#Growing up punjabi

[mainapnifavouritehoon]

Song rec#41

[lonelylesbian2]

I remember when I was younger people would ALWAYS make fun of me when I talked about my family because of what I called them. My family is Indian (punjabi to be exact) so I was subject to LOADS of mockery anyway. But when we did family trees in primary school I got laughed at so badly and so many people told me I had the 'wrong' names because my maternal uncle wasn't called 'mama', that was what my mother was called. When I tried to explain that that's what I called them in my culture I got told I was wrong. 8 year old me thought that my family tree was supposed to be filled with my family. What they were called to me. 8 year old me got told I was wrong. My teachers gave me sheets to fill out with 'uncle' and 'aunt' and 'grandma'. I grew up like that and when I was 10 years old we went to go and visit my mums family in Delhi. I called my mothers mum grandma. Now, when I visit I'm older, now I call my mother sister 'mausi', I call people who aren't related to me closely but are still very close 'mausi'. Because that's my culture. I am an only child but I have people I call 'didi', I have people who call me 'didi'. My older relatives call me 'beta'. I am not their daughter, but that is our culture. Now, I don't let anyone tell me what I can and can't call my family. Because they are mine. Now when people ask who's visiting, i tell them my 'chacha'.

I hate that I ever let anyone tell me my culture was wrong, that I had to leave my blood and roots behind in favour of what other people knew. But I was young and that was the reality of it. Everyday, my heart goes out to the little 8 year old girl sitting at the dining table, wishing she could change the colour of her skin and the blood in her veins.

[handweavers]

always love bringing up that i grew up speaking manglish at home with my dad and his side of the family even when we moved to canada but our version of manglish also mixes in a lot of punjabi words of course, and no one told me what words were punjabi vs malay vs canto vs tamil etc and there were a lot of punjabi kids at school whose families directly emigrated from the pindh to canada and they'd always be speaking punjabi with each other and i'd try talking with them but i didn't realize that the language my punjabi family spoke at home was not the same one they speak so they'd look at me like i grew a second head cause i was trying to communicate with them in manglish like a dumbass. so eventually i stopped trying because it was obvious there was something different between us (on top of me being mixed) so i spent more time with the south/west indian and chinese kids cause when i knew bits of tamil or cantonese they thought it was cool whereas my failure to speak real punjabi was just embarrassing with the other punjabi kids sjebdjsjdjsnd

[bebesota-and-bacha]

Why do Indians in the states love Taco Bell?

As someone who has access to authentic Mexican food and knows what traditional tacos taste like I’ve gotten some criticism towards enjoying Taco Bell. Most Mexicans in wouldn’t know the popularity among the desi community and are quick to tell me I’m white washed. There is, however, an interesting history behind this.

In the early 1900’s there were many exclusionary laws in place to prevent non-European immigrants access to the United States. However, these laws were slowly removed towards the second half on the century. Many of our parents were immigrating throughout the 70’s and forward for work and new opportunities. Although the numbers have shifted over time, many Indians were and are vegetarian for cultural or religious reasons.

With the popularity rising among white Americans you can now find a veggie friendly options around nearly every food place, but that wasn’t an option back then. Especially not at fast food prices. Taco Bell opened up in 1962 with both vegetarian options and easily substituted options.It’s debatable on whether these vegetarian options were with intention or just a bean option but regardless, this was big for Indian immigrants on a budget.

The popularity consisted to where it is now an inside joke among desi kids. I love grabbing a burrito and sitting with my friends. Every time I take a bite, I think about this History it’s like I’m writing a love letter to the aunties and uncles who came before us.

[vex-134]

ਤੁਹਾਡਾ ਨਾਮ ਕੀ ਹੈ?

私の名前は Vex です

Hope you guys are enjoying speak your language day cause I sure am

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 2: "Of Drinking and Dishonesty"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 3.9k

a/n: Enjoy the next little angsty installment for this series! I've been having fun writing a bit more about the college period than expected and our next installment gets angstier. Because who does Matt date in college? Yup. She's here. You can find the entire list of installments for this series here. Feedback is always appreciated if you're enjoying the series as well!

Tag list: @theetherealbloom @rotscinema

“Okay, okay, so I took Punjabi and didn’t learn anything. Big deal!” Foggy said, waving a dismissive hand. “At least I got to talk to that really hot chick in class.”

“But that’s all you did,” Matt pointed out. “You never even managed to get her number.”

Foggy let out a sigh, a faraway look on his face as he gazed just past Matt’s shoulder. You giggled at the sight; you’d heard the story about the girl Fog had taken Punjabi just to talk to many times before, but it never failed to amuse you how little he’d actually learned because he’d been distracted by her instead.

“So what about you?” Matt asked. 

He turned in your direction, leaning his elbows along the table and drawing himself closer to you. Your fingers were fiddling nervously with the beer bottle on the table in front of you, absently peeling the label from it. The way Matt was focused on you with that little grin on his mouth in the dimly lit bar had sent your heart racing, the weight of his sightless gaze on you behind his dark glasses making you nervous. For a moment your eyes lingered on his lips, wondering just how great of a kisser he might be. How it might feel if he just leaned a bit closer towards you and connected his mouth to yours. Or what it would be like to curl up with him in your bed after this, feel his tongue in your mouth and his hands roaming your body instead of someone else’s…

You cleared your throat, shoving those thoughts quickly away. You flushed when you realized you’d been staring silently at Matt, his brows having started to rise curiously onto his forehead at you.

“What about me?” you asked awkwardly.

“I never hear you talk about going on dates or taking classes just to meet a guy,” Matt said, that grin still on his mouth. “I think it’s your turn to spill some embarrassing stories.”

You met Foggy’s eyes on your other side, his smile faltering at Matt’s question. Swallowing hard, your gaze quickly dropped down as you focused on your beer bottle in front of you again. You shrugged in response.

“Guess no one’s caught my eye,” you lied.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Matt shaking his head. Looking back up at him, you noticed his grin had widened on his perfect mouth. Immediately you frowned at the sight.

“Come on, be honest here,” Matt pressed, leaning even closer to you as one of his dark brows rose up onto his forehead. “You’ve never taken a class just to talk to someone? Or anything like that?”

You exhaled slowly, eyes falling away from Matt. It’s not like you could be entirely truthful here. Maybe you hadn’t taken a class to get to know someone you’d had a crush on like Foggy, or asked for assistance to intentionally get some one-on-one time with someone like Matt had often done. But you had become best friends with the guy you had a thing for. Rearranged your entire schedule to fit his so you could see him almost every day despite how utterly pathetic it often made you feel. 

But you certainly couldn’t admit that .

“Don’t tell me there’s no one you have a thing for,” Matt urged after a moment. “I won’t believe you.”

His arm slid across the table to nudge yours in a friendly, playful gesture. Your eyes instantly dropped down to where he’d touched you, your arm feeling like that single, brief touch had sent a burning fire through your entire body. But when your eyes darted back up to Matt’s face, your attention was drawn to just over his shoulder. There was a young woman in a group of a few others back at the bar, and it was obvious how her attention kept shifting back to Matt, checking him out.

Shoulders slumping, your head dropped low as you focused back on your beer bottle. That jealous, dejected feeling washed over you. It was one you’d become familiar with lately, feeling it whenever Matt was flirting, or being checked out, or out on a date, or clearly out having sex with someone. 

“Not anyone who’d ever notice me,” you muttered.

