How The LGBTQ+ Community Continues To Influence The Fashion Industry.

No matter what your sexual orientation is, you should feel unbridled pride for who you are today and what gender you are attracted to. And, this feeling of pride and contentment should be felt every second of every day.

LGBTQ community and its awareness may be relatively new to people’s ears and even more astonishing to their eyes. And, the most novel concept born out of parades and fearless protests against violence and discrimination against queers is queer fashion. It is fair to say that queer fashion designers are being delightfully creative and brave by portraying their own beliefs using fashion. Their contribution has shaken up the fashion industry because they are depicting their and other sexual orientations using their own brands. There are many ways these people’s opinions have altered the fashion we know and witness today.

Such brands expect mainstream brands to try and accept what is beneath the surface. They want the line between gender, identity, and self-expression to blur. They want to create non-gendered beauty that is also fashionable and does not conform to the societal norms at the same time.

My favorite was the new rendition of the American gamer from the Midwest by a brand from the USA. Normally, his most worn outfit is a loose cotton T-Shirt and cargo pants. But this brand shook up things and traded the cotton T-Shirt for lace tops and spandex T-shirts that reveal some skin on your back and chest. *imagines PewDiePie in this outfit*

This bold statement by this brand tells me that it is better to create fashion that is inspired by a real-life event or a personal observation than simply crisscrossing male and female clothing.

Even celebrities like Taylor Swift took to their stages to kick off the Pride month in June by literally dressing up like a rainbow. Her message to “love who you want to love” is reflected in her pleasantly colorful outfit which was a pair of high-waisted lace-up shorts and a cropped, fringed long-sleeve top worn with a yellow tee underneath and some rainbow sneakers as well.

This way, she has inspired fashion in a new way. Wear all the colors of the rainbow and you are immediately part of an empowering moment. Continue reading “How The LGBTQ+ Community Continues To Influence The Fashion Industry.”

Renovatio. 

Probably the lengthiest poem I have ever written! I hope you like it. Please give me your honest opinions in the comments below! 

P.S The title of the poem is in Latin and translates to rebirth. 

She was made up of words,

They all said. She was meant

To be an author, they proclaimed.

But her mother, Mrs. Smith

Cooked dreams of an early

Marriage and a crawling toddler

For her. Thus, she ran.

 

She ran, leaving a world

Behind only to step into another.

She would paint her own life,

Embellish it with colloquialism,

Flowery words and further,

In her haste, she could only

Collect what her greedy hands

Touched. A toothbrush. A

 

Satchel and not as much a

Glance to the lady who was

Constituted of belligerence and

Hostility for her shaky career.

Betty was the bird emancipated

From a wooden cage. She would

Flap her wings around a strange

 

Place. She would grasp the

Feather and let it sink into

The welcoming ink and let the

Words spill out on an otherwise

Blank page. Oh! The jolts of

The train were like droplets of

Water flicked hurriedly after a

 

Nightmare. She was in a rocking

Carriage with people carrying

The burdens of their own stories after all.

She never batted her eyelashes

At another. Her concentration

Was pinpointed on the leather

Of the ledger she had managed

 

To gather. Her dexterous fingers

Groped the skin of the new diary

And her heart beat faster by

Imagining what would go in it

And which magazines her work would

Travel to. She was the witch and

This diary was her wand. She

Would cast enchanting spells

And thrive from it all.

 

For once, she heaved and a

Bizarre fear settled in the pit

Of her stomach. She knitted

Her brows deep in worry and

Anxiety for the thought of

Starting over. But the word

‘Valiance’ quivered in her mind like

Trees from an arrogant wind

Before a storm and she felt

Bolstered again. Because, she

 

Knew that no matter how harsh

The wind howls at the tress, they

Quiver but they never crumble and fall.

Indelible.

Her demise shook the world
and left an uprising in its wake.
She was human but the world
obnoxiously called her a Dalit. Her
skin was marred with scars of
the most gruesome kind but
little do you know, they were
her battle scars that she took
to the grave. Her body, a
holy shrine was entered without
an invitation but you are not
aware that her soul is purer
than yours will ever be.
Her cache of memories will
be drenched with flashes of
hungry stares and lustful eyes
but also warm hugs and gentle
smiles from her parents,
something that the
scrupulous media does not want
to reflect upon. She can’t be
a secret anymore; her caste
cannot be a hindrance anymore.
She needs a powerful voice
and we must give her one.
As i recount this tale,
I am suddenly this girl. I
consume her desires. I
am her soul and spirit. And,
my fingers close in on against
each other and I take labouring
breaths. My throat feels like
huge amounts of sandpaper were
shoved into it. My eyes are watery
and blood shot and all you do is
stare. My clothes are shredded
and little rags are my only trustful
companions on my otherwise
naked body. A string of wounds
cover my arms and legs and you
whisper about how sordid a
scene this is. You mutter about
me being a victim but the truth is
I am a warrior who survived an
intrusion that was not supposed
to happen and yet, you back off
from a growing crowd and wonder
what you’ll have for dinner tonight,
leaving me there on the ground,
writhing in more than just pain and suffering.

