Will you always remember?

When I say that among the many things I truly wish to do, is to affect lives in a positive way, to make a difference to someone, to be the one who cared, who understood, who was with them when they really needed someone, it's purely because that's how I want to be remembered. Positive, the reason for a smile, a laugh, a much-needed closure, an understanding, anything that's good. Someone who's not well-known, but you love her because she's been, or done something you hold close to your heart, something that really matters to you. That's a long way to go, especially considering how moody I can be. Sweet one moment and upset and irritable the next, but I try. One of my biggest fears is "being forgotten". 

That's not because once in Class IX when we returned to the school after a picnic, my parents did forget me, as no one turned up to pick me up and I had to make a call home to remind someone that a kid is missing from the household (Hey, that day we were shifting to our new home and everyone was running around, but still. Who forgets their kid?). No, that's not the reason. And I'm not sure of any other reason either. I suppose it's because I love my life, even with all its flaws and all my flaws and I don't want to think it's all for nothing. That one day this life would become so insignificant, it'd be as if it never was. Maybe we all are tiny insignificant dots, but I don't want to believe it. I like to think I have a place somewhere in the puzzle, some place where I click, where I'm important, where even after I'm not physically present, I won't be forgotten.

This sounds scandalously depressing. Don't you worry,
it's nothing more than introspection! :P

But does that really happen? Someone from the family, the first someone you saw going lifeless, the someone who mattered the world to you, who defined you in so many ways.... doesn't that someone deserve to be remembered? Of course they do. You remember them, but when? Initially all the time, then sometimes when you feel lonely and then after maybe a couple of years (or way sooner, in some cases), only when you see something they touched, something that was close to both of you, or when you remember something important about yourself and realize they had a role in it. Otherwise days pass and they don't come to your head. You move on. Like the Old Man (in Looking for Alaska) says, "Everything that comes together, falls apart". I guess it's natural then. Maybe what I wish for is also materialistic, because all of us are meant to be coming and going, coming together and then falling apart, as a cycle. Not meant to be a cog, because it's not mechanical, rather, natural. 

This feeling was further attacked when I read (again, in Looking for Alaska), these lines that suggest we will be forgotten. "Someday no one will remember that she ever existed, or that I did. Because memories fall apart, too. And then you're left with nothing, left not even with a ghost but with its shadow. In the beginning, she had haunted me, haunted my dreams, but even now, just weeks later, she was slipping away, falling apart in my memory and everyone else's, dying again." But even then, there has to be something. If not forever, till the maximum possible time? Like we see things and feelings and think of a particular person. Which means some sort of materialism is important. Look, it's important to me to be remembered and I'm not so sure of just a memory. It can fade. If there's something to remind you of me, I'd be more than willing to add that to the memory too. If you don't believe in it, for me, please do. 

That's about "things". As for "feelings", I suppose "love" is the answer. Everyone needs it and everyone values it (maybe not, but who knows?). Overall, I didn't even need to write this post, because something someone said made it all clear. But I guess it's the O.C.D., I need to double-check everything, my clarity on topics included. The thing that made everything clear? A friend said, "If someone touches your heart and influences your life in a certain way, you are bound to remember them, sometime or the other. That picture always stays behind. Memories fade away but a person's mark on your heart, if he or she has left, never drives away. It always exists."  ^_^ THANKYOU! :)

PS- One, I'm totally living in Looking for Alaska. I don't know when I'll be able to come out of it.

Two, I'm writing shorter posts these days.

Three, point number two is really scaring the hell out of me. 

The ultimate mood-victim Makeover!

Hey guys! If you’re landing here after the little....uh, “makeover”, well, SURPRISE! Don’t be so shocked please. I wasn’t betraying you by planning on it since forever and sitting on my “secret” plan without a hint. This is probably the biggest example of my unpredictability! And also what a funny, oh-I’m-suddenly-feeling-awesome kind of a mood swing can do! Last morning I checked my mail, opened the blog to check-out the sweet comments you guys left (I somehow feel like reading comments here on the blog itself, rather than on mail) and then..... I don’t know! I just wanted to give the blog an awesome look. I read how you connect to my posts and that made me wonder why I never made any efforts with making the blog “look” good, which is weird because I like ‘looking good’. But then maybe it’s not that weird, because I’m not a blog. Oh, whatever.