“Oh well now I’m sure that’s not true,” Matt said good-naturedly. “How could someone not notice you? You’re amazing. Right, Fog?”

Your head flew up, eyes going wide at Matt’s compliment. He’d called you amazing. Matt had never said anything like that before about you. Your mind suddenly was spiraling in a different direction for once, thoughts quickly running through your mind one after another.

Could Foggy have been right? Was it possible Matt maybe did have an interest in you? Maybe all this time all you’d needed to do was just tell him how you felt. Maybe he’d never asked you on a date before because you weren’t forward with your feelings like all of the other women who’d very openly flirted with him. 

Maybe it was just as simple as that.

“I tell her that all the time,” Foggy agreed easily. “And I’m sure whoever this guy is sees it, too.”

He shot you a pointed look before his eyes darted meaningfully across the table to Matt. Slowly your gaze followed where Foggy’s had, attention returning back to Matt. He had focused back on you as well, that beautiful charming smile of his on his mouth. Biting your lip, you contemplated thinking up some way to just tell Matt how you felt here and now and put everything out there in the open. Especially before the girl making eyes at him could come over and steal him away for the night. But before you could open your mouth, Matt was continuing on.

“You should really give yourself more credit,” he told you. “Any guy would be lucky to take you on a date.”

Hope was quickly rising in your chest, your body suddenly feeling weightless. “You–you think so?” you asked him cautiously.

“Absolutely,” he answered, one hand coming up to readjust his dark glasses on his nose. “You’re a sweet, intelligent girl. And you’re funny as hell. Honestly, I was not expecting you to be as hilarious as you are.”

“Yeah?” you asked.

Beside you, you noticed the way Foggy’s wide eyes were darting back and forth between you and Matt like he was just waiting for the moment one of you admitted feelings or something. It felt like your stomach was filling with hundreds of anxious butterflies all flapping about inside of you as that hope only bloomed further in you. 

“Oh, definitely,” Matt said with a nod. “You’re like a female Foggy. Which is high praise, because Foggy is the absolute best friend anyone could ask for.”

Instantly you deflated as if Matt had just punched you in the gut. 

You’re like a female Foggy.  

…the absolute best friend anyone could ask for.

Mouth dropping open, you sat there dumbfounded and hurt. Every ounce of hope that maybe you’d misread the situation–maybe he didn’t see you as just a friend–immediately dropped into your half finished bottle of beer and drowned. Your chest felt hollow as Matt’s smile briefly faltered before you. 

Attention returning back towards Foggy on your left, you saw him shooting you that all-too-familiar sad smile again. You wanted to crawl under the table and cry at the sight of it.

“You’re both suddenly really quiet,” Matt pointed out, his tone a bit nervous. “Did I–I say something wrong?”

You couldn’t look at him, your gaze dropping yet again to the table before you. Tears pricked at your eyes as you tried to fight them back, clearing your throat as you blinked hard a few times. 

“No,” you answered softly. “Thanks, Matt.”

“You–you sound upset,” he pointed out. “What’d I say wrong?”

“Dude,” Foggy began immediately, “you just told her she was best friend material when you were supposed to be giving her encouragement that she is more than that.”

“What? No,” Matt said quickly.

Your eyes caught sight of how fast his head turned in your direction out of your peripheral. That hollow feeling felt like it was only growing in your chest the longer you sat here. Maybe you should just call it a night and head back to your dorm before it swallowed you whole.

“That’s not what I meant,” Matt said earnestly. 

He said your name, his hand reaching out and feeling along the table before it eventually landed on your wrist. Your eyes snapped shut, your jaw clenching at the contact of his skin on yours when his fingers encircled your wrist. It wasn’t helping.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to say you were just friend material,” he continued. “That’s not what I meant. It came out wrong.”

“It’s fine, Matt, I get it,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

“No, hey, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot,” he said in a rush, his hand holding tighter to your wrist. “Please don’t get upset. I just meant you’re a really great person, one of the best I’ve ever met. I’m sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

“Yeah, alright,” you said with a nod, desperate for him to just stop.

“How about this,” Matt said, his tone picking up to something brighter, “you bring me with to meet this guy, and I’ll be the best wingman ever." 

You slipped your wrist out from Matt’s hold, no longer interested in sitting here and finishing your beer. Walking home in the cool evening and crying sounded vastly more appealing. Abruptly shoving your chair out, the legs of it making an irritating screech along the floor that was audible over the pop music playing, you slipped out of your seat.

“You heading back already?” Foggy asked, that knowing look on his face.

“Yeah, early class tomorrow,” you answered.

“Wait, hang on,” Matt said, pushing his own chair back as he turned in his seat towards you. “If you’re leaving because I upset you, I’m sorry.”

You sighed, pushing your chair back into the table so he wouldn’t end up tripping over it when he inevitably got up. “I’m leaving because I have an early class in the morning, Matt,” you deadpanned.

Your eyes caught the brief twitch of his eyebrows on his forehead as if he somehow knew you were lying. He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he could try to apologize yet again. That, too, wasn’t helping. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” you said quickly, shooting Foggy a wave as you took a step back.

“Dining hall for lunch tomorrow?” Fog asked hopefully.

“Sure,” you answered, shooting him a tight smile. Turning, you muttered under your breath, “If I even have an appetite by then.”

Weaving your way through the fairly busy bar, you eventually made it to the exit. You pushed the door open, stepping out into the chilly late spring evening. You felt a bit of the tension easing from your body already, the street noise of the city vastly preferable to you than being in Matt’s proximity right now. You couldn’t sit there any longer listening to him apologize to you for viewing you as only a best friend. 

You were an idiot to have thought there was hope for something more between you both. Of course he was only saying nice things that a friend would say to another friend to make them feel better and build them up. It was the same thing he’d probably say to Foggy if he was interested in a girl. How stupid you were to think of it as anything else. 

Any guy would be lucky to take you on a date.

You laughed bitterly at his comment, your arms hugging tight to your chest as you made the short trek back to campus and towards your dorm. Any guy except for Matt would be lucky to take you on a date, that’s basically what you gathered this evening. Matt was probably going to be hit on by that girl at the bar in a matter of minutes. You were positive he’d end up in either her dorm or his shortly afterwards. But you were not someone Matt would take on a date.

A frown twisted your mouth downwards, tears stinging at your eyes. You didn’t want to think about yet another conquest for Matt. It felt shitty that Matt would sleep with almost any girl on campus except for you. Not that that’s all you wanted from him–because you wanted vastly more than to just fuck him–but it made you feel like there was something wrong with you. 

Why weren’t you good enough? What was so different about you that Matt didn’t want you like he did with those other girls?

A tear slipped down your cheek and you reached a hand up, wiping it away. Seconds later you heard your phone ringing in your pocket and your frown deepened. You reached down, pulling it out and looking at the caller ID. Matt’s name was on the screen. Your eyes closed as you came to a stop on the sidewalk. You didn’t want to talk to him, why the hell was he calling you?

For a minute you considered letting his call go to your voicemail and ignoring it. You could always just tell him later that you’d had it on silent and didn’t realize he’d called until the next morning. How would he know you were lying? 

But you felt guilty at the thought of ignoring him just because he’d unintentionally hurt you. It’s not like Matt could control who he was or wasn’t attracted to. That wasn’t his fault. With a sigh you flipped the phone open, bringing it to your ear.

