Pentagram

A few stories. A lot of pain.

2012-01-25T20:12:00.002+05:30

I only lie back and stare at the ceiling fan. It doesn't make any sense. Like so many other things. The lamp is flickering too. Its strange, incredibly strange. I think your surroundings depend on your mood. When you're low, the stars stop shining, the night seems darker, more threatening, and inside, a part of you is dying. And you know what, when does it hurt even worse? When you're a family and yet you aren't together. You're sleeping in different rooms. You're talking but not really 'conversing'. The words are hollow, they don't hold any substance, they mean nothing. Things are superficial. And life is dull. They're your parents, and their quarrels are driving you insane. You're giving them so much, and have been trying so hard to put things in place, and for once you're not wrong. You've tried, in numerously. You've been hurt, a little too often. You know the worst feeling? When you don't know what to feel. Is it numbness, is it fear, is it melancholy or is it an abysmal mixture of all of them? I wish I knew.

In another place, you're living with a void. There's no one to look over you. You're supposed to be the happiest git among your friends, and guess what ? Astoundingly, you're still smiling. Your mother lost her life 6 years back, and destiny came and hit you right at your face again, you just saw your dad breathing his last. You have a sister, she isn't married, and you're still supposed to smile and act all strong. Guess what? You're still smiling. A fake, superficial one at that too. There're no reasons to live, or so you think. You still have to fight, because they should think your're strong. Ingenuity, you've probably lost all of it, though its only momentary. And once again, you don't know what to feel. Is it revulsion, fear, terror, angst, anxiety ? Or none of them? Oh yes, you're supposed to be strong.

You know when it hurts even more? When these two stories are not your own, but of two people who're closest to you.

2012-01-20T16:25:00.002+05:30

Is it a good idea to get back where you started from ? How wise is it to live tied in customs, traditions, all put under the name of a "value system" ? Some say, there isn't a future without returning to our basic values. I beg to differ, what about you?

The lesser known feelings.

2012-01-12T11:39:00.000+05:30

I like going back to Delhi. I love the way it is a beautiful amalgamation of different cultures. And also because Delhi is where I fell in love. And for once falling in love was not synonymous with falling into a bitter nothingness.
He gave me incessant, carefree laughter and brought me close to myself. The real lover is the man who can thrill you by kissing your forehead or smiling into your eyes or just staring into space.

Our trip was planned. We were sure we wouldn't fall for each other, but today when I've worked so hard and finally pushed Farhan at the back of my mind, I have other things to say. I realized remembrance is a form of meeting and forgetfulness a sweet freedom. Not clinging onto something has been comforting, and has given me a weird sense of security.
Solitude used to be beautiful, and I cherish every bit of it. Then, I didn't quite remember the story of the pure, white paper who appreciated its own beauty and said that it'd better be burnt to ashes than touched by one so unclean. The ink bottle heard the paper and laughed in its dark heart, so did the multi-colored pencils, but neither dared to move close to the sheet of paper. Ofcourse, the paper remained pure and chaste forever, pure, chaste and empty.

He filled me. With himself. With myself. And instilled a new me in me.

While it lasted, it was a different world.

No Name Face.

2011-12-25T17:03:00.001+05:30

Oh, you don't know who I am.

Because I put my name in the sand.

They have asked me about my nationality. Indian or Pakistani, does it change your love for me? Few even asked about the religion, would it matter if I was called Razia, Rachael or Rani? Is it relevant to you, a cut on my brother's body? Does it make you hate me if I tell you I condemn the cross? Do you fall in love with me more deeply if I were a Hindu? Does it increase respect for me in your eyes if I tell you I wear a hijab? Or does it make you loathe me like never before?

Will you stop reading me, believing in me, if I am an Atheist?

How relevant is my destination and location to you ? It maybe the city of blinding lights, or the city with machines, or them with hearts?
Does my not having a name bother you ? I like my namelessness, my supposed 'anonymity'. Because I can be anyone I want to. Those who matter already know that behind the facade, the charade, the masks is one person. I would like to Margaret for a day, and change to Benazir the other. And be all those women I revere, does it matter to you?

They asked me if I've been in love, and if not why'd I write about it? No, never, I haven't ever been touched by love. Its a bug, its a tranquilizer, I have no idea. Once more, I have imagined. Been somewhere I always wanted to be, headed somewhere I'd hate to be stuck in. I've sang a melody I didn't even know, and got the lyrics of a favorite song messed up.

They asked me about how young I was. Sixteen. And alive, breathing to be 17 in February.
But again, does it matter to you if I were a sixty year old woman in a 16 year old's body? Does it make me write any worse, think a little more futile? I would be Anne Frank for my life. Would it matter? Because I would still believe. In you, and in me.

Going off till Mid January or so. This year was good, and '12 will be better, Insha'Allah. Be good.

Because faith has wings.

2011-12-23T14:46:00.000+05:30

Striking.
Calm.
Peaceful.
The call from the minaret.

Our eyes meet.
We smile.
Its never condescending.

Many a strangers.
Today, I know all of them.

For they all smile back.

I see him praying.

Alone. Solitary.

He is in black.

His face, has lines.
His face, tells me stories.

They say he is mad.
I think he plays on a different note.

There are devotees.
Some complain.
Some seek blessings.
Some, like me, just stay.
Immerse in the divinity.
Perhaps, they too soak in it.
Soak in the serenity.
Yes, there's plenty.

Nomads, I see in abundance.

Here, they find solace.

Here, nobody shuns them.

I stand by the window.

There is music.
A lot of it.
The music of a city calling back at me.

The music a city aches to play.
One not marred by fear.
One that is not full of gore.

The sky is a sharp blue.

The women look more charming.
The men a little more august.

The children have but grown in innocence.

The surroundings are a beautiful blur.

A translucent, peaceful blur.

I see pigeons.
I see flights.

Of freedom, of liberty.

For once, no one is tied down.
For once, they all breathe the same air.

@Jamia Masjid, Srinagar.

Some things I wish I didn't feel.

2011-12-22T12:40:00.008+05:30

There are too many things I don't understand. I'm young, naive, experimental, stupid, and young again. But is that excuse enough to not understand things? I wonder.

I was reading Hosseini again. Khaled Hosseini, my favourite author. He's two books old, and he is a magician. His characters are painted in the primary colors of a fairy tale, and I have fallen in love with two of his characters once again because I connected with them like never before. Hosseini doesn't write about things I cannot establish a connection with. Bizarre stuff like glitzy vampires, too much vengeance. No, I don't relate to them, and avoid reading about them. I have gnawed and fed on literature and some books are just an insult to your intelligence. Sigh.

Happiness is an alien feeling. D lost his father on Monday. This comes after losing his mother in 2006. Its sounds like a film to me, and how I wish this were happening in a film too. I don't like seeing the most joyous person I know look so demented. He picked up my phone last night after some 30 missed calls. His voice hardly came out, for the first time ever our conversation was not full of insane laughter and pathetic jokes, for he only spoke in monosyllables. I didn't connect to my own brother for the first time, ever. I don't want to blame him.

I remember his ecstatic screams over the phone when he informed us his team from IIM-Calcutta had made it to to the top (well, almost) and they were all coming on Television. Dated 27th March, 2011. Vijay Mallya complimented him on being a very "enthusiastic young boy, with lots of potential" ON NATIONAL TELEVISION!

Yeah, D is a stud. ( He hates the word) He's charming, he's got the best hair, and he's too bloody intelligent. I envy him. And he has the best sense of humour. Though I keep teasing him that no body in this darned universe can be as perverted as him, he makes me laugh, and laugh really badly too. Though I love a lot of people, this boy has a special corner in my heart. His strength, I respect it. His intelligence,I envy it. His fervor, I adore it.

And I hope He is listening, because I hate seeing him like this. It drives me insane.

I've realized how ignorant we are, as humans, about our own needs. A character by Hosseini makes me wonder, why isn't it easy to scream out for love? You can scream when you're ignored, when you're pissed, but you can't scream out when you feel unloved. Not hated, mind you, just not loved enough.

There is soft music in my room. Life house probably. I'm unable to focus my attention on it, for once, even music isn't healing. For once, the calming voice of Jason Wade made no sense to me.

I just hear some broken lyrics here and there. Speak. Feel. Strength. Stand. You. Want.Everything.

I shut the book down and realized the time had whirled past. It was four already. The fog has entered my room too, or maybe its the grass working on me again, or the coffee. So many things I don't know. The fog is perhaps clogging my brain too. And D is on my mind, again, as I drift off to sleep.

So many things that I wish you knew

So many walls up I can't break through

Gone. Too far.

2011-12-18T20:41:00.000+05:30

She's still hiding.. she still has her lips sealed.
.
.
Her own tale makes her shiver, how on earth is she to face the world.
The colors around her are slowly fading away..

away ..

The hair is all muddled up, the smell of the smoke is persistent.. Who cares, there's a major flame raging inside.

So young and full of running
all the way to the edge of desire.
Steady my breathing, silently screaming
I have to have you now.

Tic toc, the time is just dragging past. She mumbles to herself silently. " End this ruckus as soon as possible, Christ .. "

Don't say a word; just come over and lie here with me

'Cause I'm just about to set fire to everything I see.

His bloodshot eyes and his fierce gaze, everything's fresh in her mind, yeah, even the cynical laughter.

Her own lover, oh no, now killer.

The room is empty, but the window on the left is open. The oxygen's coming in, or is it ? There's a wider emptiness inside, her heart's been made devoid of any love, all by his deed.

A moment of insane lust, and her life was ruined. Gone, her self respect, her prestige, and he was gone as well.
Alone, isolated, she had come to the city, and then, they'd met. Had she known about him back then.. but what's the point, its over.

And she was going to be over in sometime as well, as she turned to the other side, and saw the slit wrist, with dark red blood oozing out, somewhere she felt a weird contentment. She hadn't just been raped, there was more, but who cared about the "more", she was a no one .. "They ll find my decaying corpse and dump me somewhere.. another orphan, does anyone care? " , she reminded herself.

Finally, the moment she desired knocked in. As the moon came up, she passed away ... the torture was finally over.

They said a world walked with her.

2011-12-13T19:09:00.007+05:30

Nobody knew who her eyes were looking for,

The girl with the song kept losing her way,

The more she walked, the greater the distances grew,

Her dreams were her destination and her destination those dreams,

Ways lead to more ways,

And no body knew why the girl with the song kept losing her way.

An old memory stops her and whispers into her ears,

'How long will you walk? How long will you struggle?

Lets sit in the shade of yesteryear's,

Lets talk about the moment when a bud blossomed,

Lets talk about the moment when a melody was ringing in your ears,'

An old memory stops her and whispers into her ears,

'How long will you burn your feet in the sun? How long will you struggle?'

A world perhaps walked with her.

But there was pain inside her. Memories out flowing.

Sometimes the picture fades away on its own.

while some learn to stay happy with the new colors,

others reminisce about the old glory.

The girl with the song realized her guilt,

She dreamt of the swallowing the moon,

Bringing the sky on the land,

She wanted flowers to grow on stones,

She tried finding fragrance in thorns,

Prayed hail to give her warmth,

Tried finding calmness in the raging fire,

Her dreams were but a mirage,

The past is but buried,

The old conversations have to be replaced with new,

The broken thread only lost the pearls,

The beautiful have only learned to illuminate memories on their eyelids.

Inspiration credits-Javed Akhtar's poetry.

Some stories.

2011-12-12T18:40:00.003+05:30

I want to fall in love again. Give my heart to someone, and not be concerned about what he does with it. I want to pour my thoughts into him, even let them overflow, and let my words glide in the atmosphere. Some of them calm, some of them full of gentleness, some of them full of a happy, content nothing. Nothingness, a feeling I've derived very recently. Sometimes it comes alone, weeping out solitude, bringing with it a shudder. This nothingness is different, it has satisfaction. It has a tinge of completion in it, like it has resulted from the finish of a greater good.

There are a lot of things I'd want to tell this person, like my fears, in numerous fears. Of turning into someone I am scared of confronting. The same old sharp tongue, the callous attitude, the pretense of not being concerned, when inside, every word of acrimony would cut you slack. Not being someone I'd never want to befriend, not someone whose sight I would be repulsed by. The fear of losing someone I cannot live a day without. Whose texts light up my face, who considers me a punching bag and who roams around in striped boxers in the coldest winters for no reason, whose constant sarcasm and insults to me are only a reminder of how adorable a brother he is.

Maybe I'd tell him of that which is gone, though its been long since I shared a whisper with the Past. The last time we conversed we ended on a sad note, we had nothing to say, because I have already given it a little too much thought, a little too much of my time. I'd reach it instantly, no time machine required. Back then, every time I tried catching my dream, it was but a mirage. There were too many people I had interacted and broken up with. Too many make ups, break ups. Some said I talked a lot. Still do.

You talk too much
Maybe that's your way
Of breaking up the silence

That fills you up

Anxiety ate my mind then and inhibitions had clouded my brain.The Past is buried. Well, at least I hope so.

I would share my joys. The tiny ones, about that dear friend of mine whose laughter I find infectious, after talking to who, my mind feels lighter. We laugh. We laugh a lot, and that is the kind of laughter I'd want from him. Easy, carefree, even a little obtuse and stupid. Or maybe the little moments of bliss, we'd have plenty. We'd live in a world where we don't live in hypocrisy, where each moment of our existence is not marred by make-believe, by words we never mean, by actions we are not responsible for.

Now things are different, I have more stories to share with him.

They're happier stories. Of laughter. Of moments whose sanctity and beauty words would spoil. There were times I realized I was only obsessed with pain. Aren't we all? We surround ourselves with a dismal, uncouth silence and solitude and yet pretend to be happy about it. Strange are the ways of the world. They confuse me, always shall I guess. The hypocrisy. It annoys me the most.

Now there is reading. A lot of reading. And the sheer joy it has started giving me. And writing too. The interaction with people has changed, though the constant fear of growing too close to someone, and losing it all still lingers. We hear of introverts and all the trouble they take in making small talk, and there are people like me, who're so talkative that they feel scared of becoming too open and vulnerable. This feeling has remained.

Coming back to the stories I'd share with him. There is soft laughter, merriment, coffee-stained pages, and a bear hug. We'd begin with them, and joy would follow. Hopefully.

Hey, soul sister.

2011-12-09T20:48:00.003+05:30

She was 10 when my parents got married. 6 years younger than what I am now. We share the same birthday, 5th February. And more than the insanity for food and fetish for traveling, we have a deep, almost Karmic connection. However, that story is for another day.
Ma remembers her as the girl with gray eyes, filled with poignancy and a beautiful almost mystical glow in her eyes. Even when I look at her these days, I want to immerse myself in those gray eyes. They speak volumes. When ma went to Jaunpur after marriage, she was still there, with her two younger brothers. Ma recalls all of them to be her source of joy.
She was especially ma’s only friend, despite the age difference they had. A newly wedded Indian bride has much to keep herself occupied, doesn’t she? These three kids brought a twinkle to her eyes. After those lengthy, monotonous, days, she would lighten her mood with the innocents smiles and sometimes gasps as my mother, the master story teller that she is, always had something to tell them. Up to this day, when they meet ma, I see the close bond they have. Its something I feel enamored of, and almost scared to penetrate. Yes, they’re that close. The beauty of their relationship stirs me, and I see how ma’s face totally lights up when one of them calls and says, “Chaachi .. “ (refers to one’s father’s younger’s brother’s wife)
She got married to a Army man. He was one of the most pleasurable people to converse with. I've only met him once when they were staying in Ooty, and I remember how very well he took care of all the guests. Their house was located in a beautiful place, lush green hills, incomparable, astonishing beauty. And we were guests to beautiful people too.

They had a son who was one year younger to me. He was obsessed with video games and PSPs. Still is. And he always beat me at it. Technology and I have the most complicated relationship.
Anyway, I have only met her husband once, and sadly, that was the last time. The last I remember is my parents weeping through the phone when her husband’s death was announced to us. He had battled cancer and had sadly, lost his life in the battle. I cannot fathom the sorrow of someone who loses her/his spouse. How do they feel when they walk into an empty, silent house where at a point of time the sounds of someone’s loving words echoed? How do they feel when they look into the wardrobe and realize half the clothes hung in it, will never be worn?

But I have something to tell you beyond the innumerous questions lurking in my head. She is still strong as a pillar. Even today when I look into her eyes, I only find hope in her eyes, exclusive to someone who has not lost life’s battle. She has not given up, she has not turned a loser, she has not let despair, depression, gloom, misanthrope, or an eternal sorrow seep into her life. She is full of life, and even when you meet her today, you would only run into fits of laughter. Careless, flowing laughter. She is a charmer, and she charms me with her enthusiasm towards everything!
She’s my eldest sister on my father’s side and I am the youngest, and when I look up to her, I only wish I could imbibe an ounce of the fervor in her. The fervor to live on.

We used to fly.

2011-12-05T17:22:00.001+05:30

I’d like to lift the veil off your face. But then there would be too many to be lifted for they cover too many faces, all belonging to the same person.
The gust of wind that barges inside the room brings questions to me along with hitting me like a pang on my bare neck. You’ve been like the cold wind, giving me pain and making me feel good at the same time. You taught me pain can be beautiful. Its amazing how long I survived and faced the pain, the sharp, intense pain. Pain can be bittersweet, it can be memorable. And we face it for those we love, and sometimes, the suffering is worth it. Mostly not.
Its astonishing how superficial people can be. Like the flytrap. Elusive. Get too close and snap, it gobbles up your insides. I had thought you were different. We’re best friends to the outside world, inside, why is it so hollow? Fair weather buddies, not. We’ve survived through the hardest times, been there, done that and come out alive, together. Now? We haven’t bid goodbye but where are we standing now? I am on a cliff which has nothingness beyond the edge. One more stab and I will probably fall deep, very deep, into an abyss of drudgery, monotony, a state of absolute nothingness.
The words dipped in sarcasm do not appear comical now, and the humour is so sharp and savage now that I feel someone is pointing a finger right at me. Only issue is I don’t know who the finger belongs to, blame the darkness that has been created around me.

You reside inside me,
Where else will I find thee?

But you are lost, somewhere. We are communicating and yet we are not. We are laughing and yet we are not. It is a light, fake laughter, not heavy and deep like before.

Change is constant. Its perhaps the only constant things in our monotonous lives. And I hate changes. Especially ones like these, which leave a vacuum inside your mind.
I am not a saint, I have my past, but if I watch my words, shall you not? Is expression of love an equivalent of posing for pictures, sitting pretty, attending blah bah parties that have no meaning?

If I scream, I am wrong, if I accuse, I am wrong again, and if I be honest, I could not have been more wrong. Its amazing how we drift farther away. Still are.

We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.

Not again.

2011-11-30T23:24:00.000+05:30

"Hey"
"H.. uh.. h..iii !!.." she managed to get the words out of her mouth somehow.
"Hey, wassup ?" , his heavy, husky voice that arised insane sensations all over, echoed in her ears.
"N..n..noth..ing! I gotta goooo.." .
Escape was required. It was too tough to look into that gaze of his for long. Killer gray eyes, I tell you.
She sprinted back to the rear of the canteen and took out the familar red, slightly tattered, but still beautiful diary, and scribbled through it.

Dear Diary,

Did that just happen? Our eyes met, and my heart skipped a beat, just like the first time
I was talking to HIM. Yes, him.
Damn, some voices. Why do they arise those sensations even when the person from who its coming is a ... you know.
..

She saw him peeping at her from behind the stained window, and she instantly kept the diary inside.
He still had the innocence in his eyes. But she knew it inside, it was just an act, put up too smartly.
"You've hurt me once.. the venom is fresh in my blood. I can't let those eyes take better of me again" she mumbled reassuring herself.

She looked at him for the last time, and turned away. Away, from another betrayer.

The Nothing.

2011-11-26T16:05:00.000+05:30

As I perched myself on the couch with the regular latte, I knew today wouldn’t be similar to all other days. Sometimes you have those instincts, don’t you? Anyway, I sat down and drank to the slow Sufi playing in the background.
My mind was all over the place. Like always. Trisha would say, ‘Feet on Mars and mind in Venus’ if she’d see me now, like she always does. Sometimes, a pattern in every day things can be a beauty. You almost crib when they’re missing, those dialogues that are rather expected, even if they’re sarcastic.