So then I had this moment of reminiscence where I thought about my blog’s first look. All pink globs, here and there! The description told you that you’d be reading about the life of a teenager! Tell me, who all of you were there even back then? You’ll be getting a gift! ;) For the newbies, see this is how Pages from a Young Diary started! 

Aww! I miss you! :')

I had quite a hard time letting it go. The next look was the result of getting too comfortable with those pinkish globs. I had actually spent quite some time with this second look, testing, taking advice, using the poor ‘Template’ option to its maximum capacity. I was happy with it more than other pretty designs because it “felt” comfortable and not totally alien. You know how looks can change your feelings. 

Hey I'll miss you too!

This one had been running since May 24, 2012 (almost a year!) until yesterday, when I became a bit too moody and set about making a “header”. I didn’t even know those were called headers and I still don’t know how I know! :P I picked up pictures from the internet (I tried taking the non-copyright ones, but we’re talking about me. So if any of these is copyrighted, sorry, that wasn’t deliberate and please don’t sue me!), then decided to find pink bases (when in a weird mood, talk only pink) and set about creating this “header”. I tried it on (the blog, of course) and it looked pretty awesome. The previous background didn’t go with it and so it had to be replaced by one that does! Like this one! The rest of the blog is pretty much the same, except for this new “labels” style. And for this look, I didn’t consult any but one. It felt like it should be just me this time. I guess it worked well! :D

I really like this new look. It’s totally “me”, all pinkish and purplish and creative and sophisticated. Do you think it speaks of a new ‘me’ too? A little changed from before? I was going through my previous blog posts and I see a change, especially about how I blog/write now. I totally love it anyway. It’s like it records my personal stories, my learning, lessons, experiences and indirectly, maturity too. Now that it looks even better than ever, it’s my favourite thing! My book blog may be more popular, more pretty (not anymore, though ;) ), more about my love for books, but this blog has seen me during all phases of my life, it’s about more than just my books. It’s about my friends, life, love, fun, craziness, laughter, happiness, experiments and trials, everything that has a role in making and shaping me into how I am now. It’s a beautifully recorded life-story. You can’t even imagine dear blog, how much I love you!!! <3>

^ I moved into the nostalgia lane. It’s overwhelming, but I’m allowing myself to wallow in those feelings. Every kind of feeling must be felt. :’)

PS- I’m planning on making the header’s height shorter, so that it’s not so huge. In order to not spoil the pixels or anything, I’ll have to re-make this header, which I’ll do in the evening. It’ll remain the same, just with a shorter height.   Did it!! :D

The realm of stories...

If there's anything I never get bored of, it's a story. You know how much I love books, but this love was cultivated because of my love for stories. Or maybe vice versa, I don't know, because I am still not too much into movies. I am interested, but in those guaranteed to make me cry, the emotional ones. I find the written ones more satisfying, more solid, more permanent. Stories have led me to believe in worlds different than mine, even when I was a kid. I was curious, always wanting to know 'what happened?' which only fueled the thirst for more stories. Why did Ariel have such a strict father? Why was Cinderella treated badly? What happened to the golden stallion who left the castle? Why do people die? And when they do, where do they go? How long is 'never'? Can you get anything you want? Why do people love their cars so much? What's all this about money? Why does an impulsive person behave like that? 

There have always been questions, questions and questions and you know how there's no one to answer those, so when you read/hear stories that seem to answer some of the quirky questions, how can you not be fascinated? Of course I needed to know. All my life I've lived in stories and I don't see it as anything wrong. Some have expressed their concerns, and I understand your worries, but you needn't. I'm as much "practical" as I'm a dreamer and you may not see it. I'm not perfect. I don't feel one particular way for most things. It's not an either this or that for me. I would say something, but I'd believe in the opposite too. Except when it's immoral or unethical or just a sin, I believe each point of view is right. Many of us are the kind who are strongly opinionated and I sort of feel sorry for them, because they're missing the whole point. When you read stories, you understand reasons. Why is Ariel's father strict? Because he's seen the bad side of humans and doesn't want his precious daughter to suffer. Why was Cinderella treated badly? Because of jealousy. Why do impulsive people behave the way they do? Because maybe, once their inaction caused a 'catastrophe' and since then they try to act, all the time. They're clouded with this sense of dread, the need to "do something". 

