Somebody deflated Scoot's tyre. Again!

It's not something you're supposed to make fun of. Okay? -_-

Yes, I knew there's going to be something that would go wrong. You think I don't feel guilty all those times? A professor's words ring in my ear each morning, whenever I do the deed, a little guiltily. This is what he said, "There's nothing called a free lunch in this world" and these are the precise words that roll over in my head, just before I brush them off, each time accompanied by a chant in the name of God. I'm not used to breaking rules, after all. However high on corruption my country might be. But still. Sometimes the easier way has its own pull and you get addicted to it, especially if it works. Most of the time, anyway.

The last time it happened, Scoot was carefully parked outside a Raymond's showroom. As soon as I put it on it's hind stand, packed the silver/grey helmet in, (I still haven't found the perfect purple helmet. Someone gift it to me please?) I made a mental note of admiration for the thing that had such a big role in shaping my personality to some extent; that of an independent, brave and appreciative girl. If I could, I would have stood there till eternity, smiling proudly at Scoot. But for one, I was "obviously" getting late for college and two, despite the fact that I have dollops of weirdness-awesomeness in me, it's not always a good idea to show-off. People are useless in terms of understanding it, because. 

See how BEAUTIFUL she is? :')

So as I walked away, those words making me squirm with guilt, I did not look back and prayed. Apologies and a plea for safety. After the usual day as I paced towards Scoot and finding it safe, breathed a sigh of relief, little did I know that the relief was somewhat short-lived. It took two rolls of the tyres to make me realize that the back tyre was flat. Either punctured somehow or someone deflated it. Since I was anyway high on guilt, I dragged Scoot with an anxious heart, driving at a snail's pace. Of course I knew that you're not supposed to drive with a flat tyre, but what was the alternative? The nearest petrol pump was ten minutes away, near my place.

*Fast-forward to today* 

I didn't leave dear Scoot anywhere near that showroom again, of course. (Happy Mr. Moron-Raymond? -_-) I found a new place. Still guilt-ridden, though. And it feels even worse because I leave Scoot in a rush, not wanting anyone to see me like that, doing the deed. I stopped turning back to look, like you usually do with loved ones. Of course she'd feel betrayed. She still didn't allow me to bear the brunt of my mistakes. Like a real friend, she kept it to herself, strained herself when I should have been paying a bit more attention. She never let me have any problem. Even today when she was hurt, it wasn't "me" who was the victim. It was Scoot.

Those words had floated in my mind, again. I brushed them off, again. Prayed, again. Had the usual day in college, again. I paced again, like every evening, cleaned the seat of dust, just to find a bum-pattern already in place. Seriously? The major disadvantage of leaving Scoot on it's back-stand is that it becomes easy for welle people to sit on it and chat or whatever. Although I'm all for social service, I'd still mind getting weird patterns on Scoot. At least wipe it off, you. -_-

The doubt began as soon as Scoot was on both it's ... tyres and felt heavier than usual. By the time I drove for a couple of seconds, it was clear: Somebody deflated Scoot's tyre. Again! And I most certainly did not appreciate it. Not even knowing it might have been my mistake because seriously, why JUST Scoot? A lot of people are to be blamed as well, but why target Scoot? She's the most innocent two-wheeler ever! Belonging to the most innocent rider! 

Wanting to just reach home safely, I rode Scoot way below the minimum speed possible, watching the world, including cyclists and jay-walkers pass by quicker than I was moving. Would you call me crazy if I say it was actually fun? And funny? Have you ever been on a two-wheeler with a deflated tyre? Not that it is recommended, because, like I imagined, the tyre might come out completely and you'd fall, or in some cases, burst. And you wouldn't know what happened and although I have a very active imagination, that was something I dared not imagine. Anyway, it's funny because the vehicle moves in a very...... "jumpy" way. I was hopping on Scoot, without actually hopping. :P Just because the tyre wobbled and I was sitting on the moving vehicle. (Again, it is not recommended. Be more alert, unlike me. And use your brain and go to the nearby tyre-walla, ten metres away, instead of the petrol pump, ten minutes away).