“Hey, Matt,” you answered, trying to keep the waver out of your voice.

He greeted you with your name, his voice sounding a little out of breath. You frowned.

“What’s going on? Something happen at the bar?” you asked, brows furrowing.

“No, not exactly,” he answered quickly. “Fog saw this girl he likes there. I think her name is Marci? Figured I’d leave him to it and check on you, actually. Which is why I called. How far from the bar did you get? I was trying to catch up.”

Biting your lip, you turned on the spot, stepping out of the way of a small group of college kids walking past you. A little ways back you could make out Matt’s form heading down the sidewalk towards you, his cane tapping away in one hand, his other hand holding his phone to his ear. Shoulders dropping, you realized you were going to have to walk back with him. Which was the last thing you’d been wanting to do right now.

“You didn’t need to leave on my account, Matt,” you told him.

“You seemed upset, I didn’t want you to walk back alone like that,” he replied. “So how far away did you get?”

Sighing, you began walking back the way you’d come. “I can see you, I’ll just turn back around and meet you in a minute,” you said.

Both of you exchanged goodbyes before you hung up, slipping your phone into your pant’s pocket before you once again uncomfortably wrapped your arms around your chest. It took you about a minute to reach Matt and you greeted him once you did, watching as his head darted in your direction. That damn charming smile slipped onto his face instantly and you hated the way it made you feel.

“Was hoping I’d manage to find you,” he greeted you back.

“Congrats,” you muttered. “I can walk you back to your dorm, if you want.”

“Well now that defeats the purpose of me walking you back to your dorm,” Matt countered cheekily.

You rolled your eyes, unable to fight the small smile snaking its way onto your lips. Reaching out, you placed Matt’s outstretched hand in the crook of your arm. His warm fingers curled around you, that hollow pit in your chest suddenly growing larger as you began to guide him back towards campus. 

For a little bit neither of you spoke, your body tense as Matt held onto you while the pair of you walked back towards your dorms. His cane tapping along the pavement mixed with the noises of the city, the sound lingering heavily over the pair of you.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, eventually breaking the silence.

His question caught you off guard, your lips pressing together as Columbia came into view. Once again, it’s not like you could be truthful with Matt. You couldn't tell him you had feelings for him–had them for months–and that him calling you a female Foggy had deeply hurt you. You’d only embarrass yourself and ruin your friendship with him.

“Yeah,” you answered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his head turn swiftly in your direction. Your teeth ground together under the weight of his attention. 

“Can you be honest with me this evening?” he asked.

“Who says I’m not?” you countered.

“Because I know you,” he answered immediately. “You sounded close to tears earlier before you left the bar. You’re not telling your usual jokes or laughing. You’ve been pretty quiet most of this evening, especially during this walk. You’re just giving brief responses when I know you love to talk.”

Your eyes remained fixed on the sidewalk before you as you led the pair of you down a different path, one that would bring you towards the residence halls. Internally you cursed Matt and his astute observations. 

“Was it what I said at the bar?” he pried. “Because I didn’t mean it like that, I swear.”

“Can we please stop talking about that already?” you snapped.

Heat flooded your cheeks immediately after your outburst. You hadn’t meant to snap at him, but you were tired of hearing his apology. And you certainly didn’t need to hear him offer to be your wingman again.

“So it was what I said,” he replied. 

His head turned, his attention once again on you as you both continued to walk. Your gaze remained fixed ahead of you, though.

“Why did that bother you so much?” he asked gently.

“Because I–” you stopped instantly, unsure of how to navigate this conversation without giving everything away. You sighed, shaking your head. “Because I’m always the friend,” you admitted weakly, tears stinging at your eyes again. “And I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Matt said earnestly. “Why would you even think that?”

You shook your head, glad when you saw your building coming into view. You were desperate for an excuse to get out of this conversation. Especially because you felt the threat of tears growing stronger.

"It doesn't matter, forget I said that," you replied.

Matt pulled you to a stop on the sidewalk instantly. Surprised, you turned towards him, beginning to blink back the tears threatening to spill forth.

"It does matter if it's got you this upset," he pushed. "I meant what I said earlier. Any guy would be lucky to take you on a date. And if whoever this guy is has got you feeling this down on yourself, he's probably an asshole."

You couldn't help the humorless laugh that fell out of you. Little did he know he'd just called himself an asshole and you couldn't help but see the humor in it. The sound of your laugh only caused Matt’s brows to furrow though, his fingers tightening their hold on your arm. 

"What?" he asked. "Why is that funny?"

Because it's you, you idiot.

"It's not funny," you answered instead. "I just feel stupid."

He said your name softly, shaking his head. "Hey, you're not stupid" he assured you.

You couldn't stop the tears that fell, that ache in your chest only deepening with every nice word from his mouth that didn't mean what you desperately wanted it to. Matt's head tilted to the side at your silence, but the moment you couldn't fight back a choked sob, he was quickly pulling you in towards him.

One of his arms wrapped around your back, the other gently drawing your head towards his solid chest, cradling you carefully against him as his fingers lightly stroked their way through your hair. Your own hands easily wrapped around him, holding tight to him as you cried into his shirt. His hand along your back began rubbing a soothing pattern, managing it somehow even with the cane still held in his hand. His comforting presence only had you fisting his shirt tighter in your hands as you became overwhelmed with your emotions, crying harder when you felt him rest his chin along the top of your head. Somehow his hands held you even closer to himself. 

You'd often imagined what it would feel like to be in Matt's embrace so many times before; what it would feel like to be in his arms, breathing in that warm, familiar scent of him. But you’d never pictured it like this. Never because you were crying over not being able to be with him while he unknowingly comforted you for it.

"Maybe he's not the right guy," Matt whispered. "If he can't see how great you are, maybe he's not the one worth feeling like this about."

"He's not an asshole though," you choked out, voice muffled against his chest. "That's the thing."

"You'll find someone," he assured you. "Someone who will see every wonderful thing about you. Someone who won't make you feel like this about yourself."

"He usually doesn't," you muttered. 

"Usually doesn't what?" he asked softly.

"Make me feel like this," you said, turning to rest your cheek against his chest. "Usually he makes me feel good. Happy." Your fingers tightened their hold around his shirt as you sniffled. "Special. But–but he doesn't know how I feel and I am positive he doesn't feel that way in return. And that's what hurts."

"How do you know if you don't tell him?" Matt asked.

Matt’s words at the bar ran through your mind again and your eyes snapped shut. 

You’re like a female Foggy.  

…the absolute best friend anyone could ask for.

"Believe me, I know," you answered stiffly. 

Forcing yourself to release your hold on Matt, you stepped back as he untangled his hold on you in return. You wrapped your arms uncomfortably around yourself yet again, your attention on your feet. 

"Sorry, this was stupid," you mumbled. "I can finish walking to my dorm myself, Matt. But thanks for uh, trying to help."

He took a step towards you, concern clearly written on his face. "I can walk you the rest of the way. It's not–"

"I want to be alone," you told him firmly. 

He stared at you in silence for a moment before he finally nodded. "Okay," he replied. "I'll see you tomorrow though, right?"

You sighed heavily, eventually nodding. Because you knew you were too weak to give Matt up. You knew that despite how much it hurt to see him with other women all the time, the thought of him permanently missing from your life hurt worse.

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow, Matty," you whispered. 