See? If it weren't for stories, how else would you know? Those aren't even unreal, by the way. Every story has a meaning behind it, a thought, a life experience, an understanding, a lesson, a mistake. If it's fantasy, it's like attaching meanings to things that supposedly, don't exist, in a form of personification or symbolization. Like in dreams. It's all real somewhere and you better believe it. See it as a mystery. When you read enough or read carefully, you see how it all 'connects'. Be it the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon, or the way how some words connect you to stories. For example, whenever I come across "swan", I can link it back to The Ugly Duckling, when I read/hear the word "gazelle", I remember The Gazelle Boy, a story about a boy raised by gazelles in some mountain place, read in an English class in school and I really liked it. Similarly, "Frankfurt" takes me to Heidi, "Vienna" to The Star of Kazan, "Princess" to Mia Thermopolis in The Princess Diaries, "dreams" to The Leap and so on. I love this connected-ness. It's like everything has an origin, nothing is aloof, everything has its own place, its own home. I like this sense of security.

I started reading Looking for Alaska by John Green yesterday. I put it down this afternoon, right after some crazily catastrophic scene that made me hyperventilate. Or feel an intense emotion which I can't understand. I'll pick it up for the rest, later. That book is so different from any other that I've read. I knew it would be good, because this same author's other book was profound and lovely too. I don't even want to start with the awesome reviews. I was however, very much confused because I was not liking one of the main characters. I thought, 'God! This is one spoilt brat. How can anyone be like this?' I also disapproved of those kids' behavior. The book even then, has a certain pull to it. However those kids might be, they're smart. And I love smart kids. As you read along, you understand so many things on your own. The book doesn't even need words to make you understand. You figure out things on your own, you get to know why Alaska Young was the way she was, what everything means. And it's philosophical, too, like The Fault in Our Stars. I was reading both these on my Kindle, but just ordered paperback copies for both! 

Here are some great lines from Looking for Alaska:

“Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia. (...) You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.” 

“People, I thought, wanted security. They couldn't bear the idea of death being a big black nothing, couldn't bear the thought of their loved ones not existing, and couldn't even imagine themselves not existing. I finally decided that people believed in an afterlife because they couldn't bear not to.” 

“What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.” 

*cute one*

“When you're walking home at night, do you even get creeped out and even though it's silly and embarrassing you just want to run home?"

It seemed too secret and personal to admit to virtual stranger, but I told her, "Yeah, totally."

For a moment, she was quiet. Then she grabbed my hand, whispered, "Run run run run run," and took off, pulling me behind her.” 

And there are a lot more. Click here to read more on Goodreads.

You know, I don't hate people who don't read, because I believe maybe they get their own share of stories from other sources (like I got a lot many from grandma), maybe movies and such. And those who're blissfully ignorant of either, I feel sorry for them. They don't get it and I make little efforts with lost causes. But I do like to introduce people to this world and I can safely say I have been able to affect at least a handful. Every one counts. That, I think would be my biggest achievement till date. What do you think of stories? Agree with me? ;)

The Scooty Story!

Another random post. I should just change my name to Ashna-Random-Banga. 

If you've been a  regular reader of my blog (Hello do chaar log! Okay, no. More than do chaar. The last time I joked like this I was accused by a friend to be such a self deprecating person, which I'm not! I know I'm pretty awesome. :P), you'd have come across some story where I mentioned my scooty. I felt like writing something fun and couldn't think of anything else, thanks to a recent small incident where the scooty played an important role in saving me from a couple of huge cows. Yeah. Cows. I'm scared of them since forever, especially since while I was on my first driving lesson and the car stopped and I was trying to re-start it. The window was open, because of which a cow stuck in its face, very near my own face, with some drool-like gross thing dangling from it's mouth, just like Fluffy from Harry Potter and The Philsopher's Stone! No, I didn't get any on myself because I shrieked and moved as far as possible, which wasn't much and tried to re-start it. Thankfully the cow decided I wasn't good enough to smell (according to a cow's sense of smell, mind you) and it moved away, after which the first thing I did was to wind up the window. Will you believe it? Dad seemed annoyed with me! As if a cow hadn't just tried to eat me up! I don't care if it's vegetarian or not, it did try! >.<

(Let's call my scooty............. Scoot. Yeah alright, I am horrible at naming stuff. Just go along with it!)

