Tuesday, December 9, 2008

The First Lesson

The sky was clear,
The sun had risen.
I prepared for flight
Distressed, shattered and broken.

I knew nothing about life,
But wanted to, at any cost.
However, scared and perplexed,
I was timid; half the battle was lost…

I shivered as I took one leap,
I shrieked as my eyes prepared for the fall,
My wings refused to budge at all;
I seemed petrified, a creature so small!

Then my mother gave me a push,
As if she too was fed up of me,
She caressed my head and pushed me off
Farewell, for a future so bleak?

My wings opened in a majestic way,
I rose from my home, into the sky.
I soared higher than the almighty perhaps,
I smiled, as my fears, drifted by…

My mother stared at me with love,
Her life seemed complete, all in all;
Her job was over, done well at that,
My life was hers, after all…

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

The journey so far...

A feeble step on the vast ground,
The bougainvillea seemed an outright danger,
A heavy bag, stacked with books
To Carmel, I was a stranger…

A nervous wimp, a geek, a nerd,
I buried myself into copies and books,
I knew deep down this will never work…
But it was a lot better than the world with nooks.

I was scared to open up,
Afraid that people would jeer,
Under confident, weak and unnoticed,
I was a coward; it was established, and clear.

Six years later, a lot seems different,
I have a say, and I always say;
Arrogance, pride and selfishness,
These words are a part of my life everyday…

Friends, enemies, life changed for me,
People are to blame for what I am today.
But why, I am a happy soul this way,
And these traits with me will forever stay…

I don’t feel scared looking into the mirror,
This is me, and perfect like this…
I don’t know who to thank or blame,
For nothing at all, from the past, do I miss….

But one thing’s certain,
Carmel made all the difference,
I grew, I evolved. I changed, I became…
To this school, I owe my reverence…

Thursday, October 30, 2008

The Flyover

Every day I woke up with just one purpose. To see it. To relish every bit of it. To enjoy the mystery that surrounded it. To imagine the truth behind it.
I enjoyed my mornings. They were bliss in my opinion, lunacy in others’. I spent every second of my morning staring at it, as the winds gushed past me.
You see, I just had mornings for this sacred job.
Afternoons, I spent doing something I hated doing, but had to.
Evenings, playing; which was a job in itself now, took my time. I had to do it, else I’d be proclaimed a loser. And I just couldn’t stand it. Especially, in front of it.
And nights, I just couldn’t afford to look at such a beauty in darkness. Never. Never ever.

I was a street urchin, in the common man’s language. I lived, well, in the common man’s language, on the roads. When the day came to its close, I returned back to what many wouldn’t like to call a home. Because there wasn't any. It was a mere roof.
A roof like no other. A roof so plane and rugged. A roof no ‘house’ can have. A roof no person would ever want. A roof, like the flyover.

Afternoons were dreaded. More for the humiliation they got along with them. Who would like people shouting at them, refusing to buy something as cheap as flowers? But I had to succumb, as there was no other way. I had to fill my belly, in addition to my mother and father’s as well. I had to live, I had to survive. I couldn’t stand the thought of living without looking at it – the flyover.

The flyover was perhaps the only memory I had of what is called childhood, in the common man’s language. Well, if you omit out memories of a bickering mother, and a seemingly non-existent father. And I loved it more than anything else in the world. It was vast, expansive, and majestic in all its views. What, in the world could be more beautiful than this? With cars driving, zooming around. With a never ending blue sky above it. This is what I could call salvation. I wished I was a flyover, at times.
My mother said it led to some huge city. When I had asked what a city meant, she had shouted at me for asking too many questions. I knew why she was angry. Not because I asked too many questions, but because I asked too many questions about the flyover.
You see, no one liked the flyover. Infact, they detested it, and cursed it.
I had often heard my mother whispering to my father about how this wretched thing should be broken down, as they weren’t able to see stars. Whispering, as they couldn’t say it aloud, when I was around.
I was very defensive about it. I didn't have any particular reason for it, though. I did, actually, but not in the common man’s language.

I spent my mornings staring at the huge structure. It gave me peace, it made me feel serene. It was so much better than kicking around a tattered football. So much better than selling flowers. So much better than hearing nonsense from nonsensical people. So much better than, well, life.
I often wondered what life was, beyond the flyover, in what they call the ‘city’, in the common man’s language. What was a city? A place better than this? A place that gave joy? Joy, greater than staring at this wonder? Or just another word for problems, tensions, and trouble? I wished someone from those speeding cars would stop by, look at my innocent eight-year old face, in the common man’s language, and take me to the city.
I wanted to go there. You see, the flyover taught me to be positive. Maybe, the city was all about joys and happiness.
Life under the flyover, however was mine. Well, at least mornings were. So what if I couldn’t see the sky at night? At least there was place to lie down. So what if it was just a few inches, and it smelled gross? At least I had a bed sheet to cover my nose with. So what if it was a tattered, torn one, that was hardly of any use? At least it gave me hope that there was something better in the world.
You see, the flyover taught me to be positive.
At least I had food to eat. So what if it was partly stale, leftover food that I hated to gobble down? At least someone, anyone made a point to offer it to me.
You see, the flyover taught me to believe there was someone, up there. God, in the common man’s language.
In the common man’s language.
In the common man’s language.
I wasn't a commoner. No.
No commoner thinks of a flyover as his life.
No commoner thinks of a filthy, dirty and wretched life, as a good one.
No commoner has a flyover to teach them stuff, when they need to learn.

No commoner has such an unusual, mute, and lifeless sibling as a flyover.

But then, who wants to be common?

Monday, October 20, 2008

The Other Woman

As I sat in one remote corner of my school, munching and relishing my ice cream, my mind thought…
Carmel feast.
She was downstairs, I could see her. I couldn’t exactly decide whether she had seen me or not. But my heart said she had. She stood there with her clan of friends, an ice cream in each hand. She seemed happy. Or maybe she was faking it. She perhaps just wanted me to feel jealous of her happiness.
I sighed.
No one noticed. I was alone in the corridors. Or maybe I was alone anyhow, just alone…

I could recall, remember. Or perhaps I hadn't forgotten it at all. It was difficult to forget, anyway.
She had shouted with anger, “If you think that you can take him away, just forget about it!”
I had stared at her, open mouthed. Maybe she was right, I had thought about it.
But surely, I hadn't thought about making it work.
Bitter as it was, it hurt. I shouted back at her, weakly though. I had no strength left. She had left me shattered. He had left me shattered.
As if coping with the fact that he didn't love me, and had chosen her over me wasn't enough.

It seemed as if she was laughing at me, as she ate her ice cream. I very well knew the reason behind that glint in her eye. She seemed evil.

I threw my ice cream and walked away.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Time for self

I love being the centre of repulsion. I love to spend time with myself. I love the silence of an eerie night. I love to remember disasters. I love to experience things out of the way. I love the wind blowing past me. The sound of silence. The music of loneliness. The happiness of failure. I love to innovate. Think, at times. I love doing nothing. I love dressing up for no reason at all. I love to refuse invites to parties. I love to be the maniac that I am. Sleeping. Dreaming. Feeling lost.
I love to feel weird about doing a particular job. It tells me I’m different. I love being different. I love hot food, minus the onions. I love to play scrabble endlessly. I love to dream of a time when I’ll have time. I love to watch television, more because it makes me forget. I love to forget things, faces, names, people…
I love sad endings, in books, stories, films. I love to be someone else. I love to analyze myself. I love myself. I love those stereotypical soaps on TV. I love to correlate. I love the feeling of being protected. I love to be cared for. I love to talk, sometimes. I love to just laugh off life till tears squeeze out. I love the irony in my laugh. I love the word – depressed. I love words. I love to write. I love the computer. I love to sit and stare out into the night. I love to talk to the moon. I love to feel the presence of God.
Miracles. Black magic. Life after death. Sun signs. Horoscopes. Future.
I love the thought of running away. I love to bicker, fight and shout, when I’m angry. I love to fantasize. I love to live in a dream world. I love to not admit, and face reality. I love the idea of schizophrenia. I love to understand emotions, intricately. I love the feeling of love. I love that thumping heart beat. I love the red in my cheeks. I love to think about stuff of MY choice. I love life, MY way. Lazing around. Sleeping for eternity. The air conditioner. My bed. My house. The coziness. The food. Momos.
Pizzas. Simple rice. Those dinner conversations. The feeling of being required.

