PG makes you feel like a spec of dust.

Post graduate education is like a pimple you get on your butt. It takes a long time to show what it truly is and it pains at the wrong moments- more when you’re trying to relax. It literally doesn’t let you sit in peace. ever. While all the professors (and some seniors) make it their life’s mission to make your life as miserable as they can and you tend to tip towards becoming a borderline alcoholic with issues of frustration, there are just a few things which let you breathe.
Food is my primary reason. Food is actually my primary reason for anything, actually. Sad? Cheese. Happy? Cake, cheese (as separate courses, of course) Angry? Biriyani- which reminds me- the biriyani here in Pune tastes like foot hair when compared to Calcutta’s aloo-heaven-melt-your-mouth biriyani.

Suji 100%

Hearts flying with pink sparkles all over

The second thing is my weekly trip to Mumbai. Although it isn’t really a weekly affair (See what I did there? weekly ‘affair’? No? Okay.) because I end up going there only twice a month, sometimes even lesser but it is how I count my weeks. I look forward to the three and half hour journey on recliner seats which I don’t recline because it hurts my back. I curse when the bus halts for no reason but commission at Maganlal Chikki for ten whole minutes when we could’ve just reached that many minutes earlier. Then again, just because it stops, I eat chikki (refer to primary reason listed above). Once in mumbai I am ensured  the primary reason for happiness. I digressed. Okay, I should really stop talking about food lest ‘someone’ feels slightly overshadowed.
I count my days till I can finally hug someone and feel at home. He is a sight for my sore, tired, almost-panda-like eyes. To have someone who will love looking at you even when he knows you haven’t showered in two days just because. It is relieving to have someone who will be selfless in his love because I get enough of the rat-race- competition bullshit on the weekdays.

 

Shine 100%

The lifeline minus one

Staying in a girl’s hostel is like walking on recently erupted, really mucky volcanic lava. everyone is on edge, either because of the blood flowing from in between their legs or because of the blood flowing  in their throbbing heads because of medical / dental school. It is tricky business, maneuvering your way through the various frustrations in different departments, add to that unwashed and unironed clothes that pile up. If we were to calculate the number of clothes we all have accumulated over a week’s time all over the world, it would probably almost match up to the number of stars in the galaxy. Pretty close.

I must work upon writing about the same thing for longer bouts. We have hundred mark essay answers in our final exams where we have to drone on and on about one topic for ten to twelve pages. I should master the art of staying focussed which I clearly need work on because I digressed again.

PG is like a race where no one wants to hurt you but almost everyone (save for your friends) ends up destroying your day. It’s a course that makes you realise your true potential to achieve either of the two- total bitchiness or zen-like nirvana and not give any fucks at all. Love and food and love for food keep me alive. and shoes. Please send either or all my way. Dominos, even though I’m not a fan of mass-manufactured pizza, is welcome as well, with a pitcher of chilled beer, please.

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Just a photograph of one of the things that matter in life.

 

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The countdown never ends, will college?

The countdown that I had started on my phone on a widget is on its last 60 days or lesser and I have a feeling that this will never really end. Once college ends, once I finish this final freaking year, I will be a doctor. Yes, I’ll have a year of internship left and my Masters and my PhD, but college does indeed end.

When college for you is a major KLPD like it was for me, one has to be glad. But am I really…glad? Not really. I never liked college but I like what I had to study. I had academic orgasms but the people quotient was a big let down and I had to fake it more than once. The fest is an apology for a fest. The administration only improved in the last two years. I’ve seen things be unfair and ignored. I’ve seen things be fair yet questioned. I’ve seen court cases and arrests. I’ve seen friends turn into strangers. I’ve seen flatmates turning into foes and when I said that the people factor was a let down, I wasn’t exaggerating. I haven’t touched alcohol in more than a year while at college and whilst that is a big yay for my parents, it isn’t for me. They say, no good story starts with roti-sabji and that’s all I had to eat in burdwan.
I’ve transgressed from no salwar kameez to an almirah full of them.

