Monday, November 2, 2009


It’s been a while since I blogged. But a little pondering over the past while photo editing gave me a thought: I haven’t lost my temper in a while now. And that’s a big deal for me. I was always the girl who wasn’t to be messed with. In school, and even during my first year of college, I was a walking, talking spit fire with a big head, big body and big mouth. Annoyance wasn’t well tolerated around me, and I always needed things to be perfect and done in my way. Ego problem, I guess. But somehow, the beginning of this year changed me. I realized that maybe, just maybe, my company too, made me this way. Maybe the things they did angered me the most, but it always came out on someone or something else. My notion was that my anger defined me. That with my anger, I could always be proud about myself and about the fact that I’m very well capable of giving one angered speech or two. Yeah, people hated me because of that, most of the time even cursed me, but I didn’t give a horse’s shit towards that. I thought I stood high and mighty over the rest because no one knew when and where I’d burst. But now, since the past few months, I guess I’ve managed to create a filter of sorts within myself. I realized that I actually preferred being liked, rather than being hated. True, I’ve grown thicker skin since a few friendships ended, but those only ended because THEY, I later realized were the ones that angered me the most. Every little detail about them, now as I see it, is clearly, fake. And as realization dawns upon me now, I understand that while I was with them, I was fake too. Me. The girl who is cold and icy towards anyone she dislikes on the first meet itself, and who turns her head in the other direction because she’d rather look at dogs doing it than see the face of people she knows are fake. Man, when realization hits you, it hits like a baseball in full swing, right on the head. Yes, I have grown up to be a little more controlled now. As a friend said to me, you are temperamental, but you’ve controlled it a lot now. Maybe I bite my tongue a lot more than I used to, but it’s for my own good. As I said before, company helps too. The friends I have now, well, I’ve known them for barely a few months now. But all I can say is that I feel like I’ve known them for years. I am myself in front of them, and I guess they understand me better than the “plasticines” did. A few other of my old friends help me out too. People I’ve known nearly all my life, people I’ve sobbed my eyes out in front of, and people I’ve laughed with so hard, I’d have water squirting out of my nose. They’re all the ones that know what’s coming up with a change of my expression. I can’t remember a time when I’ve been a wreck of anger with them. True, when I’m alone the ugly monster steps out, but they’re still there to calm me down. I love these people with all my heart, and in all honesty, I can guarantee you, that had I not met them months ago, I’d be Godzilla, storming around the city, bashing every second head I see.

This is a dedication to you guys. No specific reason, just a thought that grew.

Esha, Neha, Zahra, Koshy, Nittal, Sanidhya, Hileri, Harshal, Hardik, Meghna, Soumya.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Oh My Fricking Gosh! (In A Freakishly Awesome Way :D)

*note: all single letter names in this post are secret. plus they are names that tend to make me giggle like crazy*

today, was, as much as i hated parts of it, was AWESOME! like, awesome, in all caps, all bold, and extralarge...awesome like this: AWESOME! <- like that. :)

here's what happened. day started off boring...french class, koshy going insane with early morning bad jokes (i still don;t know how thakur did yoga and i don't care!!) then, i went to my aunt's place, collected my new purple wallet, which is oh so hot!!!, my twilight keyring [:D], twilight soundtrack CD [:D :D], and twilight poster [:D :D :D]. finally i went to college, finished the first lecture, went to the library where we bugged shrishti beyond recognition, then went to attend the 4th lecture. now here's where my day decided to go awesome. i get out, with koshy and the others, and while we're walking to the canteen, and all of a sudden, out of god alone knows where, i meet R, school friend, and long, long-time crush! and then i had the freakiest smile on my face! we both left our groups and headed to each other...gosh he is still so SO sweet! we exchanged numbers (i managed that rather slyly for myself, i might add ;D), and then just walked till his stop and talked. he's in the college bang next to mine, which means there is a fairly darned good chance that we meet again, and again...i hope.

and now is the second large awesome! i log on to facebook after a shower...the usual. notifications, requests, etc. i check out my requests, and i see a request from K, another crush, who i met while on a trip to Egypt, at the age of 12. i had this massive crush on him for a while, but then we lost touch. we chatted some time ago now, and it was soo weird! we both are older, and we're pretty cool with talking to each other! and he tells me i'm still the same, haven't changed a bit! :D

i know all this sounds like totally lame, but for me, this just brings back the best of memories and a goofy feeling inside me...hmmm....:/

that's all with the updates! ciao!