I love looking at the dark side of things. I love to have few people around me. I love to think of old jokes, and still find them funny. I love to preserve what I write. I love to see photographs, observe. I love to think of people. I love to judge. I love being partial. I love crying at night. I love to wake up late. I love postponing. I love to never do some things. I love the feeling of carrying an empty bag to school. I love to go to school for a particular reason a particular day. I love to show people who care, I care. I love to spend time lavishly. I love being pampered. I love the luxury of a day all for myself. I love being online. I love to compete with my own messaging speed. I love games. I love to read HT City over a cup of brewing, hot, self made coffee. I love to taste food. I love to stand in my balcony. I love to doze off in my car.
I love to feel incomplete, as it helps me live on.
I love to live life MY way – THIS way.

P.S. : People, I don't have much to say, really. But I'm SO glad that I'm finally posting!! I mean, I've been breaking my head over this computer for the past two days, so you know...

Monday, September 15, 2008



With a huge lump in my throat,
I turned to him and said,
‘I don’t know why I’m doing this,
But to you, my life I owe.’

‘You are the man, who marred my life,
And the one who made it too,
It’s you, who made an orphan out of me,
But who gave me a new life, too.’

‘I think enough has happened now,
And I needn’t explain any more,
You are all I have of my past.’
With this, I walked out of the door.

I felt glad when I heard his foot steps,
Finally, all questions had their answers,
He patted me on my head,
As we journeyed forth, thirty years…

Completeness came to my life,
Sometimes life carves its own way,
It’s God’s way of telling the world,
That He’s the king, they say…

After a century, I got a father,
Nostalgia was what I felt and breathed,
Each time he would pat me on my head,
Me, closer to my past, he would lead…

It’s as if I’m his penance,
And he’s nurtured me from the roots,
Maybe then, it was his hand,
That guided me through life’s pits, and wounds...


P.S: I'm happy to announce that this series has finally come to an end. Whether you liked t or not, is not my problem :P But I am always ready for comments OR compliments (The latter, ofcourse is a better proposition :D )
Catcha later with something different... :)

Saturday, September 6, 2008


Part VII

I scared you to your wits’ end,
I acted violent, mad, insane…
I pulled your hair and slapped you hard,
Thankfully, my sin didn't go in vain.

The next morning, when I returned,
I hoped not to see you there,
And I was the happiest when it happened,
You had gone, no matter where…

My life, now just had one purpose,
To wait for your return…
I gave up everything for just this day,
What life meant, I had to learn.

At times I felt you’d never come back,
And my sins would never be washed away,
But perhaps He has forgiven me,
As you turned up, today.

I needn’t ask for forgiveness,
As now I know, I’m forgiven,
I see a self made human in front of me…
Why should I weep and cry, then?

I shook with fear once again,
As he looked at me intensely,
My life, my existence, I owed to someone,
Someone, who’d also, marred my destiny.

I looked away, thoroughly taken aback,
The harsh truth had left me numb,
A decision, I had to make right now,
To emotional conflicts, I wouldn’t succumb.

P.S: Gosh! Just one more to go... :)

Sunday, August 31, 2008


Part VI

It was a photograph, in black and white,
Him and my father in their best smiles,
It was one of the friendliest poses,
And completely shook my understanding of life…

‘You were perhaps too small to know,
That your father had a best friend…
A best friend who had been to jail thrice,
In the world of crime, his life he had spent.’

‘Your parents had to pay the price,
For all the sins that I had committed,
As my enemies stabbed them both that night,
The night after which they never returned.’

‘I couldn’t save them, they lay dead,
As I repented being a criminal;
I spent the two days just like you did,
Sobbing, hungry, tired and feeble…’

‘When I finally mustered up the courage,
To go and see you, and tell you the truth,
I saw you begging, and being kicked out,
And the helpless sight sealed my mouth.’

I stood in one corner and thought,
What I could do for you,
And then realized that my world of crime,
Didn’t leave space for adopting kids like you…

Moreover, you were a girl,
And my world was full of animals and beasts,
You wouldn’t be spared even for a fortnight,
My mind’s working completely ceased.

And then for the only time in my life,
I looked at the sky and said a prayer,
I begged Him to show me the way,
Your life, your future – I did care…

And then, something struck my mind,
It seemed to be the only way out…
It was also the biggest crime of my life,
But the only solution, the only way out…

P.S :To be continued...

Monday, August 25, 2008


Part V

This time no one pulled my locks,
And I wasn't slapped too,
It was as if he was waiting for me to turn,
While I stood there, with fear, blue…

I turned at last, breathing heavily,
And lifted my eyelids to face my past,
The same eyes, the same face,
And he spoke, at last…

‘I know you hate me, dear…
But the fact that you finally came back,
Tells me that you want to know,
And that night’s mystery you wish to track…’

‘You probably will never forgive me
For what I did to you that night,
But what I see in front of me today,
Tells me, that somehow, I did right.’

With these words, he entered my house,
And I followed him speechlessly,
This was the moment, my life’s mystery
Was unfolding, silently, slowly…

He took me back to my room again,
He picked up the toy gun in his hands,
He looked at me with a sad smile,
And reached for the pockets of his pants.

He handed something to me,
And I looked at him in horror,
He nodded, as though he understood,
And then explained, that night of terror…

P.S : To be continued...

Monday, August 4, 2008


Part IV

I ran as fast as my legs could,
Not once did I look back,
The fear gave me strength to run…
Away from my home, my slum, my shack…

When I finally stopped myself,
I had come a long way from home,
And here, in the city, I carved myself,
From pavements and shops…to a bed of foam…

People were nice, god was finally kind,
I made myself a new person forever,
But deep down, I still yearned to know…
Who turned that day of my life into a terror…?

My steps would want to go to that house,
And my heart would want to follow in line,
But the thought of meeting that man again,
Sent a shudder down my spine…

But thirty years later, I finally conceded,
And gave up everything, and walked…
I was fed up of that ‘why’ in my life,
I wanted answers, doors unlocked…

There wasn't any need to ask for the way,
As everyday, I saw it in my dreams,
And there, I landed in the past,
My eyes didn't shine, my eyes didn't gleam…

The toy gun fell from my hands.
And I came back, eyes moist,
I noticed now, that the slum was empty,
Not a single sound, except mine.

I tried to look for a breathing soul,
Someone who could give me my answers,
And then, I felt a hand on my shoulder,
It was the same hand, the same fingers…

P.S: To be continued...
P.S: Umm...I just discovered, there are 8 (not 6) parts to the poem. I duly apologise for such torture...which by the way, DOES NOT mean I'm not going to post them all.. :P

Sunday, July 27, 2008


Part III

A six year old, I must have been,
Unaware of what destiny meant,
How a regular market walk would turn into a disappearance,
Is something, I had never even dreamt.

I touched the broken thing with a shiver,
As I recalled that scary night…
Three days had passed; I was hungry and tired,
And I begged my neighbors for a bite…

I whined and sobbed and cried and wept,
As they drove me away one by one,
I begged from one house to another,
And tried to distract myself with my toy gun.

After long, I felt a hand on my shoulder
I rejoiced; they had come back, returned!
But then, I felt someone pull my locks,
And a huge slap, I earned.

He snatched my toy gun, and held me tight,
He dragged me through the way,
I shrieked with fear and utmost disgust,
As he got me home, and walked away.

