LOL: Life Of Leo

The road bends sharp, the sky turns grey Just when hope begins to sway A whisper in the soul declares You’re made to walk through storms this way

Image Source Growing up, I thought that the only mode men came in was "angry". My father and uncles were perpetually unhappy and always ready to blow their fuses. We had to walk on eggshells around them with a constant fear of taking a misstep. My poor dog bore the brunt of my father's frustrations back then. As much as it was a toxic environment to grow up in, I now think that all they needed was a space to express their emotions. Clearly, they weren't able to come to terms with the pressures of taking care of the family. I strongly believe that the most burdened being on the planet is a middle-class Indian male who is expected to singlehandedly support his family, while keeping his ego and pride in check. My mother was the primary breadwinner of our family; this should have minimized my father's frustrations, but it only seemed to multiply it. Taunts by relativities didn't help either. A man is expected to do what he should, after all.

Image Source A recent article stirred the plastic pot by claiming that career-oriented Barbies wear flats while fashion-focused Barbies cling to heels. As if a woman’s ambition could be measured by her choice in footwear. The Barbie movie, for all its pink-splashed visual grandeur and viral soundbites, only amplified this bizarre binary. Do you recall the ending where she is seen in Birkenstocks instead of heels? Going to a OB-GYN of all places. I think the intention was to show that she's a normal woman now. Well, what if I personally like to visit my OB-GYN in heels? Or boots? Or whatever I'm wearing during the course of the day where I have to do a million things and visit the doctor. Instead of elevating the dialogue around femininity and freedom, the movie reduced it to stereotypes draped in designer clothes and pop feminism.  Once a doll meant to inspire imaginative play, Barbie has now become a battleground for social commentary; and not always in the most productive wa...

Image Source 22nd April 2025 - My partner and I were holidaying in Tokyo, drowning ourselves in copious amounts of delicious ramen and strolling through cherry blossom lined streets having the silliest but most interesting conversations. After a brilliant day, when we reached our hotel to rest, we saw the news notification. Nothing felt the same again. At this point, it is hard to not take things personally.

Image Source I consider myself a fairly well-informed person, even though I no longer access social media. I read the news, I keep up with books, and I like to think I understand the world around me. But watching Adolescence on Netflix felt like being hit by a tidal wave of something I had never truly grasped before. While the whole world is talking about the brilliance of this show, with each episode being shot in a single take, it exposed me to a word I had never encountered: ' incel .' I had no idea about this subculture of young men who blame women for their loneliness and frustrations. To such an extent where they create groups and have meet-ups to discuss and trash women. Apparently, this culture is catching up in India as well. There was an article in last Sunday's paper about this. As I watched Jamie, the protagonist, slip deeper into this world, I felt a growing sense of horror. How could such a community exist? How could something so dangerous and hateful be shap...

Image Source A few weeks ago, there was an interesting article in the newspaper about how a lady immersed her six sets of Chinaware in her pool, before being evacuated by firefighters during the LA wildfires. The same article spoke about people hurrying to gather their belongings when a flight crash landed during an emergency. Humans have always taken pride in the things they own. It is so vital to them that they are willing to protect it at the risk of losing on their own lives. Thanks to this article and in the wake of recent wildfires that ravaged communities, I've been reflecting deeply on the transient nature of material possessions. Growing up, I witnessed how my parents hoarded their belongings, filling our home with objects that seemed to define our worth. Be it an old TV, worn-out pillows or a broken fan, it occupied a proud space in our already crammed house. "I paid for it", was the standard answer my dad gave when we asked him to dispose of this junk. With tim...

Image Source I grew up an angry, young woman. Patience was never a virtue and I was quick to defend myself even when the situation didn't call for it. I had to react to every person, situation and every spoken word. It was almost a compulsion and never a positive one. I was perpetually angry and discontent. This was the default miasma at home and that's the only thing I've seen growing up. Naturally it is what was imbibed in me too. It took me a while to realize how wrong this was. Honestly, majority of the learning on my way to sensibility and maturity involved unlearning. I had to shed pretty much everything I knew about life, the way to behave and almost everything about myself. Today, while I understand why I was the way I was decades ago, I cannot relate to that person. Doesn't mean that I have forgotten her. I'm someone who never forgets where they came from, but I'm not someone who hitchhikes there. I walked out of this dysfunctional setting with my head ...

We’ve always been night and day I, the fire; you, the rain Yet still, our heart beats to the same rhythm  In the quiet, we break the chain 

Image Source I've always been someone who is persnickety about dressing well. I've had my share of wearing bawdy clothes and colors, thanks to the hand-me-downs that were a primary part of my wardrobe growing up. For me clothes go beyond dressing up, beyond fashion trends and it brings out the personality of the person and honestly, I can tell a lot about a person by the way they dress. I didn't have a choice in clothes as a child. Coming from a lower middle-class family, we liked what we could afford and were fascinated by the clothes handed down to us by our affluent cousins even though they felt the need to yell out "Hey, that's my old skirt" during family occasions. I guess taunts like these are what imprinted a sense of being well dressed in me, in the clothes I choose to wear and own. Looks like the shroud of the toxic family had a skein of silver after all.