Turning, you made your way down the path towards your hall, tears still silently streaming down your cheeks. You ignored the stares of passing students, wiping away the dampness on your cheeks with the back of your hand as you walked. 

These feelings would eventually fade. They had to.

[youthoughtiwasfeelinyou]

Redacted Headcannons (Shaw Pack and Solair Clan)

Asher is Chilean (meaning his parents are from Chile)

Sweetheart is Chinese (born in China, their parents were farmers, Sweetheart helped their father grow crops)

David is half American (his dad) and half middle eastern (his mom is Syrian)

Babe is half Japanese (their father) and half Dutch (their mother), but their father was abusive to their mother when she was pregnant, so the mom was scared he would hurt her child too when it gets born, so she abandoned Babe somewhere in Japan, and a Korean family visiting Japan found them and took them in, but the Korean family lives in Australia, so now Babe mostly and usually identifies as Korean and Australian, but when they found out about their bio parents, they learned Dutch and Japanese on top of them already knowing Korean and English

Babe and Angel have known each other since they were six, they kept the friendship for their whole lives but they couldn’t always be together since they had different lives, but when they started dating Asher and David they didn’t know about each others parter until David and Ash decided to introduce them to one another, they realized that life had brought them together yet again and from that moment on they knew they were soulmates They were like “omg this is the guy you were texting me about” “who knew that our boyfriends are best friends” “I didn’t know that when David said Asher now has a mate it meant YOU” “how have you been? it seems like fate keeps bringing us back together, my soulmate”

Gabe met David’s mom on a trip to Syria, a trip that he happened to take along with William, they coincidentally met at the airport and decided to might as well do the trip together

Lovely is half Punjabi (their mom) and half Iraqi (their dad)

Alexis had a daughter when she was human, but when she turned her daughter was still growing, her daughter died a 16 years old in a CAR ACCIDENT with her mom in which the daughter was a really good healer and promised her mom that she could heal herself and that she didn’t need to be turned but died before she could even try

In the early days of Vincent’s vampiracy, he lost control of his emotions with William a few days after William evoked him to feed, and ended up killing a pregnant woman by snapping her neck (stole this from the vampire diaries)

This might be controversial but what if Porter was a Jew survivor of the Holocaust (when he was human)

Babe and Angel both know 20 languages, they studied them together, but there are two sets of languages in which they differ, Angel knows Russian and Spanish but doesn’t know Dutch and Korean (but they know a little cause they used to hang out with babe and their Korean family, and babe is starting to officially teach them Korean now), while Babe knows Dutch and Korean but not Russian or Spanish ( Asher is teaching them a few words in Spanish, and they have an awful accent in it, I mean they speak 20 languages fluently and with barely any accent but their Spanish accent is god awful lol)

William has only been in love 3 times in his entire 500 years of living

That’s it for today but I got more I need to share, so maybe next time!

[teaah-art]

Desi LGBT Fest 2023 (hosted by @desi-lgbt-fest)

Day 7 : Faith/Rituals of Love

Definitely geared heavily towards the 'Faith' part of this prompt as soon as I read it!

If being Queer is defying conventions and if being a part of the Queer community means going against heteronormativity and gender conformity, is it not Queer to forego materialistic ties and the love of a human partner and embrace the love of a greater being you have only heard about in stories?

All four individuals featured here were integral part of the Bhakti Movement and/or Sufism in South Asia. None were married other than Meerabai.

(Panel order from top to bottom)

Chaitanya Mahaprabhu (1486-1534) : A key name of the Bhakti Movement and the Gauriya Vaishnav tradition in 15th Century Bengal, Chaitanya Mahaprabhu was believed to have been a vessel for both Radha and Krishna. Bengali doesn't use pronouns or gendered language and we may never know what they would have preferred to be identified as in a language they didn't know (English), I will simply resort to using They/Them for them. Their written teachings are few and far between but the verse mentioned here is the seventh verse of the only written record of their teachings, the Shikshastakam - a collection of 8 total verses. The translation here is my own and quite literal so that the interpretation is left to the reader.

Meerabai (1498-1597) : [CW : IMPLIED QUEERPHOBIA/APHOBIA] Meerabai was born into Rajput royalty and was married off, also to Rajput royalty, in likely an arranged marriage. While most of the stories surrounding her are folklore whose historicity is yet to be confirmed, her marital status can be confirmed, and so can her devotion and affection for Krishna and the divine, which she has herself penned in numerous poems and songs. Folklore does strongly imply that she was non-committal to her marriage and that her in-laws tried to poison her to death multiple times for it.

Kabir (1398–1448 or 1440–1518) : Found as an orphan by a Muslim weaver couple, Kabir's religion grew to become somewhat of an enigma for future generations. His stance, however, on the topic romance and marital relationships is quite clear - he looked down upon them and a huge chunk of his couplets strongly imply that romantic and sexual relations simply obstruct spiritual enlightenment.

Bulleh Shah (1680-1757) : Bulleh Shah, though an ardent proponent of loving the divine, was declared a Kafir, a non-believer/non-Muslim by a quite a few Muslim clerics of the time. He was known for speaking up against existing power hierarchies of the time and used vernacular speech for his writings (Punjabi, Sindhi) which not only served to popularize his works, but also let people connect to his words.

A personal note on my motivations under the cut.

A while back when I was actively going through the anxiety of finding out that I am ace and that I will never fit into the current South Asian society that the wedding industry has a chokehold on, I desperately wanted to see people from my own culture living happily without a partner. During one of my history rabbit hole escapedes, I restumbled upon the story of Meerabai, how she always insisted on loving and devoting herself towards Krishna, despite being married into a normative and wealthy household and despite her in-laws repeatedly attempting to poison her for not committing to her husband. Most of us from India grow up hearing about Meerabai, her spiritual connections to Krishna, and her struggles. The moral of those stories is always framed as 'believe in god, he will help you through tough times'. But this was the first time I was making a different connection, I was drawing different morals. And when I took Meerabai's non-conformity to her married life and started looking for more examples like hers, I was overwhelmed by how many more individuals existed without a partner, condemned being in a normative, married relationship, admitted to having lost human connections and faced resistance even, and yet stayed true to their orientation and sounded HAPPY! It was extremely hard to narrow it down to these four, but these do make my point! Labels are hard to transpose across cultures and history. But if being queer means being nonconforming of marital structures and being aspec/arospec implies neutrality, indifference, or aversion to romance and intercourse, then no one fits the label if they don't.

[metamatar]

yday was lohri and today is makar sakranti/pongal growing up punjabi in south india was the greatest thing my parents did for me. in the us.... i did go happily clomping around in the snow in the morning for hours and got a little depressed abt being poor and in debt in the evening instead of celebrating lohri. but i ate gud rewari and peanuts and enough puffed rice snacks today to damage my teeth.

[janaknandini-singh999]

Rani lingered by and stepped back in the shadows to avoid being seen by Jamini as she went by, glimpsing a content smile on her ever serene thakuma.

She had no intentions of hearing what the women were talking about but couldn't help herself when she had picked up their voices discussing something intently, especially of her dadi saas Dhanlakshmi, whose unwavering tone was such a contrast to the sweet, yet as determined one, of her thakuma. She smiled.

