#2: Forsaken soul

"Don't go out yet!" we said. "Your talks with that friend are ever on the rise. 

Talking about our household is not wise."

The light left her eyes, shoulders stooped, she slunk back on her chair.

"She's back from the village with a gift. Taking it, I think, is fair."

We stopped short of words. Yet again we were too hasty and judging.

The househelp across the lane had the comfort only a friend could bring.

Staring at the soppy serial on TV, her only distraction, her eyes welled with tears,

"You wouldn't know what it is to be alone, and to live in fear."

A sharp intake of breath we took. She was right, and we hadn't thought,

What it could be like to lose every loved one life had brought.

There had been a home with Mother and Sister and Goats in a far-off village,

Before it crumbled while she had been away, all mercilessly pillaged.

The Mother and Sister killed by some kin,

And no one to arrest them for committing the sin.

For we live in a country where the mighty rule,

The honest and the hard-working man is just a fool.

So it was that she lost her family, for the kin lusted for her life too,

She gave up her hard-earned money to another greedy sister, for there was nothing she could do.

The greedy sister, sent off at birth to a kin-woman who wanted her, became bitter,

To the birth-mother; she felt no sympathy for her remaining sister.

Yet we wondered what made this lonely girl do things for the greedy one,

"She's the only family left... I'm doing what I would anyway have done."

Cleaning, cooking, washing, answering throughout the day,

A few minutes of solace with a friend are for play.

Yet she is hindered. By the time we realize our mistake,

She has taken to sleep, lost in a world we are not allowed to take.

---

The hero on a rainy morning...

Thank you for reading this poem. I'm glad I wrote it. It makes me feel more aware and empathetic towards a girl I've known for more than eight years, a girl who isn't my sister, yet I've lived under the same roof as her, a girl I've seen striving to be good at everything she learns. It was a hard blow to her (and us) when news of the tragedy that befell her home reached us. We cannot really imagine how she feels to live in such a world. Yet, I've seen her laughing more than I've ever done, and I wonder at that. I don't like the communication gap we have. We don't have long talks. It gets awkward when we do try. I'm annoyed at something most of the times, and it nearly always goes to her. Sometimes I feel like crying if I think of my behaviour considering her situation, because it makes me feel ashamed of myself, of all of us who, after an initial "I'm sorry", tend to forget all about another's tragedy. Every life counts, and each one of it should be celebrated with love and care. Thinking about it just now, I think it would be a good amend to renew what I had started long ago and left too soon without completing it--to teach her to read and write in Hindi. What's the point of being a lover of words when I can't share the love with someone I actually do care about? You rock, V. You'll never read this, but from among this love-hate relationship, love rules. 

***

I am participating in the National Poem Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). It was a suggestion by a friend, and I readily accepted mostly because I had been craving to get back to blogging, but somehow had not been able to manage it. I've never been into poems. The only poetry book I own was acquired a few days ago, as a gift. But I hope to express my thoughts, realize some truths in the process of writing, and share it on this blog with NaPoWriMo. And oh, the most exciting part about this "project" is that I'm competing with this blogger-friend. We're going to see who writes better, each day. We realized that to get into that writing frame of mind, we needed to be regular, and this could just be the thing. And to keep us motivated, what's better than a challenge? We can self-judge (assuming you guys would be too busy to comment or anything), but you are free to give your opinion! It would inspire us even more! This is tagged #2 because it is April 2 today. We forgot to begin it yesterday. :P

You can participate in NaPoWriMo too. Click here. 

Life of a Social Recluse

Hello, dear blog! I haven't written in you since ages, and I realized that I would miss out transcribing life updates if I stayed away any longer. There hasn't been much in action, but at the same time, life has never been as good. Okay, it has, but this kind of good has come after a long time. I've had such a change in perspective on a lot many things, it feels like I've learned so much more in the past few months than in the past few years, and that I'm finally, 'living'.

Anyway, what I do these days is:

1. Spend hours each day excluding weekends at work, mostly reading, writing, reading some more and hoping against hope that my eyesight is not affected. The evenings are spent chilling at home, talking to friends, visiting relatives or the market or the park, reading websites and articles or for the most part, browsing the shelves for something new and interesting to read. Thankfully, I've managed to collect quite a bit. That reminds me, I've had people remark how I manage to get those books. What do you mean how I've managed? It is very much possible if you refrain spending on ridiculous restaurant food, if you don't over indulge in shopping, if you basically prefer books over anything else. It is very much possible.

2. Read different kinds of books, experimenting with genres I never tried before, and reading between the lines. This is one of the new things that has happened, for I no longer read just the words to get what has been written, but almost naturally, also look at the author's intention, writing style, phrases used, metaphors, character sketches, etc etc. I say naturally because I've been given a grand, vast view of the inside world of books, and it makes me just so curious to get to the depth of words! 