I’ve grown as a person and have been in contact with people who have terrible birth deformities. I’ve touched them, made them take their pills, assisted in operations and heard of one die. It takes a toll on you, cancer. Even if it is someone you haven’t known for more than a month, it shakes you down when he dies after a seemingly successful and radical surgery. I hadn’t assisted that particular case since I am junior but I knew of it.

College has shown me terrible lows. I’ve learned to trust more and have more faith rather than be guarded and expect treatment like that of a queen. It has been humbling. From travelling everywhere in a car to battling it out in the rains in the local town service buses, from never having to think twice before changing clothes to actually cleaning the bathroom myself…

But I’ve seen highs too, like everyone else. The usual impromptu outings, laughing our asses off prior to vivas and crying with my head on the room mate’s shoulder when I screwed them up. There are innumerable moments that I have collected unknowingly.
The ear injury, watching football matches, seeing Chelsea win against Bayern, seeing India win against Pakistan, surprise visits to a friends home for food, staying up all night to concoct a revenge against my roomies jerk ex-boyfriend, going out on photo walks, stealing shoes from the rude landlord and throwing them into a gutter. Ah, we were evil.

Friends came, and friends fell out. It hurts to know that I will walk out of college with a group of friends I can count on a single hand and not more, given that we were once the biggest group in college. But then again, I found a good handful.

The interb year will be a year full of more discoveries. My interest in the subject, what I’m really good at and more unplanned visits.
But this countdown that I’ve started, won’t ever end. It’ll start again  because college for me never really began. I am yet to fail a test. I am yet to get caught doing something that I’m not supposed to. I’m yet to be looked down upon. I’m yet to be reprimanded for not adhering to the rules. College has been… loose. There were no rules. There was nothing to break. Everything was… accepted. I was at home. I had professors who have loved me, thought of me so highly that they referred me to their friends’ son for marriage (oopsie). I’ve been loved and adored and placed on on a pedestal after winning the IDA competition at the National level. The letter of appreciation is still there on the college notice board and I feel surreal each time I see it.
Why? Cause when I had walked into this college it was a little better than a shanty. To have seen it grow from merely a cement structure to a full fledged hospital where I’ve become what I will be. I had never once thought that there would be someone representing this college at a national level. I had never once expected to have been supported with as much gusto as I was. Professors allowed me to take their Thesis reports and not just those from my college but from various colleges in the city. Everyone rooted for me, and when I held that trophy in my hand, everybody suddenly knew that Burdwan Dental College exists. This is probably the first time I’ve publically named my college. I hadn’t yet because I wasn’t really proud of it. But hey, I’ve done enough. Toppers of the university are from here. 😀

Having stepped into a college in capris and keetos and rebuked by the seniors, I will walk out wearing a saree and heels.  A lot has changed in the last four years. From the length of my hair to the girth of my waist haha. Seriously, I’ve become a more grounded person. Could college have been better? Yes. Do I want to redo one bit of it? No.

I’ve had my heart stolen, broken, manhandled, mangled, trampled and then rebuilt again. I’ve had torrid fights and hot tears flowing down my cheeks. I’ve lost my bag, notes and probably a few more things that I don’t even know of yet. I’ve had joyous nights which passed in a haze, I’ve had days which refused to end and evenings which have been beautiful. I’ve had conversations and basically, a college life we all have.

So no, the people weren’t as bad, in hindsight and in conclusion. The mass of them, yes.. but the ones who helped me build the memories, irrespective of whether they’re still my friends or not, were a good bunch. 🙂

The cross at infinity.

As I left her standing there, she stood there smiling and waving at me while I waved back, trying to mask what I truly felt. It broke my heart to leave her there, where the road bent and blurred into what I call ‘mundane’. As I drove off, she turned and started walking away, possibly feeling the same knot that I felt in my gut.
I turned to look back at her as the signal turned red again, searching for her trademark backpack, but she was lost in the crowd. She must be humming a song, I thought to myself and smiled.