The coffee tastes usual. You know what? Weed or

alcohol or even coffee, none work on me anymore. Yes, its almost unnatural. I call it getting accustomed. I overfed by body, I played with it, ruined it and now it is numb to all the three.

Weed doesn’t produce colors ahead of me, alcohol doesn’t give me the same high and coffee, I think I start blinking to sleep the very moment it enters my mouth. It is astonishing that as humans we can get used to almost anything. We get used to living a meaningless existence, we get used to pointlessly quarrelling, we get used to anything under the sky. With time, of course.
Randomly my eyes drift to the scene before me. Its Fall. My favorite time of the year. It amuses me, probably because nature holds out a message, Viva la Vida. (long live life) The leaves fall, and new ones bloom again.

When these dead leaves were green, love,
November's skies were blue,
And to us, wandering hand in hand,
Life was a fairy scene,
That golden morning in the woods
When these dead leaves were green!

But .. ever noticed that a dead leaf serves no purpose? It lies there. Solitary. It perhaps implies a crude reality. You bloom, you fall too bad, and its hard to get back.
I am still deflecting between thoughts. There’s no stillness, there is nothing that has grasped my attention so bad that I’d never lose it, no, not yet. I move, like the drop into the ocean. Philosophically, I joined the greater force, realistically, I lost my essence.
Who had I followed? Why had I lost my real identity? No one knew. No one ever would. Nah, not even me. I had friends, and yet I didn't connect. I had an identity, and I didn't use it.

I forgave, moved on. Did I really want to? I only thought it was easier to forgive and move on. Have you ever thought that perhaps forgiving half-heartedly and holding onto it is worse than holding onto a grudge?

Marley says, everyone is going to make you suffer, just choose the ones worth suffering for.

I chose a lot of people. Why doesn't the suffering seem worth while? Is sensitivity subjective? Do you have to shed copious tears to be called sensitive? I beg to differ.

The song has changed to Backstreet. They say, 'and then my heart did time in Siberia .. waiting for the lie to come true'

I have learnt things. Lies do come true. Your words play on you. Your sins come back to you. Your lost identity, it comes back to you too. Karma, or whatever. I call it life. And as I said, my thoughts were all over the place. Still are.

And I am still staring at the dead leaf. Thinking, philosophical or realistic?

Only a moment.

2011-11-22T18:40:00.001+05:30

You.

Yes, us.

And that moment.

The delicate yet pristine affinity.

Your arms around me, soft flow of words.

They flowed, some were heard, unheard, while some only felt, yes, more words.

We only sank inside each other even more devotedly, and the sanctity of our togetherness grew untarnished with each passing second.

I continued to hear the rain striking against the rooftops, pitter and patter.

It was indeed part of the jubilation then.
It had sung a song.

Of our togetherness.

The immaculate.

The perfect.

Us.

Fibonacci sonnet- Inspiration credits- Confused Soul

Firdaus

2011-11-18T21:02:00.003+05:30

This is the play ground which echoed with the laughter of numerous innocent children and now bares rusty skeletons of swings and slides. On another corner there were abandoned houses

. She told me there were strings of days with no electricity, no television or any media exposure. That’s how she lost her eyes. Even public transport ceased for a while, and she lost her feet then.
I hear an alarm, which was in fact a signal for people to run and hide due to news or assumption of aggression or threat of turmoil, but strangely, people continued to walk on the streets, probably because they have realized there is no place to hide.
She holds homeless, even hopeless inside her.
When I was about to bid adieu, I saw many standing with pictures of their husbands/brothers/sons in hope of them coming back. The ladies appeal more than often and claim their rights and perhaps claim their relatives too who've been cuffed under suspicion. I see some of them stand with tears brimming in their eyes. Someone told me that innumerous women burst out crying in the middle of protests, with no mention of the void in their lives whatsoever, and yet no one raises eyebrows because they all understand the pain.

She is Kashmir. And this is the poignancy I felt when I visited her this June.

PS: The title means 'Heaven'

What I'd wish for.

2011-11-15T19:11:00.003+05:30

Woke up around 5 to feed myself the otherworldly echo of the namaaz at the Mosque nearby. Religious or not, I loved how my room was momentarily flooded with energy and serenity as the faith perhaps peeped through the rugged old white windows. It all happened today, after I had been lectured about faith, belief, religion since ages by you. It took effect when you left. Intriguing, no?

Again, like all other mornings, I washed my face and looked up the mirror to find you staring back at me. One part of the other always continues to live on in the other. Always.

Like a fool, I remember standing at the bus stop twice, waiting for you to pick me up. Too late the realization dawned upon me that no one is going to pick and drop me for a while. Darn the bills I will have to pay. Ha.
Just before moving out, I was picking up a scarf for myself. (Deep purple, maybe) My eyes met a red and black tie at that very moment. The one you wore for your graduation. Ouch. Even materialism can give give us pain- Imagine. Was going to clean my cupboard before leaving, no more. Can't bear to put off the collage you gave me. The neon-bordered beauty is still hung on its side. Guess its too late.Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor.

Sometimes from "you" and "I" a "we" is not destined. Six months post the split with you, I still cannot acknowledge the aforesaid for us. Of course you believe we were never destined to be.

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind,

For me, it happens all the time

I'd want to mend the glass and put the pieces together. Maybe with a glue of togetherness, understanding. We had time, ample of it. What went wrong? No one will know. Ever.

On the bus, I thought of the dinner I'd cook. Alone, as usual. It has started to pain. Severely. Please don't bother. No one cares. Anyway, maybe after dinner, I'll sit in the balcony for a while. Read the J.D Robb I'm halfway through or maybe write some more. About just about anything. Maybe, even us.

And if I see a shooting star, the world will know what I wished for.

For the last time.

2011-11-12T21:59:00.001+05:30

Lets immerse into one.
This moment.
Let it stay.
Tranquil.
Silent.
As we merge.
The souls meet.
The stars on your body, consumed.

The smell of it, devoured.
This moment.
Please, let it stay.

The sharp noise.
Was it your blood?
Or maybe mine.
But we continue to merge.
Into one.
One.
As our spirits roll.

And come closer than before.

This moment.
All I have.

The happiness.
The satisfaction.
It lingers.
Revolves.
The room sings today.
With you and me.
The rain too dances.

But

The angst, the fury.
They also return today.
We come together.
For the last time.
The pain.
The blood.
It flows.
The dagger.
Comes down.

Today.
We merged.
And parted.
Perhaps, forever.

.

(How a lover is killed)

Incongruous

2011-11-09T17:55:00.002+05:30

Remembered.

The ex-love.

The first kiss.

The insane night.

The knock on the door.

Neglected.

The kick on the floor.

The futile fight.

The unspoken bliss.

The imprisoned dove.

Masquerade

2011-11-05T17:20:00.004+05:30

She walks with pomp.

Dances with grace. With finesse.

She has glimmer in her eyes.

Fuchsia on her lips.

Rose blush on her cheeks.

Sweet as sugar.

She is poetry in motion.

Inside, she is broken.

Weeps in silent sobs. In convulsive sobs.

She has thorns in her heart.

Gray on her mind.

Deep blue woes in her eyes.

Dark as midnight.

She is a forgotten dream.

She is the same person, and yet she is not.

Closer to you.

2011-11-01T17:30:00.001+05:30

I like how the breeze feels today. The way it softly caresses my cheeks. Its not moist, not too dry, just how I like it. I think its playing with my hair, just the way you do.
We're miles apart, but today I feel closer to you. Kind of schizophrenic, eh?

No one to share the blanket with is a little awkward though, for obvious reasons. But its okay, the melody you composed two days back is still thrumming in my head. It makes my insides swing to and fro, just as they did 50 hours back when you sang it to me in that deep baritone. Bliss. And oh, sorry for counting the hours since you've been away. Its not a typically me habit, I know.

I like the mint cushions a little today. I thought they were pretty ugly when you got them but I guess no head resting on them adds to the appeal. You know what I mean, no?

The night is still young, and the clouds are thin. Clear night sky, just as we love it. Just that there isn't that insomniac to talk it through tonight.

When I am with you, we stay up all night.

When you are not here, I can't go to sleep.

Praise God for these two insomnias.

And the difference between them.

~Rumi

There are in numerous patches of colors revolving in my brain after the weed. When I think of you, the patch incessantly changes to red. How not surprising.

I feel light-headed but insanely beautiful. If you'd tell me the stars shined for me today, I would believe you.

To the lost lover.

2011-10-29T17:45:00.003+05:30

I don't want your fears,
Or your inhibitions,
Or your nightmares.

I can't tolerate your intervention,
Or your lies,
Or your hypocrisy.

I don't accept your ambiguity,
Or your confusion,
Or your muddled theories.

I can't believe you,

Or your fraudulence,

Or your make-believe.

I can't take your love,

Or your admiration,
Or your happy endings.

Because you're not you. Anymore.

More than diyas on Diwali.

2011-10-26T10:03:00.005+05:30

“What will you find? Depends on what you’ve come looking for. “

Contrarily, I came looking for a place to write, looked for some readers later, and ended up finding some friends in turn. That’s how things roll. It’s about the unexpected. Always.
I’ve stopped blogging twice, so even though my blog life spans to around 3.5 years, I’ve been around for only 2 years. When I came back in September, I wasn’t expecting many readers, because most bloggers I had become friends with on Facebook and Gmail had stopped blogging. They’d all become a part of my life, and I wasn’t really enthusiastic about writing at first, ‘cos I didn’t like the ‘followers’ concept that’d come up when I returned. Like, duh? It was so Twitter-ish and it didn't even exist when I left in July 2009! I still think it takes the fun away from writing. Anyway, I got back to Blogger expecting nothing at all really, and things happened. Not only did I get back to writing (most of the motivation was provided by Suvaiba) but realized Blogging is indeed awesome (Yes, awesome is my favourite word *winks*) I exchanged mails with a couple of bloggers and realized I really did miss the intellectual, slightly-blunt, slightly-

crazy ,totally exemplary set of people I’d left back, and even though the unpredictable Aquarian that I am, I may leave anytime, I realized it was time to give a li’l token of thanks to some of my readers. To those who ain’t mentioned, don’t lose heart, I am an Arts student, I have a fantastic memory (and a more fantastic mix of self obsession in my blood, yeah yeah) so sooner or later, I shall bring you up if I think you’re not a flatterer or person-pleaser. :D

Zeba : My cute little (okay, not so little) Zebra. Her mails make my day, so do the virtual hugs which we keep giving each other. A darling. A teddy bear. (Though, I bet I am cuddlier) I can’t wait to actually strangle her to death with a super giant hug. The way she writes, I die every time I visit Zebra Talk. Its so smooth, her flow of words, that I think she could churn up genius in her sleep. A writer beyond compare. And the post titles and imageries she can produce. No words.

The Blunt Blogger- One of my favourite bloggers. I believe it takes guts to write honestly and well, bluntly. Everyone pleases people, its the easiest thing to do, its beyond anything to express what your mind and heart say. Sometime her blog shocks me, appals me, then it fills me with admiration, even envy, I wish I grow up to be someone whose tongue isn’t lose but in just the right place, just like Chintan. Here’s one woman I respect.

Red-Handed: I have often felt some blogs are over-rated. I’ve felt the owners just keep blabbering and people follow and write to them blindly. Red, or Laal as I call her, never, ever made me feel so. She wasn’t rude, or arrogant or some idiotic wannabe who believed she was next Kate Moss. She writes as someone I feel connected to. I believe her stories, her narrations, her conversations. That’s what makes her amazing.

Serendipity: Soul sister, yes. The same name, the same choice of shows, the same obsessions, maybe evens the same fears. I felt I found my distant twin on Blogville. She’s right; I should actually tag her as my Soul Sister-III. ( I just hope she’s isn’t as asinine as me) We’ve even got the same reversed Rs in our names now. *hi-five girlfriend* Her write ups, some of them exemplary. Her post on homosexuality blew my mind. And she’s lovable, just like me. *gets down on her knees and begs the reader not to think Crystal’s all me me me :D*

Lady Fiona: Finny, as I call my dearest, loveliest Soul Mother (I know, I take fraternity, brotherhood, families to a different level) I love the way I connect to someone who lives, well, literally across the seven seas. I wish to go around Britain sometime with her, not solely to check British guys but to sink in the depths of her poetry once. The way she writes, the words flow out of some place deep within her heart. I love how she’s considerate and reads all her readers carefully. Not another skim-through-the-post-and-make-a-sweet-comment blogger. You’re beautiful, Fin.

Shruti: The real sister. My love across the U.P-Delhi border (if there is one at all :P) The star Indraprastha produced. She’s part of my life, never thought of her less than sister. Titlee shall always love you, honeybum. :D She had a blog called Lithium first, and the way Lithium and Pentagram connected, dark, gothic, and dreamy- was a sight to watch. Love you like never before, Shru.

Siddhartha : Apart from a couple of posts of his which have really twinged me inside, he is an exemplary photographer. Lost and Found in itself is an experience. Pleased to know someone so talented.

Anuranjani: Yes yes, I got the name right. She’s a newbie and I love her, already. Which makes her an awesome newbie, okay? She’s not just the best commentator but a good writer too. I loved the KBC experience of hers, though it was one hundred percent real. (DUDE, autograph! Such deeds need courage :P) She’s a religious commentator (not to mention she’s the saweeeetest one too) and I am a religious reader of her blog. Shall always be.

PeeVee, Reicha, Shagun, Ishyeeta : The lovely ladies I have found off late. When PeeVee’s chocolate obsession and how-Karma-is-not-a-bitch shit has me in splits, Reicha (I have to mind the ‘E’ in the name) ‘s simplicity appeals to me. Shagun and Ishyeeta- I’m drawn to the two ‘cos they’re closest to my age. Got the same craziness, lovely-ness, awesomeness. (And I am the nessnessness of narcissism) I love how its easy to connect with this set of BFFs.

Soumyadeep, Rahul, Rahul Bhatia, Raj,Stranger: Few of the recently discovered writers too. While Soumyadeep is simplicity personified, the Rahul from Monumental crankiness gives me mixed reactions- laughter, poignancy. All in all, entertainment. Paisa vasool blog ;) Rahul jee who is a retired Navy officer makes me feel amazed at the way his experience talks in his posts. Keep writing and inspiring us, sir. Raj on the other hand is dark, sinister, and gloomily beautiful. Stranger is simple, straight and subtle. Just how I’d like a blogger to be.

Vinati:I love, love her header. Okay, lets not be lame here. I love the way she writes too. Hard hitting, subtle and beautiful- yes, that's how mirage is, for me atleast :)

Paul : Another friend across-the-seas. Poetic sauce is perhaps not sassy or saucey but rather mesmerizing and appealing. “Words and words are all I have to take your heart away” – I think Poetic Sauce lives on those lyrics on Boyzone. He says it best with few words. Not an ordinary feat.

Ria: Firstly, love her blog's name and she's the master of bringing out the fun element in the simplest of things. Anyone'd know how difficult this is. Some of her poetic verses are good too.

Kharren : She’s adorable, she’s funny, she makes the awesomest sketches (the colours, the textures- ASTOUNDINGLY GOOODDD) and she reminds me that I have to blog on occasions too :D Stay the same you, K. :)

Priyanka1 : Firstly, love her blog’s name. So chic and kind of mystical too; me likes! Its unusual, and not the mundane: My life, my experiences, my escapades kind of blog. Secondly, we’re similar. The same darkness, gothic feel, and the poetry: some lines actually match! Yes, she’s the one I advertised last ‘cos she’s like another twin, at least in the way we write and probably perceive too. Keep writing, hun.

Priyanka2 : Kamattthh jee ! Her blog leaves me with a smile, and a feel good thingie. I mean how cute a name is “because I believe in happily ever afters?” VERY. Though she has to be reminded that she needs to blog, I do do love this girl :)

Daniyal : I prefer calling him Mangiyal because he is obsessed with mangoes. Yes, you read that right. Mangoes like AAM! Dussehri, chausa, langda, alphonso. :D He’s usually the first commentator round here, and he even makes a friend of mine and me feel we’re being stalked. *shudders* Otherwise, he’s funny, quite a peach, you, eh, Danny Phantom? :P

Philo: She writes about love, she writes about separations, about goodbyes, about disasters .. in the simplest of ways and yet makes them appealing ! Way to go, girlfriend :)

Express: Without you, my blog ain't my blog. SHATABBBB! I love you, you fast-running, mad, slightly bonkers Mumbai madhouse :P This girl is funny, she's hilarious and downright crude and crass on occasions too! She's an ex-X-Chromosomian so it makes her all the more special. More than glad to know someone like S off blog, and know someone so awesome too! HUGS.

Ovais : If I was the girl who left him breathless, I'd not even think twice and I'd marry him. If you haven't ever visit his blog, you must go through all the posts under "The one who leaves me breathless" Not only are they aw-so-cute but very heart warming too. I wish your migraine dies away fastum fast, Ov and you have a beautiful life with the 17 year old teacher girl who leaves you breathless :D

Maryam : She's adorable! And she's ill these days too so I wish her lots and lots of positivity and good luck so that she comes back into action ASAP. Another across-the-border friend who writes about out mundane lives in a not-so-mundane and intriguing way.

Imad : If this guy blogs more than twice in a month, I’d reward him. Like, seriously! Imaaaadi is what I call him, and a slap is what I want to deliver to this Paki boy who nurtures ambitions of being a bowler (go to his blog, you’ll get a hint) and is actually sitting in a top notch engineering college, also anchoring shows. :P He’s a good friend, and my only complaint is – BLOGGGGGG KARAA KARRR, IMAAADDDII WARNAA MAAR KHAEGAAAA, AAYI SHAPAT! :P (Blog , Imad, or you’ll get beaten, mother swear hahaha :P)

TheOtherSideOfMe: Another sister-ish friend I have received. Lucky to have so many cutehearts around me, ain’t I? *wide grin* Our mothers have the same woes, and after sharing a couple of mails with T I realized how saweeet people can be :) There’s too much sweetness around. Uf!

Mahnoor, Fatima,Izdiher : Cute leel Pakistani girl friends of mine who need to start blogging oftener or shall receive slaps from after they’re given to Imad. Love the two. They got girly pink templates and despite my dislike for pink , I do read them. (school friends shall understand the gravity of the situation) Mahnoor who formerly didn’t like Mahnoors much is extremely cute and writes about her day-to-day stuff in a likable manner while Fatima amuses with her little words of wisdom or queries on occasions. Izdiher on the other hand is the owner of a wonderful template (envy) and a simple style of writing.

Aliza : She's funny, crazy ass funny and I drop down laughing almost every time I see her blog :D Wish her more and more jubilation and oh yes , I wish she keeps praising me lavishly too.

Alcina: Just came across her and felt rather overwhelmed when she thanked me SO kindly on her 100th. Reminded me of the line, “Those little things you do for me.. “ Wish to know her better. And keep stalking this girl with a mind blowing template and great writing skills.

Mohammed Israr: Misterio Vida. Isn’t that a really beautiful name for a blog? Coming to the way Mr.Israr writes- NO WORDS. I am Arts-biased on the stupidest occasions and I felt pretty baffled when I read someone who was SO freaking science based could write so amazingly. I know my statement doesn’t make much sense but seriously, someone doing research and all is supposed to be geeky, boring, maybe even lecherous, but this one is an exception, he is amusing. He amuses and amazes me with his write up. When the modern Anarkalee made me laugh, I was pretty shocked at how good his story framed around Bloggers was.Hats off.

