He Hacked my Happiness

It’s something you see happening to others and you pray you don’t have to see the light of the day when your account gets compromised. But when it happens to you, you realize first hand, what a pain in the behind the whole ordeal is. It’s like losing a part of yourself-your extension… My Facebook account got hacked and left me feeling sad and down in the dumps, so much so that I was close to tears.

My mind worked overtime. It started with the regular... What did I do to deserve this? Is this what we call “Facebook Karma”? Did I stalk that guy I like, too much? Did my status quotes hurt someone? Did my, over 700 photos, have others not looking as nice as I did? Did my comment on someone’s photo hurt their feelings? Did I spend too many hours on the site? Have I totally lost it thinking about it like I accidentally ran someone over with my car?

When I found out my Facebook account was hacked I couldn’t sit, stand or think! Minutes later my cousin called to ask if I was drunk. No hello, no hi… “Amrita, are you drunk?” Clearly the hacker was chatting with her through my account. He asked my cousin to refill his mobile with a recharge coupon. When she realised there was no way I’d talk to her like that she thought I was probably sloshed and acting accordingly! The guy made my cousin question my integrity for God’s sake! My account hadn’t just been compromised by him; he was instrumental in compromising my character too! This is beyond acceptable!

He picked the day to hack my profile also after possible consideration as I was to go for a night stay at a friends place. When I called her to deliver the bad news she seemed rather confused- “Amu I’ve been chatting with you for so long… why are you asking me such weird question?” was her response.

“My account is hacked ya… what are you chatting with this person about?” I asked slightly freaked out! Later in the day I found out that he asked her some pretty obnoxious questions, which she answered thinking it was regular “girl talk”. As scary and bizarre the whole episode was, we couldn’t help but laugh at the whole thing the entire night.

That’s what I was doing at the end of it after all. I got dressed and decided to go for the night stay in stead of sitting at home worrying about all the things that could go wrong. The one other thing that played on my mind was how I had an opportunity to write yet another article that is straight from my blunders manuscript! (I once wrote an article about how I didn’t think being mature was as much fun as growing up after a man left a rude note for me and my group suggesting us to join a finishing school.)

About the hacking… I felt useless! I couldn’t think of anything I could do to get my precious Facebook account with over 300 friends back. I woke up and slept with Facebook as a sort of alarm for me. An internship related to Facebook gave me yet another reason to romance my home page replete with news feed. Also, my prospects of looking at the profile of the guy I liked were taken away from me. My articles, which had some really honest, encouraging and gratifying comments, were forever lost to me. All because of a guy, who was too much of a chicken to make his own profile, add his own friends and send requests to girls he wanted to chat with, from his own name.

I tried the Facebook help page but it is too confusing and the process takes days. Someone suggested filling an FIR but people lose their Mercedes this country and don’t get them back; my Facebook account would never seem a priority. In any case, news about my account being usurped will spread and more people will find out I no longer have control over it! A new account, starting afresh seems like the only way out… it’s disheartening, I know.

Anyone attached to their Facebook account will understand my plight. It’s not that big of a deal but I had been using the same account for over five years and now I have to detach myself from it. Facebook not only adds to our precious memories, it also helps store a lot of them. To all those out there who know the intricacies of hacking, please don’t steal someone’s right to memories. To the person who hacked my account - May God be with you. As for me, I learned a valuable lesson and have an experience of a lifetime. That’s about all I want to say.

Weight Issues

When it comes to losing weight, there’s one simple rule-don’t reach a stage where you need it! Sadly my life story exemplifies the above rule. Like they say “Live your life as an exclamation not explanation,” I can testify, how hard it is to do something your body just refuses to adjust to.

I love food… so much that when I eat breakfast I think of lunch; while lunch I think of dinner; while dinner I think of food I would have the next day. I live only to eat. It has been my life’s sole purpose. Until of course harsh reality made its presence felt and I realized there was more to life than just eating. I think I haven’t totally mastered that last bit but hey I try each day.

Besides food, lazing around and sleeping are my other favorites. It’s like when I sleep, I dream of sleeping. That’s how comforting it is to me. So it goes without saying that a life like that can yield only one result. Add a dash of genes prone to making life tougher than it needs to be and you have the bitter-sweet recipe of the life led by any fat/obese person.

We know why it’s bitter. The sweet bit I realized only after losing half the desired amount of weight required for my body type. The compliments!

But keep food, a sedentary life style and genes on one side and you have something that’s the hardest to attack. A fat person’s psyche. If you look around you almost all fat people you know are great at humour. That’s got nothing to do with a special endowment we possess. It’s because we learn to laugh at ourselves because we know there’s no way we can stop others. Can’t beat them, join them-is the motto, isn’t it? It’s harder adjustment than you think but we master the art to take pride in being the butt of all jokes and even add a line or two to the ones others share. It’s a hard life but we drown the sorrow by telling ourselves: hey, at least I made someone laugh. Of course it’s not the same for all. Some get cranky and then that makes the situation even worse for them.

Another is the strenuous task of keeping everyone we know, at bay. Stay detached so nothing any one says bothers us. We build a really thick shield around us that no one can penetrate which means no hurting. Some like me, develop a heightened sense of self often termed as “superiority complex”. The worst is the time when that shield smashes to the floor in smithereens making you lay prostrate on the ground, trying to pick the pieces up. It doesn’t happen easily is all I can say from experience.

