How to: Stay Civil with The Ex

How to: Stay Civil with The Ex

Most of us tend to have a lot of bitterness towards people that we no longer have a relationship with, the reasons often being:

• cheating issues

• trust issues

• money issues

• no closure

• all of the above.

There are friends of mine that have such bad memories with their exes, it’s hard to not be hostile. But then again, in a world that’s so twisted, rotten and divided, the least you could do is stay civil with the people you once loved. Here’s how:

• Forgiveness.

I’m not saying you need to go and become best friends with them: all I’m saying is you could be neutral and nice and not harbor murderous intentions towards them. No matter how difficult it is, the first step here would be to figure out a way to forgive them, if they’ve wronged you. Forgive yourself, if you’ve wronged them, and try not to repeat your mistakes. Life’s fair if you just let it be. Not to sound like a preachy moron, but it’s true.

• Closure.

Most past relationships often sour because there’s rarely ever any sort of closure. If you’ve decided to part ways, talk about it and do so. If you can’t talk about it immediately, give yourself and your ex space to heal, and then give each other closure. That’s how you end chapters. Clean. Messy endings are hella unsavory.

• Don’t badmouth them in front of your next.

This is where many of us make mistakes. Your new partner doesn’t need to hear you saying mean crap about your ex. Not only do they lose respect, you end up being bitter than ever.

• No rebounds.

This is the worst idea ever. You get into a relationship with someone new even when you don’t love them, and you’re constantly thinking of your ex and stalking them, and at some point there’s going to be this huge ugliness inside of you that won’t go away.

• Be friendly.

If you run into your ex, try to think of the positives. Be friendly if they say hey, but at the same time don’t let them back into your life unless you want to get back together.

Do you have a civil relationship with your ex? Or is it way more bitter than bitter coffee?

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Willow.

Willow.

Eight-year-old Willow loved to sit on the couch, binge watch

cartoons and eat as much chips as it was humanly possible to.

Her mum would tell her to get some exercise, but Willow refused.

And one day, Willow woke up with woody roots poking out of her pajamas.

A Look At An Extraordinary Pandit Ji

A Look At An Extraordinary Pandit Ji

Bengal has a very rich, diverse culture. It’s a shame that politics, religion and bigotry has now ruined the whole state, but there’s always some good that does live on. No matter what you think or say, there are always stories to tell when you’re interacting with people.

We had this pooja and it lasted almost ten whole hours. I always assumed that Hinduism had a lot of weird creepy stuff, and I’ve always been someone that’s never been religious – but when your astrologer tells you to get a pooja done, you get a pooja done, no questions asked. Don’t ask, it’s something most Hindu families believe in. Mine aren’t different. Sometimes, questionable choices are made but we roll with it. And we roll our eyes behind our parents’ backs too.

We had three pandit jis come over. Two full-blown ones, and an intern kinda.

Hinduism has a lot of deities and a lot of poojas and the whole process requires a ton of patience and dedication. It’s super hard for someone like me, who’s got ADHD, to actually stay put in one spot and not MOVE. But, the oldest pandit ji that came over for the pooja didn’t move from his spot the whole day. I’ve never seen anyone display so much devotion and concentration before. He cried while offering prayers, and he seemed to be in a trance, almost.

When the prayers were done, he talked to us for a bit.

He’d been a pandit ji since 1964. His father was a Ayurvedic practitioner and he’d grown up watching his father prescribe herbal stuff to people. He’d also never popped a pill in seventy seven years of his life. And his energy was remarkable.

I’ve seen people rip off their customers in this profession, but this guy? Far from it. While leaving, he told me in secret that he’d been vegan for the last thirty years, and that he didn’t do it for the money. That being with God, immersed in prayer gave him a lot more peace than any family or relationships ever could. He’d never had a fight with the fellow pandits either. And they all said that he was the kindest person they’d ever met.

That’s amazing, right?

As long as you stay in your own lane, and do your thing and don’t get in someone’s way, life’s going to stay peachy. Maybe I’m going to start doing that right away.