*_*

3. Getting an insider's view of the publishing industry has made me very happy indeed. It's not all glamour or as perfect as the final results a.k.a books are, but it gives me a lot of satisfaction. To be a part of the process that once made me very happy as a kid, is amazing. True, it gets dull and dreary every now and then. You get bored, doubt yourself, sometimes multiple times a day, get frustrated when things go slow, but it can be endured if you always have a larger goal in your mind, and you know that the dullness of the present is anyway important to help you achieve those goals. 

It sometimes gets sad too, when you realize that the things you consider sacred are not treated as well in the places where they are produced. There is a lot of work, and people get frustrated. Businesses need to earn money, and sometimes it feels like it is only for money that books get traded, which of course is not true, but it just seems like it sometimes. What is necessary is to stick to your own beliefs, treat books as sources of knowledge/wisdom/entertainment/whatever at your own end, and do your work to the best of your ability. It is also sad to see hundreds of people writing books. That's not bad, actually, but the fact that they are mostly overconfident people who already call themselves authors before being published, believe their work to be a masterpiece while it is indeed, for want of a better word, trash, is quite disheartening. It used to bug me a lot earlier, but now since I've grown used to it, I feel somewhat emotionless most of the times. But it still annoys me sometimes. People are seriously deluded.

4. Traveling in the metro has become ... monotonous and irritating for the most part. I so wanted to do a separate metro diaries post, but I don't think it would be well-deserved. Ever since the first women-only coupe started, I've always traveled in that, except for a few times. The trouble is that I'm not the only one who made that decision, so the first coach is always excessively crowded. You'd think that stuck between women (as a girl yourself) would be way better than being among creepy-guys-who-think-a-girl-in-their-coach-is-a-rarity (don't you go berating me for generalizing or whatever, because there are a lot of such creepy weirdos). Anyway, you might be right, but only partially. 

Now just imagine all these as
women, with cell phones and
earphones plugged in.

First, women have little regard for other women. I might be killed for this statement, but at least when it comes to traveling in the metro, it is true. There are good Samaritans too, but you would have to agree that: 

- A majority of women travelers will NOT budge more than a couple of inches when you need to pass them to get to the door because you have to get down at the next station. 

- You will find some who fix themselves at the doors, completely disregarding the crowd behind them. Incidentally, the fixture doesn't need to get down at the next ten stations at least. It just doesn't want to literally gel with the crowd. And to add to that, they have the audacity to look angry when you unknowingly push them a little while getting off. Sometimes I do not even push unknowingly, but it has no effect whatsoever. 

- Apart from Rajiv Chowk or other major stations with guards overseeing the queues on platforms, people will never learn that they are supposed to stand on the sides and leave space in between for those who wish to get out. In fact, if you are the ones standing on the side, you would be the last person to board the train.

- God save you during the rush hour! You would be squeezed in from all sides, your arms would be coiled around bulging waists of at least four different women, your nose would be desperately seeking a bit of fresh air, you would be assaulting your toes to stand a little higher to breathe in right at the air conditioners, your hair would be a foot or two away from your body, and the steady brush of hard cloth at your ankles would make you feel secure that your bag has not yet been washed away by the sea of jostling women. 

- There is something incredibly putting off about having cell phones in hand. Even when there is no space to stand. Even when other people are suffocating and struggling to stand on their own two feet, some people demand extra space for their cell phones, because they cannot bear to part with those even till the distance of their jeans' pocket. Urghhh!

- There has hardly been a metro ride where I haven't had generous intake of someone's gastric misadventure. Even in a fifteen minute ride.

5. I've taken to baking cakes! Yay! The fact that till date, the first two cakes were entirely flawless (one with eggs, one eggless) and the others were not-so-great experiments, doesn't matter as much because whoever talked about baking being such a stress-free activity was so right. There is something very relaxing about baking a cake. I was at first alarmed looking at the ingredients, going all 'Whoa. SO totally unhealthy', but once in a while is okay, I guess (or else all those with a sweet tooth would murder me anyway). 

Trust me, this was the most delicious experiment ever!

6. Feeling that gut wrenching feeling whenever I find a great children's book, because I don't know, I feel just. so. drawn to them! They're the best kind of books. Ever.

7. Making lists and lists of work and interesting stuff to do, to take my mind off life's lower aspects. Getting out of touch with some people, hearing ridiculous gossip in family gatherings, feeling put off with Facebook but not being able to get off it entirely, not having enough clouds during weekends for photography, to name a few. I've tried writing here a lot many times, but they've always ended up as drafts. I was a little peeved that I wasn't getting the time and energy to write here, but then as a friend helped me realize:

- I'm still working towards making a career in something I believe in, and love.