Aakriti: Her comments have made me blush, like SERIOUSLY, and being compared to my favourite philosopher, Gibran, I was mind-boggled :O but this isn’t to return the favour or be nice to her in turn. There’s another Aakriti I know who I don’t really like, but here’s one I love. Yarn of Words is a neat collection of prose, poetry and after going through some old poems, I was enamoured. 
Grain of Sand: Flawless, flawless writing skills. The words come out straight from the heart and that makes this girl’s work all the more appealing to me. Wish to know her better. :

Suvaiba: My classmate, soul mate (haha, no) and a really good friend. She knows me inside out (almost) and we respect each other for what we are. Though we’re in the same Class (she’s 10 months older to me *pokes tongue out*) the way we write has a world of difference. The existence of some people in your life really makes you wonder where you’d be without them. Here’s one. (This is sensible and simple cos she asked me to not to act me i.e insane and stupid)

Uf, so my Diwali gift for all you people is complete. Precisely 2000 words on Word.

Lost and found. Or maybe never found.

2011-10-22T22:19:00.002+05:30

The gazes towards you turn even more deep. The meagre smiles offered amidst a myriad of sulks and straight faces never looked more false.
You want to hold on, but there comes a point when what you were clinging onto is lost. Who you were holding onto is also lost.
The face that once comforted you in a crowd turns hostile and in a matter of hours, it becomes a part of that crowd which makes you feel all the more uncomfortable.
You will walk into an empty room, and expect someone there, waiting for you with a look in their eyes. A look that sets a bad day right, a look that reassures you that everything is understood even when a word is not shared or spoken. Or wait, maybe the room is just not empty, its just void of people you would want to converse with. Its only a room full of people you only ‘watch’ but never communicate with. They weren’t one of those people you’d call to have the concluding-to-nothing talks, share the headless, tailless, senseless laughter. ‘Cos them with you could stir a conversation on anything, are not there.

The crushes, the dreams, the thoughts, the failures, the aspirations, the sentiments- that one person you poured everything into- is not there.
One day, you held hands, clung onto each other for support and the other day, things turned haywire. And you lost her. Her touch, her smile, her comfort, and most importantly her presence and essence.
Maybe she’s still there, but her way of looking at you is totally altered. Now you ‘just talk’ never ‘communicate’. This, is even worse than her going away. Perhaps, forever.
.
That really good friend of yours and how you lost him/her. How it pains!
Sometimes the walk-out is for bad, mostly not. But her empty place ..
How you wish her back.
Maybe life turns around, and you get her back. But .. you both know, once a knot in the thread, and things are never the same.

Update : This is off the blog post entirely but I got a friend who writes awesomely and deserves tonnes of readers, Priyanka. Visit Gossamer diaries NOW. Its an order. And yes, we're similar. (Which means, awesome ;) )

Real bliss.

2011-10-18T22:15:00.000+05:30

"No, no, no. I can't let the girl share the bill while I take her out for dinner!", he quipped.
"That is for women you have to impress. Not me!", she laughed.
He joined in the laughter and said, "So you don't want to get impressed by me? Agh! Sadness!?"
"I won't. Don't even try", she said with a straight face.
His smile dropped a little.
"Haha. Gotcha. Brighten up, boy", she comforted with the smile and a light laughter, again.

He'd finally got his school crush out. Though, he hadn't confessed what he felt. He hadn't asked her how she viewed him either. What if the question ruins the sanctity of the moment. Well..

"Stop thinking about me. Concentrate on the mojito. Its divine" She broke his reverie.

He smiled. And thought, let the confession be for some other day. He'd wait. Perhaps, forever.

Today, lets just concentrate.

On that beautiful smile.

All out of love. Well, maybe.

2011-10-16T18:55:00.004+05:30

Philadelphia, USA.

Their eyes met and they knew instantly, the search was over. That realization came from within, something just clicked and their hearts found a way together.
Those starting days of being inflicted with the wounds Cupid makes- they are insane. Insanely memorable. Anamika was taking up Psychology, Bilal- Business. They still met, only to immerse and sink deep within each other's eyes. Only to feel the warmth of one sweeping into another. Only to share a kiss or two that left a lingering joy, till almost forever! Life.was.beautiful!
It went on till three years. They realized it was time to go a step further.

Kabul, Afghanistan.

Anamika, covered in a hijab felt rather uncomfortable and shrugged and cringed. Not because of the attire, but because of the piercing gazes. She was sitting amidst Bilal's family members.

She intended to make them her family too but no one except Bilal's younger brother, Razi seemed to approve. She had thought she'd be scared of Afghanistan, but now she knew, she was scared of love. How amusing.The atmosphere only tensed further. Bilal was with his mother in the next room, trying to persuade her, and BANG, a utensil clanged to the floor. She heard loud sobs, and Bilal's mother stormed out and said- "THIS is who you want to marry? Forget her being an Indian or a Hindu, do we have any izzat (respect) in the society?

Bilal and Anamika took the blame on themselves. Maybe they'd been too pacy. Maybe they needed to think over themselves together. Maybe they really needed more time

Delhi, India.

This must be a joke?! What is this love bullshit?!? You're only smitten with the boy's good looks."
"You must be crazy? A Muslim?!"
"Not even Indian. AFGHANI?!"
"This is what we sent you to USA for?!"
"You bitch. Get over him or get out of my house."
They mentioned him, his religion, his country as if they all spelled out poison.

Repeated attempts.
Kabul.Delhi.Kabul.Delhi.Kabul.
End of attempts.

Philadelphia, USA.

New life. Yes, cut off with their respective families. Yes, still very much in love. Not "madly" or "blindly" in love, mind you.
Their friends joke around and quizzed if their child would bear a Hindu or a Muslim name. Anamika (still Anamika Khurana not Anamika Rafiq) replied, "Its rather filmy, Na Hindu banega, na Musalman banega .. Insaan ki aulaad hoga, insaan banega! "(Neither Hindu or Muslim, he'll only be human)

This is a true story. I know of an Anamika and Bilal who met. Who didn't care if they'd end up in a land of hijabs, ghoonghats, Diwali or Barawafat !

Dreaded "D"

2011-10-13T16:50:00.003+05:30

I didn't want to give away my life to drugs. I had seen how marijuana had consumed the love of my life. There was a choke in my throat when I thought of Faraz now. His sharp yet tender brown eyes that ended up as darkened and laden with heavy eyelids, always covered in tiredness.
I remember the cigarette burns he gave me. I remember all the times he violently made love with me, leaving me with scars all over. It was as if my body was his source of revenge. I still loved him then. Painful, however it may be.
"You'll always be my hero, even though you've lost your mind." Sigh.

Not all love stories are happy. I ended up losing Faraz. My Faraz now had beer in veins, smoke in his eyes and puked disgust. He in fact, was not mine at all.
I stood next to the window that was once our spot of cuddling and long conversations. There wasn't any Faraz to cuddle up or converse with him any more.
There wasn't much purpose left. I had no where to 'belong' and I only bit my lip and shed a tear.

I have only ..

2011-10-11T17:45:00.003+05:30

I am not a liar, I have only hidden many truths.
I am not scared from my past, it only bears too many scars.
I don't hate the rain, I only cannot control my tears then.
I haven't been in love, I have only lost him.

I haven't been a ditcher, I have only left a friend's hand.

I am not scared of screaming, I have only lost my voice.

I have not a committed a sin, only seen too many and kept mum.

I have never felt for him again, I have only missed his presence in my life.

I haven't abandoned vibrant colors, I have only taken up the ones that are unassuming.

I haven't separated from the crowd, I have only started being scared of addressing it.

I haven't given anyone hatred, I have only received abhorrence time and again.

I still stop to smell the flowers, I have only stopped devouring their beauty now.

I haven't been two faced, I have only deserted the ugly.

I didn't want to be a complicated, I have only lost the simplicity.

I don't believe in paradoxes, I have only fallen in love with them, again!

Sometimes!

2011-10-01T20:02:00.008+05:30

Sometimes ..
You should settle with the complications,
Not mend the broken glass,

Not kick the tit bits of magic,
Learn to dance in a puddle.

Sometimes ..
You should give up the unnecessary malice,

Not fret over the lost memories,

Not kiss the roses of the past,

Learn to swim with the flow!

Red.

2011-09-28T14:30:00.004+05:30

She cleared the wooden table and carefully kept the washed glass vase besides the wall.
They were lying near the table, smiling up to her, all packed in brown paper.

She put them inside the vase with contrast to the flower, and whispered to herself.
"There isn't much color in life, but I know how to fill in some."

And yes, the red gerberas did glisten in glory, and filled color.

And and, I should be a good girl and do good things because it is a good friend's birthday after two days. *broad smile* Everyone please heartily wish Imad (Imaaaaaadi, as I put it) Kindly keep him in your prayers and pray really hard such that he manages to meet the love of his life, Genelia D'souza. (And pray for me too, Ali Zafar, okay?) That's your gift Imadi! (The first image) Bless you, my cricketer to be. :D

- From Suvaiba and me :D

And and and, I am taking a break. Exams approaching.
Take care :)

When he picked up the rifle.

2011-09-25T18:41:00.005+05:30

He looked stoned. His eyes had a blank stare in them. I shook him twice, but to no avail.

He stood at the door, and went on to look at the blazing fire at one end of the room. It was snowing hard, way hard outside, but with just a jacket on, it did not look like he had any sensation of what so ever was going on around him. I was uncertain of what his expression was meant to convey as well. One thing I was definite about, there was a storm raging somewhere inside him. Would not it be inside us too if we saw one of ours being burned, kicked, abused , and killed right before our eyes? His kid, standing with a slogan in his hand, being pulled by the officials into some wagon, his wife's kameez being tattered into a thousand pieces, and a maniacal laughter all around. Those dogs. All this while, he was there .. lying there, with his legs severely wounded, his wife raped, dead , his son being taken away to some place he had no clue of .. but he was helpless. He was wounded, and slowly giving way to a mental vacuum, whilst the images in front of him grew more and more hazier , and the pain went to become more and more excruciating .. the images more hazy, and hazy ..

A rattle on his lower arm brought him back to his senses, or so he thought. Something struck him, and his reverie broke off in the middle, or maybe it was just his conscious decision, maybe the end of his story was too painful to be thought of. The moment he came back to his normal vision, thoughts circulated, and he realized he was not in the midst of a gore anymore. His body which was shivering as he was daydreaming about his past experience, stopped doing so, 'cos now the scene ahead of him was different. Though, the pain which the memory brought along with it .. ah, it would not ever change.He was himself, without his family ofcourse. When he moved on towards the rifle hung on the left, with a glint of revenge and venegeance in his eyes, something did not surprise me.

..

Man- protagonist. An unknown guy whose swept in the middles of a bloodbath with his family. Sees his family beaten up et al, and takes up arms as a desperate measure for revenge. I wonder if you need this, but anyway!

Dying everyday.

2011-09-21T18:42:00.005+05:30

Lena entered the room from the door at the back, which connected my room, (just for the night) with hers. She came in, and pulled the chords of my corset so tightly, that I felt unable to breath. But no, I could not complain or mutter a word, not because I was scared, but ever since last night that I was entrapped here, my vocal chords and the sound echoing in them, had faded away, or precisely died. The black skirt I was wearing was too short to even cover my lower half's one fourth, but I did not care, I didn't have any shame inside me left, or probably there wasn't any asset I had to hide, 'cos someone would come in and tear me apart. I pulled up the fish net stocking, which were probably a saving grace, as they did manage to cover me up an extent. Lena put some brig
ht red lipstick on my thin lips, and hurried off saying I should sit on the bed with rose petals all over, with my legs in a "slutty" manner. I didn't know what that meant,but I just sat, and started having glimpses of the past.
I was in New York, happily living with some friends in an apartment, and ready to come to Chicago for my job. Had sent my bio data and all that to an office in Chicago and the only reason I chose them was they offered a whooping big amount of money for a small job that I'd be doing for them, their only demand was they wanted a full length photograph of me. I could not manage to see through all this, and so I did as I was told by the letter I recieved from them. Two other girls had applied, all asked for full lenth photos, but only I got selected. There was no sorrow inside me to leave the girls back, except for Natalia, because she was the one with who I had interacted much. So I packed my bag, waiting for a guy to come from the Chicago office to guide me through the procedure at the Chicago airport.
After reaching there at around 2 in the night, a vague darkness was all around me, I always heard this place buzzed with activity but I had no idea why everything

around was so silent all of a sudden. Little did I know that I had been chloroformed during the way, and was now being taken off to some place called "Red light area" The guy driving the car was giving me occasional glances, as if he was about to climb on me, and rape me off. I was scared, and wanted to jump out of the car, but the other guy probably assumpted it and said "Don't cha try doin' anything gurl.." and took out a silver gun and pointed it at me. So I just kept shut and waited for this ride to come to an end.
After about half an hour I came to this place called "Red light area". Bright red and green neon lights flashed at cottage like places, and I looked at awe in the voluptous girls hanging around with elder or younger boys in skimpy outfits.

It was then did I get face to face with an ugly truth inside which I had been envolved. I wanted to scream, but words failed me. What happeneed to me next? I was taken to the "boss" who examined me from up to down, and asked a woman to take me to the changing room, and give me clothes. I had them, but for them clothes meant something which could not cover even half of you.

Without any knock at the door, a guy of 19-20 years stepped into the room I was sitting, and jumped onto me without speaking a word, and did what I cannot describe. It would be a shame for my parents if they came to know that they're well educated daughter is trapped here. I don't know how much he pays the people, but I get raped every night. My soul is torn into pieces, and these pieces are burning in a fire of lust, and sex.

I die everyday, and lose the leftover me with every passing minute, every passing second.

--x--

Prostitution is heinous, it is ugly, it is inhuman.

And yet.

2011-09-20T17:02:00.005+05:30

The twist in his expression,
Her violent, miserable sobs,
His lost daughter,
Her husband to who she bids goodbye.
The untold, inexplicable human misery.
And yet the helplessness.

Bomb blasts in India. In Pakistan. In Thailand.

What are we coming to?

This goes for the victims.

When he walks away ..

2011-09-16T16:15:00.007+05:30

That moment when you lose track of life. You're going too slow and its almost blazing past. Maybe, somewhere, you didn't try that hard.
You don't ever want to let that feeling sink in. That image, that ugly memory of you watching his pulse dying.
You want to sit, recollect those innumerous , silent conversations, maybe even attempt to fix his gaze in your mind. Even when the world falls down on your little shoulders, you want to believe he will come to your rescue. You simply do not want to break away from those hands that have held you so warmly through out your life. Its amazing how a moment turns life upside down. A moment brings the tint of life from white to gray. The man was your Hero. The way he defined perfection, and demanded it too. How, when you were small you wanted your Ideal Man to be like him. Yes, he commanded respect too. But also let you get away with the mischief, sometimes saving you from bash ups too. He was stern, only because he wanted to save the fragile, little you from a cruel, tragic world.

He never gave up on you, but now you have a haunting image ahead of you. It appalls you, threatens your memory and you want to erase it. But too late.

You see the same man struggling for life, breathing his last. That broad frame of his, as it now shrivels to skin and bones You want to believe it never happened, close your eyes again as if you woke up from a nasty dream. Its not your past, you cannot shut down a door at it.

You only weep as you see your Father's corpse being carried away, being buried away ..
You want to believe it never happened, and then again .. you have to.

The loss of a father is perhaps, one of the greatest and most severe. Keep my friend's father in your dua/prayers today. Please :)

Goodbye

2011-09-13T20:54:00.006+05:30

Its amusing how you can look into the mirror and stare at the eyes of a perfect stranger standing ahead of you. They were Soul Mates, how and when did he change so much ?
His ways, God's ways are mysterious, and how and why he makes you meet some people, is a rather huge mystery.
Why had she ever met him, why had she smiled at him at the first meet, why had she waiting just for "one" sight of him. why had she given up everything for him, why had she fallen for him? AT ALL? The worse that he could get.
It seemed so perfect when they got married. All that her eyes could see was how madly he loved her, like each cell of their bodies had decided to be tied unto each other till eternity. Like, only.
Now was different. She had now been broken. With the innumerous ways in way she had been abused, not just physically by him, but even mentally. The burns, marks, injuries, cuts told a story of how pathetic each night with a monster had become.
He would be drenched in alcohol. She would be beaten, kicked, abused, accused. Protest? It was out of question.She was the wife, she had to "endure".
It was now , a tad-bit too late, even the brain refused to cooperate, and finally, like many an unknown face, she decided to give in.
It was that fine, cold, February night, she burnt herself, and shut the case of another grief-stricken wife, with undying love STILL in her heart.
Where she lay in eternal sleep, she still loved him, the Angel turned into a monster, like a dying man loves his life.

With shivering hands her friend tore her note- "I could have tolerated if the injuries were only on my body .. too bad, now they're on my heart. Goodbye."

Just felt like writing after reaally long. I guess I really did miss Blogger.

2009-07-11T22:16:00.002+05:30

Have you met someone whose been the reason behind the most smiles and the most tears as well ?

I have . :(:

The "R & F" factor.

2009-07-08T19:02:00.004+05:30

Between reality and fantasy..
Life lies waiting.

Choose a real fantasy.. or live your reality like a fantasy.

55 fiction : Untitled

2009-07-02T19:00:00.001+05:30

The night I came back from Rina's wedding. Ayan was sleeping soundly..hence I lifted my pillow to find two green hair clips staring at me..I stood shocked as I recalled something my maid told me..

"I always take my hair clips out before sleeping, they give me a headache"

55 fiction : Let the smoke stay ..

2009-06-20T14:50:00.007+05:30

How long could she hide the tears? This or that? She'd been thinking for long.

She could see just one solution.
She took out one more cigarette and lit it.

Let the smoke stay, its more clear than my life.

यह धुआ

2009-06-17T18:03:00.004+05:30

पहली बार इस मदिरा ने ऐसा प्रेम फैलाया था
दिल में तूफ़ान सा उठ कर आया था
...
एक तमन्ना हमारे भी मन में सहसी आई थी
लेकिन शायद वोह दर्द के धुएं में गुमनाम होने आई थी

कितनी यादें इसी धुएं में खो गई
कितनी तुम्हारे नाम पर सदियों तक रो चली
शायद तुमने प्रेम को मेरी नज़र से देखा ही नही
या शायद तुम भी उसी धुएं में कही थी हो चली ....

55 fiction: A hidden truth

2009-06-13T11:28:00.002+05:30

He opened the window wide, he believed faith would come in with the wind.

He knew she'd made him the happiest person on Earth after the night.

She was lying peacefully, with nothing but a white blanket over her. Her beautiful brown hair covering her lily white face.

He kissed her.Softly.A kiss to end the torture and pain.

And put the dagger inside her chest.

I'm. . . . . .

2009-06-02T13:24:00.001+05:30

I am the consistently burning flame of the candle
I am the calmness and tranquility of the sea
I am the power of Dusk and Dawn
I am the beauty in the feathers of a fawn.

I am not the farewell I bid to thee.
I am not the Angel in yesterday's reverie
I am not the cold and sour laugh you heard
I am not the dullness in a discouraging word

I am what you often hide from yourself
I am the road which leads you to your goal
I am the will which makes you stable
I am the strength both abled and disabled

There is more to me than what the eyes can see
There is less in me than what can be
You don't know me well; but still you do
Because I'm the power residing in you.

I'm your conscience.

2009-06-01T11:21:00.002+05:30

There was a time when I made one post, and within 1 hour there used to be atleast 5 people commenting on the post, and now, I make 1 post, and it takes 5 hours for 1 comment to come. No, I'm not comment hungry at all. Its just this "Followers" thing which irritates me, why do people "follow" your blog when they don't even pay a single visit to your blog, forget commenting, they don't even say a hie or make a SINGLE visit. I guess they probably do it, so that I follow their blog. And then there are old blogger 'friends', who'll send you 10 emails asking you to come back, and when you actually do they don't even come to your blog, unless you visit theirs. OUCH! I'm not visiting any blog to ask anyone to visit me back , which most of my "new and old" commentors are doing. I did that earlier, but now i don't. And now, most weirdly people will come upto my blog, not even read the post (not all people, some) and leave a comment like "I agree with XYZ, ooooh!..what a lovely template" See, if you like the temp. ask me to make one for you, or just don't keep bragging about it. Templates are like clothes, and like you change them, I change my template. AND..no one likes to be told about their clothes all the time. (good or bad) NO, that does not mean that anyone who critisizes or compliments my template/header is stupid or I think he/she is ignorant, its just that will you please read what I write?
Maybe I'm not writing like I should or actually I could, but still I am concerned about blogger friends and read things they write, I don't just skim or simply ignore the matter and give a comment like "hope you come back soon blah blah blah" I know this is darn rude on my part to write this, but I just need explainations. And I'd be happy if I had just 5 followers and not 65, but they religiously or (not so) religiously actually READ what I write..and not just come here to please me, or expect a follow on their blog from my side, cos I simply don't do that.

