Perks of Being a Crybaby – Paris to Port Bou

I always thought it was to my disadvantage that I can never hold back my tears when I need to. I have cried in places I swear I wouldn’t. I am the person in a movie hall who cries whenever the protagonist is in a bad situation. I am the person who is going to cry when you tell her something bad about your own life. And if I don’t, in front of you, I am going to run to the washroom a little while later to let the tears flow, after patting my back for holding them for a while. Reminiscing the conversation and crying later just before sleeping is my thing to. I have lost the count of the times I have cried in the presence of someone I wouldn’t want to show my sensitive side to. But that’s me – 25 and still a crybaby in situations of frustration, anger and sadness, with no consideration to whoever is around me.

I remember the time I cried in Venice in front of two guys I just met that day and two other guys I had known only from a couple of days. But that’s a story for another day; today it’s about how being a crybaby didn’t ruin my day.

I had to travel from Koeln HBF (Germany) to Madrid (Spain) via Paris (France) for which I had to change some four trains, the reservations for all of which I got done in Koeln itself. My hostel in Madrid was reserved too and paid for. I must remind you here that reservations in French trains are extremely costly, in comparison to everywhere else in Europe. While the reservation from Koeln to Paris costs around 25 euros, the reservation from Paris to Port Bou was for 22 euros; and this was despite me holding a Eurail pass of some 1000 euros.

I reached Paris Nord quite fine from which I had to take a metro to Paris Austerlitz. It was a wait of one hour in Austerlitz before the train would leave, and I, quite insouciantly, decided to enter the waiting train at the nick of the time. Pampering myself with some delicious hot chocolate, I finally decided to join the queue when there was only 20 minutes for the train to leave the station.

It was then that one of the Train Managers showed me that the reservation I had was for a wrong date and hence, I wouldn’t be allowed to enter the train unless I get the tickets changed. I had done the reservations in Koeln and I couldn’t even use my usual way of scolding the person at fault and get it corrected. So I ran to the information office at Paris Austerlitz station who answered that their office is closed and they can’t do anything about it.

I came back to the manager narrating the issue and also emphasizing on the fact that I really had to catch this train since all the subsequent reservations have been made. His solution for me was to buy another reservation now. Another 22 euros! I pleaded him, told him it is a lot of money for me, gave him various reasons so that he would allow me to board the train but he just shook his head uttering a firm no.

At that profound moment of rejection, I could have easily paid 22 euros for the ticket and then got the wrong ticket reimbursed later at Koeln without any hassle. But without any further thought, my dear tears decided to break down, like they always do.

After a couple of tears trickled down my cheeks, I took a deep breath, wiped them off and asked the train manager to sell me a new ticket.

Needless to say, I didn’t actually have to pay for a new ticket as he, the manager who saw me breaking down, just gave me a new seat and asked me to get on the train that was now leaving in some 7 minutes or so. Yes, I am on that train now. J

The Liebster Blog Award I and II

So I just found it out today that Geeta Nair ( http://geetaavij.wordpress.com ) nominated me for THE LIEBSTER BLOG AWARD (liebster meaning “favourite” in German, which reminds me of the first German sentence I learnt - ich liebe dich :-D ) last year. Also on the same month of November 2013, I was nominated for this award by Bhavya Kaushik ( http://bhavyakaushik.com / ) too. I understand that I am too late in honouring the two nominations of the Liebster Award but I am a big fan of the saying – “ better late than never” , so I am going to accept it anyway. Rules of receiving the award : • To accept the award one must link back to the person who nominated him/ her. • Nominate 10 more bloggers who you feel are deserving of more subscribers. • Answer all questions posted by the nominator. • Create 10 questions for the nominees. • Contact the 10 nominees and inform them that they have been nominated for this prestigious award. I further nom

Tears of blood

[ The poem is written as a tribute and encouragement to the unfortunate rape victims of the society who are fighting every day to live with dignity. This poem is published in Read In Park ] Never had known pain, As I do now… Never knew what grief is, But I do now… When the morning sun knocks on my window, I weep silently recalling that loathsome night, When the rays fall on my wet pillow, I wail in self pity ending another sleepless night. Every morning I look into the mirror To see the detested face, Robbed, touched, raped, I now loathe my every single trace. I had begged for help, Had cried for mercy, But no one took a single step, That night to rescue me They jeered at my pain, Laughed at my plight, “Men” they called themselves Those beasts of that night The fear that arouse in me, I fear it may bring my death Growing day by day, It questions my each breath The bruises on my face will heal, But the trauma ev

"Are You a Lesbian?"

“Are you a lesbian?” A friend of mine once asked me mockingly when we were discussing about my aversion from some (“some” not “all”) kind of men. “No. But does it matter?” I asked her scornfully. No, I wasn’t bothered that I was asked a question about my sexuality. But what I didn’t understand was that is being a lesbian a matter to be jeered about? What if I was one? Wouldn’t I be hurt and embarrassed that my sexuality was just mocked at? Why are the words “gay” or “lesbian” used as slangs? Another incident, that took place a couple of years back, was when I was teasing two girl friends of mine, accusing them of having an affair. I considered it as normal as teasing a guy and a girl. One of them found it so disrespectful that she, instead of simply denying the fact, chided that she isn’t of such “third class” standard. I later discussed the small argument that we had, with her, trying to make my point that being a lesbian or a transgender doesn’t define anyone’s cla

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