Monday, July 20, 2009

I'm sorry. Back to friends...yay! Crush matter. Voldy oh so moldy!:D. EVIL!!!

>> i'm sorry for just not talking to you and saying those things about you. i was a total bitch to you. i guess i felt like their friendship meant more to me than yours. you are important. period. :)

>> do i still like you? or don't i? it's hard to decide. it was funny after how we exchanged, like, 3 words in the 2-3 weeks you've been here, i still look and stare...thinking matter.

>> saw Harry Potter 6 AGAIN. a promise made month ago, as i realized, could be fatal if broken. either way, i figured something out while i spoiled each scene for my friends...Voldemort had, like, a shit load of free time on his hands to rip his soul into 7, THEN hide them in these freakishly maddening places...

>> you're glares are a sight for sore eyes now. dare to come talk to me, and you're gonna hear the biggest speech about how you made me feel disgusting about myself, and how all you made me do is cry. i guess i grew up and moved on for better crap.

no more news...Rupert love still on! i bugged dad too, who's in London, and told him to shop for H.P nick knacks...his reply, aren't you too old for that now? my reply, uh...NO!?!?! =D

life. love. joy. hope.


Saturday, July 18, 2009


starting off, Harry Potter was disappointing. i've been using that word a lot since yesterday, every time someone asked me how the movie was...either way, the only thing keeping me up during the second half was my cheese pop corn. first half was AMAZING!!! minus the ron lavender kiss (no comment, unless you want me to jump off my seat and shred the screen into pieces)...also, did Dumbledore bury himself in his own coffin without a funeral? and does the Elder Wand hold no significance AT ALL???

you still hold my interest. for one thing, i know you're a reader and maybe a writer, since you showed an incredible amount of interest at the fact that i'm a mini journalist now. your smile is...Oh.My.Gosh. it's like the perfect lopsided one. now if only you'd smile back when i make a fool of myself and smile at you. i did that twice yesterday, while you held my gaze, and you just turned away. i was soooo embarassed. though now i'm confused...did you see it or not? still likin' ya...

i hate this confusion. Rupert, come to India and sweep me off my feet. things will be a LOT easier then! (again, i soooo wish.)


Wednesday, July 15, 2009

The New (capital) G.

i don't know how i'm going to get enough courage to come and talk to you. i guess i'm going to be using the "ask if you need any help" line on you. i barely even know you and yet, i'm going bonkers!!

well, i guess that was yesterday's news. i know she likes you too, and at first it was painful to deal with, but now, i'm cool with it. and yeah, everyone can see you've got a thing for the other one, which again, doesn't bother me! i'm surprised and happy with myself with that fact.

i still like you, and i still want to talk to you, but i'm not dying or going crazy to do so. i still like you, yes. just not in the great catastrophic proportions that i used to...if that made sense.

let's see what happens now! i'm ready for some excitement! :D


Monday, July 13, 2009

Unlucky Lucky Mascot With An Upcoming Free Haircut. And For The Love Of True Friends.

it's a little crazy, and weird. i mean, to me it is. weird, i mean. ok, i'm going to stop ranting, since that is basically all i do. either way, i'm going to do this point wise, so i have my shit sorted on this post! :D

>> the guy i was not so secretly in love with last year and who i hate now, seems to give an amazing day every time we cross paths in college. he's the unlucky lucky mascot. he's a total jackass, and now he stares at me every time he walks past me, but i turn the other way and talk to my friend like i care a damn. i feel like such a bitch when i do that, but it s the most amazing feeling in the world! teehee! :P

>> i'm going to get a free haircut next month! at one of the posh hair salons! they're going to be done by aspiring hair stylists, so basically we're going to be the lab rats, but i don't's free!! i asked mom if i could get streaks done, and she said, as long as it's all free, go bald and i don't care! which, in a good way, means, go wild!

>> i feel like i bad that i didn't trust one of my best friends day before yesterday. i thought i couldn't, only because i felt she was overly friendly with them then she claims to be (if you're reading this and it doesn' make sense to you, i understand. even i don't get it). but i totally got over that shit. i feel so silly for having thought that. she's like a sister to me! <3>> me and koshy had a blast yesterday... we were outside the salon, it was raining, and we were trying to get a ride home. we waited for like half and hour, and my tummy got upset, she was trying to make me laugh, we were goofing was a BLAST!!! i love it when we both go crazy and care a shit... :)

>> my love for Rupert has just upped by a gazillion notches... *sigh*. he's like, surprisingly, the only guy i've been soo frigging screechy about! i'm not a freak, just another fan who calls herself Mrs. Rupert Grint! see? i have a picture for proof :P


i'm done babbling. signing off, still loving my life right now, and all the people in it.