It was kind of weird, not zooming past everything. I saw real people, like, live. They looked so... people-like. Normal. They still exist. o.O And they're not really as mean as I believed them to be. No one really cared to stare at a girl hopping past them, even though I must have looked really funny. I mean, of course I was! I wanted to get off Scoot, clap and laugh at myself! Just that I couldn't!

Taking more than double the usual time, I managed to stop at the tyre-setter outside the petrol pump. Feeling grateful to the bhaiyya who made Scoot stand up solid, once again. Assuring me too, that she isn't punctured. :') Considering how Scoot did not let me down by breaking down herself in the middle of an extremely busy main road, despite the fact that she "desperately" needed petrol since forever (eeeps!), I have to say I'm proud of her! :') As a treat, I made the petrol-guy fill in double the usual amount of awesome petrol. :P

The only thing now is, I'm confused. Should I still take the easy way out and endanger Scoot? Again? Or should I make the extra effort and get up early and make it harder for me, instead of for her? The sin I've been committing? Not keeping Scoot in the metro parking, because the main area is under construction for more than two years now and it was a pain to park in that cramped, uncomfortable and extremely far-for-comfort parking. I had been parking it just next to the metro station. Un-allotted space. For free. 

Really, there's nothing called a free lunch in this world. *Sigh*

Paintgirl Chronicles # 3: Designing and Finishing!

For those who remember, my walls got painted on October 13! I'm just posting this more than 1.5 months late. Apologies, apologies. For the new smarties who're now reading my blog, I utilized my Autumn break to paint two walls in my room. All by myself (helped by my family, of course). Thanks, I know I do really cool stuff. 8|

This is the third and the final part of the series (you can see the previous parts here and here). I mean, I was so exhausted when it was finally done, that I had no energy left to post about it. It's okay. Even though Paintgirl has amazing powers, she can run out of them sometimes. And then college re-opened and you know the rest. Writer's block, etc etc. Anyway, coming to the awesome part, I love the new walls. Not only are they painted in pretty shades of pink, we designed a tree at the intersection of those walls too! I can certainly certify it with a guarantee stamp that painting three coats each on two walls over two-three days won't make you feel as tired and exhausted as painting a tree for three hours straight would.

Paints and colors: We used oil paints, the kind usually reserved for painting on wooden and iron surfaces. Don't ask why. The Paint bhaiya said they'd be good to use and I could just trust his judgment. It was fun to work with, true, but since they are 'hard' and thick, they take more efforts. Plus, you'd have to use thinner brushes for painting leaves and outlining and the details, so it'd take even more time and effort. But I think I get why he suggested oil paints. They stick well and don't leak, which the normal paints would have done. Lesson to be learned: Always trust those who are making their living through a certain trade. They do know it well. ^_^ 

Enamel paints and stainers

Coming to colors, we had black and white enamel paints, along with brown and green stainers (as you can see in the above picture). These stainers can be mixed in the white enamel in any quantity you prefer, depending upon the shade of the color you want. For example, I had two different containers for light brown (with a little less amount of stainer mixed in white enamel) and one for a darker brown. Similarly, two shades of green (considering a mono green shade for all leaves would be boring!). 

Making the design: If it isn't too complex a design, you can straightaway stroke with your brush! But if you have any sliver of doubt and don't want to waste your three-days' hard work labor by making a wrong stroke, you may make a pencil design first as a base for the paint and brush. I tired making it too, but then my childhood's awesome creative avatar took over and went beyond the pencil stencil and made strokes on its own. I knew it's going good when mom entered after about an hour and exclaimed an appreciative and incredible "Wow". :D Although, you would always need someone else to stand at a distance and tell, because being on a ladder and being inches away from the design, you wouldn't really know about the overall structure. 

