Ten Reasons Why Giveaways Suck

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I used to be this person that would have giveaways every time my stupid instagram page hit a milestone. At the drop of a hat, even. But I won’t do it anymore, simply because of how petty people can get. Coming from the host of a freaking rant blog that’s saying a lot. 

1. People only follow you just to enter your giveaway. They unfollow and block as soon as you’ve picked a winner. 

2. They beg you for free stuff. Begging sucks rotten, moldy bananas. They also as you ten million questions about how giveaways work, and if you buy the stuff with your own money. Not to mention, asking you to pick them. Here’s proof. 

3. You get loads of compliments on your posts. Once the giveaway closes, you get called out for being a whore. For no apparent reason. 

4. People question the authenticity of your products. So I did a giveaway on my birthday and one of the prizes happened to be a Kylie Cosmetics lip kit. Which I bought off a reseller. The girl that won gave me two months of hell because she insisted her lipstick was fake. Two months on, the matter ended when I had a new “authentic” lip kit sent over. Why did this happen in the first place? The lip liner that comes with the Kit was missing the little number embossed on the side. The girl that won never realized that sometimes, machines overlook products, and this doesn’t mean it’s fake. She also went on to order a new lip kit in the same color off another seller. That’s like a punch to the solar plexus like hey bro, your present is fake. I’m gonna buy myself a new overpriced lipstick just because I can. And because yours is fake. The seller I bought my lipstick from is authentic and I have talked about them on my blog before, and I still think they are one of the nicest in India. 

Check them out: www.beautytales.in.

5. Random guys demand you to pick their girlfriends winner. God. 

Kid you not, this actually happened.

6. It’s way more stressful to host a giveaway than to vouch for surrogacy. I’m not kidding. Specially if you happen to be one of those bloggers that don’t have companies sponsor them. 

7. You lose friends. 

8. You receive death threats in the mail. Even if you use a generator to pick a winner, people won’t believe you and you have to post screen grabs. Whoever invented the screen grab?

My life, everyday.

9. You fall out with your family because they don’t understand why you’re giving away free stuff to people. Point, Mum. 

10. If you survive all this, you have an urge to do it again and play God for a while. Not a good feeling. Nope. It’s a vicious cycle. 

Word.

Rant over. 

Mid Twenties Crisis

Why is midlife crisis a thing? It’s easy to be a 40 year old and cruising around in a BMW or something and sipping on ice tea and slapping on lipstick and fixing your heels. While the kids are away at their grandparents’ and all you’re doing is playing hooky. At work. Smooth. 

Yes please let’s.

Mid twenties? Not so much, no ma’am. 

Everyone wants you to procreate. Everyone wants you to snag a rich husband like you were on some TV show. Everyone is suddenly pregnant and they’ve all suddenly turned into pee factories, talking stretch marks, teething babies and knitting sweaters. When all you wanna do is – for Lord’s sake – sit back and relax in your Sponge Bob pjs and eat Doritos and watch Orphan Black while lamenting the loss of Paul Dierden and noticing Rachel’s perfectly coiffed hair and wondering how long it took to get it that perfect. 

Ugh. 

And god forbid if you’re dating. You want to talk makeup and Sephora sales because that’s the only thing you know, and he wants to talk politics, sports and things because that’s the only thing he knows. Like, I can’t do relationships, and you want me to get hitched. Don’t even get me started on what happens when you date someone from another community in India. You gotta convert, you gotta change your name, you gotta change yourself and be a mini version of the dude’s mum, basically. 

Nobody cares about what YOU want because you’re 25, and you gotta live life based on what society wants. And people at 40 wish they were 25. Like, wow. Go back to being 40. You’re better off that way. 

I rest my case.

“Live with it”

“Live with it,”  he said. 

“You selfish, cruel, unrelenting, materialistic,

Shallow, disgusting, awful, crazy person, 

Why don’t you move on ahead?”

I’d never understand people, you know

How do you claim to love someone 

When all you give them is your hate

When you’re not the same anymore

And blame the other person, instead?

Everyone has a story.

Most of us tell it some way or the other

Some of us keep it inside our heads

Is it a sin we couldn’t be as vocal?

We try to cover up for all the loss

We distract ourselves, we don’t talk about things 

We detach ourselves from the locals

Does this mean you’re allowed to judge

Who gave you that power?

Who died and made you such a God

So unyielding in your opinions, you won’t budge?

“Live with my hatred,” you say

I’d take it, I’d live with it 

I’d go about my life, emotionless

Than be with you, anyway

What were you doing when there was trouble

I was broken, you were meant to be whole

It isn’t your job to fix me now, 

Go live with yourself in your self absorbed bubble

And me? I will just learn to live with it

Like you asked me to

You described me the way I am, you said

Keep judging – I shall live with it. 

Seasonal Patriotism

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Well, something happened this year. I saw a crap ton of flags on cars. 

India was declared independent on August 15, 1947. And everyone’s been tweeting about #70yearsofindependence. Who messed up this simple math? Why didn’t anyone bother to correct people? It’s been 69 years, not 70. Why does everyone want to make poor Mother India a septuagenarian a whole 365 days before her birthday? How uncool.

I also saw droves of people, their faces painted saffron, green, white and blue – the national colors of the Indian flag – do this rally thing on the freeway. With flags. All pointing down. Without helmets. Nobody arrested them. The Indian Constitution clearly states that the only people who can use flags on their vehicles include the President and the Prime Minster. And you can’t put the flag at half mast unless someone is being mourned. 