Sunday, July 12, 2009

...And Then Lavender Kissed Ron.

argh! i need to vent so very desperately about this, since my mother wouldn't be very pleased about the fact that i dream of myself in the place of Jessie Cave while she snogs Rupert in the latest Harry Potter movie. despite the fact that i'm a humongously maniacal Harry Potter fan, which she is only too well aware of, she has laughed over my undeniable love for Rupert, saying: "well, see, it's never happening, so i have nothing to worry about". and this was when i was 13...can you believe it? 13? and at that age, i'd been in love with Rupert for precisely 2 years. either way, back to reason for venty feeling (that makes no sense. fuck it. just read on), they showed the making of Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince a few minutes ago on HBO. and they repeated the Ron-Lavender kiss too many times for my comfort. i'm like this big ball of inexplicable grumpiness at the moment!

i tried uploading more pictures, however, blogger isn't helping by error-ing me. this is the best i could do. *still fuming*

this is my facebook status, just to let you know: "anger flows from within at the fact that Jessie Cave gets to snog Rupert Grint's face out. and oh yeah, Angela May has the best job in the world. *grumpy*"

i had to, i had to post that. like i have to, have to write this. i've hated lavender since the day i read the scene in the book itself. i swear. how unfair can life be??? i'm stuck here in India, got a boring life, in desperate search of the perfect relationship...ok, scratch that last bit, i'm 16. i can't be so desperate for that. or maybe i can be. I DON'T KNOW! either way, Rupert, yet again, if you're reading this, respond. in some way or the other. (i wish.)

thanks for reading if you did! now scamper off. you have better ways to waste time! =D


Tuesday, July 7, 2009


i don't know if i should change myself or not. certain friends of mine hate me. they think i'm immature because i laugh at the wrong times and i laugh too much, they think i'm cheap because i stick to a low budget when i'm stripped of cash, they think i like eating their leftovers when they waste almost half the stuff, and they think i'm a total narcissistic bitch. they think that my temper will never get me anywhere and my 'take me the way i am' attitude is 'inappropriate'.

i hate it when this happens. such incidents just make me rethink myself, make me depressed, and make the tears just pour out. they think i take advantage of the fact that i've seen enough negativity at a young age and that apparently i need to step up and manage my shit since i'm 16. i don't know what to do. they're two people, one of whom was one of my best friends once upon a time, and now she's changed so much that she no longer stands out. she's just another person in the crowd. and she doesn't even see it when i tried to tell her.

am i a bitch? am i cheap? i know a temper will ever get anyoe anywhere, but i have controlled it. trust me, i have. i'm not as bad as i used to be. i've got into near fistfights in the past! now, anyone says shit about me, i laugh it off. but it's hurting me terribly now. these were people i loved with all my heart. my true friends...well, i guess not so true. still, i feel like i'm in the dark bottomless pit, falling, with no one to be Mr. stretch and lend me a hand and pull me out of misery. i want to get out of here. i really do. i want to leave behind my whole past, and start afresh somewhere else. not running away, just, moving on.

i'm hating myself so much right now. i'm crying, but it seems as though there's no one to see the pain. i hate feeling like this. they really were close to me, and now, they just think i'm plastic. and they won;t even say it to my face, that's the worst. i did enough saying when we'd had a fight. i let my whole heart out. but they just wanna fake around. i feel soo disgusted about myself right now. i want to change, but i can't.

adding to all of that, i feel like i suck at writing, again. as though there's nothing lef in me. just a talentless piece of crap.

i feel sick. help.

Monday, July 6, 2009

OH.MY.GOSH. Please get well soon.

my friend literally woke me up with a text message saying that Rupert Grint (yes, the one i'm married to...the one i'm absolutely positively madly in love with.) has swine flu, or rather, HAD. i was getting ready to go for my french tuition, and i was already late (surprise surprise) when she texted me. i died. i'm not kidding i died. i had tears in my eyes. my hair was not combed and i actually ran out of the house with a pigeon nest for a head of hair. how could he let himself get swine flu?? Rupert Alexander Lloyd Grint, why didn't you wash you hands, or something? i just wish he'd take care...

gosh. that was like the worst scare in my life EVER.

oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh. i think i'm still going to be 'oh-my-gosh-ing' for a while now. it's still hitting me. rupert is like the bestest actor in my head. the most adorable, the sexiest, the funniest, the most talented, and yes, the hottest guy for me. argh! i just wish he'd be way more careful!!!!