Both the women just couldn't have more different personalities yet they were talking. They had come together. Because of their respective grandchildren. Rani had always wondered, however, that in temperament maybe she was more like Dhanlakshmi than even her own grandmother. A rock, a parvat - despite of everything she faced, because of everyone she distanced. Rani couldn't ever imagine being distant from her family though, she agreed, but when she was growing up she just felt a little.. different from her family. All of them were beautiful and unique in their own ways but she had grown to be the unrelenting parvat in their house. But after being so strong, in the end, when she'd get tired of it all, she'd often go to find peace the most in her thakuma's chaanv. She was glad her thakuma could talk to Dhanlakshmi, providing something to her dadi saas as well, no matter how little it may have been received because of the walls Dhanlakshmi had put up around her heart since eons now.

She smiled again.

Rocky was so much like her thakuma.

He was bubbly, kind and gentle just like her. If she was the parvat then he was the river flowing from it, calming it down, helping it find a purpose for being strong for so long.

The universe has a strange way of working indeed - these two lovebirds were more like their grandmothers in law than their own grandmothers. She believed that if there's destiny then it was determined to make them come to each other since day one. The evergreen love story of Jamini and Kanwal was simply the first golden ray of an eagerly awaited, breathtaking dawn.

A breeze blew and something fluttered in her palm, her attention diverting to it - an envelope - now remembering why she had come here in the first place. It was a letter she was to deliver. To her dadi saas.

She was learning Punjabi and this was the first thing she wanted to write in the language. She had been moved by how, little by little, Rocky had recently started secretly learning Bangla from her thakuma. He was mad when Rani got to know about it.

"YAAARR SURPRISE DENA THHA MUJHEEE THAAKUMAA NE DHOKA DIYA TUMHE BATAAKEY" Rocky had pouted

"Arey baba unhone NAHI bataya mujhee. Ab tum raat mein sote samey random Bangla gibberish bologe toh KISI KO bhi lagega Monjulika chadhh gayi hain!" Rani had laughed

Rocky had made a bigger puppy face "galat.. Monjulika nahi. Rani Chatterjee chadhh gayi hain mujhe" and had kissed her, grinning

Upon learning about the letter though, Rocky had frowned, saying

"Arey but Punjabi toh sherdilo, deewano ki bhaasha hain! Yeh koi intellectual, dEeP Bangla thodi na hain jo tu aisey heavy topic pe dadi ko likh rahi hain. Aur KYU LIKH RAHI HAIN!??"

Rani had sighed. Her husband was the sweetest angel ever but he was so innocent that it physically used to give her a bittersweet pain sometimes. She had cupped her husband's face and whispered "Many have let her down, baba. It's an apology letter."

He had whispered back "baakiyon ke liye tum kyu maafi maang rahi ho? tumhaari toh koi galti bhi nahi hain."

"Kisiko bhi unki language mein kuch bhi kehne se hamesha woh baat zyaada acche se dil mein jaati hain. Chaahe woh koi bhi ho. Aur hain meri galti. I've been one of those people who have hurt her. I'm not saying that she's never been at fault but.. she's not evil. She is not any more selfish than we all are sometimes. And this is the least she deserves and needs after going through so much. A closure. Maybe a forgiveness that she needs to give to herself too. Maybe she is too proud to give it to herself even now. But maybe my words can help her do that. Just maybe."

"Ab agar unko khudko maaf karna hain toh tum kyu maafi- YAAR BAHOT COMPLICATED hain yeh sab." Rocky groaned in a pillow and then whispered "tumhe jo karna hain karo. But JALDI AANA mujhe tumhare bahot yaad aayegiii"

"OKAYY. Drama queen meri" Rani had shaken her head and broke into laughter with him, kissing his nose before leaving through the door.

The letter fluttered more urgently in her hand now. She had decided to send it as an anonymous one, slipping it in the letterbox of Dhanlakshmi Sweets which was always flooded by a lot of mails anyway so it would be easy.

Just as she opened the mailbox carefully-

"Khud baat karne mein darrti ho kya?"

Rani looked up and saw Dhanlakshmi standing rigidly on the main door of the house. It was the only picture in that moment that one needed to see in order to know who ruled the Randhawa family.

Rani bent down to touch her feet and stiffened when she didn't feel her dadi saas's hands come up to give her blessings. She straightened again, looking elsewhere and clearing her throat.

"Kya hua? Waapis apna wahi puraana bakhaan karne aagayi? Mujhe yeh kehne ki hum dono itne bhi alag nahi hain jitna main samajhti hoon?"

"Nahi." Rani's eyes slowly filling with tears finally met Dhanlakshmi's who was taken a little aback but stood her guard as always.

Rani folded her hands and spoke after what seemed like ages

"I think we couldn't be any more different. I could've never done what you did for your family, that too all alone. You were the backbone when nobody had your back. You're a powerful lady but you have a heart too, no matter how much you tend to show that you don't. And I'm sorry for being one of those to break it, I should've been the last person to do so because I.. understand how it feels to be that way. Dadi," she lowered her head in reverence "ho sake toh.. mujhe maaf kar dena" and the tears came running down, undammed yet again

And Dhanlakshmi came forward, touching Rani's shoulders ever so lightly to make her look up and meet her eyes and Rani could've sworn she saw something changed in them. Rani was so overwhelmed and tired that she closed her eyes when suddenly she felt something on her cheek. She opened her eyes in a flash to find her grandmother in law stiffly patting her bony hand against her cheek - like a long hurt and betrayed child not sure what to do when suddenly being thrown in a pool of genuine affection, like a cold stone being crushed not sure when it will find purpose to be as rigid, hard and strong again. In another lifetime all over again, maybe.

A parvat.

"Ghar ke bade log na kabhi zyaada der tak naaraz rehte hain, naa maafi maangte hain. Bas aashirwaad dete hain" Dhanlakshmi whispered just as coolly and turned around, taking the letter from Rani's who smiled at her dadi saas maa's ever stern figure retreating into her room as if nothing happened.

.

.

.

@houseofbreadpakoda INSPIREDDDD me <3

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

Tu maan meri jaan; a string of headcanons

A/n; I wanna thank @birdy-bat-writes for this amazing string of head canons, you are truly an inspiration to us all. This little thing is dedicated to all my brown girls and desi’s who long for the representation on any platform. I want you to know that just because there is no opportunity available, doesn’t mean you can’t make an opportunity for yourself. I hope you like this as much as I do <333

Jake seresin x desi!reader (feat. The dagger squad + Maverick)

I completely melt at the thought of Jake getting married to a South Asian bride and they make the wedding half Western and half South Asian.

Like on the reception he just whispers “meri jaan” My life or something in your ear as the Pandit officiates it.

All the little kids calling him the versions names for “uncle” and you feeling so proud and holding them all close to you, he looks at you so softly, getting the kids to leave the stage as they scurry off after hugging both of you.

Jake on a horse, riding his way to your house with the Baraat.

When you first started dating, he didn’t understand the things you whispered to him in your language.

Him seeing you in the wedding lehenga for the first time and just forgetting how to speak

He makes it his mission to learn a little bit of your language without telling you. So when you speak to your family or friends and it’s mostly them teasing you two, he knows but doesn’t mention it until later.

You are not expecting to be as speechless as you are when you see him in his wedding outfit. He doesnt stop teasing the hell out of you about it the entire night.

Dirty blond hair glistening in the harsh light coming from the camera man and seeing the rest of the squad in traditional clothes is the cherry on top.

He had his hands in the air as the dhol and drums echo loudly, mimicking some of the moves your father or brother may have taught him.

And then at the reception, you decide to change into a white dress. But he doesn’t know. So when he sees you he’s breathless all over again.