Pie.

Pie.

They met by accident.

He was taken, she wasn’t.

He had a tattoo of his pregnant girlfriend’s name. He was at the bar one Saturday night after a long day at work and the bartender was cute.

Numbers were exchanged.

The bartender was a rich heiress who liked to go incognito and pick up guys on Friday nights. The longer the commitment, the better. She had a fetish for men that had been claimed by other women. She loved to chew them up and spit them out. She loved to build them up, and then tear them down. She had a theory: you needed to know their story before you got into their pants.

Sexual freedom was something she was obsessed with.

She’d set sights on him the minute he walked up to the bar and downed his first tequila.

He loosened up after a couple drinks and said he needed to get away from his girlfriend of seven months. She said she wanted him. All seven inches of him. He was taken aback. He’d never met anyone who had such accurate assessment of the human anatomical calculations, before. She said she was a pro at it and they left the club, together, his drunken arm around her waist.

She took him home.

He was aroused and wanted to do it. She said she was hungry and needed to get some dinner. He suddenly remembered he was famished too, and asked her what was for dinner.

The last thing he remembered was a butcher’s knife and her saying, “You”, before he passed out.

Two hours later, she added some garnish to the human meat pie and drove down to the suburban home he shared with his girlfriend. She left a box on the porch with a note that read:

“I did you a favor: your loyal ass deserves better. He was a cheater.”

A Millennial’s Guide to Saving Money

A Millennial’s Guide to Saving Money

My Dad used to (actually, he still does) say that the millennial is awful with money. So, every month-end that would see me staring woefully at all the missing zeroes in my bank account, I would make a promise to myself that I would be a lot more planned with my moolah. That one month when I was down to my last few hundred rupees, made me realize that I needed to change my ways. When you’re in college, being broke is the worst thing ever, and I forced myself to get my ish together.

Enter Sooch 2.0, the smart, savvy (an exaggeration), wise as ever – with money – version of me.

• I didn’t really do a LOT, just made a few minor changes. For example, I am a teetolater and I realized that when I did go to clubs, I ended up being the grandma and trust me, when you are the ONLY sober person, you don’t need to be going to clubs in the first place. Getting rid of these friends of mine helped drastically. No money was wasted on Uber, or on other people’s liquor, and I got to spend my Sunday nights sleeping in. Unless of course, I had a night shift.

• The second thing I did was cut back completely on ordering in. And I would cook myself healthy meals that momma would approve. Which is something I do till date.

Not only does this save you money, home-cooked meals are almost always so much easier on your heart and your waistline.

• Investments are your best friend. Read up on mutual funds, and property investments and make smart choices. You’ll get returns and you will feel like a sorted person. Get someone to help you out, if you’re getting stuck somewhere. There’s zero shame in asking for guidance.

• I did a lot of debating, and finally made a giant change in my shopping habits. I don’t buy stuff I won’t ever wear. Which means I don’t have clothes that are lying around collecting dust, and I have a closet that gives me breathing space. I’ve also cut back on my makeup shopping addiction by putting myself on ‘low-buys’ and ‘no-buys’, throughout the year, which means sometimes I go without buying makeup for MONTHS at a stretch. I’ve also unfollowed accounts like Trendmood1 on Instagram, because she is an enabler who makes you feel like you are compelled to buy every new launch that every other brand under the sun comes out with.

• I eighty-sixed my credit card. That saved me a lot of headache and hassle and I don’t have humongous bills to pay at the end of every month. If you’re a compulsive and an IMPULSIVE shopper too, don’t get a credit card in the first place.

What are some of the ways you save money?

A Total Bloodbath

A Total Bloodbath

I cannot keep quiet any longer.

People love to hate on doctors in India. We’re termed as moneymongers, bigots and a whole lot of offensive things I don’t want to get into. Which is fine. I’m sure haters exist for the sole purpose of entertainment. That’s fine too.

What isn’t okay with me is the fact that people think it’s completely normal to beat people up.