I made the tree trunk using the light colored brown, and then the branches, adding light green leaves at intervals. Then I mixed more stainer to have a darker green and made dark green half-boundaries on the leaves. The previous day on impulse, I had got some pretty golden paint and on another impulse, painted the other half of the leaves' border with gold. It looked quite good! I was exhausted and finally slumped back, not wanting to do any more, abandoning my plans of making those concentric circle designs on the trunk. My mom, with a little help from dad the next morning, secretly put an outline on the trunk and branches, making it look perfect and complete. What-e-morning surprise! :D

Overall! :D

                                 

Finishing: That was the last day of my holidays and we didn't have any time to do more, so the day was spent cleaning the floors, and other places where random paint was spotted. A few days later the bookshelf was put back and the room returned to it's part-messy normalcy. And then I had a lot of awesome gifts from awesome friends that would be framed and put up on the dark colored wall, which would make this look even more cool! :D

^_^

Basically, this is how it looks now. What do you think of it? ;)  

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! ;)

The Paintgirl Chronicles # 2: Coating Paints!

Ohmygod. Whatever presumptions I did have, I certainly did not think using a heavy brush and a bucket of paint would give me a body pain. -_- Those painter dudes are certainly tough guys, I know now. But no, I'm not complaining, because it's been (and still is) the kind of experience someone as crazy enough as I am would love to have. Despite the pain, the chanting of God's various names while precariously perched on top of the ladder (did I say perched? Cross that, standing with just plain walls for support, on which you can't even lean because one, they're newly painted and two, you'd just fall anyway), an overenthusiastic mom (who by the way, turned out to be an awesome Paintwoman!) I'm loving it! :D I'm kind of blocked right now and so I dunno how to go about this post, to include everything I've learned! I'm feeling like a hungry maJdoor (special emphasis on 'J'. Hi, munchkin! :P ) right now, waiting for tea, which I've consumed like... like whoever consumes tea all day long and I won't have time after this because I've gotta get started with the designing. :D

Things you learn when you get down to painting your room:

1. You thought you were enthusiastic, you wished your parents would get enthusiastic too. Dudes, whoever said 'Be careful what you wish for, it just might come true' was right. Half your time might be spent fighting with your mom at whose turn it is to use the brush. She might want to paint everything herself and give you the job of using the roller on the fresh paint so it gets even. She might reduce the number of breaks you have and make you get away from the technological gadgets you use for breaks. But it's actually something you enjoy. You realize all her ideas have wonderful results, she's an awesome Paintwoman, and has got an eye for colors and which area needs another coat. Trust her, people! Mother knows best. ;)

2. The first coat of paint would always be patchy and uneven. Even after it dries up. Even if it's a plain, normal wall without any internal past water seepage problem. :P It might look so bad that you'd think you shouldn't have taken the initiative after all. BUT no! You'd actually 'get' how to paint effectively so it doesn't make a patch by the second time around. And you'd be more careful. Just gently make horizontal strokes and then use a roller over them to make it smooth. You wouldn't know how it'd look like in the end, because it's very different when it's still wet, but the second time around you'd feel so amazingly proud of yourself!!! It gets so much better and so smooth and almost flawless! :D Mom and I did this wall in a dark shade of pink and it. looks. amazing.

The dark one! :D

3. The wall with the past water-seepage-problem, even after scraping and cleansing would already have patches and the fresh coat of paint will not disguise those. We painted it the same dark color at first, but the room had all dark walls then! One, I was already feeling anxious by completely changing the look and two, it wasn't as bright as before. And that was with just one coat! Later that night, one of those brainstormy awesome friends suggested mixing white paint in it to make it lighter. We had already done that, but it was still almost the same. But we could always mix more, right? In the end we ended up mixing another liter of white paint and then it came back to almost the same color as before. Three coats into it and it's still a little patchy on one side, but I can always make those designs on them! :D

4. You'd feel hungry. A lot.

5. You'd have your househelp coming in to see the progress whenever there's a commercial break from whatever serial she's watching, and commenting on every single question you ask while in a conversation. Even if it's a rhetorical question. But you'd laugh at it, because she's funny sometimes. ;) And she'd tell you genuinely which parts don't look okay and would say, 'yaar kitna mast lag raha hai na?' when it's a job well done! :P

6. Be ready to turn your hands and feet coarse with scrubbing while cleaning up, because your mom might not let you use turpentine oil since 'your skin is very sensitive'. :/ 

7. Wear old clothes that you can discard, in case the paint and stuff doesn't get off.

8. You'd start noticing how Berger Rangoli has an advertisement in between a cricket match and what other brands are into this business. You'd also notice wall paints and combinations in other people's homes.