I drove ahead, the traffic finally making way for me to move on. I crept back into the flow of how things were, as she walked on the road that would take her home.
Life has a beautiful humour in it, when you look at the intricacies of the day, I thought to amuse myself. At the same time, she smiled too, after spotting a squirrel burrow through a small hole in the water-pipe by the road. We were living lives that were parallel to each other. Never crossing each other yet, we knew that this was a togetherness of a lifetime. And parallel lines meet..at infinity, and that is the most divine union that is there. Isn’t it?

Think about it, wouldn’t it be beautiful to live a life with someone who is your parallel, one who never intersects, never interferes but is always there, travelling beside you, never judging and always knowing which path to follow, in case you falter or forget your way. And then, when you’ve been together all this while, lived through the highs and lows, toughed out the different planes of parallelism… your desitny takes you to that one exhilarated peak of a moment where you finally meet the ‘one’. And in that sliver of time, in the slice of history- you feel a rush, and that rush is enough to make you quiver with a strange kind of peace that you’ve been searching for your whole life, without even knowing that you were missing that one piece in your puzzle.
And for this, you would travel another lifetime because she means that much to you.

She? You know who you are : )

Gravity.

We all have mass. We all have a field around us, however small, however minuscule, we have a field surrounding us that has a force. That force, however weak, is a force, nonetheless. And through the course of our lives, we come across a lot of ‘forces’, people who influence, affect, effect, change, modify and design the way we think and look at life, itself. And when we meet such a person or meet a group of such people, we assume that they will be there for good. And we are right in doing so, because obviously what they teach us remains with us forever.

Some people teach you what to do, some teach the exact opposite; either by example or by experience. I’ve met both kind of people and I must confess, I miss them in my life once they’re gone. And they all have to go, because they serve a higher purpose. They are never stagnant in one persons life. Editing souls is tough and their job description entails, that they must wander. And that, they do.

You meet this person, minding their business in the corner of a book store, dusting off old travellers’ books, OR maybe (since this is the modern age), surfing through a blog and reading poetry. Then sudenly, you hear a ‘hello‘ or see a comment pop up ‘i just read your blog and it seems nice‘, and thus begins a conversation that lasts for a few seconds to a few lifetimes…
And then their circles, their view, their choices draw you into a new world. Suddenly, you read new things, you improve your diction, you begin working out, you eat better and shop smarter. Your brain feels alive and your body feels fresh and you breathe in oxygen in quantities you’ve never been able to, before. Don’t misunderstand, this isn’t love, oh no! This is simpler. This is adulation. This is a friendship, but a little more than your average run-of-the-mill friendship. You don’t need each other, you don’t meet everyday or talk all the time; no. You don’t bring in the intricacies of your complex life and unimportant details of the same into the equation. You write good stuff, you read even better stuff and indulge in a glass of whiskey while discussing world economics and Mahatma Gandhi’s assassination. You then discuss the profound effects of love and the importance of relationships, as the alcohol hits you. And then, you simply sit quietly, listening to John Mayer and Radiohead while you draw doodles of the comic strip that you dream to start together.

Such is the gravity. Such is the pleasure. Such, is the desire.

And then, the person sees that you’ve grown, that you have imbibed…so, the soul leaves, in search of a new life, to change some more people, and then, you sit back and reminisce. How many lives have you changed.

You smile. : )

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A wallflower; under construction.