I come from a state where the the ruling body happens to be headed by a tyrant, who uses power to uplift one religion and appease its followers, while shaming the other. There have been incidents, documented on video and in the papers, of a certain house of worship condemning the other religion and asking for blood. Why am I talking about this? If you’ve read the news or been on Twitter, you’d notice that the doctors attacked and stoned haven’t been given protection. Security hasn’t been tightened. I wonder if things would have been different if there was a bit of a role-reversal. The cops just stood and watched, the mob came and beat doctors up, and the CM was busy inaugurating hotels and she never paid heed to the situation.

I’ve had situations were people have abused me because apparently I didn’t know a thing. It’s not true.

Doctors take the Hippocratic oath, when they graduate. You’re bound by duty and humanity to treat patients and never discriminate. My dad, who’s had a thirty year long career as an ophthalmologist, gives free treatment on Wednesdays, including free surgery and free medication. All of this goes overlooked. No good deed, actually, goes unpunished. People never thank doctors when treatments are successful but they get a huge mob or two, or a million, to beat us up when things go wrong.

And everyone out here is making it all about politics not realizing that all doctors have ever wanted was an ounce of respect and to not be killed on the job.

Also, Bengal has a lot of illegal immigrant Bangladeshis, and they’re the reason why there’s so much bloodshed in the state. Although the border is seemingly under the control of the Central Government, strangely enough things don’t work that way in Bengal. There have been cow smuggling incidents and funnily enough, people aren’t allowed to vote – the ruling party has minions at their disposal that ensures that the voting system is tampered with. And Bengal is quickly turning into Bangladesh too.

Which brings me to the incident that happened a couple days ago – doctors took to the streets to protest but the violence has managed to spill over and spread to the BDS students. You cannot protest, you cannot vote, you cannot have an opinion and if your patient dies despite your having followed protocol, you’re going to be killed because that’s the right thing to do. Why? Because you’re a second generation doctor and you deserve to be stoned to death. Several doctors have resigned and we are going to face a shortage in doctors because no one wants to die serving people.

This is British Rule all over again, except that this time the tyrants are both illiterate and abusive. Which to me, is the deadliest combination that can ever happen. The worst part is that people that don’t live here, that don’t understand what’s going on, are the ones with the strongest opinions against all that the people of Bengal stand for. Our cops aren’t on our side, you guys. The hardest reality that hit me with the force of a speeding train was the fact that the cops never made any arrests. The CM has them on a string and they do her bidding. I wish the police would for once, grow a pair and make their own unadulterated decisions. Whoever makes a mistake, should be punished. Whoever is innocent, should be spared. It should not be based on your religion or your race or your political beliefs. If you’re in power, please be just. Don’t be an appeaser.

How difficult is that?

Beard.

Beard.

Silvio hated life. It was the same old routine, every single day.

Eat, sleep, hustle, die, repeat.

He’d been on his own since he was sixteen, when his parents divorced. His mum died while he was still in college and his dad was beyond just absent.

His very first job at the pizza joint around the corner taught him that being an immigrant wasn’t ever going to work in his favor. His boss was rude and Silvio managed to graduate school and joined a law firm. It wasn’t fun, being a criminal lawyer. None of his relationships lasted and he kept going into a dark place.

One night, on his way home after a quick briefing with a client, Silvio got stuck in a God-awful thunderstorm.

The traffic was insane and he checked his watch: twelve forty five AM. He’d been stuck for almost two hours. He scratched his beard and turned on the music. It was going to be a long night. Most days he would get first grade a-holes, but his newest client, Tom, seemed harmless. If only he knew if Tom was actually innocent! The guy had such an open face, and to be accused of murder at twenty was too much.

Silvio was sharply awakened by a loud tapping on his window. The clock showed three AM and he must have dozed off. It was Tom. Pleasantly surprised, Silvio rolled down the window – only to be horrified as Tom, with livid eyes and a suddenly evil face, pointed a gun at Silvio’s head.