And whatever..people who do come here do matter to me, and I comprehend who reads me, and who doesn't.
PLUS I thank people who've been here always, and don't come here ONLY when I comment on their blog, because yes, maybe we are selfish but people who're bothered don't always need that "comment on their blog"

Dark truths.

2009-05-28T19:12:00.006+05:30

I started putting red bangles on, while Ma started settling other things in the house. Was adorned in a red sari, and even after the sveltve figure, there was something the sari could not hide. Anyway, Pooja came into the room, and told me that the people had arrived. Papa was making them comfortable as they come out of their car.
I was seated at a wooden chair, and was staring into my own eyes, through my reflection in the mirror. Brown eyes, black kohl,red bindi with black outline,red sandals.. just worth satisfaction maybe. Whatever..I moved out of the room, and went straight into the kitchen. This was a usual routine for me,and I always knew the result, and was never excited about "new" people coming in. I still don't understand why Ma instills new hopes inside her, whenever she gets a recommendation about XYZ from Aunty ABC.
There was a smell of sumptuous servings filled inside the kitchen. They are no more pleasing to me..because I've smelled them..just to often, similar to how I've worn bangles seven times before, and hidden my face with a pallu and walked with shy steps to the people. Yes, you probably would have guessed what I'm talking about, and if you haven't you probably will, in some time.
Like always, I was handed a tray of this and that (food and yet more food) to carry to the drawing room. They were seated there. One aunt, who was scanning me from head to toe, and probably taking in every detail of me, maybe even how many stones are there in the ring I'm wearing. Its disgusting that a B.tech Topper is living like this, but whatever,family comes first. And then the dreaded part of the discussion starts, they make me walk ,why? to make sure that I'm not handicapped. *Yes why not, as if I came flying in front of them*, they make me write,eat and even speak.
And then they stand up after further argument or discussion, with finishing the plates f servings clear ofcourse. They'll walk down like burgalars, who're too scared to commit their crime. I care nonetheless, because I've seen people like these before.

They reject me for their son.
All because I'm dark.

Yes sir, being dark makes me a non-human right?
Thankyou very much.

55 fiction : Remember the roses ?

2009-05-25T15:17:00.002+05:30

Desperately trying to mend the glass of the golden frame containing our picture, I sit by the window looking out into the world. The world which seemed beautiful when your hand's touch comforted me at ugly times.

You always said that its insanity to hate all roses, if you got pierced by one thorn. But. . . when the thorn cuts you deep, and the roses disappear.. do you have a choice?

I am ?

2009-05-21T12:45:00.005+05:30

~ I am the tears that you can't hold back.
I am the wounds that cut you straight.
I am the vision which aims up high.
I am the stars which refuse to die.

I am the witch of Macbeth.
I am the successor of the Angels.
I am happiness overpowering the sorrow.
I am the laughter in tomorrow~

Adieu

2009-03-30T17:43:00.003+05:30

To all the people who care :-

I admire the people I met here. Its been like the best experience. Maybe I'm back to my beloved blog. and to you great people , but for now, I need a change. I'm just not takin' a break, I'm going away. I wanted to make this grand and happy, but nothing is beautiful. I remember growing angry and irritated from bloggers when I saw them making comments on a person's nature/ personal life. And maybe, even though I've been bad to some people here. (I ain't taking no names. They know it) but I've learnt some lessons here. I can't list them all, but they have always had an influence on my impressionable mind with their words. But now, everything seems absurd, and maybe.. it's time to say goodbye.

Miss you all.

Aayushi
(You're free to mail me..*id on my profile*...but I don't gaurantee you a response, cos I've been irregular with the Internet )

Similar indifferences.

2009-03-18T13:46:00.005+05:30

Someone sits with the fresh mehendi adorning her hands. The smell of incense prevails in the entire room, which is otherwise illuminated with golden bulbs all around. The red satin curtains draped on the antique windows, seem to be dancing along with the sound of the dholak outside. She sits and looks at her diamond ring, perched on her ring finger, looking as gorgeous as ever. There were giggles from her friends next door, all making parodies of something or the other. The outside is crowded with people, someone is making the sweets, and drowning himself in the jubilant and mirthful atmosphere which surrounded him. Someone was being critical of nealy everything her eyes met, and interrogated all about everything, and poked her nose in everything she could figure out as intriguing, and irrespective of the glances they got, enjoying every moment of it. Lightbulbs adorned every corner of the Manor House, and each part of it shouted with glee. Someone was all worried if the invitations had reached the right people, and someone was too involved in checking if the red bag or the black matched her dress. Squeals from adolescents and toddles alike, and a grandmother following them with a cane stick. They were common sights. Common but happy.

Somewhere, the walls of the house had grown numb, the white color had become even more pale, as the colors of someone's life were slowly fading away. An elderly woman shocked from the incident, sat with her lower half paralyzed, and slowly crawled from one end of the room to the other. The surroundings seemed to have been weeping with an abysmal misery. There were children here too, but even their impressionable minds had got the feeling that there was no good happening here, and even they refused to continue their game of Hide and Seek. Maybe because mirth, joy, and bliss, they had all hidden themselves somewhere, and made themselves to tough to be seeked. She was sitting on her bed, with absolutely no one around her. Just yesterday he was by her side, and she had kept her head in his strong arms, in which she could weep, she could laugh. Now, it was different, there were no comforting arms around her, just she, the stupefied her. She lost her husband. It had to happen with everyone, it was common but sad.

Life offers us complete contrasts, at times. Where someone sits happily, waiting for the wedding bells to knock on her door, someone is immune to the happiness, as her soul weeps to have to burn the corpse of the same man who she loved from her heart.
People say we're responsible for our own happiness and sadness, but at so many instances, we have no way out to get out of such times. Maybe..life's too weird .

What holds me back..

2009-03-15T15:55:00.007+05:30

~ You want me to attain Nirvana,
A bliss from the world's odds and blacks,
But how do you suppose me to do that?
Its your love that ties me back ~

Random Rambling !

2009-02-09T12:20:00.007+05:30

For a moment..I forgot that I had exams to look up to!
And bwahahaha..my birthday party was just yesterday! :D

So even if I leave some of you disappointed ( Due credit to my story "The Curse" whch is supposed to be completed..)

I will be back on March 15th.
And oh yes..my exams start from Feb. 26th, and I'll happily flunk if I don't study! :D

So without any long stories..and excuses..I put my bloggie baby on a halt!
i will be back..though I may contine commenting on your blogs..I take a break from mines!

Adieu! Though I will be back in sometime..

And oh oh oh..for all te girls who're interested in what I got.
( I didn't click a single picture except for my shoes..:D)

PS- I willl treat you all if I get anything above a 90 in any subject except Bio,English,Hindi,History,Geography,Computers. I know I practicallly didn't leave much rather than MATHS,PHYSICS AND CHEMISTRY. They're pretty much to kill me. :D
(Even a 90.5 would do. Someone please pray!)

Cafffee with Raka-n!

2009-02-04T18:00:00.009+05:30

o my dear and beloved birthday is round the corner. I mean noo..not literally,its tomorrow! :D..and yeah,I turn 14. Happy Birthday to me in advance.

My dear and highly beloved Raka the journalist was kind enough to do this for me.. she interviewed me (I requested her to do that, because I got requests from some genuine blog friends to disclose myself on Blogger!) So yes..here's Ms.Raka Johar..oops..not Johar..I was just trying to make this a bit Koffee with Karan types. :D

So here I hand over the mike to Raka the rockstar! ;)
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Welcome back to my chat show, and you are reading todays interview with Crystal aka Aayushi... am i not sounding like a pro talking interviews and all?? :P.. maybe i should just start charging for my interviews.. okay jokes apart! incase you are thinking of clicking away from this blog.. you dare not.. because the real thing is here.. We are here to celebrate Aayushi's birthday but first we are going to discover a side to Aayushi we dont usually come across.

Q.1 I still can't believe being so young you are so enterprising, creative and industrious too. I'm amazed. What do you eat to be such a larger than character? I think you are the youngest blogger on the block.. but its your maturity that stuns me.. Care to reveal your secret?

What if I come up with something like I eat one packet of Sona Chandi Chavanpraash on a daily basis? lol..Pathetic joke. If you or anyone finds it so amazing that a 14 year old can write like that..then I'll tell you what my secret is.. I write what my heart and brain tell me to.Its not a cliche, really. Rash.Cute.Dark.Whatever..its my brain that calculates what I should be writing. The moment you stop letting the fact that "Will people read this article? Will they critisize it?" get into your mind..you really become someone with an independant mindset and you write what you feel, regardless of whether people like it or hate it.

Q2.amazing!! on coming to your blog wont ever get clue of your age, seeing the maturity and confidence with which you discuss life and people, and churn out creative masterpieces.. so tell me what drives you to write??
Somone tell me that why does he/she live? Some may suppose that THEY HAVE to, and some will say because its a celebration and they want to be a part of it.
That pretty much why I write..no aspiring writer, no wannabe journalist..I write because its natural. And for think which come from inside you don't really need reasons for them always! :)
And yes..there is always a feeling inside me that there is a voice which is too meek at times to speak, and it needs a loud speaker to let it be heard by intellectuals. Maybe Blogger was a platform which I found which wouldn't be full of things like jealousy and the lousy human sentiments. And perhaps I'm a person who isn't easily emotionally involved, so I prefer my relationships like they are on blogger. I know I went off track, but that's quite much a part of why I write.

Q3.Impressive... so tell me aayushi.. how do you perceive yourself? [what kind of a person are you?]

Someone very headstrong and obstinate about what she wants. (I know that's a very bad way to start this..but whatever)
I can go to any limit to achieve something which I really want, but most of the times I'm really lazy with it. Someone who will strive to make her image from a nobody to a somebody everywhere she goes. There is a weird instinct in me, that if everyone joins in the crowd, what difference will it make if another face is added to it? You were born to resist..to fight for what you want, and that's what I am up to. Maverick, and independent..you can't get me influenced easily, nor do I try influencing people. Maybe that's one reason why people generally form wrong notions about me, 'cos I don't care to clear them. However rude I may sound saying this..but that's an ugly fact about me. I am non-chalant when it comes to people. Something what I think is good about me-I'm a very straightforward speaker. Its like I don't believe in hiding thiings which I don't like. Your face is dirty, I won't call it clean. Ever. Sorry, that's not me. So if I don't like it, I face it, change it, or chuck it. Easiest policy for me. Etc etc. This is too lengthy..and if I start my thesis on myself, it won't end.

Q4.I have always meant to ask you.. how do you manage to take time out to create blog skins and templates, and then customizing them for your friends, and then blogging pretty regularly.. it all seems super human to me.. how do you balance it all?

This is quite a question. Loads of people asked that to me. Its mainly because in the 2-3 hours that I spend on Internet everyday. (Which is slowly going to be shortened due to exams) is spent so tightly that I try doing everything in this time. Like...if you give me these questions, I'll reply to one, and copy down the other three, and plan a reply to it. Planning so makes things easy. Btw, I ain't obsessed with this Chatting Mania..so most of my time is saved. And for my whole days's schedule (Yeah,I'm one of the ancient humans who live on schedules!) you can very well see, I leave only 2 hours of studying. :D And yeah..when I want to do something for my people, I do it..even if I have to miss other important stuff for that! ( I can be saintly. I know :P)

Q5. Wow!! okay tell me any particular reason why you choose Crystal as your pen name??

What do you feel like when you see a Crystal? Something transparent,beautiful,and CLEAR! So that is precisely what had me trailing around having Crystal as my nom de plume. And another fact is I love Crystals. And the last reason..the poems which I wrote earlier always had CRYSTAL as my alias. So thats why! :)

Q6. So where do you see yourself at 20? strong an confident as ever and still blogging or sans blogging?

As far as I can imagine..I think I will be blogging, and be pretty regular to it! :D..I may be someone who has chosen Humanities as her mainstream.But but but, you can never be too predictive, and being a stark Aquarian..I am pretty much unpredictable. But yes, I think I can be pretty sure of the fact that I will be blogging.

Q7.Coming back to blogs, do you think that friendships that blossom on blog-world are for keeps?

I didn't think on these lines till last year, but an incident changed my notion on that. Friendships which occur on BlogoSphere are for real. People do feel about their chums over here, and they are considerate. I remember anwering a question on Mayz' blog that what're my views on friendships that bloom on net are illusionary because we don't see all the phases of a person..and know..my views definitely have changed,and I regret the negativeness in the reply!

Q8. You write some amazing poems and posts onlove, so do you believe in love?

If I say I don't..I'll probably be lying. Show me on person who doesn't believe in the institution. Even if love doesn't mean a boyfriend or girlfriend relationship to me. And as for the point that I write about love a lot..is probably because I find that it is something that every person has experienced in life. Apart from that..I somehow am not in favour of this gf-bf shit, and writing long love letters about them. I mean its my life, and that's how I want to shape it. I may have a guy..but I want to stick one. Probably that's the reason I never had a crush on anyone.

Q9 okay tell me something about Aayushi that no-one ever knows?

Lets bring the Crystal topic..crystals form illusions too,ryto? So why not leave this part for all of you to find out. Hehe..kiddin'. So Aayushi..someone who is very straight about things, and get emotionally attached toooooooo late! It takes me ages to call someone a friend, but it takes a micro second to give a hand to someone in need. My biggest drawback is I am someone who perceives..analyzes..perceives and analyzes more.and then over-perceives and over analyzes. Adventurous. Unpredictable. Comical..and oh yes, I can't miss MAVERICK. Someone who is into telling it straight, and doing what SHE pleases..and often is misled by her blind beliefs. But to an extent, she enjoys the experiences too! :-)

Q10. Okay so we all know you are hot property, a girl ready to metamorphose into a fine young woman.. tell me.. what makes you a cut above the rest? now dont be modest.. give all those competing with you a run for their money... tell us why no one can ever be Aayushi?

Modesty and me..lol! Trust me..you need to crack a bigger joke..m seriously NOT humble or modest. I boast like hell, and yup..m totally self-centered at moments. I'm a humanitarian when it comes to social work..though that is the only think which I don't boast around off. Maybe that is why you can't be me. Jokes apart! So let's give this a hint of modesty..you can't be me...because I have seen few people who write what they feel, and feel what they write. Not tht I wish to say that some bloggers write just to please their audience.. but a lot of them are in the notions that they have to bring something which catches a lot of eyes. You can't be Crystal because to get that honesty inside you.. you have to face the things from a sufferer's point of you..you have to break the illusions!..and most importantly you HAVE TO be someone with a spark to chose her/his own identity.

Raka-->Phew!! that was some amazing answers Aayushi, i have to commend you for the fine young lady that you are, for the head firmly cemented on your pretty shoulders and for the lofty thoughts that make you stand out in the crowd. here's wishing you a very happy 14th birthday and that with every year we see a new side to you, and that this journey of Aayushi and her blogs continue to give us hope and spread smiles all over. Thank you for sharing yourself and your world with us, so that we know the Aayushi behind Crystal, it was a most fulfilling interview.

PS-Don't forget to wish my two beloved Aqua Brother and Sisters..Nidhi and Karthik aka Kartz ! And yes..don't forget our super duper handsome FACEBOOK..who is now 5 years old! :D

55 fiction : When someone fills the absence.

2009-01-31T23:06:00.003+05:30

She sat her window,gazing at the clouds passing by, when a deep voice took her by surprise.
"You feel better?", he innocently asked.
"Time's healing things, but the absence still lingers.", she vaguely spoke.

"Someone's presence can complete the absence of everyone. For me its you!", he confessed.

She felt some love rekindled and gently hugged him..

How hell felt !

2009-01-30T19:57:00.011+05:30

As if someone slowly slashes down your head with a sharp dagger, and takes you to a bed of razors, the very same feeling dreaded me...as I was swept by the hysterical laugh outside.

"Your end is here!.."he mocked away to glory.

My voice was betraying me, but still I faintly mumbled--

"It feels great! Another cut in the wrists could ease the pain............."

And she lay numb..

2009-01-27T21:11:00.003+05:30

Suggestion : Before reading the post, think of the biggest mistake of your life and feel the sorrow which you felt at that moment, and with that sorrow give this a read.
Trust me, with no emotions of joy, sorrow, love or lust. You will never feel this post.

Like someone takes all the layers of your skin off..one by one, slowly.. with the speed by which the crystal clock gayily perched on her room's black and white wallpaper and said "4:30 a.m"..with the same motion did she feel that a sharp and thick knife was slowly being pierced into her skin and the suffering became inevitable..with each breath she took, she felt as if someone was slowly cutting off the oxygen supply which had given put in some life in her for a change. The red lamp in her room gave her the feeling that she had entered hell right away..and the Devil was laughing on her hysterically for her sin. She didn't know what to do except for piercing a blade into her left vein. Sudden reveries of what had happened the night ego kept flashing in her minds, and with each arriving moment, she felt as if the whimpering and comparitively dark piece of light coming in from the window was distracted by the smoke which kept coming out from her cigarette. She rubs them off, but the clear view has gone forever. The second she turns in her bed, she feels the sensation that she's been put on a bed of razors. She wants to walk, but her organs, specially her heart have stopped showing mercy, and slowly penetrates into her soul, a fear, a fear of her secret being known to the world. She's captured in clutches of slavery, and by each passing breath, she feels them become shorter by the second. The blade which she put in her left wrist hurts like hell, but there's no pain which can make THE pain subtle. The most eeries silence surrounds her, and into her eyes she can sense the dread entering..the dread which has made a lot of women suffer.Veins slowly turn green, and she can literally "feel" the mental vacuum. She had nothing, absolutely nothing to lay her head on, except maybe some gentle memories, which now hurt, rather than putting a gentle hand on her. The aura which once enlightened her soul is now her biggest enemy, and the pain slowly starts getting into her heart. The aura isn't friendly anymore..it slowly takes her conscience away. Was this destined to be? Laughter,joy,sorrow,love,friendship,hatred..all feelings have betrayed her..nothing remains, not even a tiny bit of faith. The faith was murdered brutally the very day she realized her blunder. And did someone say that mistakes are forgiven? Certainly not this one.Her body is considerably numb, and the pain is going away, not because she feels any calmth but because her last breath had been finally aken away. Not giving her any sadness, but just a reassurance that the insult will be of no one, not even her "Soulmate" who decieved her.

This is what a girl who has to abort her child feels like.
This is my point of view..how ugly it may be...but sigh.

The I in India

2009-01-25T14:48:00.010+05:30

Where we worship Goddess Lakshmi, but innumerous Lakshmis are killed before they see light.
Where women adorn their hands with bangles of a thousand hues, but the colors of someone's soul are tortured till they lay as few.
Where we boast of ourselves on our rich culture, but millions are stripped off their love through the terror of the past and the future ;
Where birds are free to soar high and calculate the altitude of the sky; but someone is held back by chains till they can no more survive.
Where a Black President's election is glorified upon, but the thin line between love and hatred is ignored.
Where the chirping of birds and the sound of autumn leaves is music; but artists beyond conservative thinking are fugitives.
Where the treasures of the past are adorned "only" on walls; but a fighter's privileges are raped away.
Where even the moon is not the limit, but the same independance and freedom no one's face can any longer emit.
Is this the India dreamt of? An India led by self-centered prisoners who live on Money?

A small life to live and reflect upon;
Why not make the reflection crystal clear,
And somewhere where truly the 'mind is led without fear?'