I just watched The Perks of being a wallflower. And I feel sad, irrevocably sad. I’ve been feeling sad for quite a few days now and this feeling? I feel it only when I’m supposed to be doing something, something important,  but end up not doing it, for whatever reasons. Read the following with the voice in your head, do a mimic of Emma Watson. Make it sound deep. With background music, preferably.. I’d suggest Pearly-Dewdrops’ Drop or maybe a John Mayer song? People go. Some leave. Some linger. Some promise to return, but there is always one person, who you know will return, will keep that promise and will come back. And I miss my person. I miss her terribly. There are moments where I was weak and I need to be strong. In life, sometimes, all you can do is build memories with a person. Go outside with them, sing songs, dance, write, be with them..and then, when that person is away, you hope that those memories are strong enough to make a road to wherever that person is. And then, hope that the road is simple enough to lead you both back to where you belong. But where do two people, lost, swimming in a fish bowl, belong? They belong to one another. And then, you know, just know, that the memories you have are there for good and that all you can do is wait. Wait ror new memories.  Wait for that person to find the road and signal to you, in your own little code, that the way is clear; that she needs you too, she’s had bad days as well, that she’s missed you as pathetically as you’ve missed her. And you smile and look back at the days you wept because you had things to say and couldn’t, because she was happy and you wanted to be happy too but just couldn’t, because inside you wished that she would understand that you need her to ask you specifically- what has been going on, on the other side of that road? But you remember you’re smiling because the road was strong and she signalled. The road, leading to her new world..and you tiptoe into it, holding her hand, with glittering eyes and trembling fingers, and look at her and she smiles back. And you know, just know, that a road apart will not take her away. Your best friend. But till then, all you can do is wait. And hope that the memories build a road strong enough, strong enough to lead you both back. -written on 12.07.2013 @ 11:30pm

 

 

Me We.

A lot if people pretend to be a lot of things. I pretend too, to not care. I am a no frills kinda person who’d love to get some frills attached. I may not own a hundred pair of shoes but I honestly, do not mind. I may not have visited half the cities in the world but I want to and will, and when I do it shall not be the humdrum vacation spots. I may not know much about wine but I do know why I love it. I may not have read the classics but I have read books that have made me think in ways that the Classics couldn’t have. A book made me write and click photographs, how many classics get to do that?
I may not have a wardrobe to kill for but I will never be ill presentable. I may not be thin but I am healthy. I love food. I hate exercise, rather, I lack the motivation for it. I can sleep all day and stay up all night. I have the heart of a child and the mind of a woman. I listen to my heart more often.
I am a romantic. I’m hopelessly in love with the idea of love but I am scared shitless when I am faced with it. I want someone better than me but I am not sure he’d want me back. I wish, nonetheless.
I love cartoons and iron man. No, I have not read the comics. Going into intricate details is for you; read and let me know. I’m open to learning, if you’re willing to teach.
I have immense amount of love and care to offer. I have immense sorrow too. And you have to be up for it..to grab me when I’m falling and to push me when I’m failing. I’ll be there too, for you, as a friend or more,  always and anytime, but you have to be ready for me and I will be preparing for you.
Because, the day we meet the stars will celebrate.

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It is hard to let go.

Which sex would you choose?

To talk to about your feelings?
To talk about lizards?
To talk about China?
To discuss your boyfriend?

WHO would be your choice, and I am asking this as a girl to other girls. (boys could answer just for fun) Would you call a girlfriend or choose a boy over the so-called fairer sex (although I couldn’t agree less with this ‘name’)? I would choose my best friend, who is a girl. Then, I would choose someone who’s next to my bestie, and she too is, well, a she. And then, I’d look at a guy to discuss some other things.

I’ve been told that guys ae easier to talk to, less of a hassle and more straightforward, with lesser ego issues. So, maybe that is why most girls end up talking things out with boys, or keeping in touch with guys or even have more guy friends. I too have more male friends than female, but the girl-friends I do have are very dear to me. I keep in touch with them as much (and equally) as compared to the guys.

Something has been disturbing me and I cannot voice it out, ’cause I do not know it yet. As soon as I do, I”ll let you know. What bugs me is how someone, so integral to your life, can vanish one fine day. I mean, you know that person is out there, living breathing and talking to other people, but not with you. It isn’t like they are ignoring you, they reply to your texts and ask you what’s up, but you know that the conversations aren’t and may never be the way they were. Why? Because you see them talk and live, without making you a part of it, involuntarily, with no malice or spite. They just slowly eradicate you from their life and you leave, without protest, and that’s your fault and totally your call.
You leave with a hole in their lives, and that hole stays forever cause no one is replaceable.  They decide not to replace you and you thank god for that, but they find new space for new people and those new people start encroaching on your space.

You tell yourself, that it isn’t a competition and that your importance is important. But the question marks come into your mind, seeds of doubt germinate and you look at them in a way, with a view, that you never have before. Did you slip from being a friend to an aquaintance to just another face in the Facebook friend-list? When they like a picture by the newer people, you ask yourself; would they like yours? And then you see that they don’t and your heart breaks just a little bit more. You ask yourself, is this PMS and then you check your Tracker to see that it isn’t.