- I am anyway too blessed to feel jealous of anyone.

- This is my blog that I started purely for my own self, not to make anyone read it. So what if readers don't respond? The 2-3 people who matter, do. And that is really what one needs, innit? :) 

PS- Did you realize the post has nothing to do with the title? I might call myself a social recluse, but the real story behind the title is just this - type anything random if you don't get an idea within ten seconds. Tada!!

Theandric Thursday # 9: Las Ventanas

Theandric Thursday is a used to be a fortnightly feature on my blog (now it'll just be whenever I have the time and mind!), where I'll be having fun with putting down those weird thoughts and stories that occupy my mind most of the times. The dictionary definition of 'Theandric' is 'Relating to the joint agency of the divine and human nature'.

If you're interested in participating, write your own Theandric Thursday post and drop your link in the comments section. Feel free to write reality, part-reality-part-fiction or fiction, anything above the 'normality' of our world. ;) You can use the above picture on your post and link back to this post.

***

November 9, 2015

Bilbao, Spain

I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be caught dead in a 19^th century gown, however classy it looked on me, the likes of which I seemed to have on my body. Neither would I have been yielding a golden bow and arrow, which I found in my hands. As for the mesmerizing landscape that treated my eyes as I looked on, I would love to be found dead there! Wait...... what? Weirdness alert! I shook my head to shake off the ghastly image that had begun to form in my head (over-active imagination has its faults) and as I did, the scene began to fade and swirl and my head did not know where it was as it stayed in that moment of being halfway between sleepiness and wakefulness.

Floating in that territory, as I tried to get back to being awake, I was forced to stop as I heard a soft whisper right next to my ears. ‘Aarrteemissss??’ it spoke, as slithery and scary as a snake. An image floated in front of my eyes: a hazy mess of hair sitting on top of a roundish face with clear, hazel eyes, a sharp nose and a goatee.

*Singing Radiohead at the top of my lungs...* boomed Avril Lavigne from the speakers of my cell-phone as the morning alarm went off and I woke up with a start. Shutting my eyes close and concentrating, I tried to remember what it was like..... the dream.....the man with the hazel eyes. I had to give up soon after. Recalling dreams was getting much more difficult these days.

I got up, dressed myself in a Capri, sneakers and a tee declaring me as an alumnus of Hogwarts and leaving the bed unmade, went out towards the dining hall of our own little ‘palace’. I actually hated the word ‘palace’, which is what they called it. For one, it was smaller than any of those palaces I had seen on my tours to different places in India and two, I wasn’t very happy being a “royal”, however royal it sounded. It was too constricting for my liking. But anyhow, I was a princess. Kind of.

And I loved my parents very much. They sat at the table, getting breakfast served, looking as elegant as royals should be. Hugging them and exchanging Buenos dias, I gulped down my breakfast, listening to their plans for the day. I had pretty much decided to stay back at the house (no palaces for me) and work on my book, not having much of an idea of the kind of deals my parents struck anyway.

Hours later, having spent the better part of the morning typing, pausing, re-writing and plotting details, I reached a saturation point and looked up from the desk, staring ahead through the window into the pretty lawns and old willow trees adorning the back of the house. It was difficult to write as I kept getting distracted, going back and forth to the strange dream. It was when I was wondering if I should just call it quits, that I saw a blur of colour crossing one tree to the next. I stood up and stared through the window. No movement at all.

‘Carlisle!’ I called out through the intercom and a minute later, a well-groomed man in his late forties stood at the door, doing a quick curtsy, knowing pretty much how I disliked it, and waited.

‘Miss Artsy?’

Waving it off with a gesture, I said, ‘Just Artsy. I think I saw an intruder in the back lawns. Would you ask the guards to check?’

‘An intruder? But the security’s top-notch! I can bet........’

‘Carlisle? I saw someone. Hiding behind the willow trees. A man if I’m not wrong. And a very rainbow man at that.’

I thought I had Carlisle at that. He seemed about to say something but then stopped mid-word. ‘Rainbow?’ He whispered tersely.

‘Well? Is he a well-known kidnapper or something? Should we be scared? Shall I alert the security? Carlisle?’

By then I was beginning to panic. This so wasn’t Carlisle’s style. He was perfection. Always calm and in his mind, which was something I’d begun to doubt. He was muttering to himself, ’Is it time already? Oh dear, time flies! She’s just a young girl!’