Puzzled, I ran after him,
And held him by the hand,
He threw me to one side of my room,
I saw the toy gun, now broken, beside me land…

He latched the door, and went away,
As I sat there nursing my wounded hand,
I knew I couldn’t live here anymore,
His coming back, I couldn’t stand…

I looked around nervously,
And saw the window, open, free…
Not once thinking of what I was doing,
I made my life’s biggest leap…

P.S : To be continued...

Sunday, July 20, 2008


Part II

As I tried to open that brown and broken door,
A whiff of smells gathered about me,
The smell of the creeper that grew there long ago,
And the smell of mother-cooked food that I relished with glee…

Cobwebs covered the hinges now,
No more did it seem welcoming enough,
Apprehensively, I pushed it apart,
My home, my house – overcoming nostalgia is tough…

I saw a tiny me over there,
Sitting on the floor and uttering gibberish,
Across me, sat she, my creator…
Listening to me – no matter however childish…

I felt like standing there forever,
But I had come with a purpose here…
I ventured into the house like a stranger,
When I knew its every nook and corner.

My father’s study table still stood there,
And there he was - his bespectacled face…
He called to me, with loving hands,
As I stood there, shocked, amazed…

I blinked my eyes rapidly,
As I reached the final room,
This was what I never wanted to do,
This room, held everything responsible for my gloom…

Bravely, I opened that last door,
Bracing myself for the ultimate breakdown…
It seemed as if I was thirty years back,
When this room was my world, my country, my town…

Everything lay as it is, no tampering whatsoever,
My Barbie doll, my car, my book,
Each thing seemed so completely mine,
Except one thing, which I saw, and shook…

P.S : To be continued...

Thursday, July 10, 2008


Part I

A feeble step in the dingy lanes,
A scared look at the filth around me,
I was as nervous as a new born child,
That night – it was as scary as could be…

It was a search in vain – I knew,
But my last try to rebuild my past.
In these dark slums and dirty shacks,
Memories of my childhood would forever last.

The innocence of my goofy smile,
Had been lost in this hut I stood before,
The day my parents just never returned,
And the last time I saw that shapeless door.

Thirty years, and I decided to return,
Looking for a familiar face, thing, place…
The life I had lived wasn't gratifying enough,
My parents’ existence, I had to trace.

My past was better than the present
And I wanted it back at any cost,
I had to dig up lots of buried truths now,
No matter, if my identity would be lost…

It was enlightenment, salvation perhaps,
This was what life had decided for me,
My life, an unsolved mystery till today,
Would be revealed, after years – so many…

P.S: To be continued...
P.P.S : I'm sorry for my long absence from the blog world. I just got bored of life. Thankfully I'm back.

Saturday, June 7, 2008

That unlikely father...

He played with me.
He tied my laces for me.
He helped me get over with my leg pains.
He told me stories at bed time.

My father was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

Being a victim of a metropolitan city life, I expected parents who had full time jobs, and practically no time for their little kid. And here I was, a father beside me…always willing to answer my weirdest questions, at any hour in the night.
I was a lost, dreamy kid who got the wildest dreams in the whole universe. But of course, my father was always there, when I used to suddenly wake up at odd hours, and cry out to him. He was interested in knowing what had troubled me, and then I would blurt it out to him, about how a cow had threatened me to snatch away my food and force me to gulp down its dry bread crumbs in exchange.
It didn't really bother me how he reacted to my tantrums, but the fact that he used to bear with them all, was enough.

He used to buy me chips whenever I asked for them. And of course, our outings were incomplete without a snack or two…
Life seemed perfect with my father.

I felt proud when other sissy girls of my age cribbed about their snoring dads and their weird ways…MY dad wasn’t in the least like them…

Mom was there obviously, but that was different. With dad, it was always, all about me. What I like, what I love, who I like, who I adore.

I grew up, and stuff changed.

Dad was never the same again. Or let me put it the other way; WE were never the same again. My friends changed, my life changed, my priorities changed.

His presence in my life lessened, as the year went by.
Obviously his stories weren’t required anymore.
His games didn't really excite me.
I could overcome my leg pains on my own.
And I preferred sleeping alone, than listen to his bed time stories.

However, we still adored each other. He was THE most important part of my life. He was all that mattered to me.

And one day, he just vanished.

Schizophrenia, said the doctors.

And since they had practically no better way to sort out stuff, they tagged me as a mental patient.

The irony being that this wasn’t a figment of a child’s imagination.

Who I considered father all these years…existed…lived…breathed…

The only difference being, that he existed just for me.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Tags...and all the fun in them!!!

1. Last movie seen in a theatre:
Hmmm...i saw Jodhha Akbar, ansd what's more, twice. Man...I'm vella!

2. What book are you reading?
Does it mean you're insane if you don't read too many books??

3. Favourite board game:
I love scrabble, but no one plays with me :(
I like chess too...no one plays it with me :(
I love carrom, my uncle used to be my best opponent, then he got married :(
I really need some good, considerate friends!!

4. Favourite magazine:
I like reading Filmfare...Bollywood entices me!! And of course, there's Shah Rukh...

5. Favourite smells:
In public interest, my close friends nicknamed me 'disabled' as they have a feeling that i dont see, smell or hear anything...

6. Favourite sound:
I'm least interested in finding out which sound I like!!

7. Worst feeling in the world :
Living life when you really don't want to...
I go through this terrible feeling every damn day... :(

8. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?
Is it morning 'enough'? Is it necessary to get up and open my books?
Is my mother at home, and would be watching me study?
Trust me, science is catching up on me...

9. Favourite fast food place:
Ah...Pizza hut is THE best!

10. Future child’s name:
Two years ago, I was telling my sis, "If I don't end up with this guy, I'll name my kid Armaan."
Now, Armaan's over and done with...and no more am I doing family planning...

11. Finish this statement, “If I had a lot of money I’d…” :
Buy death.

12. Do you drive fast?
All I do is roll my eyes when my mother drives at 20km/h, and I have to sit beside her, bored...

13. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? :-0
Does holding on to a pillow or bedsheet or whatever/whoever count?

14. Do you eat the stems on broccoli?
I really don't know. I never really bothered to inspect the vegetable so closely.
I'll ask my mum if she cooks broccoli 'with stems' right away.

15. Storms - Cool or Scary?
Cool. Atleast something adventurous must happen in life dammit...
A big earthquake, a tsunami, a hijack....something!!!

16. If you could dye your hair any colour, what would be your choice?
I'd exchange for a 'hair quality exchange' machine!!!! My hair is evevn worse than a....than hay, I guess!
Sorry, I had no better example in mind :

17. Name all the different cities/towns you have lived in:
Man, my life is BORING in every way!

18. Favourite sports to watch:
You know what? I've been trying to understand cricket and soccer, and havent yet succeded. But with cricket, you know it's a happy thing when the ball crosses the boundary....
Soccer is hopeless...wait, I'm hopeless at soccer...

19. One nice thing about the person who sent this to you:
Kika - Hmmm, I haven't really had the chance totalk to her too much...But i knew her some time ago, she's a sweet girl...with her reservations.

20. What’s under your bed?
The worst FIITJEE papers I never want to solve, my pair of slippers, my bottle, then my shoes..And what's the nailcutter doing here? I've been looking for it all over...

21. Would you like to be born as yourself again?
Hell no!!!! I'd rather not be born then...

22. Morning person or night owl?
Night owl, when it comes to watching movies, awards shows, going online etc etc.
And I prefer to hibernate if it's studies...

23. Over easy or sunny side up?
Over easy, I guess...

24. Favourite place to relax:
Saumya, my friend's house is the best. Her mother loves attending to me, and my 'views' on every damn thing...

25. Favourite ice cream flavour:
I don't like ice-cream too much. I spill it every where, you see...and then it's a real mess. But if it's a must, I like Cornetto - lesser chances of spilling it...