It is hard letting go, of friends more than anything and it is even harder to see yourself fade out of their life when there was no problem in the first place, except maybe, they found better interests or hobbies or work or worse, people. And it sucks when they are still on your priority list when you have slipped off of theirs. And sucks even harder when you see what or who you have slipped because of. It sucks the hardest when you know you slipped off to someone who they can flirt with, or talk random BS with. You know you’ve lost, and it wasn’t even a competition.

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Why the new year turned out to be happy after all.

The first words that I have said to anyone, be it my domestic help or my best friend, in  the last few days have been- Hey, happy new year! But then, what is truly so amazing about this year, or for any such beginning for that matter? Almost a week into 2013, it is turning out to be exactly like last year, maybe just a little more grown up. So what makes 2013 MY year? How am I going to let this year define my life? This is definitely not going to be a post on my achievements from last year or the mishaps from the past. This is not going to be about how i grow as a person this year or how my life will change because of what I eat.

The new year is really never good. The partying made my back ache and my neck cramp. I danced like a mad-woman and my hair was knotted and tussled. It is even worse for those who follow the drink-puke-pass out-drink cycle the next day, thanks to the hangover. Why o why do they say that the new year is good, or happy? January first, for most people is a haze of aspirin and missed calls.

This New Year party thingumajimmy that we all participate in was the best I have ever had till date but the days that preceded it made it what it was. It wasn’t all sun-shine and stars, trust me; there were tears and waiting in  the sun for your boyfriend to turn up, and there were last-minute panic phone calls to your girlfriends about what to wear and then ultimately looking stunning! Trust me when I say this- I had not expected the new year to be this great. Oh! and there was almost a break-up that was on the cards, but that dint happen thankfully.

My blog has hit 9,000+ hits already and it is not even a year old. I have already typed an application for an award to the Indian Dental Association for topping my college. I did not break up with my boyfriend, and we look so hot together. I have the best pals in the world. My parents just booked another apartment in another city. And life looks sunny! The last month two weeks were probably the most fun two weeks in the history of my life (minus the days in Thailand, of course) but this was so much fun!

My cousin, who is studying the US (so proud) wrote to me about how his friends ‘love’ my blog. Thank you, people. *big shout out*. Oh. And the drummer of ‘p a r i k r a m a’ messaged me himself AND gave me his number. I probably shouldnt be bragging about it but sc-o-o-o-o-reeee! And even better- he praised this blog and I quote ‘Very inspired writing’.

My brother and Mr. Mahajan here made me get my lazy arse back to the laptop and type-type-type. And thanks, to all of you too! Your praises make me write better, lyk rlly mks me wryt bttr. (laugh if you got the joke)

I remember, on Christmas Eve, my friends and I stood in queue (we broke in) and fought really hard to get into the Church and it was totally worth it. I cry every time I step into a Church and that night, while the Priest blessed me in His name, tears flowed down my cheeks and onto my tee and then to my jeans. I was overwhelmed by everything I felt and everything that was blessed unto me and everyone I had met. I cried because I felt blessed more than anything else I felt.

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I remember crying my eyes out when I saw my friends acting like a couple before me. I missed S so much I couldn’t help but cry. I felt like  a limb was being torn away from me. Everytime the couple held hands, a part of me ached. And then we met and there were smiles and tears and jokes and going out and hatred and discoveries and love and all that shizz!

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I remember laughing like a kid while playing Taboo with all my friends then throwing Santa caps in the air, followed by Shisha and then dancing in the winter chill, it was all worth it. Drinking a peg or two of whiskey and the holding on for my dear life while swaying my head to dance numbers for 6 straight hours without rest. I have never dont this and I never exercise so my body was shocked to do that much work with so much attitude in that much time! 😛

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All in all, this year is off to a good start. The praises for my blog and the praises for my photography have made me happy. I found a boyfriend who is an idiot and loves me like one. I found new friends who’re dating my best friends. My best friend finally had her first kiss. I understood how mature we are all becoming and how childish we still are going to be. I love my parents and my grandparents.