Women empowerment is such an imperative concept and people often overlook it, thinking change will happen by itself. But no. We need to become the voice. This is a poem solely dedicated to a rape victim who was not represented sufficiently in the media because of her caste. Please read this poem and give some constructive feedback!

Have a great day!

Avantika.

 

 

 

 

The Time Oxford brought out the poet in me.

Incredibly short verses of poetry written by me while doing a short summer course of Creative Writing at Oxford University. It sounds fancy, I know. You can also catch all the highlights of my expedition on Jaipur Women Blog. The blog name will be ‘Velvet Eyes’. 

  1. Of an arm
    Coyly placed on my
    Shoulder and a smile
    Plastering his face,
    He breezed away into
    The arms of another
    After treading on my already broken heart.

2. Teardrops fell
Slowly but surely as the parents distanced
Themselves from their only offspring and
Ventured off to a world of modernisation
And Ignorance alone together.

3. The sun is my continual nemesis
And it destroys me in more ways than one.
Silent questions are raised eternally and
Will not die down until I stop concealing
Myself from my own bright demons.

4. There are pictures sketched on the
Concrete that the law abiders despise. They
Condemn them because the depth of the paint will
Never rest comfortably in their eyes, like it does in mine.

5. Shaky hands
And a sweaty forehead, a heartbeat faster
Than a bullet train’s speed is all that takes me
To saunter over to the podium and spill
Meaningful words that reach every ear, move
Every heart and propel them forward in their life.

Have a great day and don’t forget to smile, Netizens!

Avantika.

Media. ✅ Freedom. ✅ Values? My take on Indian Media. 

I am the epitome of selfishness and wanderlust. 

Ask me why and try to act like you are insanely inquisitive about why I used the adjectives above. 

One fine evening (yesterday), my phone vibrated in a mellow manner, indicating that I had a new E-Mail and thank god, I checked it. 

The E-Mail constituted a brilliant opportunity, hidden below many well written articles. 

Yes, the Orange Magazine is recruiting young and budding journalists so that they can cover the Deutsche Welle Global Media Forum (I had some difficulty in writing the whole thing but it was worth it) 

From a very young age, I became desirous of success, confidence and most importantly experience. Therefore, today, I wanted to pen down my thoughts on a very thought provoking topic-‘Media. Freedom. Value.’ It is also the primary topic of the Forum. You get it now! 

And after calming down the excitement that was running through my veins for I had an opportunity to write an essay or a media sample, I started actually thinking-“Hmm. This is a topic worth pondering. I never thought about it before.” 

Here it is. 

I have meticulously read and re-read about how Colonial India imposed censorship on India for a brief period of time for they were scared of the nasty fulminations that would come their way in the form of print or social media if they did not exit the country. 

Thus, it is fair to say that the journey of Indian Media has been a bumpy and adventurous one. So, a goulash of emotions and occurrences run down my mind when I think about the Indian media. The Media where there are overreactions, exaggerations and click-baits. The media that is important for dissemination of information but is also responsible for communal riots and ugly fights. 
The Indian Media is a considerably free and convenient realm of social interaction and information exchange. However, sometimes, this realm becomes so devoid of the necessary human values that it becomes grotesque and irksome. 

I like to watch A LOT OF YouTube videos (don’t tell Mom!) and I often catch sight of comments under every video that I see and what I see there could be equivalent to a man-made gutter reeking of jealousy, discontent and inferiority complex. People often diss the YouTubers by using abhorring language and that is exactly the moment when they lose their moral values. 
Positivity has been a cryptic concept that has been lacking from my life and I like to inculcate positive feelings within my soul  but these comments of faceless people sitting behind computers with nothing but dangerous conjectures are what kill my positive vibe. 

Any kind of media has freedom of speech and communication but in that lengthy process, people sometimes let go of their moral values like kindness, compassion and well…common sense. 

Tell me what you think and who knows? We might just have a heated debate in the comments. 
Hypocrites everywhere. Gosh. 

I am kidding. 

Regards, 
Avantika. 

Reckless Oblivion. 

Greetings, Internet! 

I hope you all are doing well. I am not. Nevertheless, my newest work. Judge it. Like it. Critique it. 

Aunt Betty drinks her 

Black coffee with infinite 

Patience and talks politics. 

We tell her to cut 

Us some slack and yet, 

She blabbers about the 

Republicans until it is 

Incoherent. We groan and 

Instantaneously become 

Ignorant of her words and 

The meanings they present. 

Aunty Betty becomes silent one day.

 She smokes her hooka with an 

uncanny nervousness.

She looks like she wants to 

open her mouth again to spew 

Trump or Christie in our face.

That doesn’t happen. 