I shook Carlisle by the shoulders, wishing I’d just gone off with my parents. He stared at me, mouth slightly open. ‘Miss Artsy, I’m sorry,’ he started backing away, strength returning in his voice. ‘I just have this strange...err...condition where I get flashbacks of my past.’ He seemed visibly upset and I tried consoling him. ‘Do you want some water? And it’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. Is there any medication for it?’

Carlisle’s expression was intense, one of those seemingly sad ones, who’ve tried getting away from situations but realized that some things are just futile. ‘Ahh.. no there isn’t. The past has strange ways of haunting us. It takes a lot of bravery to ignore its attempts at ruining our present. We constantly need to be at our toes and if it indeed attacks us, we should be strong enough to go back, fight and finish off the root cause once and for all.’

Needless to say, it was getting weird. The dude turned from curtsy-loving to panicky to philosophical. And we might as well be having a kidnapper already inside the house. ‘It’s okay Carlisle. I’m sure we could be brave. The first proof of which could be alerting the guards and checking around?’

‘Oh yes. Artsy, you stay here alright? Just in case. I’ll look at the disturbance and let you know the progress. Stay near the phone, okay?’

‘Yeah, alright. Be careful Carlisle,’ I said as he closed the door behind him.

Of course I couldn’t stay inside a closed room while everyone was apparently, looking for an intruder. This was my house, after all. Snatching up my sling bag and cell phone, I made my way out to the hallway, carefully peeping around corners.

I’d been wandering for about 20 minutes now, looking into rooms and getting distracted by all the beautiful artworks that adorned every corner. No wonder they called me Artsy. I loved such stuff! Although my real name on paper was Diana, hardly anyone ever called me that. I was on to the fourth floor corridor now, someplace I hadn’t stayed for long ever in my life and now that I came to think of it, I never did get a chance to snoop around there. This palace was more like a holiday home, a place to spend the summers. We lived in India for most of the year.

This floor was musty, the corridor narrower than usual and walls filled with a huge tapestry and in the centre, a single room. I remembered hiding there once as a kid while playing Hide & Seek but no more than that. The tapestry must be ancient, I thought, for it was inscribed with hieroglyphs instead of the usual painting. I tried the door of the room to find that it opened easily, a pool of clear carpet in the dust, almost as if.............. as if someone had recently been here!

My heart started beating fast, signalling the very high probability that I was in danger. However, I was just greeted by silence. There was no sound and no soul seemed to exist except me. For good measure, I checked out the room completely, being as brave as to look beneath the bed and inside the wardrobe. The room was dark and I couldn’t find the light switch, so I moved towards the heavy drapes covering the windows and pulled them aside. Light flooded the room and I had to shield my eyes from the glare of the sun.

I had serious misgivings about the weather here. But then maybe the room had been closed up for far too long. I went to the left and pulled down the string for the drape to open completely and as it did, a painting hanging on the window towards the right came into sight. Looking at the huge window and the painting on it, I had a brief moment of déjà vu as I realized that I’ve been here before. Things seemed to have numbed by now, the light not as harsh and the silence deeper than it was. Back when I’d been a six year old, hiding in this room waiting for my brother to seek me out, I’d seen this window. Carlisle had sought me out, looking rather testy for his usual manner and murmured, Nunca acercarse a las ventanas! Nunca!

¿Qué? I had spoken in my high-pitched voice.

‘Shh! Miss Artsy, you no come here. Okay?’ Carlisle pointed towards the windows. ‘Those are THE windows. Las ventanas. Don’t come here before the time is right. Now go on... go play,’ and he pushed me out of the room and locked it up.

Now, 12 years later when I sensed the familiarity, it wasn’t all nostalgic, for the last time I’d been warned against the windows. It didn’t make much sense though. What would the windows do? They were probably too high up and Carlisle had imagined me falling off through them, I thought. Walking towards them, I saw that they were indeed quite precarious, as there wasn’t any balcony out there. I turned to study the painting more closely.

It had a beautiful landscape, ending in a cliff overlooking a ditch perhaps, with thick trees in the foreground surrounding a streaming river. In the background, just near the tip of the cliff, stood a young maiden, her back turned. She had long black hair, tied in a thick braid and decorated with a tiara of white flowers. Her body had on a very light blue full length gown and she seemed to have been standing there in a rigid, alert posture, like she’s been on a lookout since forever. I hadn’t noticed myself getting closer to the picture, but I couldn’t have helped it anyway. It was a mesmerizing.... and a somewhat familiar scene.

My fingertips touched the painted maiden and I jerked back in shock as the painting started swirling around in spirals, getting hazier. Just as it had started, it stopped all of a sudden and heart pounding, unable to move, I stared as the girl walked towards the forefront, towards me, the rest of the scene completely still. She walked with purpose, her dress slightly blowing in a wind I could not see. In her hands she held a golden bow and arrow and something like a helmet.