Current Music : Sapnon se bhare Naina- Luck By Chance

To someone..with sealed love

2009-01-22T20:21:00.008+05:30

We met in the psychology class, and wildly he was a fresher. (one of the most rowdy..I assure you!) It was just bang-and-we-met situation. We were having this drill where you're paired with.
Supposedly we were the worst pair which could be made.. he was one person who was like the most outspoken (read: brat)..someone who was continuously into singing hoarsely, not doing any assignments, and later poking people like me to help him. (Okay,okay!..I ain't trying to showcase myself as the biggest devotee of studies..but whatever!) So lets get back to the drill part..its supposed to be something embarassing, but now it seems like the best memories now..but time! I so hate this thing which is so damn stationery and is perhaps the biggest cheater you can have. No, I don't want any saints' view on this! I miss those moments..
Oh yeah..the drill!
Professor- So everybody, you've been paired, and whether you're happy or not! I'm done with my job, and for your job, read the details of the sheets which you've been given.
I cursed softly, and grumbled. To my dismay, Mr.Partner noticed it and laughed-"Boohoo! You don't like me, but I don't love you either, so lets not sulk, and get to know each other!"
I don't show off my sarcasm in front of people that easy, but come on, nobody speaks like THAT in the very first instance! So here's what I did..picked up the paper, and hogged down the details->
"Get to know your partner intently. Make him./her an open book, even if he/she is too closed"

I shot back right at him and said "D-uh! I don't need to open any of your chapters, you're already clear right from head to toe"
"Aw bad! I was just trying to find the key to lock your book!",and guffawed loudly.
"Huh..so whatever, lets get to the point..What's your name?",I ignorantly asked, not actually bothered whether he was George Bush's son, or maybe my neighbour's husband.
"Why not read the cover of the book, and tell me?",he teased.
"You're stubborn and outspoken..and yes, you really don't know how to talk!",I said.
"Lovely first lines about me. I'm so happy,girl!..what's your name then?..."Madonna or maybe Jennifer Aniston's cousin?", he said that and smiled.

Okay, I have to except, he had a very cute smile. I mean, yes, if he hadn't spoke to me like that, maybe I would have fallen in love with his smile. But for now, NO! I hate this rowdy rustic who thinks he Ramses' son!

"You're already making opinions about me. Too bad, I tell you, milady! You'll be a bad psychiatrist but a good psycho", he caught that on my face, and replied.
I mean that was some telepathy. I still don't understand how some guys really know what girls can be thinking.
Our drill continued..and went on for some two hours. Psychology is something bad to take up, incase you got a partner like his.

We gradually became friends..I mean yes, we couldn't be sure of it..but yes, friends can be a good word to suit our case. We had each other's numbers, but never called. We never visited each other's place, nor did we try to stay in touch. Nonchalant..oh yeah!
College was done in some years, and life was going great for me. Psychology sessions with some real psychos were over. My law practice was full on. Things were great with me. We had forgotten, atleast I had forgotten about him. You can call me ignorant.. but then time strikes you on the face at times..here's a Xerox of what I found while sifting through some old psychology book' of mines.It was stuck with scotch tape at the back of my book.

Subject : Get-into-the-soul
Drill Professor : Mr. Cherriot
Written by : Singh RanVijay
Mail status : Not sent
Respected Sirs,
My subject was a beautiful girl of 21, who had captivating eyes, with something very elusive about her. She hates guys who're sarcastic on the first note, and is someone very emotionally strong to be anything like a psychiatrist, but thankfully she's taken this an extra subject, and her mainstream is Law. As a person, she was someone fun to know. She reads a lot of novels.. as I found 1 Dan Brown and 1 Paulo Coelho peeking outside from her sling faded denim bag. She's someone very independant, with a mind of her own. That can be reflected in the way she dresses, and the confidence with which she speaks. Not easily influenced, but has less friends, 'cos she's too much into judging people by their first impressions and staying by them. To avoid her loneliness she blogs,writes dark poetry, and is a big Metal fanatic. (I know its bad manners to read a pretty girl's diary, but I couldn't resist it!) Though it doesn't show, she doesn't have any parents, and just to show that she is someone happy, she wears a mask over the sadness. She's intelligent, witty, and someone who I need as a friend. I'm someone who has hundred friends, but in need of someone as honest as her. This isn't anything near to a report, just a weird confession! And obviously I ain't mailing this.. Maybe she finds this in sometime, but maybe I'll be too far away. Maybe I'll be standing next to her,....ah ! The maybes are never ending. But for now..I need a pill. I had the migraine attack again.

Maybe he was wrong about the emotionally strong part..'cos I was amidst tears by now. I looked at my side, but there was no one by me. Just a picture framed in an animal print photo frame showed up. Yeah, I had the numbers of everyone kept behind it. I immediately called him up.

:-)

2009-01-21T19:16:00.003+05:30

One star to another star-->

"I so love you! You're the one who fill my life with light!"

{YES! You can kill me for not even writing one sensical post and not visiting anyone's blogs}

There or not?

2009-01-16T19:25:00.006+05:30

What if you wake up in the middle of the night and find all the stars faded away?

This is so happening with me.

Say it with a picture!!

2009-01-14T17:40:00.006+05:30

Hey!! Off lately I've grown sooo addicted to Blogger that one hour of sitting here seems like NOTHING! And as I've been creatively vella that I came up with this wacky yet fun idea.
Its like if you want to say anything to anyone here on Blogville..you can go ahead!
Go edit a picture..or tell me ,I'll do it!
Here are my sayings..where are yours?

***

PS_I've also been upto some random template designing and headers as well.
So if you want some..you can ask me.

Examples of what templates/headers I made-->
Swayam
Keshi
X-Chromosomes
Edison Square (wait till Riversoul puts it up! :-S)

For you and only you!

2009-01-11T20:52:00.006+05:30

The first word came out of my mouth --"Pa",
Their face grew enlightened with a strange enigma,
A thousand other words waiting to be taught,
So many more mistakes waiting to be caught.

Each step I took had a hand holding me from behind,
The memories alas, can no more be put on rewind,
Every tear of mine was swallowed by them,
They were forever my leading light.

We didn't need words to show our love,
For love--Aah! is a stronger-winged dove;
Our pride and ardor for each other grew;
Sharing our mistakes and experiences anew.

There were tears, there were smiles.
Moments flew so swiftly and we've moved miles,
And now when I sit; what to pen down; I decide
In a bona fide statement I say--

"We'll be with each other whatever come may. Holding our hands tight, we'll always cling onto the boat of life. Even if everyone betrays, and divide their paths. Lets assemble together the love and ardent affection we share, and oath to stay together...forever"

Love you Mom and Dad. You're my guiding light. When "friends" betray, you two are there,smiling with hidden rays of hope inside.
Happy Birthday Ma and Pa! (10th and 15th Jan!)

Click click clicketty click!

2009-01-08T17:35:00.002+05:30

Hey guys!
I've been up with a biiig writer's block (haha..talk about self obsession I already consider myself a writer =P) and therefore I've had lame poems up my sleeve =(
As for this time, I'm just gonna put up some snaps I took..you comment,judge the best and give them titles! (Copied copied idea :D)
Bada Imambara ( A historical monument f my city!)

Go look closely. Its a terrocotta lamp whose reflections are falling on Goddess Durga's face.
Its size was of nothing less than how big your eye lashes are. ;)
This picture for me is a symbol that even if there are things which might seem small and unimportant have their own value somewhere or the other,and needless to say they're the most beautiful!

Corners of a rusty old book..which I used to adore,and I really can't get rid of it.
You know something? This image gives me a weird message.. that sometimes there are things and people..who however old they get, you attachment with them keep growing. This is what they call "passion" ,

This pic to be symbolizes an abstract kind of unity. Whats your say on it?

The clouds go on..never ending, and so forever. For me..this picture is the closest to my heart.
Whenever I'm lonely and seeking answers, I lay back, and look at these very clouds..and yeah, I get the answers there!

Go ahead, add captions..judge the best, and let me rest in peace! :P

Till the sun sets..

2009-01-06T12:26:00.009+05:30

Till the sun sets and the moon illuminates the sky,
Till the stars start singing their lullabys and the moon showers its beauty,
Will you sit with me below this shading sun and look into my eyes till eternity?

Till the sun sets and the moon illuminates the sky,
Till the glow worms start acting like crystals of equality,
Will you show me up the way of taking our love to immortality?

Till the sun sets and the moon illuminates the sky,
Till the tears come back into my eyes,
Will you just grant this one wish and not just let it 'pass by' ?

For my Flickr photostream-visit-This

Up above the world so high

2009-01-02T17:59:00.005+05:30

He was sitting by the door of the shop, bearing the pungent smells of different spices, as they were being fried near him in a huge bowl, which he had been seeing since some “ages”. It was a popular dhaaba in which he had been working. He was lazily daydreaming, when he the shop owner coming inside. “Aye Rohan, three cups of tea”. I went down to get them. When I came back after telling the cook to make the tea, I stood at the kitchen’s door, and looked at my master, busy yapping down on his mobile. He found this gadget very peculiar. It had just been introduced, and was totally new for him. Meera didi came walking near him, and perched herself on a stool near the kitchen. She started working on the profit and loss of the shop for the current day, but was interrupted by Rohan’s voiceà “Didi, yeah mobile se hum kisi se bhi baat kar sakte hai?”. (Can we talk to anyone with this mobile thingie?)She look up at him, irritated on being interrupted,and hastily replied “Haan. Kar sakte hai.” (Yeah. We can) Seeing her being irritated he kept mum, and went down to lie down, quickly covering his face with the torn and tattered piece of cloth as a “blanket”. He didn’t realize when he feel into a deep sleep, and when he realized, the shop was about to be closed, and there were hardly any people left in the shop. He didn’t have to worry, because he lived nearby, in Meera didi’s mansion. The only difference was that she lived in a mansion, and he in the small and lonely servant quarters. He had seen a PCO near by, and he thought this would be a great chance to talk to the person who he had been longing to. He immediately took some pennies he had saved up, and putting on a woollen cap, hurried towards the PCO. He picked up the receiver and a middle-aged man’s gruff voice came down “Kaun hai?” (Whose it?) “Mai Rohan, mujhe baat karni hai!”(I’m Rohan. I want to talk.) “Tu baat hi kar raha hai, bewakoof”, he replied, with a crustiness in his voice. “Maaf kariyega. Mujhe apni maa se baat karni hai”. (I’m sorry, I want to talk to my mother.) “Number batao, kaha rehti hai?” (Tell me the number, where does she stay?”) “Number toh mujhe nahi pata.” (I don’t know the number) “ Toh kya maine duniya bhar ke maaon ka number leke rakha hai?” (So have I kept record of the world’s mommies’ phone numbers?) “Maafi Sahab ji. Who yahaan nahi rehti. Who aasmaan ke paar,kisi chamakte sitaarein mein hai” (She doesn’t stay here, she beyond the sky, happily living in a bright star) “Pleease meri unse baat karwa dijiye. Main unko harr roz sapne mei milta hoon, woh kehti hai ki woh mujhse jaldi milne aaengi. Lekin abhi tak nahi aayi. (Please let me talk to her. I always meet her in my dreams, she promises to come soon. But she hasn’t till now”

“I miss her”

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

2008-12-31T14:09:00.006+05:30

Hey all!
So here comes the last day of 2008. A thousand goodbyes to this dreadful year are waved. And here am I,Crystal..reluctantly waiting for the next year. Errrr..but anyway, like a good girl, I mus t keep the spirits highh..so lets begin this party. What's a party without decorations? So the theme is--> RETRO!

First we have the ballooonss..which I'd like to share-withAkshat,Abhinav,Heer,Smriti,Anwesa,Neha,KartzRakesh,Kartz,Pisku,Pinku,Vinay,Lena and Divya (DivineDIU!)

Then we'd have some sweet stuff served for the sweethearts over here ;)
All these cakes go to ------->>Sameera,Lena,Divvu,Preetilata,Sachi,Hemanth,Bhai,Riversoul,Cinderella,Meghna,MultiMenon,Divkiran,Arunima and Suresh.

Then comes the wine. ;) (The best part according to some) Which goes to->
Keshi,Xh,Chriz,Farah,Mehreen,Trinaa,Phoenix,Shatabdi,Anindita,Impressionist,Solitaire, Divya {PAP},Anurag and Peter.

Then we'd all go to the beach and celebrate..where all of you are invited =P

And oh yes..I forgot the cake. When we're back from the beach, we'll cut the super sumptuous pure and dark chocolate cake *huh. Forget about the calories!*

And to end this party of ours,I'd give you all my handmade cards ;)

HAPPY NEW YEAR,EVERYBODY!

(PS_The super super glamourous thing in the first pic is a crystal candle holder I got. Its a marvel. TRUST ME!)

And Santa is finally here..

2008-12-25T15:37:00.003+05:30

Santa has finally stepped on my Chimney and asked me to deliver things to all those wonderful people out there.

What is Christmas without giving? I received LOADS of gifts from a lot of my blogger buddies,and now I have some gifts to bestow on thou all.

The [A]bstract Blogger Award-->
This is to all the bloggers who're different from the crowd. "I ain't gonna be another face in the crowd. You'll here my voice when I shout it out loud". So is the case with these budding bloggers with loadsa talent in their own fields. This goes to-> HP,Abhinav (Y2A),Nivedita,Shruti (miss you,giiirl!),Swayam,Phoenix,Anurag,Akshat,Smriti,Priya and Indrajit!
The Thoughtful Blogger-->
This one is for all those souls who are truely caring..thoughtful..and concerned with a person's inner and outer beauty. They are gems..and thus this award goes to--> Divkiran,Shravan,Chriz,Multimenon,Divya Cube..(The three talented Divyas I know :P..Divvu in bloggerland,Divya of Petals and Pebbles, and the last Divya..Divinedue! :D),Riversoul,Leonardo and Hemanth. The Honest Blogger-->
This is for the merry makers who're bigtime honest with what they write.This goes to--> Keshi,Goonj,Cinderella,Riversoul,Stephen,Nits,Joidevivre,Kartz,PJ and Ceedy.

The Sweet as Candy blogger-->

The uber cute teddy bears get this..and it goes to=
Trinaa,Shatabdi,Lena,Divvu,Preetilata,Sameera,Suresh,Arunima,Divkiran,Aneri,Daydreamer,Vandita and Solitaire.

The Star Blogger-->
Thisis for the mindblowing writers and all those great people with great writing talents which makes them SHINE.
This goes to..Mayz,Sameera,Arv,Impressionist,Lena,Sachi,Farah,Riversoul,Mehereen and Cinderella.

Rebirth

2008-12-18T20:42:00.006+05:30

There are times..and there are people..there are people who stay,even when times washes away.
Of what I know,I don't lie in this category. I've always been the most ugly,most rude,most obnoxious,and most ruthless (and many more in the list..) The list is never ending. But there are things and people which change you..there are people who come into your life,make you realize how much of a wiccan you've been,and then they erode away. There are the most beautiful times, and there are the worst of times. I experienced them both. But each beautiful day till now, was hidden by the black cloth of malice that I had tied around my eyes since so long. But someone stepped into this life of mines,and has secretly taken out that cloth off. He's introduced me to the light which fills the universe..and also brought home the fact that life isn't about cussing,and acting as if you "care a damn". And trust me, "not caring" is never the remedy. So I thought, but now I don't. There is a different part to me now. He came into my life right today. The touch of his hands, caressing my hair,and whispering deep into my ears,has left loud echos all over. I really never knew how unkind I was to my life (and specially the people in it) But today..His mysterious entry has changed it all. He's taken off the cloth which has been put on me since so long, by no people, but by insensitivity and ruthlessness which has been prevailing deep within my soul since so long, tying me back from all the chords which have kept me back from the zenith.. The height till which I can soar..the beauty of the people who I received as "friends"..and the wickedness of me towards life. There has been a change today. And He is who caused it.
You know the He?

God.

Its a new birth for me today.

Cessation

2008-12-09T12:05:00.006+05:30

Along with a flight of wicked laughter
Stepped,in a state of utter pride
With an ugly bash of cruelty
The same old destroyer
A knife in one hand
He slit the soul
Immune she lay
Decoding
Life

****

Full stops to so many lives are put at these days.. A suicide or a murder..when people leave you,it may hurt forever.

This nonnet is just an attempt of explaining the despair of a girl whose been raped of her happiness,and has been left to understand the complications of life,and continue living even if she has to die for understanding the complications.. SO IS LIFE!

Life..as we know it!

2008-12-05T17:11:00.008+05:30

Sometimes its so easy to bitch about life,and easily keep questioning it on one thing after the other..the more you analyze and over analyze,the more confused and depressed you may grow up to..
Life can be so easy..life can be sucha hell lot of fun.

Thats just a recent realization after I discovered the truth in the words below,during a recent convo with a friend-->

The more you try to conquer life, the stronger it strikes back at you. Sometimes you just fall and sometimes you need to fall to let you know who you really are.."

How easy can it be to question the giver on why he did this,or why he did that..and to think of the fact that we can go on abusing everyone except ourselves over something which is wrong..
Ponder over this thought..and trust me,you'll see the concept within it..

UPDATED-
A VERY VERY VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO--
Vinz aka Vinu aka Vinayak-->ScRiBbLeSzZ
Shravan-->Rants of a survivor
Siddharth aka Riversoul--> Silent Recollections

Kill..and we'll soon be fighting back with our own WILL!

2008-11-29T12:12:00.008+05:30

Treacher souls as if we would fall prey to your rapes of modesty. Kill people,and create never ending gore,we'll hit right back at you. You're nothing less than people craving for attention and trying to prove yourselves as the "Conqurers of India"

Okay. There've been innumerous attacks on India..each and every part of India nearly,but now,keeping quiet for me seems to be like one of the most Herculean task. You've hit my city now..what if I ain't living there anymore? Taj was like OUR PLACE..and Oberoi's were perhaps the chic places of the town. WTF ! You people just can't go on murdering our people,and non-courageously showing "red" and "white" flags..LMAO! I so wish one of these people reads this..and this Teenager is far more frustrated than anyone else can be right now.
So has been the case with me ever since I've heard of these blasts and granedes being throw hither and tither..get a life,losers. Frustration and fear,and other mixed feelings have no absolute end when you hear that there's a hell lotta shooting going on near your own relative's house near Nariman Point and Colaba. Its high time we start reacting to this. I'm planning to fly off to Mumbai,and haha flights are being cancelled off,and we have a darned Maths test. Whatever. "Abuse,accuse and treacher that's all you can do" So is what these gang of hooligans is upto..
Now what can you or I do in these cases? Just sit and pray hard that you don't have these people striking on your city or your relatives? When will we start acting..when one of our relatives is taken in as a hostage,and started to be slaughtered like a decaying animal? Its high time we rise our voices..
I read twenty posts atleast mourning of how Mumbai is struck with fear..and how many lost their dear ones..but you tell me--> We're all busy counting and giving statistical expressions of how many are dying with every minute,has anyone kept a count of how many tears have been shed? How many of us have stepped forward to wipe those tears??? Are we not immune to the fact that OUR country is losing someone's husband,someone's mother..someone's child? Are we oh-so-immune because that someone isn't necessarily OUR husband,our mother or OUR child?
And thats probably why numbers fascinate more than they disturb. We'll be going gaga over the fact that 150 dead. Omfg,150. Rather than wiping the 15000 tears shed.
Our dear ole' home minister,changed 3suits while he visited 3 bomb sites some time back. Hah! Talk about people becoming nameless,l and apathetic !
And topping it all,willl someone please tell me precisely how many bodies will these people take up? And how many bullets do we need to strike our deaf ears?