The whole code is something everyone that claims to be Indian should know. It’s appalling how poorly history is being taught in schools. 

Also, this whole seasonal patriotism bothers me. As much as it bothers me when people spit in public. Patriotism isn’t something you buy in stores on 26 January and 15 August. It’s funny because you won’t spring to attention when they play the national anthem at the movies or sporting events. You won’t bother if they play it on TV because hey, why would you stand up when it’s not being played in front of you when you’re actually at said event. Right? 

You won’t even know what’s going on at the Olympic Games because hey, who cares if some guy called K. Srikanth made it to the Badminton Quarter finals this year at Rio. Right? Because your pouting selfies and your pecs are more important than knowing that there are people trying to do India proud. 

When you say you’re proud to be an Indian, don’t just say it. Mean it. 

That there are people fighting to change what the world thinks of India. Stop being seasonal. Start with the little acts of actually being patriotic. 

Remember what Gandhi said: 

Be the change that you wish to see in the world.

 

No matter what Winston Churchill thought of the half naked fakir of India, the Bapu did get something right. 

Jai Hind!

Lost 

Today’s one of those days. Again.

Looking at my reflection in the car window.

Wondering who I am. Who I’m meant to be. 

All those commuters moving in the rain,

They all move with a sense of purpose. 

Or do they? 

All so sure of themselves, and then there’s me: 

Dealing with my emotional circus.

It’s like I don’t know why I am what I am

What is it that I am, really? 

Who was I meant to be?

They used to say, “She’s sad, poor lamb”

Where are they now, when I need someone

Just to put me back on track, maybe

I’m tired of being lost, with no sense of direction

I don’t want to feel like I’m done

Is that too much to ask for?

Tell me it isn’t. 

Tell me everyone was lost at some point too

Tell me I’m not done for. 


Book Review: Harry Potter and The Cursed Child

When Ms Rowling doesn’t write a Harry Potter book, and lets other people do it – well, it’s a disaster waiting to happen . Oh Potter, you rotter…

First off, writing Harry Potter in PLAY FORM? That’s just wrong. On so many levels. 

The book (shall we call it that or just, more appropriately, call it trash) starts where the seventh book left off basically. King’s Cross. Harry’s youngest boy, Albus Severus gets put in Slytherin, becomes best friends with DRACO MALFOY’S son, Scorpius – who has a crush on Rose Granger-Weasley. Does any of that surprise you? 

Oh, and Hermione is Minister for Magic. That’s my favorite bit. 

Who’s the cursed child, you ask? I’d assumed it would be Albus. Or Scorpius, even. But no. It’s this whole new character called Delphi ‘Diggory’. Remember that part in Deathly Hallows when Rowling says this about Bellatrix: 

…mere words could not demonstrate her longing for closeness.

Well apparently, Bella darling did get some that night. Some post dinner Voldy/Bella action totally happened and then… Delphi. You do realize I’m shaking my head at this point, don’t you? Harry Potter isn’t a children’s book anymore if it’s talking about adultery. Bella may have found the Dark Lord broody and hot as hell, but did she really have to cheat on poor old Rudolphus? At least this guy had a nose. I mean, come on, Bella. 

Gross. 

Also, the book has quite a few typos. 

I also don’t like the fact that Time-Turners were used to alter the whole story line. The whole lot was smashed in Order of the Phoenix and should have stayed that way. You don’t fix anything Harry Potter. You just don’t. 

In other words, I positively loathe this book. Thank Goodness the book is really pretty looking. Black and gold leather(ish), hardcover. I’m nearly done with John’s reading challenge – The Cursed Child fulfils the “book published in 2016” category.

This piece of – I’m truly, utterly, sorry – crap deserves a zero rating. 

Rant over. 

A Little Road Trip

I’ve never driven in the hills, ever.The roads are crazy narrow. There are a million landslides. And there are clouds. But sometimes, you just need to escape into something. Just for a little while. I’ve been having a crazy month. I’m probably bipolar, and addicted to the internet. Not a good combination. 

I’m happy, I tweet. I’m mad, I tweet. I’m depressed, I tweet. 

I had to get away. 

You know how people suddenly take off, and meet people, and fall in love? Relax. None of it happened to me. I went to this place called Jhandi Eco Hut, which is like 6000 ft. above mean sea level. I can’t believe Bengal has SO much to see, and the tourism sucks bananas. Instead of doing nothing and sitting around, I wish our wonderful Didi would sort of drop being a giant bully and just have the roads fixed and tourism promoted. 

Anyway. I got some pictures. I’m not a photographer, so please excuse my lack of technique. 

You’ll find tea gardens on the way. For MILES.

The tea garden workers are such nice people, always smiling, despite the fickle weather. 

View of the valley below.
Walking among the clouds.
This is where I stayed. It’s called eco hut since it’s made of bamboo.
Raindrops keep falling on my head.
Whoa. He was easily six inches wide.
This guy scared me a little. Okay, a lot.

There were a billion species of butterflies there. I’m not even kidding. There was this guy that looked like he was fossilise, until he moved. 

Eeeee.

I loved my little getaway. It’s blissful to have one day of nobody texting you, or calling or in general, just getting on your nerves. The eco huts don’t have television, and you’re completely cut off from the world – which is a nice thing sometimes. Hot water is not a problem, so that’s good. The room rate is INR 2500 per day. 

But this place also had a lot of leeches. So if you’re planning to visit, make sure you don’t do it during the rainy season. The best time to visit would be September through November. 

I hope you enjoyed photos from my little trip! Have you been anywhere recently? What did you love about the place?