Ever heard of that expression, ‘she stood with her mouth hanging open’? That’s what I must have looked like as I saw the girl and a rush of memories, dreams and words flooded my head, incapacitating me to do anything.

Alpheus! Artemis! Orion! Bay of Biscay! War! Dive! Run! Las Ventanas!

As the young girl now stood in the painting, staring at me with a wistful expression, I found it hard to believe I’d ever see myself looking like that. She seemed full of scorn, with my face sitting on top of her weird historical dress, hands on her hips as she mouthed her first words to me. ‘You Saumensch!’

... to be continued.

***

*Las Ventanas: "The Windows" in Spanish
Nunca acercarse a las ventanas: Never come near the windows

Y’know it really feels good to have written a TT story after so long. It’s never the kind of perfect I want to get to someday, but whenever I start waiting for the ‘perfect’ piece I’d write, I’m reminded of this quote by Margaret Atwood, ‘If I waited for perfection, I would never write.' When I seem to forget it, this blogger friend reminds me and I’m back to writing. :)

I like Theandric Thursday stories because they’re fun and allow me to make the story go anywhere I like, however quirky that might be. It feels satisfying, even when I somehow tend to extend the stories into sequels these days. You’ll find the next part posted by next Thursday. Till then, I hope you enjoyed reading this!

PS- You can read Usama's Theandric Thursday post for this week here. 

Some Awesomeness!

Y'know you're a goner, a pure victim of injustice if you're in a college where they take your Sunday and exchange it with a fully packed day and you still go to every single class because one, attendance issues and two, you're saving the holidays for later. You have any idea how such 14 days can be? 14 straight days of classes from 8.30 to 5.30, with every single class requiring you to take some tests or assignments or presentations or cases? Total stupidity. So when a teacher takes mercy and postpones his assignment's due date and you get one day when you don't have any submission the next day, you're so confused that you don't know what to do! You feel sleepy but you feel that'd be wasting time :P You sit down to send sane replies to pending emails, you feel emotionally awesome because an email would be from someplace you don't know, sent by a person you don't know, saying how they can connect to what you write and what they feel about it. That is when you feel like you're actually achieving your goals in small increments, because that is what you really wanted. :D

Anyway, that is also the time when you know you desperately want to blog but you're in no state to think and write. You would then consult your writer-friend and he'd give you a really awesomely weird prompt. This is what I got as a prompt:

"Write ten things about yourself that make you so proud that you want to hug yourself!"

Source: Google

Weird, right? :P I actually had to consult this friend who gave no more than one point, saying 'You're supposed to do this yourself.' Consulting with mom led to simple but cool answers (and I feel awesome my mom thinks so ;) ) And as much as I believe and think we're supposed to stay humble and not mumble (it's okay dudes. We are allowed to write words just to make them annoyingly rhyming :P ), I also feel like doing some self-motivation thingy and list some things about myself I feel are awesome! ;) I mean, it's cool, you guys. Please don't run off to the International Commission for Searching and Awarding Insanely Awesome People to nominate my name. I'm above all such materialistic stuff. ;)

# 10: I love to read. Many people love to read, I know, but I love it. I love more the fact that I have been reading ever since I could. In a place where there is hardly any culture of bedtime reading, I'm lucky that even as a kid I had the brains to read books my age :P (Yeah, it's obviously because of my parents who encouraged me, but still). I read children's stories and classics when I should have, Enid Blyton and Nancy Drews, and yep, I was 12 when I started reading the Harry Potter books, so that is awesome! And people who read are nevertheless awesome just by virtue of being readers, so that's an added plus!

# 9: I have amazing blogs. And I find them amazing because I completely adore them. This blog contains my evolution as a person, witnessed through the stories I've typed here. This is where I have always come when I needed to bring something off my heart, where I felt awesome while writing. This here, my second baby, is where I can freely (and super-enthusiastically) talk about my favorite topic: books. And it led me to many more book lovers, including an amazing girl from another country who is now a pen-friend. :D These blogs are not popular, nor do I wish for them to be. Popularity brings with it too much noise and distractions and yes, spam, and I'm better off without having to deal with those. ;)

There's one fact I love about these two blogs, that I don't actually do a rigorous promotion for them, because of which they tend to have people who are genuinely interested. This holds more true for the book blog, because I'd rather have a few reader, book-lover, genuine review-seekers to be on my blog than many random people just because I know them from somewhere. Genuineness adds such a feel-good factor! :)

# 8: I'm one of those 'old-school' characters. I've never really understood the term properly, but despite being the kid of the 21st century, brought up in co-ed educational backgrounds, among super-fast technological developments and super-fast people, I'm the kind of person who'd have been happier living in 'the good old times'. I rarely identify with the modernities, I refuse to believe in changing roles and behavior of people where everyone is convinced that being fast and chant is the way to success. I'd prefer to go slow and steady in any kind of relationship. I'm aware of everything new and modern, but I'd rather not live that way.