9. You'd know for yourself the different kinds of paints, how it's okay to mix water with a certain kind if it's too thick. You'd also get comfortable talking to the hardware store wale bhaiya because despite being careful enough, you did need something more.

10. You're actually quite capable of doing what you said you'd do. It feels surreal but you'd be the one who did the upper walls. The parts above the tubelight. Like a boss! 8| You'd know you're awesome! ;)

11. Your mom would wait for you to finish this blogpost, restlessly reminding you that it's 'about time' we went ahead with the designing, and you would want to make her (and yourself) happy, so you'd just stop typing and go ahead. :P 

The final, pre-designed painted walls. :D

The post with a lame name...

Names are important, considering how everything isn’t just ‘something’ and ‘this’ and ‘that’. You use these words when you don’t know what they’re called. Every ‘thing’ has a name, and when the ancient humans saw how ‘aye!’ can’t be used to call everyone, they started naming each other as well. I’m bad with names. Like with registering who is called what, which leads to weird situations sometimes, like the one time a familiar face said ‘Hi’ to me in the Metro and I knew she’s someone from my college but with no idea how she knew me. I managed to make a ten minute conversation, overusing ‘you’ and ‘aap’ with my mind whirring in the background trying to recall. Unsuccessfully. Now this is still pardonable because she was someone I might have acquainted with through some ECA society. But what about that one time in first year, just a few months into college, the teacher asked for ‘Sunny’ and I turned to my bestie:

“Who’s Sunny?”

*Weird look* “Err.. you do know he’s our classmate?”

Me: *squiggly eyebrows* “He is? Who?”

Bestie: *points a thin guy out, wondering if she made a blunder making me a close friend*

Me: "Oh. I umm.. forgot his name. Sorry.” *going back to daydreaming*

The fact of the matter was that I never even bothered to learn names, because if I could just see and know they’re my classmates, why bother? It’s anyway a taxing thing for my brain. But you see how it can lead up to awkward situations, in future, when I might be working? Because I’m totally a hypocrite when it comes to names. I absolutely love the feeling when someone calls me by my name, and that someone is someone I didn’t expect would know or remember my name. I suppose everyone does love it, because on a rare occasion or two, I have felt awesome when I did remember someone from the past and called them by name and saw the gleam in their eyes. Y’know, the shiny thingy that’s there for a moment? But anyway, this post is dedicated to my inability surrounding the genius entity called ‘name’.

I’ve sometimes frequently wondered how names were even invented. While I know how some names are so creative, derived from mythological kinda words and from other languages and everything, but how did it start anyway? Someone saw the sun and said ‘sun’? I mean yeah, it might have been called something weird in the ancient civilization days, but still. Look around, how is the shirt a shirt, a book a book, a laptop a laptop, a tripod a tripod, a mug a mug? (Yeah alright! I’m just naming stuff I’m seeing right now :P ) And these are just what you say ‘generic’ names, think about specific ones. How genius do they sound! Please know I’m not referring to ‘language’ over here, just names of things and people and countries and everything that has a name.

Let’s start with people. Without wanting to sound bashful, I have to say I love my own name. I love the fact that it is a word from a language I’m actually not familiar with, that it has a meaning that I feel like living up to, so that it makes just the perfect kind of sense. I love knowing people’s names, though that is a different matter I usually forget them very soon. But it’s cool when you listen to a name and you match it up with the person’s face and character, if you happen to know it, and then you tend to think of them as more meaningful people. Try it sometime! Some names absolutely strike me as unique and I remember them for longer, no matter forgetting whom it belonged to. I think Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake is related to names too, though I guess it’s more about how people were running into problems because of their names. “I think” because I haven’t read the book, just the blurb once upon a time and I’m too lazy to check right now (lazy? Check, too busy with the meanie college that’s making my life so not how I wanted it to be. More of that later).