He gets down on one knee as he approaches the stage where you stand, a ring in hand, maybe saying a few sentences in your language that has you crying

“Main aur kisi ke bare main kaise soch sakta hoon jab meri duniya mere samne hai?”How can I think about someone else when my whole world is in front of me?

Maybe he sings a song or two; a song from your favorite bollywood movie, something he spent months practicing and getting the emotions right so he doesnt end up crying halfway. The lyrics are dedicated to you, Ofcourse. And as he brings you onto the dance floor you notice the mic in his hand shaking. But you slowly wrap your hands around his and sing the song with him as it closes out.

It’s no secret that Jake loves to dance and his whole family really enjoys dancing at the wedding.

They drag him onto the stage and what people don’t know is that he has been practicing his moves.

If a lot of Punjabi families are there, then we know we got the booze flowing and as soon as the songs come on he is going at it.

You are laughing and giggling in your chair as you watch him do bhangra or any other type of dance that he has up his sleeve.

You’re just like “….where did you learn to dance like that?”

“When did you find the time to learn this?” “well, i am a Seresin, darlin’”

The wedding vows go like this:

“The things I do for you my love, but today, I wanna dedicate this day, not to us; but to you. Because my heart has been so full of you that I simply cannot call it mine anymore. My soul has been bewitched and my mind has been taken over by every thought of you. I am a mere reflection- a shadow of you. There was a quote in this movie we watched on our third date: om shanti om (apologies for the pronunciation); you said it was your favorite movie growing up and you cried when shah rukh khan said; "Itni shiddat se maine tumhe paane ki koshish ki hai, ki har zarre ne mujhe tumse milane ki saazish ki hai.” (I have tried so hard to get you, that the entire universe has brought you to me.) So today as our families gather around us to witness this beautiful moment, I want to say to you; mujhse shaadi karogi?” (Will you marry me)

To which you just laugh and say “we’re already married dumbass” while tugging him up to kiss him and whisper a thousand yes’.

The Mehendi and Haldi rasam has you thinking he looks absolutely adorable

The yellow pastes make his skin glow and while everyone is admiring him all the young girls and aunties eyes are on him, he is just admiring you from the corner of the room as you get the haldi all over you.

You don't notice his eyes on you through the thin curtain until your mother whispers to you: “Everybody’s watching him but he’s only been looking at you”

He loves the way your hair shines in the light.

If there is haldi left after the ceremony you and Jake just attack Mav and the squad with it.

The aunties probably have something to say about how he’s just completely all over you, but you two don’t even care. You’re already too far gone into the bliss of your wedding preparations and traditions that nothing seems to affect your mood.

He’d probably really enjoy the fact that your wedding outfits reveal the midriff if you wear a lehenga. For each function that you wear one or even a sari, he probably really likes being able to feel your skin on his when he puts his arm around your waist.

Maybe if you decide to have a destination wedding in the house you rented, he shows up late at night at your door in a beige or black kurta that your mum made him wear, a few buttons undone from the top, hair a little messy

He was up with your male family members playing antakshari.

If it’s in India, he takes you to a late night drive to eat ice cream.

You introduce him to paan and chai.

You threaten him that if he ever calls chai, chai tea, you will divorce him. He swore he would never mispronounce a single thing again.

When you get back it’s dark and late enough that no one else is awake, he quietly slips into your room as you both try to take in the last few days, barely having a moment to yourselves, as he just stays there and holds you until you drift off to sleep and when you do, he gives you a kiss on the forehead before slipping back into his room.

Then when it comes to him trying to find his name in your hands, it takes him time but he finds it hiding in the side of your pinky, because when you are nervous you hold onto each other’s pinky’s in a crowded room. It was a small thing you guys used to do before you had started dating.

If you've hidden his call sign as well, he finds it immediately but takes his name pretending like he didn’t see it just to play with your hands longer.

Yours is hidden in a kaleidoscope of stars and things he’s got on his palms and wrists, it’s in a moon shaped piece that has another thing written under it “mera chaand”

Phoenix shows up in the most stunning outfits and turns out she has dressed up every single one of the dagger boys.

It came as a surprise to you when she helped you with your jewelry, having known about many uncommon things about the certain things you were putting on.

She manages to take the boys away from you as you are getting ready for your main ceremony.

You both keep a Polaroid of the two of you getting ready, hair and makeup done, mehendi pristine, bangles on, jewelry pretty much all on and your outfits are on the hangers. Standing with arms around each other in tank tops and shorts and it’s the funniest sight. It's a memory you’ll cherish forever with your best friend.

Dude can you just imagine Javy, Rooster, Mickey and Reuben all lifting the kids at the wedding in the air and pretending like they’re flying fighter jets.The kids are just like “I love Reuben uncle!” And “Jake maamaji is my favorite”.

Phoenix teaches the girls how to fight, defend themselves and kick the boys in the balls.

They manage to experiment their kicks on the squad and even though the girls don’t hurt them enough, they pretend to topple over in faux pain until Phoenix hits Rooster in the balls and he actually does double over in pain as everyone around him just laughs it off. He tries to smile through the pain for the sake of the kids but Phoenix knows that she hurt him where it hurts. All the kids think it’s hilarious because they think it’s fake and Rooster is just trying to smile through the pain.

After the wedding ceremony everyone’s making jokes about how y’all are probably going to get it on but you’re both so tired that you just fall asleep.

Not to mention the fact that he will help you take off your jewelry.

He counts the huge amount of bobby pins in your hair, the pile is bigger than your head.

His eyes are wide by the time he is done taking out the last one.

“Do you have anything else hiding in your skull somewhere? How did your head not fall?”

“Yeah now you wonder why I’m so tired, I’m carrying twice my heads normal weight”

He’s just shocked but damn he is proud of you and probably does a hands down thing after you pile up your outfit, heels and everything and make him pick it up.

He groans at the weight of it because it is just so heavy.

“Babe, how were you walking in this? Are you goddamn bodybuilder?”

“Damn, Jake, I thought you navy officers were strong. Cant even carry a dress??” Him glaring at you playfully.

“I am Mrs. Seresin now, aren’t I? So that automatically makes me strong, like your mom.”

Him melting at that…

He will not stop referring to you as Mrs. Seresin for ages.

You both lay down and just take in the past few days.

He says “goodnight Mrs seresin”. You both just let yourselves fall asleep in like oversized shirts and underwear because you’re too tired to find anything else. Wedding clothes left on the floor.

Maybe you end up getting shared last names, and you correct him that “it's Seresin-L/n”

The next day you choose to have that little western wedding party reception.

And he didn’t know what you were going to wear so when he sees you in a white wedding dress he loses his mind.

Maybe it's Vivienne Westwood (rest in peace queen), bonus points if it’s his moms dress.

Mrs Sersin loves you, and seeing you make her son so happy, just fulfills her life mission.

You look angelic in it

and then midway you might change into a more traditional one

You remember when he had teased you about how when he gets married he’d take the Garter off with his teeth like some people do and I feel like even if he didn’t, he’d tickle up your leg a little as he took it off with his hands.

He lets his hands roam around a little longer than needed, definitely announcing that he can’t feel it until he disappears under your dress. He has is in his mouth as he reappears from under your dress, secretly giving it a sniff before tugging it into his pocket.

You get so flustered because your mother and his parents were there too.

Your father would be so mad, as most asian dads would be in this situation.

