One night with sorrow.

Sorrow has a way of creeping in and breaking you down when you least expect it. It hits you like the thrashing of a whale’s tail; you wouldn’t know how it feels till you’ve experienced it and I hope you stay in the dark forever. But…if you have then you’ll know what I mean.

It hovers in the background for the longest time while you prance about unaware, and then, it devours your mirth in one strong right hooked blow to leave you breathless and wondering why what happened just happened. Then, there’s no way of escaping it. There’s no way of running away from it; it doesn’t matter if you’re a triathlon runner or a sprinter- you will not be able to escape a winner from this race unless you embrace the sorrow.

It breaks you down and swallows you from the inside. Bit by bit you become aware of how you are shaped and each crevice of your body makes you aware of its existence. Everything aches, most of all the full sized aortic pump in your chest that beats and fights to keep you alive. It pains so much that the only thing that can make you not feel its presence is if you curl up into a ball and lay like a foetus for hours.

The tears that liberated you when you were melancholic and young can no longer redeem you. They cease to be helpful so, after a while, you stop crying and stare at the ceiling of your room with the vacant stare in your eyes that your reflection is so familiar with. You stare till your eyes burn, and then finally, you close them only to see a moving picturescope of everything that makes you feel that way. It’s the blockbuster called Your Life and Imagination. All the things that have happened and everything you wished you would’ve done to stop it from happening play in a loop while you debate whether it was better when your eyes were stinging.

Sadness is like the blanket that isn’t big enough to cover your feet and face at the same time. It’s not comfortable and it isn’t comforting. It leaves a part of you exposed and vulnerable. It leaves you cold. It leaves you scared. It leaves you wanting warmth and just a little bit more of it so that it engulfs you completely or a little bit lesser so that you can put it underneath you while staring at the stars instead of the stupid ceiling.

It is a busy world full of people who either cannot or don’t want to read your mind. You know it isn’t their fault so you don’t bother anyone. You don’t knock on their doors to cry. You don’t give them a phone call lest they’re doing something that’s more important than you and let’s face it, is this really that important? So you wallow alone and battle it out as much as you can. You surrender to it. You raise the white flag and sleep. Sleep is the solace and the only escape from it, except when you start having nightmares. That is when shit gets real. Mother? Would you run to the one person who isn’t too busy for you, ever and show her your dark side. Boyfriend? Won’t he be scared by what the shark called sorrow has done to you- gut wrenching, soul crushing horror that you’ve turned into for that one night? BFF? Doesn’t she already deal with enough of you already? Piling on your issues isn’t the solution, you’ll feel.

No body is there. Sorrow has no friend. Sadness likes loneliness and they go on dates and their make out session comprises of picking at your soul. You’re the menu, obviously.

So for one night you allow yourself to be put in a platter, garnished and served to be chewed on and spat out. For one night, you break down completely. You allow yourself to think of the things that you repress; like how the relationship isn’t what you hoped it would be, like how you want to say you love someone without feeling scared of them fleeing, like how wish he’d just be there more often, like how you wished you family was more family and less arguments, like how you don’t like the way work is, like how you wished you could stay at home and just lay on the familiarity called your bed and look out of the window for hours without being questioned. You wonder about all the possibilities that you’ve missed and why. You looked at everything in your life through a dark, blue tinted glass. You wish the people who are busy would call you without you having to tell them. You wish they’d think of you and let you know they are thinking of you. You allow yourself the luxury of skipping work the next day.

And slowly, the night fades into daybreak and you do end up skipping work. Clean the house, dust the room, sweep the floors, arrange your books on the shelf and stack your life back part by part. You take your wounds and lick them to soothe yourself and sing a song that reminds you of the days that weren’t as bad. You pat yourself on the back for not drinking the previous night and thank yourself for the good decision of sparing yourself a hangover.

The next evening rolls in and it’s already slightly different than the previous one. Your boyfriend calls you. Your best friend texts you. Even if it is because you’ve deleted your existence from social media and that’s how they noticed, but at least they cared.

You take small steps back to normalcy and come out of it a fighter. And, although you can still feel sorrow lurking around, the blanket feels bigger already because you’ve never really liked sleeping stretched out.

Guess who’s here? Summer :)

The day dragged itself befote beginning till 11 in the morning and once it started, everything moved in slow motion.
Summer is here. The mangoes aren’t.

It is sunny and the children have dispersed earlier than usual from school. They quarrel on the way back home while I hang my clothes to dry on the innumerable strings that’s criss cross in my verandah.


The streets are desolate, with every house and their owners snoring. It’s not hot enough for the air conditioners to be put on. The ceiling fan rotating at a comfortable pace, the body covered with a light cotton chador is the perfect mix for a comfortable nap.

I won’t nap, not today. Songs from the days past entertain me while I stare at the crow that sits perched upon a bamboo pole, which is jutting out of a building under construction. I see it eyeing the rat that scurried into a hole a few seconds back.