Anyway, yes there’s a huge probability that I wouldn’t remember your name if you’re in my college but not in my class (leaving aside a couple of exceptions :P), but maybe yes if your name’s weird (sorry. Some just are. Why are people these days naming their kids ‘Rhythm’? That’s just too weird, with a very weird connotation) or unique! That explains the new-ness in kids’ names these days. Tongue-twisty names I tell you. Makes it even harder for people like me to remember.  -_-

The next kind of ‘name’ that makes me squirm is a nickname. I know people who keep awesome nicknames! I may find them even more awesome because I know I can’t think like that myself, but they’re either really funny, or abbreviations of funny words that actually suit the nicknamed person. Such people, I really admire your skills. (Hint hint: Miss Ruya, I like the MDB :P And even though it’s tiny, I’m proud of making you make it into EMDB!) Nicknames are fun, mysterious to those who don’t know, which make them even more fun, and totally cool! If you still don’t know how lame a nickname I can make, consider how I call my Scooty, ‘Scoot’. Yeah. That’s the most creative name I could come up with. The parrot we once had? Parry :P I won’t oblige you guys with more such examples because that would be a threat to the readership for this blog!! The last example is how you call your sibling weird, disgusting names in various kinds of moods? My brother has always been creative when it came to calling me with absurd names. When I had to retort, I just replaced the initial alphabet with ‘S’, the initial for his name. How creative, right? -_-

I’m no good at naming anything. Events, titles for posters, titles of blog posts -_- I feel amazed sometimes with the creative names I’ve come across! Book-titles! I have no idea how I’m going to think of titles for my not-yet-conceptualized-book(s).

Why can’t I name anything? Maybe because I don’t really like ‘memorizing’ stuff? I have an okay vocabulary and even though I drool over words that sound awesome (and people who use awesome words in conversations), I can’t seem to use them myself because of the simple fact that I listen, register, drool and store it safely somewhere, padlocked. It doesn’t bother me a lot, though. And I don’t think it should, anyway. Even though keeping names is important. And while I do have this very solid, open fear that I’m eventually going to name my own kids Ashna-Junior and err.... Ashna-Junior2 (or maybe Harry and Hermione. Or maybe Little Lord Fauntleroy. Or Hedwig! No wait, I can’t name a kid after a white snowy owl. Or is it allowed?), I also am hopeful that I would have someone creative enough to think of a meaningful, nice name and make me see beyond Fauntleroy-type names, and then maybe one day those kids would write some random, weird post talking about how they love their name. Well, what else do you expect? I think they’ll write weirder posts and make me proud :P

See you in the next post!
Uhh.. alligators :P

PS- 

Hectic college, hectic college

When will you end?

I’m striking off days, hoping

What’s awesome is just ‘round the bend

No, I don’t hate you as much as it seems

But don’t be so cruel that it makes me scream

And write lame posts when at all I do

It’s what I love, please don’t spoil it too.

PPS- Whoa! I’m awesome at lameness. :P

From the Journal of a self-confessed bookworm...

This piece was published in my college's annual magazine in 2012 (yep, that same year I served as the Student Editor. How awesome were those days! ^_^)

They stood in a colourful row, some with gleaming titles shining in the suffused light in the room, some with dark covers, but equally loved, adored and well-maintained. The shorter shelf held varying combinations and designs in the way I had stacked them; after all space was sparse and the books too many. For years I had dreamt of owning a huge room with wall to wall bookshelves stacked with volumes of a variety of books. This one was just 1/20^th of the dream fulfilled and I was proud at the achievement.

Looking back, I saw myself as a tiny kid fascinated by all the colors and beautiful characters smiling out of story books I got from Mom. She was a teacher in the kindergarten wing of a public school and regularly brought those treats for me. I would pore over the books and force myself into trying to understand the written words. I sometimes wonder I could have easily been an autodidact, a self-read person, though I know that could never have happened. My parents not sending me to school, I mean. I knew all about Cinderella, Snow White and Ariel long before they started calling them ‘Disney princesses’ and when kids in my class referred to them as cartoon characters. I loved the cartoons too, but for reasons I still cannot decipher. It gave a weird kind of satisfaction, knowing I’ve read about them before and a personal sense of victory that I knew more than the ignorant kids! Lion King, Panchtantra stories, Akbar and Birbal, The Cat in the Hat, 101 Dalmitions were my friends and it didn’t seem fair that kids who only loved to play all the time would know about them too, with all those funny movies made about them; movies that sometimes frustrated me, for not keeping in sync with the books and tweaking the stories to suit fickle-minded audiences, like the Harry Potter series. They’re good movies, but not good enough! They’re not like the books and I develop a dislike to the people who say it’s a bore when they don’t even read the books!