P.S: rupert, if you come across this blog (HA! i WISH!), i just hope you're okay now. please please PLEASE take care of yourself. i need you onscreen and off screen to make me swoon and be a total girl with my screeches. =D love always. <3

P.S II: here's the link to the BBC report that states that rupert (*screeches*) 'had swine flu' (*sobs*):

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

The Old Lady Cried

she was 73 years old, and quite a hefty woman for her age i might add. piercing gray-blue eyes, a worn out voice, and a body that no longer showed her glory from the old days, she sat on the park bench in her powder green dress, with a bag of groceries and her rugged copy of 'wuthering heights'. she had a soft smile plastered on her face, hiding the work her mind was doing. Mrs. Norman, or gran, was what most of the people called her. she'd play with the little ones when they had no one else to go to, baby sit for the parents who were never around to watch their kids grow, and chat with the lonely ones her own age, sharing the grief and happiness together. to those who barely knew her, she was the 'old lady' across the street, living in the brown brick apartment buliding on the ground floor. Wilma Norman was a normal woman of sorts.
her husband passed away nearly 8 years ago, and her grief was not known to the others, for she was as jolly as a tulip swaying in the warm summer wind. it was 2pm in the afternoon that she walked home. she unlocked the door, hung up her pink sweater, and left the keys on the dresser. she kissed her husband's portrait in the corridor, and smiled at his content face. she made tea, and sipped it as she laughed at the children playing next door.
Alison, her 27 year old daughter, was married, and lived a few blocks away from Gran. she was a spitting image of her mother at her age, and just as vibrant. Alison had twin children, Anna and Jack, and her husband Adam, was just as dear to Gran as her own child.
mid-afternoon, as Gran was arranging her library, Alison came by to drop of the twins. "Ma, i'm going by the mall...Adam's away at work, and i was going to take them with me to shop for new clothes for them, but they said they wanted to play with you.", she smiled. Mrs. Norman's face broke into her wide playful grin as the two children jumped into her arms. "oh my two darlings, i have a game in mind for you...and some cookies in the kitchen. go get 'em!" the twins squirmed as she tickled them and then ran to the kitchen to gorge on the cookies. Alison hugged her mother and said "thanks, Ma. you look a little pale. anything i can get you? you really need to stop running around all the time." Wilma laughed at that and said "why would you say that and take the remainder of my youth away from me? i'm happy, aly, as happy as i've always been. don't you worry." Alison kissed her mother and her two children goodbye. that afternoon, Mrs. Norman read to her two grandchildren, played with their train set, danced around with them and finally dropped them off at her daughter's house. she came back home after chatting with her friends along the way, and made dinner. later that night, she caught an episode of her night time t.v shows, before changing for bed.
it was late, when she finally retired to her room for the day. she smiled back at the day she had had, her two angels, her daughter, her son, her friends...everyine she loved was always on her mind. she stared at the ceiling and thought of her husband. his side of the bed empty, his pillow untouched, his bedspread neat. a tear then trickled down her cheek. true, she was Wilma Norman, the Gran who always smiled. but no one ever knew that every night as she lay in bed and thought of the love of her life, the old lady cried.

P.S: NOT a true story. the title line is the only thing i'd thought of, the rest came along while typing. =)

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Never Regret

i'm in a very hoop-la-doodle-dee-do-ish mood. i just got my hair chopped off. totally different for me. i had shoulder length thick hair, well now, its just in a short mop on my head. my grandmom stares at me like i just decided to turn into a man. i was just doing some thinking...about the times i spent in school, my ex-boyfriend, the times WE spent, friends who changed so much that they made it impossible for me to love them anymore, how much i've changed...and the newest thought was Michael Jackson. wasn't much of a fan to be honest, but yeah, he had me mesmerised everytime 'heal the world', 'thriller' and 'beat it' was played. all of this, gave me just one conclusion; you can fuck up as many times as you want, ruin your life, even, but that's what you're here're here to create YOUR OWN mistakes, your own nightmares. and no matter how much guilt you have inside you, it's important to never regret any decision you ever made. yes, i'm guilty for doing SO many things wrong. everyday i wish i could correct my own mistakes. but that can't happen. we're human, heck we were born to be mistakes!! i'm glad i'm growing up to be more like my mom...though i'll never agree to one thing; i'm a spitfire...and once a spitfire, ALWAYS a spitfire! i'm glad for everything that messed up my life along the way. it's just given me thicker skin. at least i'm not crying over every silly fight or a rumor that's spread about me. i still don't know who i am, and honestly, i don't care if i die not knowing. for now, this is me, and i don't regret what i've become. some may think i'm this 'couldn't-care-less' bitch in a fat girl's body, but only those who know me know about the times i cry over my lies, my insecurities, my drawbacks. my support system, is you all.

i'm sorry i broke your heart, but it just wasn;t hapening.
i care a damn about what you say about me. the one's who care won't listen. the one's who listen, don't care.

i promise, i'll never regret anything. ever.