Happy New Year to all of you. Continue to de-tangle (or mess it up even further) with me !

Fake this shit!

It has been a while since I last posted here. Have been busy. No, make that- very busy. third year of college started this October and I have finally entered The Clinics. I was super kicked about reaching this particular year, given that I am halfway through undergrad college and that means I am 50% through the ordeal called Barddhaman. and I was pleasantly surprised! I reached Burdwan on 1st and headed to college and waited for 30 minutes to greet my professor (what with all the ‘first impressions’ thing going on so strong these days) and I was informed about the Intra-college Sports tournament that was being organised.
My dad was in the Indian Army and I’ve had a fairly okay exposure to sports. By that, I mean i can move better than most girls and I mean that in the most innocent way possible. So, I signed up for Badminton (given that the other sports were Football and Carrom, neither of which I was sure of playing, I can shoot alright in Football but that’s about it). And I cleared the quarters and then reached the semis. Knocked out and I lost to the final winner so no pride lost.

Anyway, as Clinics duty proceeded in the day, the sports tournament moved forward after college. And I shouted A LOT while cheering for my batch. The usual ‘jeetega bhai jeetega’ and ‘ come ooooonnn!’, blah, and I cheered for the opponents as well O:)
I even wore track pants to college. Oh, and my work in the clinic was basically in the Prosthodontic Dept. and I made removable partial dentures for two patients. One has already been (successfully) delivered and the other is due on Wednesday. There is this fake sense of know-it-all while you are around patients…i say fake, because obviously I don not know it all, I am merely in third year. But you get to actually BE doctor after all the years of playing with plastic stethoscope and toy ambulances and this halo of importance and reverence surrounds you and you just, feel, important.

All the bitterness that was there last year, given the political influence on my baby college, I felt happy that we were all bonding and more importantly talking! Talking too is fake- it gives everyone a fake importance. ‘Oh, we talk’ ‘Oh, he spoke to me’. Just because we talk, it doesn’t mean we’re close. It just allows all of us to carry on with our lives without others feeling left out. People feel they’re close to you because you talk. WOAH! Huge epiphany! We’re all wonderful actors. No really, take a second and sit back. Think about all the times you have pretended to be something/someone you are not IN A DAY. And it is perfectly normal to pretend. We’re taught to perform in a particular manner from the day we learn to understand emotions and that is exactly what all of us do. We all act. we all pretend. We all put up with a farce.

So, how are we making the ones we love know what we really feel. To come to think of it, we need to be real sometimes! Shouldn’t we be able to be ‘who we are’ before the ones we care about at least? As for me, I don’t pretend before the ones I like/love. Strangely, I become even more blatant and point-blank and then I end up hurting them. Shaa.

ANNNNYWAY. There was also a DJ night in college following the Sports tournament which left all of us super-fit doctors with neck cramps and shoulder pain. I couldn’t move out of bed without an Ooooh-aaaah for four days in a row and I enjoyed every bit of that night and those ten days. It is good to be back with college ‘for real’ and even with all the aforementioned pretentious behaviour, I am happy. It is great to have stories to tell and jokes to share twenty years down the line. I hope this stays the way it is, or it may become better. 🙂

-stay loved. stay as true as possible!

Memoirs of a Memory with a Song.

Don’t you just detest it when a perfectly brilliant song is ruined because some jack-ass halfway around the globe decided to make a memory with you precisely when that song was playing and then BAM! three months later he isn’t there and the perfectly brilliant song is pooped. Yknow, there are categories of songs- the mediocre, the good and then, there are the brilliant.

The mediocre are the ones which find their way into your playlist because
– someone gave them to you via bluetooth
-a dude shared his playlist with you to get you to listen to grunge rock
-a break up
-PMS
-by mistake
-really sad sitcoms which make you think ‘wow that song is brilliant’ and then you download it and listen to it on repeat for 567 hours and then, by the end of it you are ready to puke.
-initially a brilliant track which slips to the mediocre because of *surprise surprise* the MEMORIES.