Jake's mom might spontaneously combust; “Doesn’t this boy feel embarrassed?”

and the aunties will go feral. You don’t even care though because you’re way too in love with the man in front of you.

You cut cake and toss the bouquet

Rooster just cuts through- like the diva he is and catches it.

Maybe giving it to your sister that he’s been eyeing…

And everyone just tells stories from them about how you made naval aviators fall in love with the brown women in your family.

Like it all started there for everyone.

You and Jake take total credit for all the matches that were made.

Even phoenix, she saw your distant cousin that she got along with when your wedding ceremonies started and as she gets to know her; you stumble upon them on the rooftop on a late night, wrapped up in each others arms, a blanket around the two of them

Bonus points if you and Jake caught them there together and you all agree to just never mention it because you two weren’t supposed to be there either.

You didn’t even know the girl swinged that way but seeing Phoenix follow her around like a puppy dog has you feeling good about your best friend.

The food, omg, okay. So in your 5 year long relationship, you have never seen him enjoy pani puri as much as you do at your own wedding. He happily ate them whenever you went out to eat at an indian restaurant or made him eat Lamb Karahi (for my pakistani girls out there), he ate it with a smile on his face, yet all he can feel is his mouth gong numb at the spices.

But now, he is just gobbling them down. The shocking part? He’s eating them with the spicy water

You’re shocked because he can handle more spice than you, somehow.

He manages to not throw up later that night, because he usually used to get an upset stomach during your last trip to South Asia.

When you mention it he’s like “baby you know I like it spicy”

Every daal or butter chicken or biryani that is brought to the table doesn't last for more than 5 minutes on the table, mostly eaten by him.

When you taste the things yourself, the spice is there but he hasn’t picked up his glass of water to take a single sip.

When you look at him, He just shrugs and says “I’m hungry” while you’re already reaching for water now and again

Rooster and Javy are borderline crying, and you keep giving them dahi.

The moans Jake is letting out just be eating the daal and roti has you choking on your food.

Even Phoenix can handle her spice but Jake is surpassing that level and your mom is impressed to say the least.

Rooster’s in awe, watching hangman eat straight spicy biryani

Oh Rooster,

Imagine Rooster giving the bouquet to your sister though, like that man has been following her around the entire the wedding ceremonies, it makes you think of the classic tropes in Bollywood movies.

Then one night, you’re looking for your earring which you’re convinced you sister took, you walk into her room and he’s just there, minding his own business, chilling on his phone and he just jumps seeing you walk in trying to explain that they haven't done anything besides hang out while leaving room for jesus. Its the funniest sight as your sister suppresses her giggles.

He is doing this one performance with her, where she throws the flower at his ass as part of the act.

Even Jake doesn’t realize that Rooster is involved with your sister until he sees her slingshot the flower and wink at Rooster, which has him blushing- hard.

You’re grinning from ear to ear because you know and Jake just turns to you and is like “are you seeing what I’m seeing?” And you’re just sitting there, smirking.

Jake is a softie and if you’re Punjabi, you have to wear a red set of bangles after the wedding as a sign of being a newlywed woman.

According to tradition you need to keep it on until you have kids or like at least for a year.

It’s not even a year after your marriage that jake comes home to find your wrists empty of the beloved bangle set he’s so used to. Oh.

He knows what it means, your mother had filled him in on this Rasam as well when he was told he wasn't allowed to see you until the day of your wedding.

The empty wrists has him staring, and he’s dying to ask whether you took it off because of discomfort or that there is bigger news behind it.

After an hour of pondering he gives up his patience and asks you.

“Jaan? Where’s the Chura?” “Oh, I was waiting until later to tell you this but…”

You drag him to the nearest seat, sitting him down as you sit opposite, burying your hands into your cardigan pocket and around the plastic stick that felt a little too heavy now that you were face to face with him.

This is what you had been trying for, it's good news. The warmth in his eyes encourages you to let it be, that this was the right time.

you place the pregnancy test in front of him, he picks it up to inspect as his face lights up with joy that you had only seen the day you got married. In a flurry, he just picks you up and spins you around. You're screeching for him to put you down but he refuses, burying his face into your stomach as you laugh.

When he does put you down, he makes you sit on the couch with him as he bends down to your stomach; “Hey there champ, you gonna give your ma trouble for the next few months huh? ”

Your pregnancy was hectic to say the least. A few weeks after you announced it, Jake was deployed, thankfully he got home just in time to help you through the last five months of it.

Your cravings consisted of kheer and achar mixtures and a bunch of other weird foods that you forced him to make.

As tradition asks, he took you to your parents’ house as you approached the end of your pregnancy. You ate every single dish your mum presented you with.

The delivery was tough as most are, he was there to support you through it.

You're pretty sure you cussed him out in your mother tongue multiple times.

Just like that your beautiful daughter was born.

She is absolutely beautiful and all Jake wants to do is protect the two of you from the world, his two best girls.

A few months into parenting has the two of you exhausted to say the least. Your parents come over all the time, you siblings try and teach the infant words that you’re pretty sure she cannot pronounce at this age.

But before she turns a year old, you mimic the sounds of your mother to try and teach her to say “Maa”

To which Jake tries to teach her to say “papa/baba”, that has your heart melting when you stumble upon the two of them eating and him repeating “baba” to her.

Taglist:

@jaaneymann @love-strawberry @shurisneakers @we-out-here-simping @brekkers-desigirl @happypopcornprincess @tongue-like-a-razor @bussyslayer333 @blue-aconite @littlebadariell @ravenhood2792 @dempy @crthurston @fandomunite2107 @fandom-life-12 @elicheel @arson-tm @startrekfangirl2233 @roosterbruiser @roostersrooster @whoreforseresin @desert-fern

[mainapnifavouritehoon]

Song rec#40

[srbachchan]

DAY 5377

Jalsa, Mumbai                 Nov 1/2,  2022                 Tue/Wed 12:19 AM

💛🪔 , Catching up with the Ef birthdays .. November 2nd .. is the birthday of Ef Erlika from Indonesia 🇮🇩 .. happiness to you , Lika , and love from your Moti .. your co-scorpio .. and (almost) sharer of birthday .. since Saudagar was released on November 1st , or so I was told 😁 Nov 2nd is also birthday of Ef Abhijit Jagtab from Pune .. and .. Ef Dipagala Gala .. greetings to you both and affection .. November 1st .. be the birthday of Ef Vishan Lal from Gurugram .. the one blessed with divinity of verse and notes .. bless your Flute of Krishna , Vishan , and your Spirit of Poetry .. we are blessed to have you with us and grateful .. and , you shouldn't worry , we got your birthday date right this time 😁 .. 🙏🏽✍🏽✒️🎼🎶❤️ And .. for November 1st .. the birthday wishes go as well to .. Ef Vaijayanti Ravindra Damle from Pune .. Ef Ms. Honey Aishu , the Punjabi from Bangkok , Thailand 🇹🇭 .. Ef Nouranne Achraf from Egypt / France 🇪🇬🇫🇷 .. Ef Pankaj Shukla from Indore .. Ef Shubhra Rattan .. and Ef Somraj Mane from Kolhapur .. happiness to you all and prayers .. Ef Sunil Ganwani from Jakarta 🇮🇩 .. love and wishes to you for your birthday on October 30 .. And .. Ef SHESA Nayak from USA 🇺🇲 .. happy birthday again to you .. this is to express our apologies for mentioning your name wrong the other DAY and all those years before .. it's corrected now .. love to you and be happy ..