26. You pass this tag to –
Radhika, Vasudha, Bharat, Disha, Akanksha, Shailja

27. Among people you tag, who do you think is going to respond the fastest?
Vasudha has stopped doing tags. So, cross out.
Bharat did one just recently, so he might not want to do another one right away. Cross out.
Disha will do it LATE. Plus, she's in USA. Cross out.
Shailja,lesser chances of it. Cross out.

My only hopes are with Radhika and Akanksha...
I just hope they have no other post in mind :P


Over? Sigh, I love answering random questions!!

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Sinful Soulmates

I pushed her down my balcony
A pang of guilt in my throat.
She, I know not, why turned enemy,
When, on each other, we used to dote.
I had a bitter mind for sure,
Or maybe, our bond went sour,
The past few months had passed away
In cat fights, arguments, wars.
We blamed each other for the lives we led,
I knew-she had spoiled my life.
She said her life was a complete disaster,
And I was the reason for her strife.
It was amusing, how God had played,
With me, her and us.
The irony of our lives, being...
We had nothing more than each other, left.
Too bad then, that I had to take a stand,
Too bad then, that i wanted a life without her...
Too bad then, that i wasn't ready to listen
But why, we were sisters.
Soul mates, supposedly.
But unfortunate, that she cheated on me..
And of course, the money of the bank robbery
Alas! Only she knew where it was!

P.S: It's the first time...poetry on my blog...and that too in blank verse. If you do not approve of it (of which I'm certain), please let me know. This will not be repeated ever again.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Anything for you, sir...

When he walked into the class that day, his face seemed dull and he lacked his usual bright aura. I was perhaps the only one to notice it because the other students didn't bother to.
They had it straight in their head. He was a teacher. Them, students.
As I shrugged my shoulders at the thought, I looked at him intensely. Something was wrong.

I knew my sir more than anyone in the class did. And his lectures were more than just knowledge for me. They felt divine. If at all anything felt good about books and studies, it was his presence.
He was my favorite teacher, no doubt. Anyway, there were better things to think about…as he was more than that to me.
As he bragged on about resonance in benzene, I noticed he was sweating profusely. He hurriedly wiped it all off his face, and looked at me apprehensively.
Something was disturbing him terribly. And this was troubling me terribly.

I thought of the extra class I had arranged with him last week. It was just me and him. He taught, I listened. I talked, he listened. That day, I had poured out all my life’s conflicts in front of him. He seemed interested. He was perhaps the confidante for whom I had longed all this while.
He was more than a teacher. This much was clear.

But I didn't want to know any better.

Ignorance is bliss, they say.

When he looked at me again that day, his moist eyes gave away. He wanted to tell me something. I tried hard to read through, but sadly couldn’t.
This disturbed me, and so I decided to divert my attention to atoms and molecules.
Chemistry…was what he taught. And today, nothing seemed as interesting as it did.

I pretended to be deeply engrossed in my notebook as he gave the class a sum and walked round the class.

He was old, I reckoned. He was married, I knew. And he wasn’t exactly good looking either, I admitted. Yet, something drew me to him. What -- was a big question better left unanswered.

He stopped at my table, where I sat, lost in these thoughts.

No, I won't look up, I decided.

I don’t know why I did this. But I didn't want to look into those eyes, whose language I couldn’t decipher.

Anyway, I mechanically repeated to myself that he was a teacher, and I- just his student.
It didn't help. Damn.

An hour passed away, ad he still continued to talk about benzene and phenol and naphthalene. Some time later, he glanced at his watch. A Rolex, I recalled, as I had noticed during that memorable extra class.
He then glanced at me.
In an attempt to ignore him, I too glanced at my watch, and realized that the class was almost over.
He put back the chalk on the table, looked at the class and said:
“This will be my last class with you. I am getting transferred immediately to the other branch. Good luck, may god be with you in all you do.”

My heart skipped a beat as he looked at me for a nanosecond and then walked away.

Those eyes…I wish I had deciphered.

Drat. This couldn’t be love.

Monday, April 28, 2008

When tagged, I'm at my best!!

Disha tagged me, and I'm all smiles about it.
Here I am, presenting my self-obsessed side...(oh! how I love to answer questions!!)

Instructions: Remove ONE question from below, and add in your personal question, make it a total of 20 questions, then tag 8 people in your list, list them out at the end of this post. Notify them in their chat box that he/she has been tagged. Whoever does the tag will have blessings from all.
1. What have you realised recently?
That life isn't really worth living, but isn't worth dying too.
2. Have you given your first kiss away?
Ahem. I prefer to keep it under cover.
3. If you were to be stranded on a deserted island, who are the 11 blog buddies you would take?
I dont waste time thinking about such weird stuff.
4. Where is the place that you want to go the most?
Melbourne, Australia. Gawd, I love the things I know about it...
5. If you can have 1 dream to come true, what would it be?
My wishes are too important to fit into one wish...sigh!
6. Do you believe in seeing a rainbow after the rain?
I get all excited about it, but have never ever seen it :(
7. What are you afraid to lose the most now?
My blog, man, I'm addicted!
8. If you win $1 million, what would you do?
Naah, I wouldn't go mad, trust me...
9. If you meet someone that you love, would you confess to him/her?I'll wait for him to say it.
I hate taking the first step :/
10.List out 3 good points of the person who tagged you.
Alright, here goes Dish:
a. She writes stuff I always enjoy reading :D
b. She is a wonderful person with that little bit of mystery about her.
c. She's an amazing friend to have. Mwah!
(I can be so nice sometimes...wonder why people say I'm arogant, proud, selfish....)
11. What are the requirements that you wish from your other half?
I have a list already, so I neednt think AT ALL:
a. He must be an awesome cook, who would cook for me everyday by will.
b.He must LOVE kids, as I hate them. (uh..yeah)
c. He must freak out when I cry in front of him, but console me nevertheless. (I'd love the humor the scene would create...LOL)
d. He should be towards the metrosexual side. (Okay, already many people tease me, now you don't start...)
e. He must love me just as much as he loves himself.
f. He must be successful, and must appreciate writing.
g. He must be good looking, and please, a helluva cleanliness freak like me...

I'm so nice to just have these requirements, right?

12. Which type of person do you hate the most?
If I start, this blog would end up being nothing but the answer to this one. So, no comments.
13. What is the one thing you cannot live without?
Air? *confused with the question* And if you meant metaphorically, then I'm still confused...
14. If you have faults, would you rather the people around you point out to you or would you rather they keep quiet?
Surely, I'd like themto come up with it rather than go on and bitch about it. I HATE backbiters.
15. What do you think is the most important thing in your life?
Happiness, and all the things that come with it. ;)
16. Are you a shopaholic or not?
Hell NO!! I loathe the idea of it like anything. I cant standwalkingten miles for silly things like shoes or dressed or books or stuff.
17. Find a word to describe the person who tagged you.
(Dish, this word holds a very beautiful part of my life to it. Feel obliged...alright, I was kidding!)
18. If you have a chance. Which part of your character you would like to change?
Nothing. I am happy with what I am. And I dont care if 'people' are not. :
19. The first time you felt you were in love?
Uh...happened around 9th...what a disaster it turned out to be!!
20. Would you rather have love but no money or money but no love?
Love, but no money.
(Let me clear out, I won't probably fall for a guy who hasn't a bank balance, in case you're thinking otherwise...)

And I tag:

P.S:Lord, why do I always feel sad when tags come to an end...

Thursday, April 24, 2008

That Cokehead Lost...

When I woke up that morning, my head felt heavy. I wasn’t exactly feeling all well. Infact, I just wasn’t well. My head felt dizzy, I had a running nose. I put together all the strength that I had, to get up and look around. I was on the beach. I tried to recall how I reached there, but after three lines of coke that I had snorted last evening, I obviously couldn’t remember. I tried to convince myself that I must have come here myself last night. I had no other choice, anyway.
As I stood there, staring at the violent waves, my life flashed in front of my eyes like a film roll. And I began to reminisce.