I just read up a story in Times of India-the Speaking Tree today..its was about a doll which is made in some island which has no facial features..but its clothes are frequently changed,and put up with things of Europen/Indian/Spanish etc descent.. You get what I mean? Lemme explain, its so because that island is thrived upon by people of quite a number of colors and castes..they don't make a doll of their own native face..but their unity is symbolized in a faceless doll,not putting a "Muslim" or a "Hindu" tag upon them.. When we're slowly stepping into the mid of the 21st century,we're still categorizing and cutting Hindustan into two parts..where has the so-called "bhaichaara" or "brotherhood" faded away? Gone with the wind,eh? I'm sorry I can't come up with poems like "Sacha Bharat,accha Bhaarat" when we're still creating chords of disunity and discrimination inside each other's minds! Shame on these terrorists you might say..for murdering and assassinating souls..but give it another thought. These people are guys of 20-25 years,the stage where your mind can be darn easily be swollen to how "Hindus" are "raping" the "Muslim religion". These organizations like SIMI and ULFA do absolutely nothing but teach young kids of my age about how women of their religion are "misbehaved" with,or how Army soldiers burn the Quran. Are the terrorists to blame? Or is it the fat old chumps who're easing down on a couch,and watching and grinning over how people are being murdered by THEIR boys mercilessly! And they call themselves "Sartaajs" Huh!
But anyway..if I start writing on this topic it probably has no end. So anyway..some of you might get my message. Some might take this up as a wake up call,and some might simply blog hop and run to some other blog. Think and serve..try helping the families murdered. Do something,just don't sit and stare.
It will do good to the SOMEONE SOMEWHERE.

Amen!

(all these pictures are of the Indo-China and Indo-Pakistan borders and passes)

2008-11-22T12:22:00.001+05:30

PS-before I start..have a look at this-->
Its the site where 4wild witches are on a prowl to eat human flesh..all raw :D
X-chromosomes
*Trrringgg*.. *Beep beep beeep* Its past 3:00 of the morning.*yawn* who the heck is it NOW? Heck with it,she wasn't going to pick up the phone anyway.Another yawn of hers and she dumps her head deep down into her pillow. *Trrinng*.The heck it was now.She picked up the phone with her right hand,and started to ruffle her curls and fringes which now seemed to have been long ago brutally kissing her.*Duh* Muffled up voice,but still in her deep and now-to-be monotonous tone,she spoke into the phone, "Yeah?"..No sound from the other end..she spoke again "The fuck it is,of you calling me at 3:00 and wasting my time,loser". Shit! It was to late to realize that she spoke the F word and called a stranger a loser on phone? What if it was some frigging relative? But well,she didn't care,and simply stared at the phone,"Hello,God dammit speak up!"..This time the call didn't go blank,a loud yet stirring sound of someone's breath quite moved her."You?"..she blurted out with anger."What the fuck is wrong with you,dude,its 3:00 of the morning,go sleep!!" Another breath of his.Was he sick or something?,she wondered."Heyyyy..its me here",so darn it now,he Finally spoke up."Yeah right,I know its you,you called me at this frigging time to say 'hey?".." "Ummmmm...not really"..he spoke real slow."Wtf then?"..she felt like hitting him,but was still calm."Nothing re,was bugged of this economics project." he said that,almost laughing.."Awesome,suck it through.I'll talk to you tomorrow,okay?".. "No",he spoke almost like he was ordering her. "What for?",she's said,losing her patience."I want to meet you"..*another of his deep breaths after that.*,it seemed like he had a sigh of relief after saying that. "Beep you,Rahul",she said,laughing sarcastically."Shut up.I'm serious"..he said with some er,kindness in his voice."So am I..haha"..she laughed on."I'm standing in front of your hostel's back door",he said,she could feel him smiling down the phone."Huh? Don't you know that arse hole watchman is on the run today..??..He just hit up Nik yesterday,cause he was bickering around with Sneha".."Come on,I'm serious,come out,please..?" "Fine..i mean,okay okay,hang on for 10 minutes,I need to get dressed up Properly..bleh".."Yeah right,take your time",he spoke on.She kept the phone down,and immediately with a goddamn speed of some insane monster,her thoughts started moving faster than a rollercoaster.Wtf did he want at 3 now? Anyway,she could trust him,14 years of friendship didn't have its barriers in meeting her chum at 3,did it? She went on,searched down the almirah,and took out a black top,and a not-so-short red skirt.She wasn't one of those fashion divas,who used to rub their asses up with make-up."Mofos",she mumbled.Well actually,she didn't need to put on the make up,her pure white skin seemed to glow whenever and wherever,but well,her main draw back was her tomboy-ish,dont-give-a-damn-attitude,as all her chum ons and teachers used to say.Well duh,who cares.Lets move on. She put on a cordrouy cap,and climbed down the secret passage that some of the girls of the hostel had discovered in their current vacations.She almost ran down,but why the fuck was she so keen to meet him today,as well? She saw him standing right in front on the back door,tall and handsome,as he always was,in a black shirt,and plain blue jeans with a cig in his hand."Yeah?"..she almost astonished him with her sudden appearence."Woo..Ms.Tomboy turning girly?..gross",he teased her.She laughed.No one was allowed to pull her legs,or even if they did,she'd pull down on them,and actually get that brat embarassed.But the case with Rahul was way different."Yeah,dog".."So whats on with this 3:00 meeting dude? What do you think I am?..your secretary"..she said sarcastically. "Chuck it,I simply was feeling lonely"..he grinned at her,as they walked down the lane.She smelt his breath down his sentences."Bitch,your drunk"..she blurted."Its gets onto me,girl,I'm sick of it,Now..whoever I love,seems to....betray",he whispered the last words as if they were a curse,well they were.She held his hand,a warm sensation ran through her veins."Chill it,she won't be back"..she tried to make him feel better."I know..but...."...."You just need some sleep.Come on,lets get back to college,and anyway holy shit,its 4:00 already".Rahul actually wasn't listening to her,she was looking at her,wondering how come guys weren't that hot to look at? He grinned at her again,she immediately caught what was on his mind."Okay dude,stop thinking dirty" she said,laughing."Hop on,get back to your hostel".They both went back,laughing and talking. Sometimes,we don't realize where their is a line between friendship and love,right? Maybe the case was the same with them,or maybe not. Next morning she woke up,SHIT,she was in the same dress,she had worn last night with Rahul.Before the Matron came to wake her up,she had to change,and well,she was good at it.Bleh! The Matron walked in,looking solemn,and serious.But the weird thing was she didn't have that "slave-drive" expression on her right now,she looked quite sad."Wassup,Mat?",she said gaping at her face.Yeah right,she was the only bitch of the hostel who had the audacity to call Matron .."Mat"..and say "wassup?"!.."I have good and bad news for you,my girl,which one do you want first?"..Aastha didn't know what to do,smile or cry."Well,the GOOD one ofcourse!"A smile came down on Matron's lips.."You're selected for the course that you had applied for!!" Bravo.woohooo...yippeee...!!!...She went and gave her "Mat" a warm bear hug.She almost had tears down her cheeks.Finally she had a destination for her life.Suddenly,she pulled herself back from Matron,as if some bolt hit her."Hey hey Mat,whats the BAD news then?",Matron's face turned white,she said nothing for a moment or two.The girl who was once the spirit of everyone's life,shook Matron,"I ASKED WHAT THE HELL IS THE BAD NEWS?????" Matron looked up to her,and spoke very slowly,with chokes and gulps."Rahull........he is........." A pause,which seemed to have taken Aastha's breath."Rahul,WHAT?",she bawled. "He's ......" Period. "Stop this nuisance,Matron!" "He got drugged last night..he's dead"

And life shall go on!

2008-11-17T20:53:00.005+05:30

I stood there, with my hands numb from the cold running water,which seemed to have been now flowing into my veins,and mixing with the now stationery blood in it. I saw a visitor come in from the door,and scream out "WAAITER", in a semi-drunken and hoarse voice. Another of the people who I dreaded. He was pretty much regular down here. I had been immersed in my own thoughts,until I realized that I was the one who he had been calling out. "You bastard,can't hear!?"
I immediately became aware of my absent mindedness and ran off to his table and politely asked him "Ji sahab?" He blurted off a name of some drink which I randomly put into my mind,and blurted out to the bar keeper. I went outside and took a gasp of air into my lungs,which seemed to purify the dirt in them that had been penetrating within since immortality. But anyway..you don't have the prettiest of lives with a so-called salary of "4 rupaya per day", nor is it easy to survive without any parents.
Time was nearing to around 1:00 a.m.

Nobody here cares about time ! I heard this song once,some rich memsaab had it playing on that small and weird machine which they call i-pod. How does music fit into such a teenie weenie thing? Anyway, the song went "Na baap bada na bhaiya..sabse bada rupaiya!" These lines seem applicable and most apt for the conditions faced by each Mumbai-ite who visits this shady place called "Baba bhai ki nukkad ki dukaan"
This shop has supplies of every thing, every damn thing you may imagine. Right from a match to a bag of cocaine. They call it "drugs" no? Even I do them. Who cares if I'm only 10? Sometimes when people spit the peek of paans in front of the shop,I don't mind licking them down. Feel like puking on this? Be it. Thats my food. I see so many kids of my age walking down this lane hundreds of times in a day. Each wearing the finest clothes,and clad in the best of glasses, munching a big bag of chips and Kurkure ! Don't I love nibbling on the left-overs of the Kurkure packets they throw away in the dustbins!!
The shop I work in is not a big one..its just one of those small shops you see everyday,selling small yet useful stuff. Each day passes in the blink of an eye..most of the time you can see my washing and cleaning the bartans until they get gleamy and shiny. My boss even hits me with a thick cane that he keeps hidden under his chair,if I don't wash them properly a

nd there is a single stain on them. I still don't mind..he was kind to keep me as his servant,when my farther murdered my mother..and even he,later died of poverty.
My boss doesn't send me to school, he is afraid I will become over smart and run away. These days, Obama is a rage. And Obama becoming the president of Amreeka really doesn't bother me. My only concern is getting a handful of grains in my lunch everyday..I would care less if the sensex crashed by ten thousand points !
You think I'm complaining..but no,I am not. I don't even want your life..a life as a selfish and ignorant brat who doesn't even know the value of the things you get in life. You well off people are so darn full of complaints,and you NEVER cherish the proper meal you may get !
But anyway..I have to stop telling my story to you now..its time that another drunkard dropped on the door, and asked for some food.

.

The above is a story of a small child labourer..need I say anymore.

Fly away

2008-11-09T10:53:00.004+05:30

Let me escape this world
Let me hide somewhere in the debris of tomorrow.

Ask that apparition hounding my eyes to fly away
Someone close the door which life has opened again

I don't want to live,I don't want to survive.
Perhaps the fabricated world is enough for only a demon to suffice.

Take the sun,give me the moon.
Take the banes,give me JUST one boon.

2008-11-07T20:26:00.003+05:30

Life used to be colorless.

.
.
.
.
.
I decided to let it be like that.
And,yes,I am happy.

50 posts..and it seems like 05 days..

2008-11-05T22:26:00.006+05:30

Yeeeeeeeeesh! The moment is finally here..and SO is my 50th post. Gosh..I feel so excited as if I'm having my marriage in a few days. Lol..there were dedications...there were poems..there were chocolates..there were pictures..and there was EVERYTHING ELSE..in short a complete CELEBRATION ! ..And so..before I show you the gifts people gave me..let me give away the RETURN gifts first. :D As some of you might be aware of..I'm a big coffee and book (novel) addict..so therefore..the party will be a dedication to each of you on the basis of my liking and such..

FiRsT :-

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH..Perhaps one of the most versatile and beautiful writer/poet who existed in the world.. This goes to the writing Marvels..
Cinderella -(her poems ought to give you complexes..she was one of my first readers as well..she's the sweet-dimpled-girl who..{as per my rating} has one of the finest writing skills..*kudos* to you,dear)
Solitaire - (This "psycho" is who I'm really fond of! ;) And someone really down-to-earth and her write ups about the reality are what can actually penetrate its way upto your heart. Keep up the work,my lady!)
Sameera (the "desi" girl..whose write ups have their own charm..one of the first people who I interacted with OUTSIDE blogger)
Riversoul (SID!..ah..he's the one whose so "often" inspired by what i write..so many times checked., never learns :P..besides tht..he's one magic weaver of words)
Vinay (The "Kreative Konjourer" {mind the KK thingie}..he's the FANTABULOUS writer whose got a totally different and effective style..and he'll always be there for your help)
Mayz (OOOH..this guy..I so hate him! He came here some time before me..but now we've got a lotta competition..lol. His short-and-sweet stuff is so infectious that it has some kind of magnet in it,which automatically attracts people to him!)
Jane (the female who MAKES a HUGE difference..she was perhaps one of the first friend-cum-chweetheart who I got on blogger..the Diva..and the queen who will always and forever win people's hearts with her write ups based on REALITY)
Vinayak : (his scribblings or ramblings..please the eyes forever..the stories are totally the type you can relate to..and this hunk is the person whose story-writing skills are WOW :O) These people also get my favourite cup of coffee...which may be rare..but is perhaps the tastii-eeest ever! :D which CAFFÈ LATTE!

SeCoNd :

Second are the people who I think have one of the most down-to-earth attitudes..and have a simple way of writing out their feelings. They might not be pros who only get into writing poetry or stories,but what they write is totally based on a normal person's life. The book they get is perhaps one of those which I have always loved reading (and re-reading) Yeah..its "To Sir,with love' . Simple..yet effective is what their style is. And so these people are :-
Keshi-(When she gave her blog a title she must have had something in her mind..'cos her blog is truly a one which a VIVA might have had. Beautiful and sober {the fashion diva,she is..btw}..her style has always been the one which gets into a normal person's life)
Divkiran : (Okay..I ought not forget this beaautiful Punjabi kudi whose truly my CHWEEEETU!..its an experience in itself to read the stuff she writes..and maybe her simplicity is gonna take you up..and you gotta say WHOA!)
Chriz-(He might have been writing for double or triple the time as me {ref: Chronic Writer} but his funny will always be elegible to satisfy the laughter instilled in the 28038923 coming generations as well! KUDOS to his funny bone..{I so wish I had one as well})
Saim-(My online brother..whose also BETTER known as COMFORTABLY NUMB..his place ought to make you comfortable,but certainly not NUMB..lol. He's the big time 'Desi Girl' fan whose got a sober style of bringing himself up.
Daydreamer- (He might have named himself Daydreamer,but certainly his posts show him up as one of the most alive and borne-to-reality types..his posts will always leave you in a considerable state of thinking..where you'll be a bit lost about what's right and whats not..but still he's one adorable guy!)
Neha - (Better known as "d gypsy" or "d sinner"..she's one girl whose got an attitude of her own..and will amuse you to no extent with her photography skills..{trust me,her dps are most bootifull! :D}..she MS.CHANDOK who hardly updates her blog often,and has to be reminded by people like me everytime to do so..but anyway,she's a gem as well..MY GYPSY WOMAN..;) The coffee that I'm gonna share with these rocking people,is perhaps one of the most common..yet one of the most loved ones-->> CaffÈ Cappuchino

ThIrD :

These are the beautiful people who have a hell lotta passion and love inside them,and are writers and people who actually FEEL what they write..even if they're not the BIGGIES of blogville,they maintain a secret yet beloved corner of my heart..And so...these are the people who deserve another of my favourite book- Wuthering Heights. And just as the name might suggest..these guys have a hell lotta potential in them!

Trinaa : (My "TIIIINUUUUU/TINNIIIEEE" baby..she's the chhote baal vaali super cute bachi (mind you she's 21) whose got a extra sweet thing in her..{jhoot bolne ki bhi hadd hoti hai na,tiinnu?}..she's got some really fabulous poems up her sleave..like the FIRST one on her newly-born blog-> Tangy Truths..ooh yes..I am a fan of this poem's last lines,Tinnu! Love you too..)
HP : (The possessor of X and Y chromosomes..lol. The faaaaaab photo vaali didi..{photographer,yaar}..she's very new-types to Blogville and she's not the poetry person..but somehow her sense of humour or maybe just her posts manage to make me smile..keep it up,Phalguni Pathak's sister..lol :P)
Shatabdi : (There are certain people who still ought not believing that her name is Shatabdi ..but Shatabdu is a really sweet gurlie..whose got an awwesome blog template {okay okay..I know I'm obsessed with them!} She still ought to discover the writer in her!..)
Farah : (Better known as "ThinkTank"..she's the one whose got all kinds of mysterious and enigmatic stuff up her blog..try visiting her sometime..she can certainly set you into deep thoughts..and I personally feel..her display name is so appropriate..Farah Rules)

XH : (Short and sweet..simple and straightforward..thats totally how this person is..{yes,I am a major psycho here}..he's the bike racer,and a PRO photographer..trust me,some of his pictures really leave me captivated. Don't I love his blog template too! :D..stay the same,mate..)
Macadamia : (MAMA MIA..HERE I GO AGAIN..MY MY..HOW CAN I RESIST YOU!..the song says it all..muah)
Meghna : The person who really got me started on Blogger..the one who is to be blamed about my straightforward and rude tongue {lol..no,not really}..she's sucha cutipie..and perhaps one of the "loved" people of Blogville..but people..WAKE UP..she's not that cute at all! :P..she's like my xerox copy..:D..I'm pulling her leg thats it..she's a cool person to be with..CHEERS)
Aneri : (A beautiful person..and a caring indvidual as well..she's one person who you'll be proud to know..Thankyou,lady!)

The guys above get some coffee which is real rare..but well..its a personal fave..so be it! :D..
Its a cup of : Expresso Romano
Bitter it is...yet...I'M LOVING IT!

FoUrTh :

This will go to all the people who did make a difference..Akshaya (the curly headed lass,whose got SOME talent)..Divya (boootifoool and insane..yet a lover of life),Shravana (a recently discovered friend..yet to explore) Goonj (the lass whose actually "high on life"..and is actually always on a "high"..lol..kiddin'..but ANYWAY!) Vikram (the rain boy..who can actually get rains of tears on your face if you get into the depth of some of his posts) Anwesa (maybe she updates her blog once in a decade..but what she comes up with is PURE GOLD!) Arunima-(newly come up here..yet a cuteheart <3),Disguise,Shrutilaya,Cess...and so many more..oh..I'm so damn perplexed!

All these people get a cup of : MOCHA!..yes..my beloved :D *okay okay..don't remind me that all of the coffeeees I gave up were my beloved-z*

:ThE DeDiCaTiOnS :

RIVERSOUL :

Congrats in advance on ur 50th post, Ayu.
:)
I'm nearing there, but not quite there yet.

Here's my little contribution to the 50th mega block buster of a post.
:)

:)
Walking on the long shore line,
Watching you make magic fine,
Listening to your thoughtful piece
Thinking of the distant seas!

Laughing softly at your mimes,
Yearning most for your true chimes.
Living just the way prescribed,
Its a life that you described.

Love your works of passioned art,
Thus I feel herein my heart.
Words that delve deep from the start,
Seldom can one stay apart!

Let's rejoice! This day we pray,
Fame and fortune cross your way!
Lets enjoy! The dawn is bright,
The sun outshined by your true light!

DAYDREAMER :

Heya Sweetheart...

first wat a mail id ...lol...I uded to had few like this kissingdeath like sorta id...but wen i see it now it seems foolishness not on my part but wen i apply for a job even this ID sourish.bio seems funny...but for that phase ..there are years .....so enjoy :D

Th pic that I was gonna send u ..I m attaching ...

now for ur blog....what I think is...

When i first started to read chemerical thoughts...I thought that this is a goth guy's blog..yeah I kno sounds so guy thing..but seriously only a guy can match up or better might try to match up ur work...coz u r better than the best I knew...it had a touch of Death metal lyrics...andWhen i got to kno that this is a new kid on the block..i was so amazed yet i was so proud of the fact that I kno sumone whose gonna thrash all the records to be the dark queen of the gothic world..
I love ur blog not beacause u r my lil sis...but because its radical..
Kudos girl!!
U rock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bhaiya

XH : (made that for me..cute no?)

HP : (she designed an awesome header for me.check it out)
CINDERELLA :
as for my dedication for Chemerical thoughts...the only thing I can think of is, its lot more than what it appears on the surface...wonder how many break that ice and get to dive in...

KESHI :
Crystal clear skies
Exceptionally her
A chemerical quest
Of a heart's desire
She spins magic
And delivers love
With silver kisses
Of a Crystal dove

JANE :

"a mass of curls,
a breath of fresh air,
her smile and wit shines bright amidst a bunch of teen-girls,
she truly is a gem so rare."

