A curious cat!

You, yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.  - Buddha This is, perhaps, one of the most popular quotes I've ever read..The reason why I quoted this, before starting with the blog, is the fact that I always found it kinda obvious, something that goes without saying..Every individual does love himself..Why did Buddha have to preach that after all? Mother Teresa had said, "There is more hunger for love and appreciation in this world than for bread" .. Absolutely true, but we all talk of seeking love from others, loving others, caring for others, and we often tend to forget how important loving ourselves is.. How can you expect others to love you when you don't even love yourself? How can you even think of making someone happy when you aren't happy being the person you are? How can you love others when you cannot even love yourself? How can you think of achieving something when you keep on blaming your luck? I have see

That girl, the one without the name. The one just like us. The one whose battered body stood for all the anonymous women in this country whose rapes and deaths are a footnote in the left-hand column of the newspaper. Sometimes, when we talk about the history of women in India, we speak in shorthand. The Mathura rape case. The Vishaka guidelines. The Bhanwari Devi case, the Suryanelli affair, the Soni Sori allegations, the business at Kunan Pushpora. Each of these, the names of women and places, mapping a geography of pain; unspeakable damage inflicted on women’s bodies, on the map of India, where you can, if you want, create a constantly updating map of violence against women. For some, amnesia becomes a way of self-defense: there is only so much darkness you can swallow. They turn away from all the places that have become shorthand for violence beyond measure, preferring not to know about Kashmir or the outrages in Chattisgarh, choosing to forget the Bombay New Year assault, tr

                                                                                                                                                                     You're not the first person she loved; the first person she looked at with a mouthful of forevers. She has lived at the edges of cliffs and in little mountain houses that tell horrific stories.                It was a tragedy that whenever she could accept herself truly, she changed.              She romanticized her lovers so much that it poisoned her every other beautiful memory. And every time her blooming heart was shattered, she loathed them with every piece of it. She craved for a new lover with her unguarded way of existence. You wouldn't understand how sexy that was. Her raw, carefree laughter would fill your winter mornings with warmth and joy.            A heart wrenching pain clouded her autumn nights. It wasn't that she never loved enough. She'd just fall in love with too m