Upset. Fully.

I completely detest this feeling.
I can’t even talk properly.
I am stealing glances at everyone, looking shamefully.
I will not be able to face Ma’am.
She expected so SO much out of me in this subject.
And I? I went to the examination hall and did the silliest of mistakes.
Blew up 5 marks down the drain.

This is so not in. I wish i could just go
back and re-do that bit of my answer sheet.

The Next Time :)

I’ll bring the heavens closer to you.

If you wanna spread your wings and fly.
I’ll give you up my happiness for yours.
Even though without you I’ll die.

I’ll let you go and chase your dreams.
If that’s the way it’s gonna be.
I’ll let you walk by my shadow.
Even though without you, I will never be Me.

I’ll leave you alone with your sad smile.
If that’s the way you wanna live.
I’ll let you leave me alone and Go.
Even though, for you, I’ll have only love to give.

If you ever come back.
I promise I’ll be more strong.
The next I wont let you go.
The next time I wont go wrong.

Rolling Stones

With my eyes open, i see. 
With my eyes closed, i sense. 
I feel. I tingle. I watch. 
The senses make me numb, numb to all the unnecessary occurrences 
which get my attention. We choose. We select. We apprehend results and try to perceive. 
Try and guess the results. The outcome of what we performed, 
of what we intended to do and how much it deviated from what we had planned. 
We select suddenly, 
we go for things at random,
 pick out the dress on a whim, 
listen to a song just because we felt like it. 
But we also think over our selections, ponder over the little instances that we call life. 
We imagine situations and prepare ourselves for the future. We try our best to 
arm our vulnerable selves against the traps of the big, but beautiful world. 
Choices make us who we are. 
We decide the choices. 
We make ourselves. 
We build our character. 
And the decisions are guided by the circumstances we are enforced or land into.
Life lives. 
Life teaches. 
Life learns. 
Life guides. 
Life is how i see it. 
Life is what it is meant to be. 
Life is what will be. 
And the choices are a part and parcel of life. 

Choices define the meaning of several things that went un-defined. 
They are how we see the world around us. 
How we would want it to be. 
How we should want to see it. 
They are malleable thoughts, though not predetermined. 
They should be respected. Not shelved up for later. Selections matter. 
Oh! Yes they do. Every word spoken, every movement made, every action acted out.
 Life is, actually, a very well thought-out equation where our only 
task is to balance the right hand side with the left hand side.
And we spend our entire life doing just that. In the beginning, 
balancing food with toys. 
Then, friends with studies. 
Then our job with family…
 it goes on and on.
 And in the end when we are successful enough in balancing 
the two sides, we achieve nirvana. 
We fly.
We bask in the glory of having lived life successfully. 
We enjoy it. 
We seek joy. 
We find happiness. 
We just spread out our hands and let the wind carry us away..
That is how i imagine the culmination. The journey towards the zenith..

The Indigo Sheep.

When the eyes are closed, we lose touch with the world outside. But what is that endears us so much? It is not like we won’t survive if we don’t know what’s happening around us. Yet, when the windows to the world, our eyes are closed, we feel lost. We feel out of sync with the world. Each colour we see, each petal we feel, every move we make is only after a careful visual selection. It has been very correctly said, a man who can explain the meaning of ‘colours’ to a man blind since birth, is the greatest teacher of all. Despite being aware of this dependence, how many times do we stop to think about how would it be if the world was made of only one single colour, only one shade of it- black? Darkness would have been our true companion.

 Not just merely ‘looking’ at things. It is about looking at things with the correct perspective, a perspective that would enable us to see the future with clarity, with a purpose. The very fact that none of us stop to think and thank these tiny things that actually make life what it is shows how little time we have for ourselves. I heard that the gift of life is Life itself so living it should also be done with panache and style. Vision, tastes, touch- these are what make us see and be the world we are in. 

The people we meet, the friends we make, the fights we try to stop, the coffee we savour, the songs we sing and the music we hear…the things we write, the words we speak, the dresses we wear,all of it will become unimportant if did not possess these small little ‘gifts’.. Think about it. When will we get our priorities straight? When will we value the olfactory over the perfume?! The world has become overly materialistic, too dependent on tangible things. It is just sad that we fail to believe in ourselves and what we already have that we chase after the things we don’t have. Love and friendships are merely used as words to please people. 