All through the years, I lived in stories- about little orphans or wizards, about pixies or nymphs, about people who found magical places or people who found magic in their own selves. The written word fascinated me and it wasn’t long before I looked forward to the library time in school. While students gossiped behind magazines, I took out books carefully by their spines and read through them. Charles Dickens became a favourite, followed by other classics that swept me through their vivid descriptions of beautiful places and equally enchanting stories. Mark Twain, Charlotte Bronte, F.H. Burnett continued to inspire me to read more classics and Enid Blyton and Carolyn Keene sparked my interest in reading mystery. But I was a picky bookworm. I didn’t like books with violence, with sad endings or with gruesome stories. I still don’t.

That's one shelf I have! 8|

Always being a bookworm came with its share of troubles. I would frustrate kids when I openly preferred books over them, hurting their blown up ego. I didn’t like to socialize and preferred to be alone. I would lose thread of the chats because my mind sub-consciously drifted to the story that was in a crucial stage and I didn’t know what would happen, since I hadn’t read the whole of it. But it gave me much more than I had lost, if I had lost anything, that is. I had a place where I could immerse myself in when I wanted to get away from the boring life and its troubles, emerging a happier person. I knew better than my peers and didn’t need to study for the English subject, knowing I would do well. I wasn’t a victim of embarrassment that many people faced because of their big mouths. I knew things and that gave me a wicked sense of pleasure. I was superior.

If there’s anything I’m sure of, it’s the fact that Indian system of education is hopeless, especially the schools. As higher studies took a toll, I was gently reminded by concerned parents and ridicule-loving-relatives that novels and ‘other’ books weren’t important. Though I was grateful that they’ve always encouraged my habit of reading, learning from teachers that it’s a rare quality, I felt betrayed when my time with those books was cut short as ‘important-exams-that-would-decide-my-future’ came into being. Seasons changed and soon it were whole months before I read those ‘other’ books; but my love for them remained steadfast as I graduated school into college.

I was free, at least metaphorically. I regained my lost time by reading volumes of books that interested me. I spent my pocket money on them, while my peers thought it’s a waste but I didn’t care. Books had been my saviour in all kinds of situations possible and I loved them. Soon I discovered something about myself- that I liked collecting books, a fact evident since I had refused to give away a single book, including the magazines collected over the years. I had graduated to harder-to-uncover mysteries, chick-lit and Young Adult genres. I visited the annual Book Fair in Delhi every year and asked for specific books on birthdays. I got them all and I’ve always been happy and grateful about it.

The only thing that’s kept me sad about all of it is the pathetically small number of people with the same interest. I have always got a group of friends who weren’t interested in books, or at least not as much as I have been. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but I’ve always felt gloomy at the dearth of like-minded people. This is no longer true! I mean, yes, the number is a handful but ever since I have been blogging about books and reviewing, I have found friends who share this fascination. And it has been exceedingly amazing! I always felt the need to have at least one person who would understand why I like the unique smell of paperbacks or would argue why I oppose the idea of e-books. I feel depressed seeing kids glued to their iPads, some saying they like to read virtual versions of the traditional stories, some tapping away at some App that’s supposed to make “Alice” of ‘Alice in Wonderland’ small enough to get through the door. Maybe they’re right in their own context. Maybe I’m too ‘traditional’ to accept the new changes.

It was then that I realized that the cold from the marble floor was getting harder to bear. I let my hand hover over the colourful row, deciding which one to pick for the night. I chose a gleaming hardcover, pulled off its dust jacket and curled myself into the bed with the book.

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!