When I started loosing weight it was grueling. There were times when I cried, had bad body ache, stayed mad at everyone for days, shut myself away and wanted to just die because it seemed too damn hard! Less food, counting calories, workout regimes became the only topics I could think or talk of (till date). Nosey relatives criticising everything I did, only added to the frustration.

However, at an event (that I finally agreed to attend) people managed to spot the loss in body mass and said “You have lost weight!” A big smile came on my face every time I heard it. Someone also asked “How much have you lost till now?” That question however simple and regular changed my perception of myself. “12kgs” I said after calculating on my finger tips (mathematics isn’t my strongest subject).

As I heard myself say the number it had a weirder effect on me than I imagined it to have. The next day at yoga, I stood in front of the full length mirror (which I am pretty sure makes everyone look fatter and shorter than they are) and saw myself up and down for the first time. Not after the weight loss, mind you. It was the first time I really looked at myself and saw what others had been seeing and worrying about. My first and only thought-if this is how I look after losing 12kgs, what did I look like before?

After that there was no looking back. I worked harder than ever. I was fighting against myself, for myself. Everyone used to tell me for years that in order for me to lose weight I would have to hate myself. I could never wrap my brain around that theory. I love myself! Every bit of me. My driving force to lose weight has been and will always be (because there are miles to go before I eat and sleep) me, I, and myself. I want to eat what I want (I am food obsessed), wear what I want to wear (God knows how I yearn to slap badly dressed people with good bodies), dance and be able to look at the videos without wanting to choke myself to death and STOP BEING THE DINNER TABLE CONVERSATION!

Here’s a thing for people who are close to those dealing with weight issues. They are scared. They want to lose weight more than you think they do and it’s the first step that is the hardest for them. If you are genuinely concerned, hold their hand and walk them through the ordeal. Don’t push them! If anything, it will make them run to the chips and chocolates cabinet, making you the enemy and them fatter. We need inspiration…not negotiations.

Reunion With Your High School Self!

Ever been to a high school reunion? When you walk through the hallowed corridors into the hall looking for familiar faces no matter how old you are an inexplicable sense of belonging seeps in. Once among the others your brain begins its comparisons… calculates what one’s success back during school has turned into in the present scenario. Does the girl who was considered the prettiest and made you wonder what went wrong with you, still have the same effect on people. Is the 90 percenter in a very high position at her job? That girl who failed most subjects; has she managed to get somewhere or have her parents just married her off like she believed? Wasn’t she the girl everyone ignored? Has she managed to make some friends?

It seems funny that somehow no matter how far along in life you are, in that moment you end up competing against that girl who always snatched that one extra mark and took the lead. You still look with envy towards the girl who won that one blessed competition. You continue to feel like the first runner up till you find out otherwise. That she probably hasn’t still made it big. But there’s hope. And while you judge others you take a pause to contemplate how your once-upon-a-time peers perceive you? Do they still think you’re a bitch? Are they still intimidated by you? Will they still think twice before talking to you?

Or have we all grown up and are ready to form new opinions about the people we have grown into? Here’s wishing…

You look around to find a familiar face; the girl you once called your “best-friend”. You haven’t kept in touch so you start talking to her. The conversation actually makes you question your taste. Or yourself… Your high school self. You bump into another one. The one you had terrible fights with. Your first response is if she’ll acknowledge you. Turns out she’s grown up and maybe its time you did too. Two minutes in the interaction and you realize what a myopic moron you had been. We have so much in common! The self obsessed one it turns out is working for an NGO. The dumb blonde achieved a scholarship. The fighter-cock has started conducting lectures on Karma. It’s all so absurd.

Then you find your friends in the corner. The ones that stood the test of time. The ones you call your soulmates (courtesy “Sex and the City”). Before you manage to lay you ass down they begin with all the information they’ve gathered… much the same as yours. Raised eyebrows complementing words like, “Can you believe this?” make for a collective examination. An analysis if you may, of where one stands. How “we” stand compared to the others. Are we still in the rat race or have we grown out of it?

While you mull over that you see the group of teachers standing by. Very few familiar faces, you notice. Among them you see the teacher who had once rebuked you for standing on the chair. The other one had slapped you for misspelling the word “corrections” when you submitted them... You dread meeting them, not because you think they may not remember you but because you’re scared they wouldn’t want to meet you. But it turns out teachers don’t forget their naughtiest students. They greet you with “happy dent white” smiles and acknowledge your presence. Those incidents apparently still make them smile. To them whatever you’ve achieved seems far more than what they ever expected of you. But the words “I knew you had it in you” spill out which makes you feel at least someone had trust in you.

Here’s the thing about high school reunions. You go for them knowing how judged you would be so it wouldn’t be that bad if you do the same to others. Some keep telling themselves they won’t let the bully get to them this time. Some go to prove a point. But all of us go to actually compare ourselves with us. All we want to know is whether we’ve managed to become the persons we once wished to be or have we become the persons we wished never to be. Another thing we all realize… high school defines nothing! It’s just growing up in a protected environment where your every move is scrutinized and bettered. In the real world you can’t get away with making mistakes… you pay dearly for them. No one is out there to teach you… you learn your lessons the hardest way. And most of all; no one gives a shit about your problems… if anything it makes most perceive their own better.

What stays are the fond memories of your alma mater, respect for your teachers, unconditional love for the friends you made then, who still stick around and the indisputable fact that you are a grown up and need to act like one.