that I will never know my father the way my siblings did. That saddened me and I began to doubt if my father loved me at all. My mom pinned all her expectations on me because I was the most academically inclined of us three. For as long as I was in school, my mom would remind me how important academic performance is and till today, she reminds me that I might not be good enough if my GPA is not at least a second upper. It didn't always work out, of course. The society I was brought up in shaped the way my mom perceived the world...

I'm crazy, just slightly  crazy. I'm crazy but maybe I'm not crazy after all? I say the most bizarre things. I walk around with messy hair. I dress down on Mondays and dress up on Fridays. I talk shit with and to my friends. I stuff my face into Shelty’s belly every night. I have a weird obsession with stickers and clouds.  I love walking around bare-footed. I love wearing my pyjamas. I love long walks, especially the ones that could last for hours. I love rolling in bed on Saturday nights while every one else is out.  I’m strange like that. Which makes me feel like a misfit in this society that’s all about fitting in. I don’t depend on technology even though I use an iPhone 6: I keep a handwritten diary, I write letters, I record my daily expenditure, I take notes with a pen and paper, I print my readings if possible, I use highlighters and liquid paper, and the list could go on. Yet I depend on technology at the same time: I scroll through Instagram every mo...

Good day, every one! This weather calls for bun-up hair! Beginning the post with a #selfie I took before I left the house early this afternoon just because I decided to try a different style today. I decked myself in comfy clothes since I was going to spend the day with my baby cousins. ;-) Gonna asteric (*) some terms I'll be using in the rest of my post so read till the end to find out what they mean. The Indian blood in me is part of a relatively small group of Indian dialect known as Malayali, originating from the Indian state of Kerela (which is where my Grandfather is from). And because we're considered a small group in Singapore, terms we use to address our family members are quite unfamiliar to others. There was a time I didn't embrace the Indian blood in me because Indians were the minority and people often made fun of the Tamil language. Whenever I said I'm half-Indian, I was immediately associated with the Tamils and hence became a subj...