“You better keep me out of jail, you stupid old man. I killed my ex because she deserved it, and I will kill anyone that tries to have me arrested.”

Silvio put his hands up, trying to stay calm.

“Tom, put the gun away. We can talk about this.”

Silvio looked around out of the corner of his eye: the streets were deserted and the storm had cleared and there was no way anyone would come help. Heck, his phone was out of arm’s reach too. Calling 911 wasn’t an option, either. And his beard was really scratchy. He was both annoyed and scared. Tom was still pointing the damn gun at his head.

“Are we clear? I don’t wanna go to jail!”

The kid’s hand was steady and Silvio wondered how he’d ever been convinced that he’d finally gotten an innocent client. He was doomed to deal with criminals. For the rest of his life.

“I can’t promise that. I still have to look through your files, Tom. Manslaughter is a pretty serious offence. It’s a crime!”

“Then I have to kill you too. What kinda lawyer doesn’t defend his own clients?”

Tom pressed the cold muzzle of his gun right between Silvio’s bushy eyebrows. The metal felt cold and menacing, and Silvio closed his eyes, preparing to die, wondering how badly his blood would stain the customized interiors of the brand new BMW. And he didn’t want to die at forty-three.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, he felt a sharp tug on his beard and something whipped the gun out of Tom’s hand, knocking it to the ground. Something salt-and-pepper looking, something keratinous, wrapped itself around Tom’s neck and Silvio watched, horrified, as something choked Tom to death. Silvio felt his face and his beard purred. He looked at his reflection in the rear-view mirror: his tough, scratchy beard was no longer close-shaven and tame-looking. It now resembled a ravenous snake.

That was the first time the Beard saved Silvio’s life.

(Inspired by Rohan’s Beard .)

A Different Kinda Love

A Different Kinda Love

My hands won’t stop shaking.

My anxiety is flaring up like crazy today.

It’s become a thing.

It started back in the day when I was dating this amazing man, almost a decade my senior, and he loved me. But he also hated a part of me. He hated it when I had mood swings or couldn’t function. He hated it when I couldn’t hold my pen to get a story out for the papers. We were struggling.

I called it off.

He called me a gold-digger and he trashed me all over social media. He dragged my community and he called my family names. He loved to hate me. And I didn’t retaliate because somewhere I knew, I deserved to be killed and yet, here I was, alive, breathing.

Epileptic.

I knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it – not when I had those random falls in the bathroom during my shower. I’d hide things. I would lie and say my bruises were from rigorous gym sessions. Only because I didn’t want pity, all I wanted was a little pampering. A whole lotta love, maybe. But then you can see the feelings shift in a person’s eyes – specially when you’ve been with them for five whole years. And we weren’t getting any younger.

I was twenty-five when I left him. He’s now thirty seven and still very available. I’m on medication and his bank balance stays healthy because he doesn’t have to spend on my diseased body. The only availability I hope for myself is bioavailability.

It’s been two years since I married my doctor. He gives me everything: comfort, cuddles and my regular dose of carbamazepine.

Meanwhile my ex is out there, hating, but blissfully unaware of what happened to me. I’m glad. Someday he will move on. I hope it happens soon. I hope he meets a nice, healthy woman, someone that doesn’t give him seizures to deal with, but gives good morning kisses instead. I hope. And I pray.

He’s a good man. He deserves it.

Oh, Jaclyn

Oh, Jaclyn

Oh Jaclyn, why are you slackin’

Making lipsticks full of holes?

Tacky silver packaging with that rhinestone

With the actual product covered in mold!

Oh Jaclyn, why are you lying

Selling contaminated lipsticks from twenty fifteen

Your company name doesn’t match the logo

Are you sure you didn’t go thrifting?

Oh Jaclyn, you’re so problematic

All your launches and collabs always have some issues

Then you go on Snapchat, crying

Crying fake tears, reaching for overpriced tissues

Oh Jaclyn, I’m so sorry

There are drama channels talking about you

People are speculating, formulating theories

Why don’t you come out with it, just say what’s true?