# 7: I love writing. It's one activity that never makes me feel jumpy or anxious when I have to do it. I feel nervous about a lot of things, including group activities in class, presentations, and wherever else I'm supposed to answer. But that's not the case with writing. It's something I've always been comfortable with. I don't write great, I don't have a good vocabulary, but I'd just always prefer writing in simple words (because okay, no great vocab -_-) for everything I need to convey. Well, maybe not everything, but most of the stuff. I was that weirdly awesome kid in school who loved English classes and looked forward to them; the one who loved doing grammar exercises, who never had trouble writing answers, who wrote short essays that got read in class. :D #nerd mode on. 

# 6: I don't get bored. Seriously, that makes me a boring person for others but I don't get bored myself. :P There's always some thing roaming around in my head, for my brain never sleeps, and if there's nothing (or no one :P ) interesting enough to observe, there'd be whole sentences forming in my head, as if it's writing a book on its own. It's crazy, but I love it. Considering how I anyway don't get much time to write, at least my brain has taken it upon itself to practice. ;) And yeah, lack of boredom tends to make you patient because you're not restless when nothing interesting is happening around you. 

# 5: I have interesting interests. Y'know, they're interesting to me. The thing I've noticed about people who're patient, and weird and fun, is that they have interests outside or not strictly based on their main area of academics. There has always been something I've had when I got bored of studies. Books, art and craft, some online course, blogging, learning and practicing photography, reviewing books, collecting clothes' tags, etc. One more reason I can't get bored! 

# 4: I'm 16% tomboyish. Mostly girls might not like to call themselves tomboyish and count it as an 'awesome' thing about them, but duh. I feel awesome when guys in class play cricket and I can ask for an over to bat, when we have a fun play-thing and I am the rare girl who actually can bat and ball and catch (seriously. Some don't even know how to hold a bat. o.O ). I loved my childhood days when I played with G all sorts of games; cricket (how I loved it), basketball (making a swiveling motion and saying 'Basket!' was awesome), cycling (I still would run off on a bicycle if useless dogs don't run after me), skating, taking the remote controlled Renault awesome car to the park and operating it with ultimate cool-girl attitude, etc etc. I can seriously go on and on. :D 

# 3: I'm kind of above the trivial things. I don't mean to dismiss those who do talk about such stuff, but for me it's cool and I feel awesome that I can't be bothered about little things like who's hot on TV, or what's "in" in fashion, or how someone acted because someone told them how someone else said something about them. o.O This took a while to think to form the sentence, I can't imagine how people get the energy to gossip about it. I'd rather discuss the book I'm reading with someone who seems to understand. But when people themselves tend to be critical about everything, I don't feel like they'd understand the point and so I'm left with just a few who allow me that liberty. And I love it! :D

# 2: I'm the slimmer, older, pink-loving, cheesy version of an amazing girl with an amazing blog who happens to be one of the closest friends and my soul-sister. :) 

A note to those who don't believe in making friends online: I used to think like you too, and then I discovered blogging. And if you are at the right blog, you'd get to meet and talk to the most amazing people. Evidence is here. ;) I have awesome people in my life. Those who love me even when I seem to behave like the craziest person ever, who actually laugh at my jokes (and they are actually good if you have that awesome level of understanding 8| ) and these people include my family and best friends. Thank you guys. ^_^ 

# 1: I have faith in my dreams. Even though from where I am right now, I can't see the destination, I do know I'd get there. And I'd make most of the journey, because the means is important to me, not just the end. I make achievable goals and aspirations too. For everything I love. I always wanted to see more people reading, not just because "I" like it, but because it is an amazing thing. Sometimes unfortunately it might not work, if you ask and force someone to read a book, but I got to know how one can indirectly influence people and facilitate their discovery of books they love. Whenever someone says that they started reading more, or have read books based on my reviews, I have felt that feeling of success and happiness that I really can't describe. :)

***

I started writing this post almost a month ago. This prompt was given a month ago. After the introduction, I had points 10 to 1, numbers written. I did not know what to write, I couldn't figure out the awesome things about myself. Even today, I had to take help because I was sitting blank. I asked the two best people, I asked my mom (who invented a term called 'negative awesome things' because she wanted to point out the bad ones too -_- Thanks, mum.) and then when I finally started writing, it came to me. I have a lot more points in my head now!! And I can't really say a lot on it because the fact that I felt so good after so long, is something no one can understand fully. I just need to say Thank you to all who facilitated this. Keep looking out for more awesomeness! It's sure to come! ;)