Friday, June 19, 2009

All Designers

i'm contemplating my future careers at the moment. my dreams of being a designer/writer/hopeful actress seem to be sinking down down deep in the ground. i feel like an ostrich, as a matter of fact. but while showering today (most of my thinking happens there, so don't laugh!), i realized that anyone who creates a piece of clothing IS a designer. i'm not talking about me. heck, i can't sew to save my life. but, you know the small cute tops you buy off the little shack of a stall in your prime thrift shopping area, were created by someone. you liked the pattern and design. hence, you liked THEIR design. hence, clearly, they're designers.

in my opinion, you actually don't really need a degree to start an actual big time career as an acclaimed designer. a degree is all that actually let's you call yourself a designer openly. a piece of paper, stating that you passed out of *name college* after learning all about the art of design and are now good enough to be presented to the world as a raw piece of meat waiting to be chewed on by worldwide retailers.

...i'm done talking. thanks for reading, if you did!

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Because you can't help but love them

Aaaahh actors...they come in all shapes and sizes, and the ones i love come in greek god-like statuesque bodies with the most amazing faces and smiles, at least in my head.i never liked any actors from bollywood, well, not as much as i love the guys from uphill. the killing bite though, the british accent some of them have. i've always been the one to fall for the chivalrous, pretty, well spoken guys (not much luck in actually getting to be with one though).

like Rupert Grint. he's brit, turining 21 in August, gorgeous with red hair, has the most heart melting smile, and is the typical well spoken english boy.

and of course, he has no idea that he's married to me. Rupert, if you ever read this (I wish!) i am not a creep, just someone who has defended you for the past 5 years everytime my friends think you suck. for me, you rock. :D

then, there's the rugged british kind. the type who smokes when and where he wants, wears his oldest t-shirt and still manages to look oh so hot, has his hair messed to the T and every time he smiles, there are sirens on the roads picking up girls who just died.
My siren...Robert Pattinson. *watches soul float away*. he dresses to kill *watches life flash past eyes*at the premieres, does what he wants to, when he wants to and still seems to be the most charming vampire..sorry..guy (vampire? did i say vampire?! :D) ever.

who wouldn't want to see a vampire looking back at them while they were asleep?? oh, ad rob...
bite me. ;)

my third favourite...well he's a singer, but he's A-D-O-R-A-B-L-E, David Archuleta, and to me he's hot. i mean, seriously, he's effing seventeen and sings like a canary, umm...literally. i was doing a Tom cruise by jumping up and down on my sofa when he came on stage while watching AI, and had the biggest grin on my face when he performed.

worst of all, i go dreamy and ultrasonic when my friend plays his song on the phone. archie fan for life, archie fa for life!!

now, every girl has a crush on an older actor. not OLD, oldER. my older actor is Christian Bale. i fell in love with him when he was busy holding Winona Ryder in his arms saying "Joe, i fell in love with you the moment i laid my eyes on you".

mmmyyyy batman.. :*)

as a kid, all i ever wanted was to be a pretty princess in a big castle with Rapunzel's hair, but in brown. when i grew up and turned 16, i decided i'd rather dream of holding hands and fighting off weird ox-like freaky creatures and the wicked white witch, with Ben Barnes. of course, that's only because of how un-fucking-believeably gorgeous he is.

hey Ben! you're amazing! you know that? P.S: I love you! =D (see, it's hard not to be a total girl when i'm writing this)

well, since i decided this to be my top 6 (only 6 cuz i could go on if i wanted to, and then this would be a multiple page post), i'm rounding this off with my last dream boyfriend. Chace Crawford, i'll be bitchy, irresponsible, stuck up and totally spoilt!! promise! will you date me now??? (i just had to, HAD TO get that out :D). my definition of gorgeous. that smile, those eyes, that hair...

I'd tap that. i'd totally tap that.
I'd tap all of that.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Cracked Glass

I adjust the rear view mirror,
See the scars left on my face,
Touch the skin, so red and wet,
Mouth twisted in pain, eyes dripping the tears I’d stopped from falling,
Hit reverse, but all I want to do is accelerate and run,
Silent, can’t say a word.
All I see is the cracked glass.