I knew my life wouldn’t be rosy the day I left my home, and along with that, a cozy life. But never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that it could get so rocky.
My parents had seemed like tyrants to me. They had a problem with everything that I did. And when, one fine day I realized that the life they wanted me to live wasn’t exactly the one I wanted to, I stomped out of the house. Anyway, they had expressed their disgust of the fact that I was their daughter, the day they found out I smoke and drank. I walked out, swearing under my breath to never return.

As I embarked upon a new life, all I carried along with me, was a bag in which I’d stuffed a few clothes and my certificates which proved my education. I had to carve a life out of these, and I knew there wasn’t any other way.
I got a job at a call centre. They paid me enough to fill my belly, but not enough to buy a house. I stayed at a pal’s place for a month or so, after which she blatantly refused to give me refuge. That was the first time I felt I ad done a huge mistake by walking out. I felt scared as I walked out of my friend’s house. I was completely broken.
I could see that I had no purpose in life. And that troubled me.
I spent the night under a street light. Homeless, helpless, alone…
I went to a bar the next day. That’s where I met a peddler, who offered to sell drugs to me. I refused, and walked away.
But the next time I went to that bar, and was trying to find peace in my vodka, I met him again. It was pure coincidence, and this time, I couldn’t refuse.
I found a purpose to live – cocaine.
The peddler would supply me cocaine, and I would pay him all my salary for it.
Cocaine was tremendously hallucinating, and I began to find peace in it. Each shot of it left me so lost, so high…
It was a healer, it took me away from all the troubles of the world.

I still lived on the roads, but now, I cared less.
I never felt anything was going wrong with me, till one day, my nose began to bleed. It pained severely. I tried to convince myself that it couldn’t be because of drugs. I couldn’t.
I knew it was cocaine.
But I never went to a doctor. I was scared. And there wasn’t anyone to force me anyway.
Life moved on.
My meetings with the peddler increased. I now snorted almost eighteen lines of coke everyday, after which I passed out.
One such night, I fainted. I hadn’t passed out, I had fainted with the pain I my nose, from where blood oozed out like anything.

When I opened my eyes next, I saw myself in a room which had been mine some time ago. Beside me, I saw my parents, who wept like anything. I cried. And I hugged them as tightly as I could. I didn't want to leave them. I just wanted to come back.
I was glad they agreed with me.

I had learnt my lesson.


Perhaps not.

Cocaine never went out of my mind. Life seemed incomplete without it. I hadn’t any will power to stop myself, so I feigned evening walks and went in search of my peddler.

I found him, and with him, I found cocaine.

My parents found out soon. Their faces told me they had given up all hope. They seemed shattered. And I couldn’t stand it.
I decided to leave once again. It was just my way of telling them to forget that they had a daughter. This time, they didn't stop me.

I knew I was ruining my life, as I met the peddler once again and snorted three lines of coke.
But somewhere deep down, I just wasn’t bothered. Cocaine was now my life. It was a different point that it was poison, too.

That was yesterday. As I watched the waves come and go, I realized how I had ruined my life to an extent after which I couldn’t step back.
And I was sad to admit, that I wasn’t happy with it.

I knew what I had to do today…let the waves take me away. For the first time after so long, I felt like being led by someone…

I needed a better high than what cocaine gave me, and what could be better than death.

Not much was left of life now…
Not much of life was left now…

Sunday, April 13, 2008


It’s a moment of sheer joy for someone like me, who hasn’t the chance of eating even one meal a day. I heard one lady say something about the Durga goddess, one of those days. It’s for her, said she. I would never know any better, so I decided to flaunt this new bit of knowledge I’d gained on one of my usual trips to the temple.
I live in Dwarka. For some people to whom god is just perpetually kind, this place is heaven. I have often stood outside the gates of those high buildings, higher than I can bend my neck, and looked at them longingly. No, I don’t want to be there, but just want to actually know what these people do in big houses. But before I can even try to figure that out, I am abused by the guard sitting there, who has no work except to shoo away people like me. I am a ten year old, and I have a family – a mother who lurks around temples in hope of getting some food to fill her belly and mine too. A father who has lost all will to live, but still manages to trudge up to his work place, where he has to set up bricks. I feel proud to announce it to all my friends, that my father has built the building right opposite to where all of us live.
Little do people know about where I live. Across the temple, there is a straight line of tiny huts, that’s where my house is.
I have a bigger family than that, if I think about it. After all, all the people out there, who get together every festival near the temple, are my family. I’m one of them. And that’s exactly how I remember that day.

Ashtami. My mother told me. I nodded blankly, as I ruffled my disheveled hair early in the morning. Still partly asleep, I heard her say about how we’ll have to hurry up and reach the temple gates if we have to receive prasad from all the people who come there.
That’s why Navratras were sheer joy. All those rich people would come to the temple, with delicious offerings, which for once would fill my belly. Poori, halva, and most importantly the coins in there, hidden between this luscious food. It was sure a treat, and with that thought in mind, I hurriedly went to the temple.

Many came there, and I lankily stood with bare hands, as they filled my hand with what they thought was their way of thanking god. I didn't believe in god. I mean, had he been there, why wouldn’t he do something about me?
I saw some uncles dressed in plain white kurtas, with a tilak on their heads. All my friends rushed towards them, as we knew they would have something to give us. They did, obviously. I ate some halva, as one of my friends snatched the rest of it from me. I didn't want to fight with him for such a thing, although that meant he had stolen my food away. I had few friends.

By the time it was noon, there was a huge rush at the temple. I stared at the people walking in and out of it. Some were so gaudily dressed as if god would give them extra if they dressed like that. All of them seemed so happy going inside, and so satisfied coming outside that they surprised me. I could not understand what made them so happy. Somewhere deep down I envied them, as I wasn’t as lucky with god as they were. I shrugged and turned away from the temple.

As I walked around, I spotted two women making their way towards us. They had a huge plate in hand, which meant they would be giving us something. A smile swept across my face, as I advanced towards them. On nearing them, I tried to study them both. They were mother and daughter. The daughter was pretty, and appealed more to me, more so because she had the plate in her hand. She seemed apprehensive, maybe it was the first time she had the plate in her hand. Her mother walked in an arrogant fashion, with a maroon bag in her hand. The daughter looked so nervous, so gullible in comparison.
As I was just a metre apart from them, and the girl was about to give me something, and I had stretched my hand in response, someone gave me hard push from behind. I almost fell aside, as a clan of boys, some of which were sadly my friends, surrounded the two.
I stood aside and watched.
They seemed completely helpless. The daughter seemed as if she would just cry out loud. All these ugly creatures around her, trying to snatch off the plate from her, the sight was just so captivating that I just stood there, numb.
My friend, who had snatched my food earlier that day, made his way through the crowd of boys. He almost shouted at all of them. I was glad I hadn’t fought with him. He was helping the girl after all.
“Don’t try to snatch!” he shrieked, “Stand properly; they’ll give it to you!!”

Wow, that’s what friends are for. I couldn’t believe that he’d done such a noble act. The girl gave him a grateful smile, as she handed the plate to her mother, so she could give away the prasad. She had a beautiful smile. I noticed she wore a simple pant and shirt, yet looked so enchantingly graceful. As she began to lift one plate from the many others in the huge plate, my friend pushed her out of the way, and cornered her mother.
I couldn’t believe it. I wish I had fought with him, bastard.
She tried to find her way through the street urchins, in an attempt to reach her mother, who was trying to save the plate from the wild attack. The girl finally gave up and stood at one side. I was still standing on the pavement and staring at her, when I heard a huge bang! BANG!
They had done what I never wanted them to do. The plate had fallen off, and all these idiotic boys completely ransacked its contents. The mother stood there, defeated, and so did the girl. When the boys were completely satisfied with what they’d done, they moved away, only to see the mess they had created. Bits and pieces of the holy prasad lay on the ground, while the rest of it was still in their dirty mouths.
I just couldn’t identify with this desperation among these boys. I was hungry, but not wild and biolent.
I felt disgusted, ashamed of belonging there. I just didn't want to call these insensitive beasts as my friends, as my family.
I glanced at the girl. It was as if the sight was just too much to stand for her. She held her disappointed mother by the hand and led her away, as the mother grumbled something at us.
I sprang to action. I wouldn't say sorry, but I just wanted to talk to her. Something…anything.