'Something'

This was supposed to be an awesome post, the kind you feel like writing when you haven't written anything in a long time and you feel like you owe your lovely blog at least one amazing piece of writing, especially as it's always been there for you for your random musings at random times and you seem to forget it when you get 'too busy'. This was supposed to be something mind-numbing, earth-shattering, maybe about something so amazing that it'd draw everyone on the planet to go read it, maybe it could have gone viral, or maybe not, but it was definitely supposed to be 'something'. I admit. I'm still at a loss. This has happened before, in a much milder intensity and I always blame no one but myself for the lack of 'putting down thoughts as well as they deserve to be put down'. I still wouldn't blame anything, even though I am very much tempted to put in 'college' as a major reason. It might be, but I just don't care. I've always been a silent rebel. You give me something that threatens the things I love, I would mentally block it all and never even think the way you want me to. This is why I always dismissed those ideas when other people said they're 'too busy with work' to do the things they like. I thought you could be forever busy and still do it. "I" was doing it, so it's possible. 

But maybe it didn't occur to me until it happened. What if the work or the mental pressure of the sheer amount of nonsense you're subjected to everyday, all things that go against what you as a person believe in, how much effort it takes on your part to grasp any bit of your own beliefs and yourself so that those external forces don't make you lose yourself, drains you of any energy you might have left. What if, despite the 'materialistic' things going right, a nice college and subjects you might find interesting, you still feel horrible dragging yourself everyday? Hoping you'd like the exchanges between people? I thought I could manage it well, but maybe I was wrong. I mean, it's okay. It isn't as horrible as it is for other people maybe, but I'm just looking at what "I" deserve and these nonsense feelings are certainly not part of the package. I'll always fight for what I deserve and what I like, however much these things try to change all that. What would happen at the most? I wouldn't write a nobel-winning piece, I wouldn't have many people commenting, I would lose out on a few readers.

Does that matter to me? At a deeper level, yes it does. I do want to write amazing stuff, things I actually have in me and I know I can. I do wish I get back those readers who said they love what I wrote here. I know no one's gone, really. I seemed to be absent myself. But then it shouldn't matter as much and maybe it does not. Maybe I am more materialistic than I thought, but not as much as I'm thinking, either. This is not 'blogging' for me, it's writing. And I can live with anything but not without this ability to put things down like this. If there's anything I would be willing to rigorously fight for, it's my reading and writing, for without these I'd lose myself. I don't know much about anything apart from these two. What would I be if I am not able to make myself happy with these as well? Nothing. My college degree would hold no value. It would be, in the Indian 'job market' for which you're trained since college, made into machines and made to believe how working nonstop and relentlessly can bring you 'success', but not for me.

So even if this isn't an insanely makes-you-hyperventilate-kind-of-awesome post, one that I was aiming at, it's okay. Because it's just me and this blog and friends who understand. I know I could write that kind of a thing and I'll do it sometime, maybe without even realizing it. But for now, this is really satisfying and I'm happy. Y'know, the reason I feel like it's okay is more so because I do have crore things to do and I'm leaving all that for this. Tee hee! 

A really common quote thanks to social networks,
but it's awesome and true! :)

***

I had to ask. Did you know that our brains are actually not built for multitasking? I started reading this book last night, called 'Mastermind: How to think like Sherlock Holmes' and the second page in the Prelude said this and I went all, "Oh My God! Really? WHY!" Because yes you guessed it, despite having read hundreds of texts, I did not know this thing that my friends seemed to know already o.O I mean, when was it when I was first told how we are "supposed" to multitask to be able to be more awesome? Class 11? Yeah maybe. Definitely in the first year of college and I even remember proudly telling my seniors how good I am at multitasking, during some dumb interview for a dumb college society I was really enthu about (told you, I was completely mental back then). The point is, if because of multitasking, quoting the book, "our memory decreases and our general well-being suffers a palpable hit", why are we told it's something we should be good at? Hello? 

Thank you Sherlock. Now I'm really going to
read your books that I've had since childhood :P

This is why I seriously love books! Because they tell me what is right! People these days, just. can't. be. trusted. I know, it's because that is what 'the market demands'. Fast life, quick decisions, faster profit making. Jeez. But whatever. After reading, books and writing, I'm in love with my brain. However clumsy it might make me, I still am overly protective of its abilities. And if in some real life job interview they ask me if I'm good at multitasking, I'm going to quote this fact to them. Did you know Sherlock Holmes was an awesome observer because of mindfulness? And not multitasking? This seems like just a small fact but I've been hyperventilating about it since last night! It's like those two sentences attacked what I had been thinking since the past *counts on fingers* 5 years. OMG! 