Those people who can provide us with a sense of pleasure or security. We are never content with what we have; perhaps it is just human nature. But then, it is human to err (and even more human to blame it on others!) Words seem to fail me at these moments. Till then, make the best out of what you have.

“It’s something unpredictable, but in the end it’s life. Have the time of your life!”

Enjoy, breathe, look, feel and ultimately you will realise your own power. The power bestowed upon you. The decision to harness it is totally left up to you and your rationality. Perhaps you would choose to be different, but most will be happy to be the white sheep in the herd of white sheep. Some will be the black sheep…but I? I will be the indigo one. 




Why is it that I see everything with two perspectives? One with which the world views it, and one with which it ‘could’ be viewed with? When i look into a man’s eyes, i don’t just see the tiredness in them. I see so much more. I see his broken dreams resurfacing, trying their best to get a glimpse of what they could have been. I see the love he has for his family and children, I see his helplessness. I see him fighting for what is correct, for what he believes. I see his joy and pride. I see his anger and frustration.  I see what he has tried to bury for the past so many years.  I see what he has been hiding from the world. Perhaps, I imagine too much, but don’t all of us have broken rainbows and fallen egos, tumultuous joys and happiness, frustration and anger harbouring within us. Yet we choose to remain poignant and perfect before the make-belief world we live in. Trust me;

Crying alone is better than laughing with people who pretend to like you. 

Being with them is even more punishing! Break away from the normal. Stay up at night, listen to the dogs bark and hear the birds awaken. Do something you have not done. 

Try. To. Live. 😀 

No more. I can’t take it!

I am SO tired of exams. Why? God, why?
Can i not study read know be happy?
Why do I have to know how a DNA is made into 
another DNA with seemingly different properties? 
Why do I have to the stuff that just does not matter to me, 
not right now at least. When i need to know all that, 
I will definitely come back to the books. Or maybe use Google.
So, why does the Board have to make me go through this 
ordeal TWICE in one lifetime?
 Is it not enough that we, the science students, 
have to appear for competitives also?
And get through them?

*swears out loud*
And there I go, back to my books 
and the Biology I once loved like crazy.
– There’s miles to learn before I sleep,
Miles to learn befor I sleep.

Will you?

When the heart breaks from within, it’s the worst ever feeling.
Like the time when I wanted to go on a long drive on a rainy day in Shimla, the landslide ruined it. Like the time when I wanted to have an ice cream but my health ruined it. Like the time 
when I wanted to see the TV but the current went off. Like the time when I needed peace and my mind refused to rest. Like the time 
when I liked someone and he refused it.
Very honestly, it just, plain and simple hurts. 
My heart is as strong as its weakest link. My heart beats like yours. 
My world is limited to what you know. My life is as beautiful as you think it is. I am as good as I get and you perceive. So, why do I come across bumps more thank you do? 
Why can I not be like the yellow butterfly that flies across the garden? 
Why can I not be like the beetles on fresh green leaves? 
They are so tiny, so pretty and full of life and purpose. 
Why am not happy-happy? 
It is all so over bearing.
I fall in love and then out of it within a few days. 
Then I doubt if it was love at all. Aah! It eludes me to such an extent 
that I lie awake at nights and dream of a prince charming coming my way until I snap out of the stupidly desirable vision of mine. I mean, which girl wouldn’t ‘take it to her heart’ 
if she doesn’t find her love? I want him, not a white horse, 
but in a Porsche or maybe a Skoda, to sweep me off my feet, shower rose petals on me, give me chocolates and wine and take me out. I want him to be loyal and chivalrous and charming. All in all, I want him.

 I look down upon the days when I cried myself to sleep. 
I’ll hold on to the happy memories, paint over the unhappy ones, and start afresh.

I just want to be happy, loved and free.
For once.
Just this once.