“Listen…” I called to her, as she walked away.
She turned, as she gave me a stern look. I don’t think she recognized me; I was the guy she wanted to give the prasad to. But no, she was just too upset.
“I…I didn't get the prasad.” I uttered, as she stopped and her mother walked ahead.
She looked at me sternly and said, “You won't get any prasad, if you drop it all on the road.”
She added as she walked away, “Never have I seen such wild creatures!”

I stood there, angry, betrayed. I didn't even do anything! Infact, all this while I had been thinking about her…and that’s what she tells me?
I gave a mean look to the temple, hoping god was looking. And then I walked away to my house. I didn't want to eat anymore.
No more was I hungry.
That had happened for the first time in my life—I wasn’t hungry…

P.S: I hereby apologise for my inexcusable irregularity in posting. I hope you will appreciate my comeback...

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Six and out!!!

Alright, Vasudha tagged me!!! (Yayee!!! Uh..whatever....)

The Rules:

1.Link to the person that tagged you.

2.Post the rules on your blog.

3.Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.

4.Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.

5.Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.


I DONT like music. And yes, its the weirdest, most irritating part about me...but hello!!! Its entirely my choice and I WILL stick to it. I mean, not that I'm some headcase who doesnt like anything remotely sane, but just that; I simply dont see ay point in plugging something into your ear and shaking your head as if you're being given minorshock treatments. Moreover, with a hearing problem like mine, I dont think its fair enough to torture myself and others with such nonsense. And it doesnt soothe me, it moreover creeps me out if I listen to it for more than fifteen minutes at a stretch.

Moral: It doent happen to me, so i wont believe it. There, i see a science student...


I'm just disinterested. No, there arent any more words for my rude behaviour (read apparent) . I simply dont seem much curious about life. (Though one of those tests at facebook certifies me as curious, I think I know better....). And the best part is, i have realised this after much taunting and sarcasm...

Moral: I dont CARE...its how I am....


I want to experience weightlessness...perhaps its just one of those 'too much of physics' moods of mine, but...I want to know how it feel to let go of yourself.... And, I'm not freaked out about it...I'm serious...

Moral: I'd like to commit suicide someday....jump off the 7th floor!!!


I want to earn as soon as possible. Well, nothing like my parentshave grounded me and dont give out a single penny or anything....just thatrgular shit of being free...i really want to live life like I've always wanted to...

Moral: After 12th, I'm going to apply at McD's....yes, I donot want to work at a call centre at earn lots of cash....


I donot understand cellphones.Think about it, I'm going to be engineer, and it takes me an hour to figure out the model (Sometimes, it's even worse). And the best part is, i donot feel dedicated to this weird gadget at all. I donot like carrying one in my pocket 24X7. It freaks me out if I have to attend two calls in an hour. And I try my best to just keep away. And when my mum decides to ask me about her post paid and prepaid stuff.....*blink*

That's all I do till she realises two things

=> Her daughter hardly cares whether she buys post paid or prepaid, as she doesnt significantly understand ay major difference between the two.

=> She mustnt try to improve her realtionship with her daughter with such a topic in hand....

Moral: I wont utter a word next time some one makes mobile talk with me. They say *Silence is golden*


I love typing....NO, not that I'm planning to be a typist in the near future, but I do find it a lot easier than writing with a pen....so, there's a change in the saying...

*The keyboard is mightier than the pen*

Moral : Vasudha, we're poles apart...

I tag:







P.S.: Considering that all my recent posts have a post script attached to them, I'd like to carry the legacy forward...

I donot understand this post, I donot know why I'e written it, and I sincerely hope someone will explain that to me...

Thursday, February 28, 2008

Listen....One LAST time....

10th December.
I guess it wasn’t even an important date in anyone’s life….but for me….it was.
It was my brother’s engagement ceremony….perhaps the most important event that had ever occurred in my life. I was seventeen, preparing for my twelfth board exams.
But nothing excited me more than my brother’s wedding, which was due in February.
As luck would have it, I had terrible fever on the 10th.
Mom and dad said I would have to get a check up done. I persisted, but they were simply adamant. They told me, after collecting the reports from the doctor; I could arrive at Okhla, where the ceremony was to take place.
They promised me, nothing would take place without me being there.
Since they didn't give me much choice, I agreed.

As they left the house early in the morning, I decided to catch up on some sleep before visiting the doctor. Anyway, no doctor would be available at such unearthly hours, I thought.
After a sound sleep, I woke up and went to the doctor. He wasn’t my family doctor so I had to be as formal as possible with him. We didn't have a family doctor, for some unknown reason. I wished him good morning, as he told me to take a seat.
As he took out my report from one of his furnished drawers, he stopped.

He then said to me, “Listen Rohan, I want to give this report to an elder person.”

I smirked at him. After such a drive in the terrible winter, he tells me that he doesn’t want to give the report to me.
But then it puzzled me. I asked, “But why?”
The doctor said, “You’ll get to know….get an elder family member with you please.”
I tried to explain to him that everybody had left for my brother’s engagement, but that stupid doctor wouldn’t listen.

I began to think about the elders I knew, who could help me with this problem I was stuck in.
Only one name came to my mind.
Karan bhai.
He was my elder brother’s best friend. Oh my god.
I had to hurry, else he too would be off to Okhla and I wouldn’t know what to do.
I hurriedly gave him a call at his place.

Karan bhai stayed with his own brother and bhabhi. He had been with my brother in all his ups and downs of life. He was more than family to me. I had grown up just in front of him.
As I narrated the entire episode to Karan bhai over the telephone, he said he’d be there as soon as possible.
I heaved a sigh of relief. At last, I would attend the engagement.
Meanwhile, mom called me up. She was literally shrieking when I told her I was still at the doctor’s. Before I could tell her that he had refused to give me the report, she snapped at me, and told me to hurry up.
I made a face as I cut her call. Parents can be so unreasonable. As I waited for Karan bhai to come, I saw some TV in the doctor’s office.
Since it was still morning, and early morning at that, only news was being aired on the DD channels. This doctor was a bored human, I guessed; since he had no cable.

Karan bhai reached in no time, as our houses were just twenty minutes apart.
He hugged me and said, “Couldn’t you have got the check up done later? Bothering me for no reason at all. I have so much work to do at your brother’s wedding as it is.”

I whined like a baby as I complained about the doctor’s weird behaviour.
Karan bhai too greeted the doctor and said, “I’m his brother’s friend. Can I have the report please?”
The doctor was perhaps in the weirdest mood that day. He took Karan bhai to one corner, murmured something into his ear and then handed him the report.

As Karan bhai walked out of the office with me by his side, he was silent.
That’s when I guessed something was wrong…with my reports.
I asked him a hundred times, but he did not reply.
At last when I gave up, he said, “Lets go, I think we’re damn late. I hope they haven’t exchanged rings…”
This kind of made me forget everything, and we both rushed to Okhla on our bikes…for the engagement.

My mother reprimanded me again, and didn't want any reasons still, so I ignored her and enjoyed the festive mood.
My bhabhi was the most beautiful one I had ever seen…and she was equally fun to be with. I was so glad that now I would have a partner in crime at home, and mom and dad wouldn’t just be after me…after all, they were going to have a daughter-in-law to worry about.