The good ones are good primarily because they are cult classics, I mean, Pink Floyd will never become mediocre because a d-bag decided to ruin it for you. NO! You always come back to life after Pink Floyd, literally. And then is John Mayer and Coldplay and ABBA (and ronan keating). And Death Cab For Cutie (at least some of their songs. I don’t know why they decided to sing for Twilight- the Meet me on the equinox). Some songs never die. I mean, yeah whatever some guy might ruin one or two of those ‘classic’ songs but forgive them. They know not what it means to dance to ‘I will follow you into the dark’. Word of advice, limit these classics to those you know will NOT let you down. Ever. EVER. Like best friends or parents or children. That way, no one can ruin good songs for you. 🙂

^that is a really cute rendition of I Have A Dream, ABBA. Watch it :’)

Then come the brilliant ones. These are comprised mainly by The biggies themselves, each of us have our personal favourites and I wont name mine but you would which songs figure in your list of brilliant, wouldn’t you? The ones which you always listen to, anytime all the time. Like I could listen to Fix You for-evvvver and never get tired of it and I would not let anyone ruin that song for me. No one is allowed to dedicate it to me. No one is allowed to expect it from me. This is MY song. and will remain so because it is too precious for me. The words are too personal. If this song is dedicated to me by someone I love and then he breaks my heart (or whatever) then these very words will prick me and make me bleed. So I wont let anyone burst my bubble. And if you really love me, you wont dedicate this to me.
You could, however, dedicate a ‘Baara maheene mein baara tareeko se’ to me because that song is already hopeless. It means all that you want a love song to and then too it doesn’t stand a chance of getting ruined with a memory because the song already is at the lowest level of music. Seriously. LOWEST.

^Don’t watch this if you aren’t ‘READY’

Now, it isn’t just sad memories that attach themselves to songs. there are songs to which you have joys and birthdays related to. There are songs which make you smile no matter what. there are those songs to which you danced on your first night stay or the song you sang to your BFF after the epic fight or a song you dedicated to your mom on mother’s day. Some songs become good from the mediocre scale because of the memories so never underestimate those underdogs, you!

^Like this one, that I’d love to sing- fights or no fights, we are stuck with each other Pie. Oh, Happy Birthday! 😀

But getting back to the sad stuff (because sad things always appeal more, sadists we are),
I missed out one more category of songs. they are the happy songs which mean nothing. Or sad ones, the blues, which say absolutely nothing to you. Yknow, the kind to which you were introduced to because someone dedicated them to you. The conversation goes like:
Random person who knows you- ‘Hey, this is a nice song and I, in my right senses dedicate this absolutely nonchalant piece of music to you!’
You- ‘Oh, alright gracious man/woman/person, I shall listen to it right away’
And then you and that person become really good friends, lovers, pals, siblings, online facebook open relationship partners, whatever, and slowly you drift away BUT the song still remains on your iPod/Walkman/Really awesome phone like SGIII. And while you’re on a long journey the song begins to play and you remember that friendship (or affair) and just…smile. No bitterness, no joy either but just a memory that does not affect your emotion.
Like, right now, I am listening to ‘Addicted’ by Enrique. No, don’t judge me it is a really nice song okay, whatever. And  this song has become rotten by all the so-called dedication but still it has managed to remain on my playlist and I have no memory associated with it whatsoever. None!

So, lesson to be learnt is just one:

Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it.

Don’t fight the memories and don’t fight the world from making them for you. If some guy, in his mushy weakness dedicates ‘Perfect two’ by Auburn to you, just smile and listen to the song. And then, remember the song. Memories are a part of life. We wouldn’t stay up at night if it wasnt for those wretched memories and future-planning. Happy or sad, songs and memories are intricate and you can’t argue over the fact that a little bit of heartache makes the songs even more beautiful, ’cause lets face it- even though you categorise them as mediocre because of the sourness attached to them, they are still there on your playlist, aren’t they?

Let life play itself out. 🙂

A final treat for you-

-entangle.