Till then, will you give my the love I need? 
Will you hand me the support I want? 
Will be mine? Will you be a friend and not turn back on me, ever? 
Will you stand with me and see forever go by? 
Will hold my hand when I hold yours? 
Will you stay close to me yet let me breathe free? 
Will you?
Will you care for my heart the way I care for yours? 
Will you surprise me on my birthdays and even when it’s not? 
Will you let me do things for you? 
Will you let me be yours? 
Will you let me be me? 
Will you be my best buddy and still be my critic? 
Will you love me till the door shuts down? 
Will you be my Maguire? 
Will be my valentine? 
Will you be my song and my tune? 
Will you ever understand? 

:: Inspired ::

She woke up with a start. Drenched in sweat, she looked around her room. Her hand clenched a crumbled sheet of paper. Her tears had washed the ink off it. But what had been written on it was etched on her heart forever. She couldn’t take her mind off it. She looked at the watch- ticking methodically. It was 4 in the morning. Counting each second, she lay down again, crying. She did not have the strength to go on anymore. The heavy curtains were drawn tightly, but a ray of fresh sunlight managed to escape through it, into her room. She put her fingers through it, waving them, creating a rippling shadow. She looked at the paper again. She tried to read it but her tears made it impossible. She touched it with her hands, caressing it, as if to coax it into life. She touched every word written on it. The phone rang- Once- Twice- Thrice. But Breeze was too tired to walk up to her receiver. She was broken from within. She wanted to end her life then and there…
Breeze had met Jennifer six months back in their photography classes. Breeze began her classes in June, just a week late to join. She entered the class, wet from the gushing rain outside. She ran into the class and slipped and landed exactly in front of Jennifer. Embarrassed, she quickly got herself up and slipped into the seat beside Jennie.
And that was when they first spoke. Breeze, like her name was free spirited. But Jennie was more reserved, quiet and accepting. Jennie’s laughter drew Breeze towards her. Their differences were what got them closer…
Jennie’s photographs were of people-Their lives, aspirations. She captured moments from their life and created a story out of it. Like a thread of memories… She was a photo journalist for the Times Daily, Manchester. She liked being a part of their life, however brief it all was. She felt a deep sense of joy when she brought a smile onto anyone’s face. She looked at Breeze, purely out of habit to look at people, with her paraphernalia. Dressed in a body hugging white top and khakhi trousers, complete with bangles, bracelets, anklets, necklaces and slip-ons, Breeze could draw anyone’s attention. Jennie then looked down at herself and smiled. Simple and subdued, in a summer dress, she liked the way she was different from Breeze.
Breeze was brought up by her father, for the fact sheets, but in reality it was her grandma who had made her who she was. She had moved all over the world with her dad but it was her Mamaw who gave her the stability she wanted. And her photographs epitomised her nature of being what she was. She focussed more on the things others overlooked. A bird perched atop a pole, the cloudy patterns on rippling water and the sudden bursts of light during the dusk.
Jennie was from a catholic family. Mature and in her mid twenties, she had seen a lot more of life than Breeze, who was just eighteen. But that did not hinder their friendship. Jennie and Bree gradually came closer. Every Wednesday, both of them waited for the classes to start. They shared their talent, their passion and dreams. Chloe (there had to be a Chloe) was Jennie’s little sister. All of fourteen years of age-she was Breeze’s best buddy! Jennie had lost both her parents when she was thirteen and had stayed with her Uncle Jerry. Loneliness had made her take up photography. And Chloe was her first muse. She learnt to cope with her feelings by venting them out in her pictures.
Chloe was a beautiful girl. Her cheeks were rosy red and she had the blue of the ocean encased in her eyes. Her brunette hair tied up in two pony tails looked adorable. Her lisp, her soft round hands, her pink shoes and abound amazement and curiosity of the world was something Bree admired.
Bree stayed in an uptown apartment, financed by her Daddy and Jennie lived with Chloe in a shared flat with her boyfriend, Drake. Drake and Jennie had been going steady since college. Both of them were Philosophy Majors from the University of Manchester.
Bree and Jennie shared their projects and dreams over coffee. Their favourite hang out was at Junc-T, where they would discuss their problems and ideas. Bree looked up to Jennie for every little thing and gradually their lives intertwined. Drake and Jennie broke up and patched up again. Bree was always there for Jennie and Chloe.