The engagement ended on a beautiful note, as my brother hugged the life out of my bhabhi. They were such a cute couple….I wished I too would get a girl like that.

Meanwhile, I saw Karan bhai handing the reports to my brother….and I also saw my brother going pale.

This was enough. Why couldn’t people just tell me that I had some problem? I mean, what could it be…elders just get tense for no good reason. I could bet it was just some typhoid, or jaundice…or maybe in the worst scenario…chicken pox.
So? Big deal???

But I guess they knew better than me. A few days after that, my brother and Karan bhai took me to another doctor.
Karan bhai told me that it was their family doctor.
I nodded as I knew why they needed a family doctor and we didn't. Karan bhai’s brother had two lovely daughters Jiya and Parul.
Parul was around ten, and Jiya was not even eight I think. They were so cute, that categorizing them as kids and assuming that they were irritating would be unfair.
But anyway, they were kids, and needed a doctor.

Their family doctor was their very good family friend too, I discovered as she welcomed all of us with a warm smile. As I was told to wait outside, the ‘elders’ did some talking with her inside. By now I had given up on knowing about the reports…because I knew they were unnecessarily getting worried.

After some serious talk, we bade good bye to the beautiful doctor, and went to another hospital, which I guessed had been referred by the lady doctor.

I was told to give another blood test, like I’d done when I had fever. Even that day I had been wondering why they needed a blood test, but that doctor had told me they would need it to check for some viruses. I had simply nodded, as I didn't understand much.

This time I didn't ask questions. I simply gave my blood test without much speculation.

The blood test made Karan bhai and my brother literally white in the skin.
And I realized that it wasn’t actually mere typhoid or chicken pox.
It was something serious…and I wanted to know what….

I soon figured out….when I was admitted in the Cancer ward at AIIMS, Delhi.

Life after that wasn’t very good. Though I wasn’t required to study, there was a hell lot I went through.

I saw mom with watery eyes forever. And dad trying to be brave…but not being successful at all. And brother trying to be as casual as he could pretend to be. And Karan bhai being the joke cracker, which he really wasn’t.
Bone marrow replacements…chemotherapy….and I soon figured out that I was suffering from Blood Cancer…..and hey, it was a big deal….

Around two weeks later, I was getting impatient. The doctors weren’t leaving me alone even for a second. My whole body pained with those injections and treatments.
I used to often shout at them, “Just leave me alone….for god’s sake!”

But nobody wanted to listen. Everybody was bent on curing me from cancer…which I knew was incurable…and a terrible disease.

Karan bhai’s family came to meet me one day.
Parul and Jiya hopped around the place, and played the video game, the only thing I was allowed to do at the hospital.
They perhaps didn't realize the gravity of the situation….kids…
But aunty and uncle did.
As they sat by my chair, I told them “My whole body pains. And I’m bored of eating the same thing day and night…”
They nodded like they understood, even though everybody knew that they didn't….couldn’t …

Another week passed by, and it dawned upon me that I wouldn’t be fine after that…
It was cancer, and high time I realized that life had ditched me…

And I have realized.

I know I won’t be able to see my brother’s family.
I know I won’t be giving my boards.
I know that mom and dad do not cry ‘just like that’.

And so, I just want to make myself feel better.
I want to feel, one last time, that I’ve had a good life….
I want to know, one last time, that I was a good human being…


Because I’m dying….

P.S.: This account is non-fictional. It is perhaps my tribute to the only person I had ever considered as my elder brother…

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Leave the kids ALONE....

(No plaguarism intended...it's in context with the BOARDS )

Okay, let me put it as honestly as possible…boards do screw you up completely. They take away all your illusions about how life is so nice. And believe me, I am NOT kidding…
And as I walk down the memory lane, the only feeble memory I have (I know only one year has passed…but I have a short term memory…I’m serious) of the boards is my first one. I have hated Social Studies since the time I got to know what it exactly is. It is the most irrational and weird subject I have ever come across. No, I dont want to get into arguments anddebates abou this..becaiuse I intend to say something else...

And while it’s quite surprising that I remember the thing I hated the most, SST has been a torture for me since ages…
Come on, tenthies, here’s some consolation….

-------Applauses people??? Have some goddamn decency! :D------------

Bhilai is in Madhya Pradesh or Chattisgarh.
That was the question I was pondering over for the past few minutes. The classroom felt creepy, the invigilators as if called from hell….there I was, answering my Social studies Board Exam.

It wasn’t that easy, trust me. For a person like me, who still takes time to figure out whether London is in USA or Europe, it isn’t easy.
But after long measurements, which I’d like to think fell in place…I marked Bhilai in Chattisgarh.
That…was my last answer…..my LAST look at Geography….
It was almost time, so I slowly submitted my paper and walked out….I still can't forget the smile I had on my face when I submitted my answer sheet. I bet the invigilator must have thought that I was topping the exam…ha-ha!

As I moved outside the gate of my Board Centre: Navy Children Public School, I saw numerous parents literally clinging to the gate to see their child’s expression when she walks out of the examination hall. Whatever.
As I walked out, smiling broadly, I saw a few parents heave a sigh of relief. I looked around, wondering whether they were looking at their child or me. But, they were looking at me. As I neared them, I heard one of them say, “Oh, the paper is easy I think. Look how she’s smiling…”

No…they can't be that stupid…I thought.

Alas, parents tend to be stupid.

I decided to clarify…but then I saw my sister lurking outside the gate…and fearing that she too might cling onto it, I hurriedly walked towards her. And anyway, all the parents had shifted their focus to the other students who were coming out…so I decided not to bother.

I was so glad that my parents weren’t the type that would cling to the school gate.
I mean, how does that help anyway? I bet no girl even bothers to look outside the classroom window when giving her board. I mean, for god’s sake, she’s giving an exam…and she has seen her parents’ faces for a good fifteen years. Surely boards won’t be that torturous, that she could possibly forget them. Also, I wonder if there actually is a window that faces the main gate…oh…parents…Christ!
I was thankful, that mom and dad weren’t even around the gate anywhere. I could bet they were probably having an ice-cream sitting in the car.
Well, that is kind of weird…I mean either they trusted me so much that I couldn’t possibly ever get my paper screwed up…or…they were just of the very few parents who thought their faces could make their child nervous. Trust me; both the possibilities are equally dangerous….
But really, if we do not go into that, I think it’s the parents who are far more freaked out by this six letter word than the kids are.

Phew! That was some paper.
It seriously felt like I’d conquered the world…like a battle had been won…and DUDE, it had been won forever…
What made me happy that day wasn’t that I had marked Bhilai correctly, but that I was over with this damn subject….

P.S.: All the tenthies who chance to read this, a hell lot of wishes from my side…trust me, the after-math (pun intended :D) is really worth it….

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Shady people...

God save me from them...

When was the last time you have seen an expression on a person's face that you're still trying to comprehend...but it's gone! Well, if i's not happened to you, you're lucky or perhaps one of the likeable people among your peers. For when it comes to me...i have ( and i DO know) come across such instances which make me wonder what's wrong with me...
But there it goes, i have myself stated that people are meant to be bitchy...so one shouldnt care...but hello, somewhere down the line...yeah...i care, i wanna know why these people consider me so...arrogant, selfish, proud, @#$%d up...blah!!
SO, I have a plan...uh, too much official it sounded...so i have a solution to my own problem...(see, i dont even have a person who could offer me solutions..sob :( .. )
i have decided to figure out where people dont seem to like me...but christ! i need help...
say..True/False...(man..when you come to science, true false seems like life to you..and every decision is a plan...screw science!)

Okay...dont burst out laughing...its not funny...listing down your bad qualities when for so long you were living in a rosy world where you were purrfect...

ANYWAY...here i go....

1. I'm a bit too proud ( vel, though i dont consider that wrong...but still, people might...see, if you have it, flaunt it! err...sorry...I'm listing my evils...musn't justify them...)