There are so many things that happen around us that should get more attention than they deserve. The sun plays a game of peek a boo with the trees and me. The blue tarpaulin over the shed next door is an appropriate mirror for the sky.


The saree that was wet last night, has dried and is proudly dancing in the summer breeze. A tender coconut vender wipes his brow after a hard days work, as he walks past my room.
Dada, may I get one?
Small pleasures of life, indeed.

My eyes gradually tire of the constant concentration, my head grows heavy. The monster called the Afternoon Nap seems to be catching up with me.

Must run away.

Till then, have a happy summer.

My tip-toed return.

This is going to be a regular whiny girl post where I claim to be alone and happy, yet incomplete.
I’ve been dating since the end of ninth grade (yes, parents, chill). On and off. Someone has always been there even if I didn’t want someone 😛
And after a point it got to a point of no return. Men became expendable and ever-available and soon came a wave of superiority complex.
That done with, and having attained a sense  adulthood, and I say sense because I haven’t yet started practicing it (adulthood), I decided to take a break off of everything I knew and everyone I knew. I shed people like second skin and felt lighter. I felt free and I could finally be awkward and clumsy and have morals that were stupid and not get judged by a constant pressure of living up to a standard I had so meticulously created.
I wasn’t a myth anymore. I could say that Hitler was a genius who went drastically wrong and not feel as if the world would crash down on me. I had let go off people who wouldn’t be constantly on their toes to pull me down towards them. I decided to forgive those I fought with and truly bless their hearts. I decided to let it all in while I let it all out. It started with college but slowly extended to the periphery where the most important people were.
The important ones, I figured would always stick. That didn’t happen haha. Some left. No, let me rephrase: one left.
Long story short, a boy and a girl can never be friends without one getting hurt. And given my prior self satisfying tryst with lonliness, I was okay with the decision. Everybody needs space to breathe so I’ve given him his. 6 years of friendship, deserves that.

Which finally brings me to what I have to say now. I want to share my breathing space. I’ve had the group I’ve always had, since high school and nothing would ever change that. I’ve gained a very special friend in a fellow blogger who meets me in malls and my gardeny complex and writes me letters on crisp white sheets neatly tucked into mustard envelopes. I’ve got as many friends as I need and I’m lucky I can count on both hands cause I need that skill. (Those who know me, will vouch for the fact that math isn’t my forte and hence, the counting on both hands is a skill. Kthanks)

Now, after more than a year and half of self building and repeating a single sentence: I need to focus on my career, studies and self… I am finally ready to get back to being ‘with someone’. Not as a friend but romantically, for a change. I haven’t been in a relationship where the person is physically in the same city ever- since school, and that sucks. I haven’t had pop corn while watching a movie at home, tucked under the duvet with someone quietly cursing me for my choice of movies. I haven’t fought while being convinced (erronously) of how right I am. I haven’t said “we” in a long time. I haven’t written with my heart out on my sleeve. I haven’t got a gift which made my mother question the blood supply in my cheeks. What I gained is irreplaceable, I gained myself back. I had given so much over time to people that I was drained. I’ve helped a lot of people over time..small ways and big. And now, I’m ready to give again… In a few months (my year of self improvement ends this September). I’m ready to be taken in, I think. Am I?

I want someone to help me. And we’ll help each other. Then again, is asking a sign of weakness?
Some questions cannot be answered in a year. : )

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 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 : )

Foetal wax.

There is so much potential within us. When we are all 2-4-8-16 celled, deep within the womb, we can divide and differentiate into so many things, so many different people. Grow a limb here, grow some hair their, oops! look I grew a liver and a heart, And then we grow a brain with its neurons and all the intricacies of being human. 
In class today, my professor pointed out how some of the histological sections we look at (in our books, of course) . Apparently, the foetal cells are dipped in some sort of wax to stop the growth and then, cross sections are made. Thus, the name of this post Foetal Wax.

When we were tiny, and by tiny I mean a few cells old, we had our entire life in front of us. We could be good people or we could be wolves (which some men did turn out to be, but I digress). Hell, we could even be the girl who knew 15 languages in her head but was deaf and dumb so the world could never know of her talent.

But then, we divided.. and multiplied, and while the cells rapidly grew in number; we kept becoming more complex as creatures. Complex in ways that are more twisted than biology. We began dreaming and then we had to face the pain of that lost dream. You must have realised, more often than not, we try to go back to sleep to finish a dream and we try to pretend so hard, that the world we have for those few measly minutes could in fact, be the world we actually live, bleed and perspire in. Then the zygote becomes a baby, with a brain that functions as fittingly as a ticking time bomb, and we begin to rationalise… ‘No, I can not dance, I have two feet”, “No, that can not be love, he is a gentleman”, “No, I am a horrible person, I let her live”.