Happy, cheerful, that big smile you wanted to see,
Rewind and return to the starting line again,
Fall right back into the big black hole,
See the browns, the greens and the reds,
Laugh through the blur at the pictures of us all,
Lay down my heavy head, rest there for a while,
Hit repeat, play for a while,
A shine hits me from the cracked glass.

I see the brightest star in the sky,
Making it mine, it’s all the light I have left,
Stare off into space, sit at the balcony and look down,
It’s not much of a jump, why don’t I try?
And reality smacks back, with the sound of the phone beeping,
“Don’t you dare do anything”, I hear, ignore,
It’s like the voices in my head weren’t enough.
I notice the cracked glass.

Flowers for love, chocolates for pleasure,
Immerse yourself into the water,
Blood rush, hits you right in the head,
A kiss makes you weak, makes you feel loved,
Lock the door and crash,
Stare into the glare that’s looking right back at you,
Frown, look away, it’s embarrassing.
I think of the cracked glass.

Point fingers, they’re all to blame,
Wear the jacket and be someone else,
Adjust, plug in the noise,
Move along with it; let it drive you there,
Wind the clock, turn back time…
And I’m the kid again.
I walk to the cracked glass.

Suicidal, scream emergency,
Eyes closed, kohl spread all over my face,
Immobile, entranced, and stop,
Look around, so plain, so usual, so incomplete,
Give me back my smile; I’ve lent it too long,
One last breath, firm back, and I bleed.
As I step onto the cracked glass.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Yes I’m throwing A Fit Again. Go Ahead. Deal With It. I Care A Damn.

The very fact that we say we’re teenagers puts this neon psychedelic image, with drugs, making out, booze, articulated language, misdemeanour, peculiarity, ciggies and the punk “revolution” into adults’ heads. Yes, we are peculiar at this age. Yes we have our mood swings. Yes, we think you talk sh*t at times and totally zone you out if we don’t want to listen to you. Yes, we get a sick satisfaction in gaining your disapproval many a times. And yes, we do think that those elastic freaky coloured rubber bands look revoltingly appealing. But seriously, ever looked back at YOUR life, and thought that maybe, she was WAY better then I ever was when I was that age?
Suuuure, we’re in the 21st CENTURY (oh my gosh. So freaky) and all, but notice it or not, our rules and regulations are WAY tighter then they ever were back in the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s. We’re teenagers for crying out loud. We’re at a point in our lives where WE honestly have no idea of what we are, where we’re going, what we can do and whether we even have a real life or not. Like all those high and mighty polished slit nosed psychologists often say, “These youngsters, or adolescents, are at a crossroads in their lives, and they aren’t sure of their age limits.” Well, I agree, for one. All you elders might just think that I’m being melodramatic for the heck of it, or that maybe it IS my job to be that way, since I’m a teenager, but honestly, ever thought what we’re going through here? We can’t tell you so many things of what we do or what we feel, only because we’re freaking out about the disapproval you have ready for us at the end of our dramatic-in-your-eyes and tearful speech. No if’s and but’s tolerated, you’ll just refuse to listen further. It’s like you have an invisible countdown clock in your head, and once we’ve shut up, our time is up. Simple. Also, we no longer have an opinion. Only your opinion is authorized and approved of.
As for the mood swings, why yes of course we have them. And here, I’ll just repeat a prior mentioned point, that we aren’t supernaturally malfunctioning humans, just average youngsters that you were once upon a long, long time! We’re not being melodramatic, just having a mild emotional seizure because we’re narked with “the world”, or have had a dramatized live action tiff with our current significant other, or are just plain pissed or are too busy “hating our lives”. Also, we agree that right now, we are ‘officially addicted’ to all the possible corny music, too-freaky-for-the-blind coloured junk, weird clothes, the high class snobby drama T.V soaps for girls and the doubled sports for the guys, our re runs, our cell phones, our technology and too much more!
Lastly, we aren’t pretentious, fake, snobby, careless and/or rebellious…or at least we don’t mean to be! We’re growing up, so try and help us out with all the questions without raising the red flag, won’t you, please?


I feel your breath on my neck,
I hear your footsteps in the dark,
I feel your clear eyes on me, staring inside me,
But every time I turn to look, I see the plain wall,
And every time I look at the chair, it’s empty.