HEMANTH :

She started her blog as a seed

She writes her post without greed

her posts always makes everyone happy to read

In whole blogsville she gets to have a lead

she is always there whenever anyone is in need

so i tend to write her a meed

and congratulate on her 50th feed

KASHMEERA :

Hi Aayushi,
Here's my dedication for you...(and sorry about not commenting so often...I do read everything you put up thru the google reader...just haven't had time to come by to write comments :(!)

For this dear little girl...who is truly wise beyond her years. I wish more adults would think like she does, the world would be a much more peaceful place!

And a message for you Aayushi, (don't publish this if you don't like it...its more of a personal message for you) keep smiling always and don't think so much about death and all such sad things. The sad/grim things are part of life, I agree, but why not choose to always see the sun shining...even if it is only through some dark clouds, it is still shining!
--
Be Yourself - Everyone else is taken
-Oscar Wilde

THINKTANK :

CHRIZ :

Dear Aayushi

you have seen only 50% of the world that i have seen
Yes I am talking about numbers. Me being 26 and you being just 13
Man!But you girl amaze me each and every single day with your philosphical depth
I can't really imagine the kinda posts you would come up with when you turn twenty
The next generation are gonna talk about your blog
Mark my words! It is gonna happen and it will happen

Congratulations on reaching 50 posts. It has been a slow and steady approach and it has been good.
The number of people in your blog family in so very little time indeed shows your pulling power
May the good Lord bless you and shower his blessings for you to write and May you have a great blog future

Cheers and Prayers
Chriz

SACHI : (she truly put in a lot of effort in making this for me..enlarge and see)

Trinaa :

i dont think there is anything i could say about this girl that could do justice to the amount of talent she has...she is truly god-gifted...an amazing writer...a stunning poet...a brilliant photographer and most of all, a wonderful soul...she is witty..smart..intelligent..and my baby!!! :D
well i always knew ppl from my school rock but this gal goes way beyond 'normal rock', what she actually does is shake you by your very conscience...make you get up and take notice..of all that is right...and all that is wrong...
you will make it really big one day sweetie... so let me give u a hug now..before you go so high that i wont be able to reach you...mwaaahh me baby..tc :')--

--
Love,
Tinni

To Crystal.. Happy Fiftieth. =)
Something short and totally original for you! :D

DIVYA :
Curly.

It is such a nice word. I just like the way it sounds. All twirly and girly.

Curs are bouncy,
Curls are FUN,
Curls don't look good on everyone.
Just on a few,
Like on me and on you. ;)

PS: Guys with curls look cute too!!

A message :
Perhaps all this might seem like "friend-gathering-post" to some people..bu I'm sorry..I wasn't here to please people,or even make fiends..I just wanted a medium to share what I felt..but somehow the soft heart Aquariun in me always found a friend in everyone..(even though I may get cheated..it makes no difference) There are the people mentioned here..and oh yes..there are so many more!
PS- Check this out :(Find yourself!)

Face yourself...erase the sinister

2008-10-26T14:07:00.001+05:30

There’s something about Diwali which I pathetically adore. It’s a season when I think of reminiscing the past mistakes, and getting over them. And as the last few weeks have been full of some shitty and honourable mistakes, I could actually write a book on them! (The English would certainly be better than Mr.CB’s “3 mistakes of my life”, and PLUS I would have more mistakes to put up there!) :P

But maybe I’m privileged enough to erase those mistakes, or maybe to an extent getting a forgive-ment for them! But something’s committed by some people, can never be erased.

What shook me up for writing this post was visiting the Police station a few days back. (No, no problems .. I just went to the P.S, for giving some stuff to Dad)

The patient.. He was a handsome looking youth, with a lean yet dominating personality.(Thinking why I’m calling an accused a patient? You’ll get to know)

I was sitting on a wooden chair near his lock-up, waiting for Dad. Yet the conversation which took place between him and the inspector was something which took up my interest.

“So who did you try it up with?”
The guy remained silent.
“Guy or girl?”
An absurd yet shaking silence from the guy.

The inspector poked his stick onto the guy's ribs, and squealed with laughter, mocking him saying “Man! What creeps and non-touchabilities are being brought up here.”

His fellow guys laughed loud, each in their own tones. Until this, that guy got down on his knees, and started crying, miserably. His GAP shirt, and neat jeans clearly said that he was of a respectable family. I sat gaping at him, completely at a loss of words. He looked up, and I saw the outline of his face. Deep blue eyes, which had a mysterious sadness in them. His sigh just scared me, nothing else. I don’t really know, what the reason of the scare was.

“Bloody AIDS patients” , spoke the inspector in his pathetically irritating tone, which I had started to loathe till now.

“We need to tell these mofos that we don’t take up anyone in the locker,just because they think, they’re gonna die if he/she stays near them!”..” Do we have no life?..what if he passes it on to us!?!”

I stood up, a bit bashed up. An AIDS patient deserved the police station? WTF? Which decade did the people who sent him in the locker belong to? I was too shaken up to say anything. I moved out of the place, and the Devil knows why, I felt tears trickling in my eyes. That guy needed help. He was no alien. AIDS could happen to anyone, he didn’t deserve the mockery he was witnessing, up in the police station. I didn’t want to stay there anymore. I gave Dad’s papers to a guard and went off, back to my place.

Now you tell me, what is he?
A person or an alien?
An accused or a sufferer of a mistake?

I don’t understand this concept at the least. Which crime had this guy committed? It is near to impossible to answer this question.
Now tell me, put yourself in this guy’s place.. He had no mistake as such, except the desire to satisfy the lust in him!
But forget it all for a while.
We make small blunders, and there we are remorsing it the other second. What could he do?
Now, my take on this isà

“Burn a diya, and burn the evil within you”

Yeah. Hell yeah. Diwali has finally taken over me. I want to break through those clutches which have been tying me up with them since long.

So when will you improve? Take one resolution..just one. PLEASE!

It could be anything.. anything at all! Like for me, it is, being more KIND.

Let this mood of Diwali get on you. And celebrate your heart out, killing the demon which hurt you for so many years. Amen!

First pic- Flickr
Second pic- Photofunia

My rockstar .

2008-10-16T21:31:00.005+05:30

We were great friends..since around 7 years.Wow.Life was great when you were with him.He was a star,mind you STAR! It was a pleasure to talk with him,fight with him,and even sing hoarse songs with him.That was life,man.Those years spent with my "bestest buddy".Whenever I'd dress up and move out for college,he'd be there waiting on his bike,giving his cherubic smile and extra long "HEYYYYYYYYYYY!".And oh yes,the day was assured to be a disaster if I didn't see his face in the morning.If in case,he'd ask me something and I'd not reply,he'd act like a kid,and stop talking.But still,life was so perfect.But there's something about perfection that makes it imperfect! It was impossible to stay without talking with him,even for a day,that is.
After a month or so,he got into JHC,and went away to Bombay,and I,the lawyer,was busy studying in Bangalore.We did promise to meet,but come on,it was so like impossible.We met up,but hardly once in two months.Life was okay..it hardly mattered,as we (or precisely I) forgot that life was empty without somethings and people.
I told you no,how life had a habit of making perfect moments non-perfect?
Destiny.
Oh yes that crap thing..it made us meet! Sounds so great,no? It did,to me as well.I got a message on my mobile,which a long HEYYYY! which at once made me recognize that from whom the message was.I nearly jumped with excitment and started replying,until a phone call suddenly came on it."Heyloo Aunty" I immediately recognized his voice and spoke "HEY DUDE!" .."Oh yeah! 5 months and finalllly! "
"You forgot about me,didn't you",he spoke,mockingly.
"Oh yeah..who the heck cares about a dumbwit like you?"
"Hahahha..your sarcasm.By the way,on to the point! Mama's marriage coming up,and even Mom's birhday is round the corner,so we decieded to come to Bangalore for some time!"
"JEEZ! Really?!!!",I literally shouted with glee.
"Stop screaming,you jackass!",his smile could be felt in my ears even via those long thread of communication called PHONE WIRES.
"Haha..okay,dude.We'll meet up somewhere.How'd CCD be? Remember ...our old hang out place in Delhi?"
"Yup,sure..I'll bring some friends along,don't mind,do you?"
"Hell no!",I laughed.
It sounded so weird that he asked me to bring his "friends" along..All he had were insane friends. I pretty well knew it would some of his rowdy gang of guys coming up.

So the 3rd of February finally came up! Yippeee..it was one day when I got up without any alarm hanging around my lazy ass to wake me up.I was way too ecstatic today! As immediately as I was awake,I dressed up,and within an hour or so,I was totally dressed up in a hip way,head to toe.I look up my watch,it was around 10:00 a.m.3 more hours. Time sticks around when you're really waiting for the moment.
I slept for the sake of passing my time,as even blogging on my computer (which to tell you,was my favourite pass time) seemed really boring and monotonous.I got up at 1:30 .
Okay.Damn me,I am one big time sleeper.I was late to the thing I was awaiting,but then I thought it hardly mattered,he was totally non-punctual as it is.My dress was a crumpled mess,and so I re-dressed (not that I was the girlie toy who would dress up 2000 times if you asked her to do so) I got into those black and silver belles that he had gifted me some months back, short black skirt,and a red corset.Man! It was chill...and thus I had a denim waist coat on,and immediately I was up on my scooty,ready to go to my beloved CCD!
He was there.Sitting and looking around like a lost puppy, like old times. He saw me,and stood up with wide eyes,and immediately opened his mouth,and then looked at me from up to down,and he shut it again.I went on and hugged him.
It felt so formal,as if I was meeting him for the first time.But who cared? I got to see him after some ages,which seemed a boon in itself. I said "Hey..why looking so lost?"
His mouth turned into a small (mind you,a shy and small) smile."Looking for my girl"
The first two words of his 4-word sentence sounded bliss,but the last two were like...er..disastrous.
And then my eyes met her eyes.My gray eyes stared deep into her dark brown eyes.She sort of winked at me,and smiled...broadly.On the other hand,I looked at her,as if I had seen some piece of dead animal from the roadside.It was a deep grave,and cold..really cold stare.But before I could question her or anything,she went and sat in the chair next to him.The one which was like hardly an inch away from him,and she (that jerk) gave him a kiss on his cheek.Okay,I'm not supposed to feel bad of this,am I? I don't care what this guy had been upto.His life,wusn't it? And before I could voice my thoughts,he spoke up-
"This is Aleenah,my girlfriend"
It hit me.Oh yeah,it did.More stronger than it felt like to have a iron falling on your leg,and more dead than it felt to see a rat climbing on you.It bloody hit me.But still,in order to be a good friend,I cordially shook hands with her and said "Hi,I'm his old friend".
She smiled,and got up and hugged me,as if she knew me from some ages.She opened her mouth to say something,but before she could,I said-"Glad to see you both,but sorry,I have some bit of work.Gotta go"
About ten days after on the 3rd of February. I got a call from his number. I received it, but it wasn’t him on the line, it was aunty. She was crying, she was sounding miserable. The first line she spoke after she controlled herself was, “he died”. I said, “Aunty if that’s a joke, it’s not at all funny”. But she cried hopelessly and hung up.

I locked myself up cried the whole day and went to my mom at night. “How did it happen?” I asked. Mom said nothing. I shook her, she began to cry and handed me his diary. I read the last few pages. He had drawn things which very hardly legible. But what was legible was that on every page he wrote “life sucks" or something similar to that. He committed suicide.
He needed me, I failed to understand. He wanted me to stay, I left. He silence was demanding of more condolences but I spoke none. I failed.I was a murderer,I deserved to die.He didn't love Aleena either.Oh god,how could have I been so weird.

Current song :- Tum ho toh - Rock on

Awww fish! :D

2008-10-14T12:09:00.005+05:30

Hello peeps!
*Phew* Finally,after I got over with my Writer's block,here I am,penning down my latest chat with my deareest Mac or Macadamia the Nut..oh yes,we're two big lovers of life,and the current scenario of people being affected by the "Committttedd disease" gives us jitters.Oh yeeah! Here's our convo,have a laugh

PS-This isn't to hurt the holy sentiments of the person who began this mind boggling epidemic (Cupid,or whaart?) and nor is this to promote our happiness in being Single.

Aayushi : you believe in singledom?
Macadamia : singledom?
Aayushi : as in being a single and nt gettin' involved in gf-bf relations
Macadamia : for me specifically... No
Macadamia :someday... maybe if I find someone who's got hritik's torso, tom's face, denzel's legs and shakuntala devi's brains.... I might succumb
Aayushi : LOL
Macadamia : :D
Aayushi : Impossible things to find,all in one man.
Macadamia : till then.. lets eat, play and be merry

Macadamia : So... I'll ask you a question first
Macadamia : K?
Aayushi : Shooooot!
Macadamia : :P
Macadamia : So.. what made you suggest 'singledom' as a topic for our combine post dudette?
Aayushi : I see too many people "falling" in love,or "wanting" to fall in love..errr..it amuses me of why people are gettin' so light headed by this disease of love
Macadamia : I agree (so kill me) Love seems to do weird things to some people. But, don't you think that's only with people who have the wrong idea of what this whole love thing is about?
Aayushi : Oh yes (kill us both for that),nearly everyone is more addicted to lust these days.No one really tries to look at the love thing from the view of it being a relationship full of kisses and crap.HECK,thats not love.
Macadamia : Dude! you are too young to be so cynical. Or am I the stupid one here?
Aayushi : No! We both are the stupid ones here\
Aayushi : So what would be the first feeling when you would meet that *ahem* someone special?
Macadamia : I don't even know anymore I'd most probably laugh
Macadamia : P.S. Do those mythical creatures really exist? Those Mr. Rights?
Aayushi : Oh gaawd,they're the type of asses who you get to witness just once in a lifetime
Macadamia : LOL!
Aayushi : that too,only for a "one-blink-and-he's-off"
Macadamia : Darn! that's shorter than a small globulet of Dippin' Dots
Aayushi : I prefer food to guys
Aayushi : :D
Macadamia : SAME PINCH!!!!!!
Aayushi : Ouch..that hurt
Macadamia : And books!
Aayushi : :D
Macadamia : And washing my hair!
Macadamia : And manicures
Macadamia : ;)
Aayushi : Ah..I would prefer marrying my hair to marrying a guy
Macadamia : Omg!! :D
Aayushi : Next ques--But then why is everyone so over-obsessed in having a boyfriend/girlfriend?
Macadamia : Are they? Hmmmm... maybe for the initial feel good factor? Freebies? Masochism? Hell who knows girlfriend Some people even like body piercings. Doesn't mean I'll go get my navel pierced. O.U.C.H!!!
Aayushi : Woow..you got the words off my mouth
Macadamia : Do you like chocolate mousse or raspberry?
Macadamia : Oh wait... i can't ask you these interesting questions huh
Macadamia : SIGH!
Aayushi : I agree.SIGH!
Macadamia : Do you think you're prejudiced again "love"? Or is it because you've seen friends go off their rocker because of this 8th deadly sin?
Aayushi : Its probably because I have seen people weeping their life out after they got ditched.And NO! I don't want to see myself like that!
Macadamia : I know what you mean. Back when I was in the hostel, our daily entertainment was the love lives of fellow boarders
Macadamia : I know it sounds callous but ...
Macadamia :Don't you think maturity has a big hand in dealing with this emotion?
Aayushi : Maturity is just the need of the hour,dude. Once you can differentiate between a true lover and a cheater,the game is all yours!
Aayushi : But then why do you think are people so in love with writing poetry on heartbreaks or maybe even the beauty of a lady
Macadamia : I think it's the whole 'emotion' thing they like. Haven't you heard of the saying "being more in love wih love itself"
Aayushi : Fish,all this gives me a splitting headache.*whew*
Macadamia : Same here
Aayushi : Lets keep our sanity,and warn these people against this deadly disease!

IN UNISON-BEWARE!! LOVE MIGHT BE WAITING AROUND THE CORNER TO TREACHEROUSLY MURDER YOUR INTELLECT!
(The Mac 'n' Kris Anti-Love Organisation might save you from this upcoming epidemic.Please co-operate!)

Shhh.. its some love and some...!!

2008-10-12T15:57:00.012+05:30

TAGGED! (by M.flowerr)

I needn't tell you what this one is about..'cos most have already done this!

1. If your lover betrayed you, what will your reaction be?
I'd look at it from his point of you,if he's right to me,I'll move out of his way,and if he doesn't seem right to me,he'll witness the disaster of his life.

2. If you can have a dream come true, what would it be?
I'd erase hatred,and even try to give my family a beautiful life.

3. Why do you blog?
For the same reason that I write,and speak.

4. Will you fall in love with your best friend?
Male or female?
Dirty you.If its a male,yeah,there are chances.

5. Which is more blessed: loving someone or being loved by someone?
Both have their own importannce and validity.

6. How long do you intend to wait for someone you love?
You think that wait can be put into numbers over here? Heck,no.I don't mind waiting for 20 yrs more.(33 will be a bit old,though!)

7. If the person you secretly like is attached, what will you do?
Do nothing at all.He has his own life,as well.

8. If you could root for one social cause, what would it be?
Thats a question which leads to a number of social causes,sorry,ain't possible to name one.

9. What takes you down the fastest?
A know-it-all attitude,fakeness.

10. What resurrects you the fastest?
A hearty laugh,or maybe one looong sleep.

11. What’s your fear?
Separation from the people who I love way too much.

12. What kind of person do you think the person who tagged you is?
A true gem,and a cuteheart!

13. Would you rather be single and rich or married and poor?
Single and rich. (Er..okay,I'm selfish,I know)

14. Whats the purpose of such Tags?
To eat away some time,and letting other people and yourself know you.

15. If you fall in love with two people simultaneously who will you pick?
I won't be doing that on the first point =P

16. Would you give all in a relationship?
The kinds of relationships which I believe in,exclude the "girlfriend-boyrfriend" one,when I'd find my true soul mate,yes,I'd give all.

17. Would you forgive and forget someone no matter how horrible a thing he has done?
Forgive and forget?
Depends on what he has done.And most of all,I may forgive,but no,I won't forget

18. Do you prefer being single or in a relationship?
Being single.(Darn,I still believe in the fact that SOLITUDE IS BLISS!)

19. Who/what inspired you to start blogging?
No one did..or actually you can say it was Meghna

20. Tag 6 people.
Why 6? All the people who're in my blogroll are requested to do this.
(PS-I changed the blogger template and hence I lost a round of blog URLS.I'm sure you guys know about who all were in my blogroll,so go ahead,take this up!)

Btw,apart from this tag I have someTHINGS to give away.Guess what?
Yes,I am back with my 'personalized range of awards' to give to some brand new (and old) frinds of blogosphere! ;)

So,the first award,which is for the cutest people down here,and some fab people-
This goes to- Divkiran,Keshi,Cess,Chriz,M.Flowerr,Aphrodite,Aneri,Hemanth,Daydreamer,Meghna, and Anindita!

Second award-This one is for some of the fabulous poets and writers that I came across on Blogville.

This goes to-Riversoul,Vinay,Cinderella,Sameera,Vinayak,Anwesa,Jane,Solitaire,Mayz,Enchanted Illusions,Sid and Thinktank.

Third award-This one is for some real mavericks and beautiful souls that I came across on Blogosphere,and mahn,ain't they rockers!
This goes to-Ceedy,Xh,Neha (d gypsy),Saim,Macadamia,Maverick and Arunima!

Last award-And finally for the last award-this is for all the great friends which I made on Blogville..{a special mention to all the guys whose blog URLs have disappeared from my BLOG LIST :(}

Point blank.

2008-10-10T10:32:00.004+05:30

NO! I screamed. A scream cutting across the icy cold swirls of despair,agony and loneliness hanging above me;cutting into me like brittle and callous spikes of thorns.Invisible bands of darkness tighten across my neck and chest making every breath come out dragged and painful.My wounded heart and soul crumple up on the concrete floor in a heap of fated dust.The miasma of conflict has now subdued.The last burst of hope has forever been quenched.I AM NO LONGER ALIVE.I AM YOU.