We slowly, yet persistently lose hope in what surrounds us. We begin thinking. We start forming logical thoughts which ultimately lead us to a very crisp reality, which let us face it, is not very pretty most of the times. Even when viewed through tinted glass, the world does tend to let us down at times (er, most of the times?) Right now, you have dreams which you despartately want to fulfil but if we rewind 15 years back, you had more dreams; and more colourful ones at that. No one told me that you that could not become a professinal dancer, no one said that you don’t have it you…you brought that upon yourself. YOU rationalised. “This makes more sense, become a Lawyer.” I’m sure all of you had dreams. I once wanted to go into research- genetic engineering, but I took the apparently easier available option and kept writing, photography and everything else as a ‘hobby’. How I hate hobbies- oh beta, you need a degree, what will you feed your kids, photography can always be a hobby. oh beta, you need to be a engineer, or else who will marry you? blah blah.

As cells, we have immense potential. As cells, the world is our canvas. As cells, we are merely a human being in-the-making, but the neurons and the logics that I spoke of earlier, make us who we are right now, in this very moment. We are born optimists and therefore are innately positive, but the repeated the break-downs, heart-aches and failures thicken us. As my professor stated, keratinisation. We become a pale afterglow of what we could have been. The could-be and the should-be, life kinda revolves around all that, eh?

I hope this helped you reminisce. I hope you dig out the dusty bag with all your paint brushes and do something with it, or maybe, find a new self? I hope you can be the cell you once were and the person you could have been.

to end on a lighter note, Image

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.


First post in.

I am currently on the fligt to Bangkok. Oh yes, I am headed to a week + of family vacation time. And roaming around in the sun and sand and look super awesome and buy clothes and shoes and eat food and basically just go mad.

But before all of it could even start I was posed with this dilemma. If you have been a regular then you’d know how mug I like eating. Also, keeping mind that it is 2:40 am IST and I haven’t slept last night either.
Last night, my mother landed in India from Germany after a fortnight of a stay there on an exchange programme from school. I am sleepless and starved in ways more than one.

So I get in cozy with the blanket and eye mask, seat reclined and I was relaxed and almost asleep. And then, I smelled food. The cruel people brought out food. How was I supposed to sleep while others around me ate ‘non vegetarian Indian food’? I know that aeroplane food isn’t heaven but food is food. And food is food is food! And then I was hungry. So I had to take my eye mask out, reveal my warmed skin to the chilled AC to eat. Sigh, the troubles of a hungry mind.


And then I realised that I am above 18 and thus could ask for alcohol and was immediately perked. Haha.

Oh and it was super funny. Everyone is like me. The plane was quiet, except for the random baby-cry-squeal and as soon as the food was served the entire flight got busy. Packets being torn, forks clanking and then you know chomp chomp chomp…you get the drift.
Humans, I tell you.

I have a LONG day. Shopping and another flight laterbi shall be in Phuk-et.
Photographs shall be posted when and if possible (and decent enough :p)


If you’re happy and you know it…


This is going to short and crisp.
You deserve to be told you’re loved. I am. And I’ve been told so. Right now, 18th October ’12. AND I AM SO FRIKKIN’ HAPPY, it isn’t even funny!

I don’t know where this is headed. I don’t know how or why or even since when and the ambiguity is what makes it all the more enchanting. For once, I am happy in not knowing and just taking each day as it comes and each phase as it passes. I’ve been through squabbles as siblings to sobbing like children and giggling like a girl who’s smitten. I’ve breezed through mush and written poems and even fought like I mean it. And I am still happy, which is like a life time achievement.

I’m in the top of the world la la la laaa.


P.s- photo courtesy thebettermanprojects.

-stay loved and entangle with some one 😛


Yes I shall gloat because I want to. (okay no, more because this blog is mine and I can say what i wish to) And because I think I did well. I worked quite hard. I admit, I could have worked harder with respect to the ‘depth’ of knowledge of the subjects. But I did do well and that is what matters. I enjoy life, I have boyfriend(s), I have tried smoking, drinking and I’ve done most of the bad-girl stuff AND I managed good grades so I deserve a pat on my very sexy back. But then, why is it even called bad-girl stuff? Bad girls do worse, right?

Anyway, I did well and so did my other flatmate but my room-mate dint do as well as she thought she would/should and she is sad. I don’t like her being sad. And I’d like her to cheer up. What I really want is to shout into her ears that I STILL CARE and THIS ISNT THE END OF THE WORLD! But I wont do that. I’ll just be there with her, silently until she decided she is fine with it. i am a good friend, you see. (actually I am just scared that I’ll blurt out something insensitive that’ll hurt her even more so I’ll just stay out of her hair for a while, maybe more than a while) I just don’t want her bruised any further because I am socially awkward.

Okay, so back to gloating; I got above 75% in two subjects (out of the three theory papers that we have) and that is apparently really good. The year before this, like my previous batch, a senior got THREE honours, which is WOAH! but I’m happy with what I scored and I am super happy that my college has the least number of ‘fails’. 😀
Hmm, I wonder what I would get for good results. Parents, are you listening? Haha.
I have to go now, I’d love to sit and chat and boast but I’m getting an important call *wink wink*

-study much?

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
-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-