I know you’re there somewhere,
Staring at me and smiling from a little corner,
I know you’re out there, somewhere,
Surrounding me, protecting me,
I’m scared out of my skin,
Though I should feel loved.

I wonder if there was a moment you thought you’d live again,
And I think of how much I loved you,
No matter how I was to you,
I hope you know I always cared,
I miss you many times a day,
Wish you were here.

I’m alert all night,
Wondering if you’ll show yourself,
I know that might just make me more afraid of you and the world you’ve moved into,
But your last memory still ligers,
And I still feel the tears on my face,
Watching you go away.

You watched me then like I was an angel,
You look out for me now, invisibly keeping me out of harm’s way,
You answer my silly prayers for me, even though you don’t want to at times,
But you do it out of love for me,
I grew up, and didn’t bother to look back then,
I wish I could take that back, though I can’t.

I know you’re watching now,
As I write this, trying not to spill yet another tear,
You’ll all loved me deeply, and now continue to together,
Watch over the rest of us you’ll left behind,
Tears are shed, in the loneliness, pain eating us up at times,
And I just need you’ll to know I love you.


We were born into a world of complete hypocrisy. To be honest, no one in the world ca be completely truthful to your face, not even yourself. We’re all just lying to ourselves at some point or the other, trying to shadow the harsh truth that we often never want to accept. We’re all imposters of our own being, our own kind, and our own kith and kin. You can be a poor, humble person. You can be a lawyer. You can even be a monk, for crying out loud! But the truth is that none of us know what we really are. We’re just living in this make believe world, with its make believe scenarios, passing by like the scenes in a long play.

It’s like living in a forest of dreams, where nothing is real once you wake up. Your wishes are all too beautiful to be reality. The universe is just this massive cluster of the lies we built for ourselves. We’re living; we’re breathing, but not understanding what we’re here for. So many of us claim we know who we are and what we’re made of, oh so confidently, but given a chance to be honest, we’d all just break down to reveal the unsatisfied souls. So many of us in this time, say we’re original; we’re one of a kind. One of a kind, sure, I’ll buy that. But original is like saying the North and South Pole are one and the same. No one’s original. Each one’s style and personality has a bit of each other in it. We’re all fragments of each other.

It seems that we all live in this make-believe magical world. Where there’s nothing to worry about, no pain to feel, and happiness all round the year. Like we have everything we ever needed. No sorrows, no hard work, and most especially, no imagination. We’re like fairies and gnomes and pixies, like every magical creature you can think of, straight from J. K. Rowling’s books, put into action with glee and energy. Where all like clockwork clowns, high on sugar. Basically, we’re all just fooling ourselves, trying to comfort each other with useless handshakes, smiles and hellos. With confident thoughts, massive smiles and straight talk. We’re all liars, living in one BIG fairyland.

Sunday, March 22, 2009


Starting off on a positive note, I hate religion. I hate nationality. I hate racism. And I hate castes and tribes and all that other trivial stuff. I clearly sound like an antipathetical teenager here, but hate IS a strong word and I DO mean to use it. The aversion builds up, and this is what it leads to altogether.

Religion was never an issue until some whack job out there made it one. There WAS once a time when the world chose to live like newborn civilized apes. No blood spilt, no heads tossed around, nothing. It’s all been blown out of proportion to such a magnitude that these days, we need to be forced into religion. I for one am only 16, and if I react now, it’s not helping anyone. I’m bi-lingual, and I hate “celebrating” a new year. I feel brainwashed when spoken to in opposition from either side against the opposite religions in my family. I listen, that is all I can do, but each time I feel like just walking away. We go to temples only when we need something, or when we have a feast to celebrate. Oh, joy. You know that phrase, “god is in each and everyone of us”? Yeah, that as clearly something Nehru wrote one day on paper and gobbled it down so no one can find out. I feel anger bursting through my seams when I have to visit a temple, be a devotee, and pray in the religion governed there. No, I’m not proud to be bi-lingual. I’m instead waiting to turn 18 so that I can finally throw the truth in your faces, because it is too painful for me.

And nationality. I elaborate on this one, since I see too many heads fuming up on that line. Explain to me how a kid born in a state in America to Indian parents, living as an American there, having an American passport, driving license, school/college education, etc. is considered Indian? I was recently watching a famous American music show (American Idol to all those with the question marks on their heads), and there was this one guy who was born to Indians (I explained above. I am NOT repeating). Now my dad joined me as I watched, and much to my irritation, he was all happy and proud that an INDIAN made it through to the next round. Oh my. What pride he brings to the nation, doesn’t he? The end of the story is that this guy is going to celebrate his win or loss, where? In America. Will he come down to India just to celebrate his appearance on the show? Of course not. He was born there, and has never seen India, then why come? So here comes my question…is he, after all this, still considered an INDIAN we should be proud of? Finally, is he even Indian? That’s the weirdest part about the world, isn’t it? You feel pride for something that has never seen its truth. Sure, your chest swells when Sania Mirza hits a Grand Slam. That IS India winning. Yes, our chest swells when we hear the national anthem and feel patriotic. But what is left to feel patriotic about?