I am what you have made me.A mortal cripple with no emotions,a hollow body devoid of a soul.But I still go on.Two legs which walk but ruthlessly stamp the inferior being and tread on their every hope and happiness.Two hands which feel but choke even a small stifle of emotion.Two eyes which see but have long since blocked out all sights of suffering and torture.Two ears which undoubtedly hear but are immune to every cry for help.A mouth which is robbed of all powers to speech by this selfish brain and finally a heart which has sunk into a terrifying void of darkness with no doors of light.

Humans now hang over the precipice of brutality and insensitivity.Their vulnerable and intensely gullible nature has often left them blindfolded to every misery and affliction in the world making them utterly egoistic and ignorant.In this materialistic world virtues have been barbariously slaughtered and those following them have long since wavered to immorality or have met the corrupt and disdainful society thus tainting and murdering his soul.Bribery and extortion have not left a single untarnished being.

The perplexing and precarious position of humans is such that they often critisize other and themselves masquerade as blameless angels.Those who consider themselves to indeed be those innocent angels are living in a false realm of sycophancy and hypocrisy.
If we indeed are genii as we claim to be then we need to look into the abyss of our hearts and in doing so we will have a truly enlightening rendezvous with our true monstrous being.The devastating truth is that not a single man stands who can still claim to be an embodiment of morals.
The pitiable heart is taking its last breath screaming for help.Alas! all turn a deaf ear to its pleas.Its voice is muffled forever;it has been choked to death. I am no longer alive.I am what you have made me.A mortal cripple with no emotions,a hollow body devoid of a soul.

UPDATE-By this post,I also wanted to apologise to two of my greatest blogger mates,and two lovely human beings,for my sarcastic tongue,and uncouth behavious.Forgive me,Sameera and Cindi! :) I'm young and still not mature,my heartfelt apology dears. =)

Love me for who I AM.

2008-09-29T19:27:00.004+05:30

I am 21.I am an engineering student.And I am gay.I am writing this article because I am angry,frustrated feel unbearably suffocated in my closet.I realized I was gay,when I was 14.No, I never had any 'bad experience' in my childhood that made me 'turn gay'.

No uncle or elder cousin ever molested me. I am gay because I believe I was born gay. God or nature, whatever one believes in, made me what I am.Just as some people are blonde or left-handed, sexual orientation is also a feature that is decided biologically.Modern technology can determine the sexual orientation of a child even before he is born.

The WHO has removed homosexuality from its psychological disorders.Yet, some people would like to believe otherwise.They would say that if everyone were gay, there would be no society. This is a dishonest argument for the simple reason that everyone is not gay. They say it's against the Bible - an abomination of God.
But if Christians can change their views on the issues of divorce, women's rights and slavery, why not on the issue of homosexuality as well? Then there are those in India who claim that homosexuality is against Indian culture and Hinduism. Have they never been to the Khajuraho temples, embellished with homoerotic art? Do they not know that the Kamasutra is not just about straight sex? Do they not know that there is not a single scriptural missive against homosexuality in the Vedas - the ultimate authority of Hinduism?

I had my first boyfriend when I was 19. We met online in a gay-dating chat-room and when we finally met face to face, it was love at first sight. Never before in my life had I been so happy. He too was a closeted gay, but was far too petrified to ever come out. When he refused to commit to a future with me just because his family would not accept it, and he'd ultimately have to marry a girl as all Indian men are expected to do, I broke up with him. Our relationship lasted only a few months, but it left me emotionally scarred and broken in spirit. But I also realised that it was not totally his fault.
A survey has shown that 80 per cent of gay men in India are too scared to reveal their sexuality to their families and are trapped in 'normal' (read heterosexual) marriages. Few months back, a gay couple in a West Bengal village committed suicide. My heart cries for these two souls who chose death over separation.

I am writing this because I want to warn all parents of the pain that they might be causing to their children, because of their naïve assumption that they are straight. I want to appeal to the political class of India to repeal or at least tone down Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code that criminalises homosexuality. I want to appeal to all readers to shed their homophobia and stop hating us for who we love. Stop committing violence against us because of the affection that exists in our lives.

I am a closeted gay and I want to come out. But that won't be possible until this highly homophobic society keeps the closet door firmly shut on the face of some 30 million gay and lesbian people of the nation. Today, I have a boyfriend whom I love with all my heart and who loves me as much. He has recently moved to another city for his job, and we miss each other a lot. But we look forward to being together very soon. Probably, that won't be possible in India without sacrificing our freedom and dignity. Probably, we'll have to leave India for a more gay-friendly country like Canada or the UK. But I love India and I do not want to leave my motherland. And that is why

I fervently appeal to all those who are reading this - please stop judging people by who they love, and start judging them by whether they love.

I wrote this poem about a couple of years back, but ironically enough, even today, it remains as relevant in my life. In it, I dream about the day I can be myself, when people would love me for what I am, and not what I pretend to be.

There will be a day I can tell the world I'm gay When hatred and disgust Shall not bar my way To come out of the closet-So stifling today. When "normal" men realise I'm no less normal; When archaic laws Don't deem my love criminal; When I walk hand in hand And proudly I can stand With my beloved beside me And the light of freedom around me. There will be a day When I can tell the world I'm gay..

(as told by a homosexual to a reporter)

LOST "it"!!!!

2008-09-06T16:10:00.009+05:30

Helloooooo =P

Hahahaha..bleh!
I feel like..LOOOOOL.....I haven't studied..and bwahahahaha..*goes hysterical*
An d 4 days for the exams..okay okay!
Maybe you're tired of listening to my examination horrifications..lets get the atmosphere round here a bit oxygenated! *beep beep beep..everywhere I go..subjects follow* (vodafone addict?)

Firstly..thanks a megaTON Keshi..for giving me sucha wuuunderful award..and a wonderlady and friend in you..whew!!..don't have anything to gift you till Australlia..:(
but yes..my pic editing is on a high..so..here you are-(click to enlarge!)

I wish..I could print and laminate this to send it to ya..but well..i hope you do so!! :)

Then then..lets just finish this off with a poem..

The weave of romance, friendship and love
Always alive, moving with the two
Their hopes and sharing
The strength and warmth
Each can give Each can be free
And then the play unfolds
When each can
Live for the other
Nurturing and inspiring
Only the problems unforgiven
Could end . . .

The rainbows and real fun
The times outdoor and flush
With each other and breezes
The light fills both lives
A beach is the edge of their one heart
The sky the cover of the nakednt and delight
In giving
Giving
Giving
If it isn't giving
It isn't living

Yeah..i visited an orphanage some day back..and I donated some 3000 i collected..seems less,but it was all i had.
Live with a purpose!

:)

tuddles people!

EDITED___

I currently see a lot of people giving..receiving and taking awards..well..i have some to give as well!!...(okay okay..i am allergic to copying things like pictures..so i took out my own personalized range of awards..lol)

Hehe..this goes to all the sweethearts out there..:)
Saim,Goonj,Aneri,Sachi,Mann,Hemanth,Anindita,Riversoul,Solitaire,Sourish (aka Daydreamer),Keshi and last but not the least-G-man (where the hell are you,mate?)

This one? Its for those dearies who've always been round here..(troubling and making me bang my head again the wall!..hehe)

Cinderella (aka Pallaviee),Divkiran,Sameera,Meghna,Chriz,Echo,Nirmal and Jane..

And the last award.....

The future rooockeeshtars!!..

Mayz,Neha (d sinner),Scribblers,Maverick,Nits,*

I owe you one. I do.

Sorry.But my the unspoken freedom is killing me.

2008-08-19T12:37:00.004+05:30

Aazaadi.

Independence.

Freedom.

The same meaning,yet different words.
Lets face it.

I'm no feminist,no humanist or whatever -ists are there. I am just a PERSON.
An ordinary person.
.

When there are two countries celebrating their freedom of about 61 years..(India and Pakistan) I still don't see the so-called 'freedom' I seriously don't.

I'm not free.

None of us are.
Do you know why?

We just have the freedom of ACTION.
The freedom of BOOZING.
The freedom of TEASING.
The freedom of RAPING.
The freedom of killing HUMANITY.

Is that freedom?
Is there even ONE of you who hasn't slapped someone just 'cause you were pissed?
Is there ONE of you who never touched alcohol?
More importantly,
Is there ONE of US who actually "lives"?

Yes,that is THE mark.
We just don't LIVE.
We want to accuse,abuse and fuck life.(over exaggeration)
But rest assured,not one of us (yes,me too) knows what a "life of freedom" is.

Do you?

Zombie-ed..

2008-08-08T17:46:00.000+05:30

*Phew*

Yuz.
FINALLY!

No emo posts and all tht crap..I'm here (a li'l rare,definitely) but well,I'm back to the normal self..with no sadness around.Yo! :D

Lets just get on the middle of things..
Having a really gala time in school (surprisingly)..and well,we're all busy with this song from the 1990's..ZOMBIE.Man!!..I sooo love it.And I'm sure you'll to
Cranberries-Zombie

Another head hangs lowly
Child is slowly taken
And the violence caused such silence
Who are we mistaken

But you see it's not me,
It's not my family
In your head, in your
head they are fighting
With their tanks and their bombs
And their bombs and their guns
In your head, in your head
they are cryin'

In your head, in your head
Zombie Zombie Zombie
What's in your head, in your head
Zombie Zombie Zombie

Another mother's breakin'
Heart is taking over
When the violence causes silence
We must be mistaken
It's the same old theme since 1916
In your head,
In your head they're still fightin'
With their tanks and their bombs
And their bombs and their guns
In your head,In your head
they are dyin'

In your head, in your head
Zombie Zombie Zombie
What's in your head, in your head
Zombie Zombie Zombie....

It suits the current scenario so well..where we are living in a world where everyday a mother,a son,a father,a daughter are put in the hands of death.

This song is just a dedication to them.

Ref-People who died in the Nainadevi Stampede.
Blasts and more blasts.
People of J & K
And for every one who has lost anyone precious.

"Live isn't about the number of breaths you take..but the number of moments that take YOUR breath away."

Amen.

Honesty?

2008-07-15T18:37:00.000+05:30

In the words of someone-
"Honesty is the best policy" (As if you're hearing it for the first time)

I mean,today,is this quote as prevelant?
Just another thought..would like your views for it.

(Yeah right,i am brainless again.no stories or poems :|)

Stoned .

2008-07-04T13:49:00.002+05:30

*Trrringgg*.. *Beep beep beeep*
Its past 3:00 in the morning.*yawn* Who the heck is it NOW? Screw it, she wasn't going to pick up the phone anyway.Another deep yawn and she dumped her head deep down into her pillow.

*Trrinng*.The heck it was now.She picked up the phone with her right hand,and started to ruffle her fringes.
Muffled up voice,but still in her deep and now-to-be monotonous tone,she spoke into the phone, "Yeah?"..No sound from the other end..she spoke again "The fuck it is,of you calling me at 3:00 and wasting my time,loser"

Shit! It was to late to realize that she spoke the F word and called a stranger a loser on phone? What if it was some frigging relative? But well ,she didn't care, and simply stared at the phone,"Hello,God dammit speak up!"..This time the call didn't go blank,a loud yet stirring sound of someone's breath quite moved her."You?"..she blurted out with anger."What the fuck is wrong with you,dude,its 3:00 you bummer. Go sleep!!" Another breath of his. Was he sick or something?

"Heyyyy..its me here", he Finally spoke up."Yeah right,I know its you,you called me at this frigging time to say 'hey?".." "Ummmmm...not really"..he spoke real slow."Wtf then?" She had the urge of kicking him. NOW.

"Nothing re, was bugged of this economics project." he said that,almost laughing.."Awesome,suck it through.I'll talk to you tomorrow,okay?"
"No",he spoke almost like he was ordering her. "What for?",she's said,losing her patience."I want to meet you"..*another of his deep breaths after that.*

"Fuck you,Rahul",she said,laughing sarcastically."Shut up.I'm serious"..he said with some er,kindness in his voice."So am I..haha"..she laughed on."I'm standing in front of your hostel's back door",he said,she could feel him smiling down the phone."Huh? Don't you know that arse hole watchman is on the run today..??..He just hit up Nik yesterday,cause he was bickering around with Sneha".."Come on,I'm serious,come out,please..?"
"Fine..i mean,okay okay,hang on for 10 minutes,I need to get dressed up Properly..bleh".."Yeah babe,take your time",he spoke on.She kept the phone down,and immediately with a goddamn speed of some insane monster,her thoughts started moving faster than a rollercoaster.Wtf did he want at 3 now? Anyway,she could trust him,14 years of friendship didn't have its barriers in meeting her chum at 3,did it? She went on,searched down the almirah,and took out a black top,and a not-so-short red skirt.She wasn't one of those fashion divas,who used to rub their asses up with make-up."Mofos",she mumbled.
She put on a cordrouy cap,and climbed down the secret passage that some of the girls of the hostel had discovered in their current vacations.She almost ran down,but why the fuck was she so keen to meet him today,as well? She saw him standing right in front on the back door,tall and handsome,as he always was,in a black shirt,and plain blue jeans with a cig in his hand."Yeah?"..she almost astonished him with her sudden appearence."Woo..Ms.Tomboy turning girly?..gross",he teased her.She laughed.No one was allowed to pull her leg,or even if they did,she'd pull down on them,and actually get that brat embarassed.But the case with Rahul was way different."Yeah,dog".."So whats on with this 3:00 meeting dude? What do you think I am?..your P.A"..she said sarcastically.
"Chuck it,I was feeling lonely"..he mumbled, as they walked down the lane.She smelt his breath down his sentences."Bitch,your drunk"..she blurted."Its gets onto me,girl,I'm sick of it,Now..whoever I love,seems to....betray",he whispered the last words as if they were a curse,well they were.She held his hand,a warm sensation ran through her veins."Chill it,she won't be back"..she tried to make him feel better."I know..but...."...."You just need some sleep.Come on,lets get back to college,and anyway holy shit,its 4:00 already".Rahul actually wasn't listening to her, he was gazing at the teenie weenie mole near her lips. He grinned at her again, she immediately caught what was on his mind."Okay dude,stop thinking dirty" she said,laughing."Hop on,get back to your hostel".They both went back,laughing and talking.

Sometimes,we don't realize where their is a line between friendship and love,right? Maybe the case was the same with them,or maybe not.

Next morning she woke up,SHIT,she was in the same dress,she had worn last night with Rahul.Before the Matron came to wake her up,she had to change,and well,she was good at it.Bleh! The Matron walked in,looking solemn,and serious.But the weird thing was she didn't have that "slave-drive" expression on her right now,she looked quite sad."Wassup,Mat?",she said gaping at her face.Yeah right,she was the only bitch of the hostel who had the audacity to call Matron .."Mat"..and say "wassup?"! "I have good and bad news for you,my girl,which one do you want first?" Aastha didn't know what to do,smile or cry."Well,the GOOD one ofcourse!"A smile came down on Matron's lips.."You're selected for the course that you had applied for!!" WOOHOOO! She went and gave her "Mat" a warm bear hug.She almost had tears down her cheeks.Finally she had a destination.Suddenly,she pulled herself back from Matron,as if some bolt hit her."Hey hey Mat,whats the BAD news then?",Matron's face turned white,she said nothing for a moment or two.The girl who was once the spirit of everyone's life,shook Matron,"I ASKED WHAT THE HELL IS THE BAD NEWS?????"
Matron looked up to her,and spoke very slowly,with chokes and gulps."Rahull........he is........." A pause,which seemed to have taken Aastha's breath."Rahul,WHAT?",she bawled.

"He's ......"
Period.
And then no one ever spoke anything.

Nor will I.
Do you know what happened to Rahul?
Post in your replies,I will tell you about it...later.
Its almost like,you can complete this story,give it a happy ending or a sad one.
Upto you.
_____________________________________eDitEd
Three days for 30 replies.Thankyou all for posting.:)
Now my ending-

"He's...just been sent to the hospital"
"Wha????"..Aastha nearly screamed."Yes,my girl.",matron said calmly. "But whyy?",Aastha blurted out.
"Suicide" Matron said that word like a curse.
Aastha stoood aghast..Her mouth wide open,of the utmost shock of her life.

"He cut one of his veins..oodles of blood's gone...." Matron kept talking slowly,even though she knew Aastha was not listening.."He's...OKAY..now maybe!!"
"MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATT!!!..I SO HATE YOU!!"
Matron gave away a hearty laugh.."Yeah,my devil,he's fine now,GO and visit him now!!"
"Definitely!!"

Half an hour later.

"There are better ways to attract attention,dog" Aastha said teasing him.
With the ventilator on his mouth,Aastha could still see him beaming behind them.Yes,he was THE one.She kissed him on his forehead.And then?

Don't yu know what happened after that? :D

The air's polluted..whats it? Love?

2008-06-30T12:39:00.000+05:30

m not in a mental status to right these days guys..my mind and heart,they simply don't seem to come n co-operation :)..whatever this period of my life is defined as,its.....(speechless) I have two songs..that I'm in love with-

>>A hundred days had made me older
since the last time that I've saw your pretty face

A thousand lights had made me colder and I don’t think I can look at this the same

But all the miles had separate
They disappear now when I’m dreaming of your face

I’m here without you baby
but your still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby
and I dream about you all the time
I’m here without you baby
but your still with me in my dreams
And tonight it’s only you and me<<

No..I'm not going to put forward you long conversations that I have with some 'Dream guy' of mines..it'll just be a small and (hopefully) sweet question for all of you-

Who was your first crush? Describe how you fell for him/her :)
And for my side..I'm a person who doesn't believe in the crush..gf-bf theory,but now here i see a lot of believers of that sooooo.. *grins*

Go on guys!
Englighten me with your stories..LOL
And btw,here's a ro-mantic song from Love story for all of you-

Teri yaadein

(Don't ask me whats wrong..I mean..WTF..I am talking about love..heck heck..kya time aa gaya hai *muddled*)

Current track-When you love someone by Bryan Adams

MaKe A DIFFERENCE!

2008-05-26T11:41:00.000+05:30

By reading my blog,you may see abstract topics.Each different from the other.I can't write about "darkness" and "solitary confinements" forever neither can I write on social disasters,as until and unless I make a difference how can I be cheap enough to point out those ministers out there.Yes,that golden chair of the politicians has a charm.It has some kind of magnet which makes your mind go in the wrong direction after reaching it.No,I ain't speaking from above the clouds,this is the REALITY.Aah,but thats a completely bizzare topic.I will talk about things only where I can bring a "Change".We were born as 'Citizens of India'..but where's the fire burning in our souls to "Do or Die"??..No I ain't asking you to leave everything and go and join the army forces,but try to take some initiatives in your hand.I mean to say if you see anything wrong goin' on stand against it.By this not only will you inspire yourself,but fellowmen as well.And trust me there is no feeling better than dying a death where when you turn back the pages of your life you can say "Ah,that was THE day"..Not only that,think,we observe national holidays and ceremonies on the birthday's of some great freedom fighters.[eg.Mahatma Gandhi,Jawaharlal Nehru]but then on the other side 110's of soldiers die fighting for their respective countries without even being known to the world.I mean would you remember the name of a single "soldier" who sacrificed his life? No,obviously.Maybe we can name one of those receiving a medal for immense courage but no ordinary soldier.Just look at them,get inspired by them,how they sacrificed themselves even behind staying after walls of shadows.Yes,this is Courage,and this is what we are citizens of a country for.Pointing out the politicians for the downing of India is what I'd call being a complete "Coward".Until and unless you don't make a difference how can you even dream of pointing out the politicians?People ask you where you're from,you'll proudly declare the country.But dude,if you're brought down to Earth,ain't there a PURPOSE?
And if you're still roaming aimless like the many thousands,then look around you'll get a way how you can give yourself an "Aim" and do something for your beloved Motherland.
Rise your country by your efforts.Who says YOU can't make a difference?
If you love your country,don't just say it,do something for your country.
VaNdE MaTrAm
RISE INDIA!
RISE YOUR OWN COUNTRY!!