2. Arrogance? Sure! ( i have to say something!!! you cant put me down by this...i just love it when people call me arrogant...its a nice word, aint it??)

3. Straight forward (That should have worked for me had this been a normal world...but here people are just simply WEIRD...so it kinda screws up my life...often...)

4. Selfish (okay, i'm surely not those 'I wont give you my pencil' kinds...nor do i hide my lunchbox deep into my desk so that no human eye could ever spot it...nor do i say no to people when it comes to giving them notes...what d hell!!!)

5. Short tempered ( Alright, i can be sued for this one...i cant even count how many times i have screamed at people for no good reason just because i wasnt feeling too nice that day...Sorry guys...if any one of you had to bear the brunt of it..)

6.Expectant (Probably that too, isnt as bad an evil...but people who know me quite well could understand this one...i guess!)

Phew!! That's it!! i cant torture myself any further....

Sob *! Sob *! Sob*!

I hope i get some good...sane...human...and kind answers...

Will i??? Will i not???

Yeah, that's all that i'm gonna do today..Valentine's Day couldnt have got better...gah!!

Should i buy a rose for this * Will i..Will i not?* thingy? Uh...i think its gonna be sheer wastage...forget it...
i will anyway get to know right....

Uhh...YEAH. >:(

Wednesday, February 6, 2008



Awrite, without creating anymore confusion about how someone is going to kill someone else...let me put it down clear and right.

Thank you Disha...(wait, I'm coming to it!) I think it was one of the days when everyone was practicing for the farewell. You, me Saumya and Taps were playing throwball remember?? that's when you came close to the throwball court net and said something like

"Mujhe is jail se bahar nikalo..."

It was just a line people...but I swear it, this whole story weaved out of it...

Bas!!! Now you know....saw 'Awwwww....'.....

Thank You Father.....

"Get me out of here! Damn you!" I cried as my father walked away...leaving me alone in that dingy jail..where I had been for the past one month. I was getting used to the aura, the feel of this stupid place, something I never wanted.
It was the last thing...the last thing I could have expected from him..my 'father'. Yeah right...fathers aren't supposed to be criminals...criminals to such an extent that they leave their own child in jail...that...was my father...

All the fine memories that I had of my childhood consisted only of ma and me. As a kid I always heard myself say that my father had been transferred abroad as an exports manager. I wish I had known...I wish ma had known and taken me away from the man who ruined me...
I perhaps would just be comforting myself if I say ma passed away...she was killed...by the same man who claimed to be my father.
A month back, one night when my father was on 'leave' and had come to meet us, two people entered our house. My father welcomed them. It was strange that he still knew people in India as he had been in Dubai for quite some years..
Anyway my mother served them tea while I sat there, carefully watching the two. They were dirty looking men, who looked like cokeheads to me. I was still studying them when my father told me to go inside. It was the strangest thing he had ever said to me. I obeyed him with suspicion. I went into my room and began to watch some silly movie when I heard my mother's shriek. I ran towards the living room, only to see one of the men fire a bullet into my mother's head....

It was the hardest moment I have ever known...as ma fell to the ground. I slowly advanced towards her, and sat beside her on the floor,while drops of blood surrounded me...
I was still lost and staring at her, and the only thing I saw her do was point a finger at my father...

This shook me, and as I began to understand what she meant, ma breathed her last...

She was gone, and the man who killed her was standing in front of me...i ran towards my father in revenge, but the two men held me.

"You bastard, you killed my mother!!...." i shouted, as my focus shifted towards the table, where i saw a bag full of pistols...and a photograph beside it...
"Dad...you..are a terrorist? You're killing the....you maniac! the Chief Minister!!!" I uttered as I tried to break free from them.
My father hadn't uttered a word till then. He finally spoke...
"Look Maya, this isn't something that I could have chatted with you about. It's business, and this is what I am...I think you need some time alone..." he said as he held me by my arm, "Your mother shouldn't have heard our talk... dont worry, no one will come to know of this..."

His words shocked me even more than the fact that he was a terrorist.
I shook his hand off me and gave him a tight slap.
"You're telling me to keep quite about this sin that you just did?? You call yourself human? You're insane!! This is the shit you've been upto in dubai... And you will pay for it..."
I walked towards the telephone, determined. I crossed ma's body in the way. But there wasn't time for me to cry at her death.... he would have to pay for what he did....and what he had been doing all these years...
I was about to pick up the receiver when something hit me hard on the head...and I fell to the floor.

It was the toughest night of my life....
I opened my eyes and saw myself in jail...
"What the hell am I doing here? Where's my father...he's a terrorist..." I screamed as a policeman slapped me hard.
"Shut up you bitch!" he said as he pulled my hair and I screamed in pain. "A woman who can kill her mother is a terrorist...not your father..."

It took me some time to sink in what he had said while he locked me up in the cell and went away.
before I could figure out what my father had done, I saw him come towards me.
As he stood across the bars...he said, "I'm sorry child...but it's business you see...you wouldn't listen...take care...I'm going to Dubai forever. Your mother is cremated at St.Paul's. I only wish your mother hadn't heard us talk about the Chief Minister..."

"Take me out of this place...you..." I cried as I saw the monster go away....
"Hey! You bastard! Get me out...you cant do this!!!"

When I realised that he wouldnt turn back, I stopped....and for the first time in twenty-four hours I cried...at my father's betrayal, at ma's death....at myself....

This wasnt exactly the life a father wishes for a daughter....

As I put myself together and sat on the jail bench, the policeman came back and said, "Fourteen years...but had I been judge, you should have been hung..."

I smiled to him and said, "I wish you were judge....."

As he gave me a disgusted look, i poured myself a glass of water from the jug kept aside me...

A month later, he came to meet me again...saying that he was leaving...
That's when I saw him last, and the last time I said, "Get me out of here! Damn you..."


Friday, February 1, 2008

Sciencie...No Problem...( Error 101 : Delete 'No' )

Man...when people told me that science was bad..

I was trying to be Superwoman (no..dont begin to visualise now...)

Actually watt lag gayi...and then the best part about this creepy, cruel and idiotic life(no, I'm not outta words, just being a bit decent...) is that person next door... yeah, the geeky alien who hasnt known life without books (not that he wishes to). When, once in a blue moon he looks out of his dingy room...all you can see is shreds of a youngster who has toiled so hard for a year that he has lost his identity...and it doesnt bother him...and as if making you feel guilty about your 'study routine' wasn't enough, he waves a hand at you. And when you suddenly start feeling that he is trying to become sane for once and wave back, he pops up THE question,
"How's your 11th going ? ? ?"

Blink !* Blink !* Blink !*

Like shit?

Naah, you dont want to say that to him...who seems like a butcher to you now...
Because you have heard the saying 'Put your best foot forward...'
So you do the best you could have done at that time...

"Great! .... Uhh...Good actually..."

This isnt a lie really, is it.... you just put your best foot forward...Right momma?

And then when he thinks he has sinned enough and needs to make up for it, he goes back into that cringy world...a world everyone expects you to be in..except you....

And you stand there...not even an inch inspired by that nerd....
And wait for some one else to open a window and wave a hand at you....

That's Life....( Read ' A Sciencie's Life ' )

Monday, January 28, 2008



The humor that he had,
The smile that made me swoon…
His silly ways were quite surprising,
Because they swept me off my feet.
Never in my life had I witnessed,
A man of vibrant hues, moves neat…

The humor that he had,
The smile that made me swoon…
He splashed color into my life.
A life that seemed lifeless, colorless...
I had begun to smile, to laugh...
He was the man, no more, no less…

The humor that he had,
The smile that made me swoon,
He was the joy of my life,
Till the day he committed suicide.
He had given me reason to live...
And lost his…and died…

His funeral day was the last one,
After which I never cried,
No tear ever fell down my eyes…
His ‘spirit’, I decided to keep alive…