I had to tell. Not any secret, you looking-for-gossip people! I must have mentioned how I love Mint Lounge, the Saturday edition of the Mint newspaper? God, I don't even read the main paper all week, which I should, MBA and all. But anyway, Saturdays? I so look forward to them! It's not business-y or economic-y, but there are views on related things and non-related things, all of them awesome. I don't know. I don't read it all and some Saturdays I don't find much that I'd like to read, but it always gives me that ecstatic feeling. I especially love this column called 'My Daughter's Mum' by Natasha Badhwar. I am not a mom so technically I couldn't have been able to relate to the stories, but I always can. And more than that I always feel so warm and emotional while reading those, whatever aspect of family life she writes on. 

I mean, it's Monday today. I picked up the paper on Saturday evening, when I got home and kept it on my bed along with some books (that really have nowhere else to go. Someone please donate me a shelf?). It was there all Sunday, being shifted from one room to the next as I looked for an opportune moment to read it. It was back on the bed at night. It's underneath my laptop on the dining table right now, where I left Aakar Patel's article on 'Why everything is not the government's fault' mid-way because I got a call from a mast friend and then I felt like writing. I'm always reading it like this, keeping it for a comfortable time because I don't wish to be disturbed and feeling all breathless while reading it. It's just a paper and I wouldn't even remember most of it maybe, but that's just how it affects me. :')

I need your help. To whoever reached here, I'm working on a live project involving opening up of a campus bookstore in our campus. Like a Bond, I took up the responsibility of looking after the inventory. So you know, I'm supposed to think of what would the bookstore actually sell. Important work, you see? So you gotta help me because yessss, I am very close to the deadline, so close that I can't even tell or else you'd think how BIG a procrastinator someone can be. Just know that you're supposed to reply maximum by tomorrow. :P Hey, I have done my homework, I'm just looking for more suggestions. So you're supposed to do this: Imagine you're in college and there's a bookstore in the campus. What would you like the bookstore to have for you, apart from academic books? (Unfortunately, they have to be stocked :P ) Would you like the general kind of Fiction that's available in normal bookstores? Is there something special you'd like to have? Any sort of merchandise? I'm not asking you to think like a business person, okay? Just as a student, what do you think you'd like a campus bookstore to have? 

If someone is very much interested in helping, please email me! If you've got small ideas, please comment. I promise you awesome posts in the future! I do have a list of posts ready for writing, y'know? ;) Till then, hasta pronto! And "muchas gracias" in advance :P (I'm learning Spanish too, you know that. The teacher gave me an awesome idea of having a blog in Spanish. After once laughing it off, I did think, how awesome would that be? It's just the purrfect way to learn the language! :D )

Featured on Half Baked Beans!

You know how it might happen? You might just be doodling in your idea notebook with your laptop open in front of you with a black sleep-induced screen, when the sound of a Facebook notification makes one percent of your grogginess go away and you wake up the screen to see what's up. Then you realize sometimes things you can't ever anticipate, however small they might be, can happen any time. Seriously.

Half Baked Beans is India's youngest independent publisher of commercial fiction and non-fiction paperbacks and e-books. (Check out their Facebook page here). So when I got to know that they would like to feature a short story from my blog on their own blog and a Tuesday feature called 'Tuesday Tales', I positively, absolutely hyper-hyperventilated! This is what was posted on their Facebook page. ^_^ The short story about the death of the Telegram, The Last Message was what was featured. I mean, how cool is that? :D Thanks Half Baked Beans! This is really appreciated! 

Life update: The past week was comparatively less busy sucky and more awesome than the past few weeks. I even managed to make an amazing visit to the Delhi Book Fair with awesome friends. I mean, just so grand! Although I do think I'm on some weird writer's block. And reader's block too, if there's any such thing. For example, I logged on to Goodreads yesterday after like, forever, and checked out my 2013 Reading Challenge Widget and it showed? I'm 6 books behind schedule!!! You know, I.Want.To.Die. NOW. But then, I can't just say goodbye to all the unread books I've collected so far! What if they start crying if they don't see my weird face peering at them, re-stocking them, dusting them, randomly opening them and breathing in their scent, kissing them! :P I can't really make them feel so unloved. I know no one else would care. So okay, I change my plan. I'll read all the books I want to before conking off. Which basically means I'll somehow figure out a way to stay alive on this planet in this janam for like, 500 years? Sounds good!