These are just tags given to us to distinguish us from the others. I’m Indian, you’re Dutch, he’s Australian. But I honestly feel no sense of pride coming in when I say this. All I hear is me declaring the name of the nation that I was born in. period. No pride. No chest swelling. Just the urge to strip myself of the biased rules.

This was just an honest opinion. Anyone wanting to disagree is free to do so. I’ll still be friends with you. And I’ll still readily bitchslap you when you go all giddy headed on me at any point of time.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009


Strolling down the streets,
Trying to pry off the attention I get,
Ignore, young lady, just lead yourself,
Stand tall, smell the air all fresh.

I’m shouting and screaming in an empty hall now.

Awoken by a bad dream,
Shrug at the normality,
So used to the sweating and swell of fear,
Go back to sleep, it’s only 3 am, girl,
Stop taking to me.

I think I’m finally insane.

Sit down for work,
Detest wanting to be with everyone else but him,
Sorry, I can’t make it today,
I’m just too busy hating myself all over again.

Give up, you’re useless. The world just doesn’t see it.

Lazed by no creativity,
I suck at this,
God, why did I ever think I could manage?
And a tear drops on the page again.

I’m dropping the pen and colors, I’m no good.

The usual routine, I want to get away now,
I know I’m a big girl,
It’s time I grew out of wanting you both together,
Too hard, wish you were in my place to see.

It’s too much love and too much pain.

I mimic my dreams in privacy,
It’s too embarrassing, you can’t see,
I’m a soppy mess, don’t look at me, I’m ugly,
You’re all too good for me.

I can’t live with the extremity.

Look around, do I look any good to you?
Wasted, and tired of the times,
I’m waiting, but can’t hold on for much longer,
A promise, to try and keep.

Judge me; I won’t be surprised if you already have.

It’s like you wasted your time making me,
Molding me, when I’d end up like this,
Laughing, but cracking into bits on the inside.

Rip myself apart, you’ll do not need me.

I have my opinions,
I feel like a tyke,
Shut me up now, and find the ways,
Make new friends.

I’m breaking up with all of you now.

Rest again, and feel the heat,
Disconnected, I’m never fitting in,
I’ll never succeed, you should see that,
It’s always been that way, and it’s not going to change.

I’m unfinished.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

woman of new times

Her head bowed down,
She walks through the dark streets,
The glint in her eyes does nothing to hide her strength,
Her aura, so full of courage,
She’s too strong to bother about the world,
She’s ready for time, she’s ready for life.

The moon shadows her flowing hair, making her look like a sorceress,
The white of her skin cast a contrast for all to stare,
She’s the apple of his eye,
But she won’t let him darken her air.

She casts her spells with the precision of an angel,
Her face arrested by determination,
She’s ready for the world,
And won’t let a single chance go by,
She’s the passing woman’s envy,
And is grabbing the attention of one and all,
She has no fear to think of,
No loathing to spare,
She’s louder than the wind, but as silent as white noise,
And her mouth never opens,
For her eyes are bold enough to do the talking.

Her coat collar up,
She hides the face of a queen,
The clicking of her boots on the wet path sings a song,
Her hair bouncing away,
And with each step she’s a changing woman,
Her charisma undefined, the depth of her emotions unnoticed,
Her tragedies thrown away, she knows she’s on top,
And the profoundness of her will, she knows, shall always protect her.

She’s ready for action,
No power is too hard to tackle for her,
She’s been through it all,
And her tears have since been long gone,
For she has no time for such petty folly,
Her heart seems stone cold,
But beneath the impression lies the truth,
For times have weathered the good in her,
And rain or shine,
Nothing’s going to change her,
She’s too much for the world to handle now,
She’s not waiting any longer,
She’s saying it out loud.

She finally steps up,
And unlocks the door to the real world,
Voices being heard, there’s music blaring in the background,
“Stay away!” comes a voice from not so far,
She sighs, so much for freedom,
But she’s happy, she’s satisfied,
She couldn’t ask for more,
For she is the woman of the new times.