She retreats to 

Her room and the next day, 

we find her dead body, 

submerged in silence, 

skepticism. We lie in 

Mystery of her demise. 

When We Are One. 

The moon’s soft rays 
Kiss the moor ground 
With the delicacy of an 
Innocent maiden of 
Old times. The gentle 
Light caresses my skin 
With a mellow touch. 
I look up to the sky, 
Tainted with stars which 
I am inclined to touch. 
They are silver dots of 
Wonder and they 
Fascinate me. 
The trees around me 
Are silent and still, 
Embracing the moon 
And its pulchritude like 
I do and in that moment, 
The line between 
Human and Nature blur. 
The line is now indistinguishable,
it’s almost invisible. 
We are one. The trees and 
I. There’s no destruction. 
There’s only peace. And tranquility. 

Hi WordPress! How much i missed you.
Now that my exams are over, i can post without  worrying about not finishing my course (believe me, i came very close to that). How have you all been? How has 2016 been for you? I have big dreams for this blog. Give me suggestions and wise words for the improvement of this blog if you want. I am thinking of collaborating with a lot of bloggers this year. Tell me if you are interested. 

(I know, no one will show up. There’s no harm in trying) 

I hope you have a good day, folks. 🙂 

Avantika. 

New Year Resolutions. You’ll end up forgetting yours in no time! 

Strangely, I am not feeling the ‘New Year’ buzz even though I am encumbered by loud music, over enthusiastic cheers and refulgent grins. 

It might take some time to sink in that it will be 2016 in a matter of minutes. 

I won’t be in school anymore. 

A normally functioning human being who will miss seeing their friends on a daily basis will be sordid at this fact. I am not! I am hardly rueful. In fact, I am glad I won’t have to put up with the charade to like school because I just cannot. 

Of course, 2015 has been VERY eventful. 

All with my blog becoming a little more active, with 259 family members attached to it. You all are family! 

I got nominated for the Lovely blog award. Could anything be more awesome? 

People make resolutions for new year and brighter tomorrows all the time. However, I am not in the mood. I am not in a mood to list things I want to change in myself next year. Can I be myself without having to think about alterations in my thought processes and mannerisms? 

The answer is very much YES. 

Why change? When your new year resolution will be just like that belittled sweater you bought at a Black Friday Sale? 

The truth is, you will forget what your new year resolution was before the push messages for 2016 even meet their sad end. 

That’s right, hit ‘delete’ right away, folks. 

I am not saying that making resolutions is unhealthy or foolish. It’s just that, for once, let nature take its force and do what it wants with you. Let the chips fall where they may? 

Why try to walk on coal when you cannot? Why break promises you cannot even keep? 

Thus, let’s be the same people we were in 2015 and let’s be ourselves. Let’s, however, do something simple. Let’s embrace positive thoughts and a prosperous future with arms spread wide. Yes, wider. Wide emough? I think so. 

Happy New Year, Family. 

You do you. 

Never change for anyone or anything. 

It’s 12:00 already? 

*flurry of push messages* 

Ah. 

The Christmas buzz.

In the lonesome streets
At night and under the
Bright moon’s light, I
Wander with a heavy
Heart and a hindsight
Of the horrible events
Of tonight. My jacket
Is causally slung over
My shoulder and the
Engagement ring sits
Like a wounded dog
In it’s case, curled in a
Ball. My eyes water
At the sight of your
Angry and flushed face
And how you scraped
The chair along the
Floor angrily as you
Gaped. It was unexpected.

It was plaintive. Whatever it
Was, it was evident that
You were not ready.
And neither I am, to be
With a girl who only
Longs for Tiffany’s and
Not some local jeweller.
A cup of hot chocolate
Awaits my cosy residence.

The lambent
Lights of my Christmas
Tree will sing silently in

my presence and
Meanwhile, I will devise
Strategies to move on
From you and refresh
My existence.

Merry Christmas to everyone on WordPress. This year is coming to an end and that makes me want to tear up. It was fabulous. I hope this year brought you a lot of happiness too.

I wrote this poem for those who feel that they have a right to be sad on Christmas. You don’t! Whatever horrible situation has befallen you will mitigate and become better. Be grateful for whatever you have. Share smiles and radiance with your loved ones. Be spirited!

With all the love I can muster for you all, Avantika!

Delusions And Deafeats.

You are like the trapped
Bee who makes the irk 
Some buzzing sound 
When it is captured in a 
Glass jar. You keep taking
rounds until your insignificant
wings just can’t bear to
function and you settle at the 
Bottom with an abrupt 
And unpredictable 
Quietness. You have 
Given up, silly human. 
You fail to see that the 
rim of the metal jar gives 
Way to the tiniest of 
Spaces. It’s wide enough 
For you to get out. Yet, 
There you are, sitting 
And sighing, waiting for 
Miracles to happen and 
Ignoring all the opened 
Doors and the small 
Space on the rim of the jar.