Oh Jaclyn, you need divine intervention

And a break from trying to make a quick buck

Maybe go on Kasamba because you need it

Since you’re running out of luck.

Oh Jaclyn, I wish at this point

An actual microbiologist would come through

With photos of what’s going on with those lipsticks

A logical explanation, with concrete proof

Oh Jaclyn, please recall your products

Do some damage control as soon as you can

Your lipsticks are a health hazard,

You might be losing followers: you need to go save those Stans.

Backstory.

The beauty community can’t catch a break. There’s a new scandal each week. Jaclyn is a twenty eight year old YouTuber that’s recently come out with her own makeup line, and she’s been teasing about it since 2015.

Four years later, we have her brand, Jaclyn Cosmetics.

What’s the issue? Um, her first ever product, a cream lipstick, So Rich, that has twenty shades to pick from, also comes with hair, holes, bits of plastic and mold. Actual mold. The logo on the lipstick doesn’t match the logo on the unit carton. This led YouTuber Raw Beauty Kristi to theorize that the JH (for Jaclyn Hill) on the product must have been PRE-Jaclyn’s divorce from husband Jon Hill. The brand is called Jaclyn Cosmetics but the tube says JH:

Jaclyn Cosmetics is the shadiest new brand on the Internet:

• People that paid for expedited shipping never received their products early.

• Jaclyn never sent out PR packages ahead of time – to push sales because there were no negative reviews to begin with.

• Negative comments have magically disappeared from every Instagram post of theirs.

• As if all of that wasn’t enough, there’s been no damage or quality control and Jaclyn has been caught lying about gloves used in her lab. She’s also neglected coming out with an offices statement to clear all the air. Shady, hella shady. The lipsticks also keep balling up in places. Solid balls. And they have holes like I mentioned, plus filaments that look suspiciously moldy. Of course, a normal lipstick never does that.

There’s a very important lesson to be learned from here: don’t put anything out into the market till it’s perfect and don’t announce it to the planet when you’re not even ready.

Are you following the drama? Ooh, and did you like my poetry?

Medical Monday: Five Reasons Why You Should Sleep More

Medical Monday: Five Reasons Why You Should Sleep More

Much as I love to leave my readers hanging, I don’t recommend leaving your sleep duration unfinished. Everyone and their grandmas seem to have an issue with not getting enough sleep. As if Googling wasn’t enough, here are five legit reasons why you need to sleep more.

• You’ll be a lot less stressed out.

When you sleep very little, your cortisol levels are screwed. And you’ll be stressed, which you can actually prevent by getting more sleep. If you simply cannot sleep, or if you have insomnia, quit caffeine cold turkey and take Indian ginseng or Ashwagandha. I’ve talked about this a lot, and it is a natural adaptogen – which means it’ll adjust your stress hormones.

• Bye bye, dark circles.

Most people overlook the fact that one sure shot way to get rid of Master Shifu eyes is by getting a good night’s sleep every night. That, and some hydration.

Weight loss.

The hormones leptin and ghrelin, which essentially regulate appetite, have been found to be disrupted by lack of sleep. If you wish to maintain or lose weight, get seven hours of sleep. Also, when you’re catching some zzz’s, you won’t be getting the munchies and no stubborn fat will ever stick to your thighs and your hips and your butt. Yay.

Chase away the blues.

Sleep impacts the ratio and production of a lot of chemicals in your body, including serotonin. People with serotonin deficiencies are more prone to depression. Eat a banana everyday, because it helps regulate serotonin levels in the body, and get a good amount of sleep. You’ll be happier.

Boost your creativity.

A bunch of studies concluded that a good night’s sleep helps to consolidate memories, boosting your and making your memory stronger. Your cognitive function improves as you sleep sleep better, which may result in more creativity as well. So if you have one of those dry creative spells, try getting more sleep.

And guess what? All of the above pointers have actually worked for me.

I have a question for you guys: How many hours of sleep do you get each night, and do you think it’s enough?