The photography classes ended in two months and there meetings became sparse, their life got dis-entangled.
Bree did met Chloe at her recitals and plays but the friendship that Jennie and Bree had nourished so lovingly began falling out of place. Theirs was ultimately just a passing friendship, right? Something that happens once in a lifetime-where two people come close to each other, share some of the best moments together and then time engulfs them along with their presence, leaving them to simmer, all alone, just with memories of those times.
Jennie had to go to Kenya to clear out some unfinished photography. And that was just a week after the classes, so Bree did not even get to say a goodbye to her. Her work often took her to places where she wouldn’t want to go. But, it was work alright. So, Chloe too was dragged along with Jennie to far off places- Kenya this time.
Bree got several post cards from her friend but over time that reduced to just an ‘I am alright, see you soooooon’ and then it stopped all together. Bree too had college to go to. New people to meet and newer things to be around kept her mind off the absence of her once-best-friend. Christopher was her new boyfriend and she couldn’t wait for Jennie and Chloe to meet him! But as life is what it is, she moved on and so did Jennie. After returning from Kenya, Jennie tried reaching Breeze, but she couldn’t. Bree had shifted in with Christopher. Like the wind, she couldn’t be caught up with anything for too long. Jennie tried communicating with her at college but Bree was on her photography internship and not reachable for quite some time. Somehow, Jennie managed to gather Christopher’s residence address and sent her a letter.
This letter was the one Breeze held, clenched in her fists…
“Dear Breeze
I’ve had a crazy, crazy time. I simply couldn’t seem to reach you. A lot has happened with me, with us. Drake and I got engaged and he moved in to Kenya with me. I got posted there as the manager of the Time Magazine. I couldn’t even pack all my stuff properly. Chloe too had to shift with us.
I’m terribly sorry. I know I should have written to you before. But things happened. Wrong things. I took a long time to cope up with it. And now, it is time that you know it too. Chloe is no more. My little sister died. I know I should have told you earlier, but I was too shocked to have spoken about it to anyone, and out of all people YOU. You had been Chloe’s best friend. Just the thought of you tearing down dithered me from telling this to you. I knew you had started off with a fresh life. And I wanted to thank you for caring about Chloe like she was your own, when I was away. I have no one other than Drake and you now. Breeze, we need to meet and talk it out. I’ll tell you how and when. It is too painful to write about it. I hope you understand. I will call you in three or four day’s time. I still don’t have your number because the officials wouldn’t let out any other information about you. Please stay calm. I now it is difficult for you sweetheart. I’ve been there for you, always, have I not?
My number is- 077 23422969. Give me a call if you can.
Breeze read the phone number again. 0-7-7-2-3-2-2-9-6-9. She willed herself to walk on, but she could not.
But, Chloe? She was just a child. Why did anyone want her to die? Why would anyone harm such a girl? Breeze couldn’t think straight. The sunlight still poured into her room. She looked at the shadow it casted on the floor and wondered why she had never been able to click a photograph of a shadow. Her head muddled up. And then, the phone rang. It was Christopher. He hung up. Then the phone rang again. Once-Twice-Thrice…
And then Bree knew. It was Jennie.
‘Hello. Jennie?’
‘Yes. Thank God! How are you Breeze?’
‘Chloe? Why? Jennie… I don’t understand.’
‘Meet at the usual place, okay? There’s a lot to be said’
And half an hour later Chloe’s death wasn’t a puzzle anymore. Even in this day, Kenya is a place littered with land mines. Chloe, had stepped on one. It was as utterly harsh and simple as that. Thousands of children lose their lives over the hatred countries bear for each other. Even worse, some of them lose a part of their body, a limb, an eye and have to live with it…
Breeze had lived a sheltered life but this enraged her. Why is it that, innocence is lost along the way, always? Why couldn’t Chloe have been careful? What right did these people have to play with Lives? She wondered whether they could sleep peacefully at night. All she wanted was to end this war AGAINST life in the name of peace.
And that is what I beg out of everyone. Peace lives longer. Stop this violence. Too many lives have been lost over the pretext of Peace-in the hoax of peace.
(Inspiration: Karen Davies)