Another day and another realm to be exercised  ..  listen adjust comprehend and execute .. 

12:19 AM 

But the tragedy of life and the writing of this Blog is the slumber that much like a Beethoven Symphony drives with the intersperse of the soft fluted melody with the harsh heavy instrumental strain of music - almost like the gentle atoms of life which interpret as desire .. and the larger sound of the base and the harsh symbols clashing along with a multitudinous 100 piece orchestra that takes over and drowns the fluted melody - DESTINY .. 

Your fluted life , with its softness of all that is desirable is eventually governed and mastered by the heavy thrust of destiny, that converges as an impregnable cage , not permitting or allowing desire to escape and be free .. 

The eventual story of all life .. dictated by the sound of music .. the strings the instruments that when plucked , leave a plucked rose just by the stem, as the petals lie strewn on the ground .. to dry to perish, never to be born again - until another plant grows form the earth of life ..

a bit poetic in the early hors of the morning that pulls you ot of the slumber at 5  am and warns you much like those harsh orchestral bearings that many a routine needs attention - the Blog, the connect , to the waiting and exasperated, ever vigilant Ef .. 

It is not a compulsion .. it is the destiny of orchestral potent intent that drives the desire to wake up and perform ..

This morning .. no not this one , the one before was a satisfactory outburst of what had collectively been accumulated within and did not get the freedom of escaping the DESTINY caged room, filled with saturated exuberant content .. not one that had  been its ‘impotency’ .. but one that had remained potent enough for a cell to cohabitate with the egg of procreation .. 

the pregnancy was potent enough and the receptacle of birth occurred ... the ‘impotency of content’  gathered storm and was sufficient to break the barriers of resentful disconnect .. eventually converging on an emotional breakdown of realisation .. a realisation that who they were dealing with was not a ‘who’ but one that had deeper intent ; unfortunately of no lasting value , for the ‘pre’ had been preoccupied by the ‘others’ ..

the ➡️ moveth and the real of the reality takes precedence .. 

work ..

and the wave of fortune expectations ..

to the gestures of the client that sits before thee .. in his brilliance .. 

to them that make me in larger size and form .. they that make the divine God Lord Ganesh at the LalBaugh cha Raja Ganpati during the festival .. 

 and onto the spirit of drive .. in the strength of mobility that despite the lethargic limited consumption of food , must be given attitude of normalcy .. for the show goes on ..

drive .. the strength of hidden power .. of the energy which unless provoked never ever emerges .. and when it does .. it breaks that caged humēn .. boundless unbridled ‘want’ .. to give all that was never conceived before ..

ending eventually with the satisfaction of interaction with them that sit for hours for our creative hours to be complete .. to meet to look to speak to discuss to confess and to .. GIVE ..

the hand work of exceptional quality .. hand paintings .. that look beyond real .. that look like camera work but indeed are painted ..

... and the pride of regal wearings ..

And the DAY endeth .. for there is other responses to give to them that give so much for so little .. 

my love 

Amitabh Bachchan .. 7:30 am !!

[bebesota-and-bacha]

what does bebesota and ਬੱਚਾ mean??

in short they both mean baby.

I am a brown girl who has lived in the United States my whole life so far. My dad was an immigrant from Punjab, India and my mother was Mexican American. I am by definition a second generation American and the way I navigate the world has always been so different than my school peers and family. I learned that it's not as rare to live life the way I did and online there are so many people who experience aspects of what I have, so this is for you just as much as it is for me.

bebesota- In Bad Bunny's 2022 studio album Un Verano Sin Ti there is a song called Me Porto Bonito. In this song there's a line that says "Tú no eres bebecita, tú ere' bebesota" and usually when non-Spanish speakers (or at least non native speakers) ask me what that means I either would say something along the lines of you have to get it to get it or "It means you aren't babygirl, you're babygirl" with emphasis on it being bigger and generally better than being called bebecita which feels more fragile and doting. I don't know how to really explain it's further cultural understanding you get when hearing it.

ਬੱਚਾ- pronounced bacha or phonetically spelled bacā. This literally just means baby. I feel like my dad didn't leave a lot of cultural room for me growing up. He didn't want me to visit back home or speak the language, I only got to wear bindis when I let my auntie know how much I really loved that my cousins wore them and she sent some home with me. And like, I get it, when you're a first gen alone in the country you're afraid and you think maybe if your kids are as American as possible they can blend in and be safe and happy among the majority. However, no matter how much pizza I was substituted for pakora he couldn't change the fact that I was visibly a desi kid and would be filtered in with the others. However, one thing my dad did until the very end of his life was call me bacha. I was his baby and will forever be memorialized that way in his life.

In a way its kind of funny, because I grew as a Latina into my adulthood and it grew with me but as much as I am immersed in Indian culture now I always felt a disconnect with how other desi kids grew up. Yes I watched Bollywood... with subtitles. Yes I ate traditional foods... from restaurants. Yes I shop at Indian grocery stores... alone or with friends. In some ways I am still a little baby (bacha) and a big baby (bebesota.)

[unnervinglyferal]

i grew up eating cream of wheat/semolina. apparently it’s (similar to?) a traditional punjabi dessert, so, by virtue of being diaspora and a picky eater, i got it for breakfast. my mother would cook it in milk (or butter? but not ghee, i didn’t grow up with ghee) and serve it with raisins and honey. it was good and i ate it for years; it might be the kind of thing your daughter would like to eat when she’s old enough for real food but can’t be relied upon to chew it fully. if it’s cooked right, it’s basically just a thick paste, one step up from baby food

-flore

I don't think I've ever heard of it being fed to babies around here, I'll have to check on that. But we're going to have to look at that once she starts getting into real food.

[imperfectorange]

Paranthe and Punjabis: the brewing breakfast conversations.

Time and again, I've denied the dollops of ghee that are shoved on my paranthas ever since I was a child. Yet, my grandmother, always, somehow, has the upper hand. Her puppy eyes, pleas, and “kasmein” (oaths) have always melted my resolve in a moment's time. Ironic, how I always have found myself making oats, pancakes, and different types of sandwiches in my aesthetic fervor of matching Pinterest standards, yet, somehow, always come home to food,my grandmother makes on days I'm exhausted.

It goes without saying that every Sunday in a busy and bustling Punjabi household would always have an assortment of different kinds of stuffed breads, or paranthe. Especially when the entire family was home during summer vacations the kitchen would be crowded with ladies around the stove and the gents around the other one. While bade papa would make different kinds of omelettes, the ladies would work on the breads and the youngsters would always be going to and fro with teacups,serving food to others in shifts. Conversations would brew over green tea, tea and coffee about a bazillion things ranging from politics to annual family trips to careers, and to that one time someone got lost in Haridwar.

As I grow older, I reminisce and cherish these memories a little extra, as I see the elders falling prey to age and getting slower. A wistfulness of sort seeps in, but I know that every annual summer and winter meet up, something won't change, and those will be our beloved paranthe with the same people going about the same conversations. Nor would any of us refuse that extra spoon of ghee, kyuki bade kehte hain sehat banti hai. (The elders say it's good for your health)

Aloo, gobhi, gajar, muli, besan, pyaaz. The list may go on and on.

- Gehna.

Picture Credits : Playful Cooking on Pinterest.