Anyway, just a couple of days ago when I decided to be a good girl and go a little out of my usual route while returning home to get some photocopies mom wanted, I found three cows while coming back to where Scoot was parked. I waited somewhere inside, hidden, until the biggest one was gone to one side and then dashed to the parking. Why am I so cow-attractive? Another one took a right turn, as suddenly it didn't find going forward interesting, which for Mr. Moo was the right way to go, and came straight for where I was! I left my stuff hanging from Scoot and rushed to the opposite side while Mr. Moo came and turned around right next to Scoot and continued on its way forward. That's when I jumped on Scoot and kick-started it (Scoot's old, and hence the self-start doesn't work anymore :P) and speedily dashed out from there. Now let's go back to how it all started....

When Scoot entered our household, I was in Class XI and it was winter 2007. I don't remember how it came, because I most certainly did not ask for it. I was never the child who asked for anything, being quite content with whatever I had. Sort of a model kid, only for the parent-population, though. Still, I do remember asking for a pink colored one. I think I can like anything that's pink and if I had my way, I'd have my home, every movable and non-movable object included, in varying shades of pink and purple! Anyway, I did not get it Pink as my brother didn't want to live in the same household where a pink scooty resided. Even though I was all for having the scooty instead of him, I suppose my parents really have a thing for him, because he won. :| But I wasn't about to go for a black one either. Too dark and depressing for me, so I settled for a nice purple one (it wasn't pink! Ha!), one from the series that was popular back then. It isn't very dark, nor too light. Just perfect. And adorable. And cute. And loving. And a life-saver. :D Yep, I'm still thinking about Scoot! Since then, my life changed for the better. Especially as it removed my need to hail a rickshaw for every damn place I wanted to go to. Especially my tuition classes! Oh what a relief it was. :D

See what it looks like! ;) Gorgeous much? 

My Scooty Pep + ! From the Fashion Series :P

There's a lot to say about it, so to avoid making it into a chapter-from-a-novel, I'll mention some points! ;)

1. Beloved freedom! I'm so a person who loves freedom. I mean, Scoot gave me such an immense sense of independence, that I didn't have to depend on rickshaws anymore. I could go wherever I wanted (initially just to the tuition classes and back. I wasn't allowed on the main roads yet!), whenever I wanted, with who ever I wanted. Okay, that's just my family members, but still. Gradually, from when I started college and had to take the metro train every day and the station wasn't near, I graduated to roads and parked Scoot in the parking. No matter what time I came and went, I didn't have to worry about transportation. Now, after 5 and a half years, I'm a full fledged scooty driver. I can go on any road, any nook or cranny, with anyone riding pillion, at any speed! :P (*Warning* I'm not recommending you to drive fast. I've done it many times, but that was only during emergencies, like when I was getting late). I just can't imagine what I would have been without it. I most certainly would have known even less routes than I now do, and I might not have been that street-smart and confident. Try following me, I can zoom Scoot and make you lose track. ;) (On a serious note, never try that. Following me, I mean. That would scare me to death!)

Grandma with Scoot!

2. There are a lot of family memories associated with Scoot too! One such memory that's the mother-of-all-memories is the time when I lovingly put on my helmet on grandma's head to see how she looked and then I asked her to sit once on Scoot too, which she refused because she didn't want to go outside in the verandah and doing such kiddish stuff. :P But then my dad went, 'Oh. If you don't want to go outside, we'll get Scoot inside!' Off he went and brought in Scoot, inside the drawing room. While we were laughing with glee and excitement, my lovely, sporty and graceful grandma posed on Scoot as if she's riding it. :D I'm putting in a picture! That one, we can never forget. 

3. Scoot used to be quite faithful, too. When I "forgot" to get in enough petrol, it never betrayed me and I always reached home safe and sound even when I checked the tank where I saw just a few dregs of petrol at the bottom. When it gave me a flat tyre, it made sure to do it in the metro parking, where a repair mechanic sat right next to it and did not give away right in the middle of the main road. I'm thankful for all those times when it allowed me to take it over all horrible kinds of rough surfaces, though most of the times I avoided those, but still. I'm glad it never gave away! Now, I used the past tense for Scoot being faithful, because it hasn't been much lately. I've been stranded thrice on the main road whenever my speed became too low and it stopped! As the self-start doesn't work anymore, imagine my horror, because I had to drag it to the side, amid the huge bulk of scary traffic and kick-start it. (Just so you know, I'm awesome at kicks) And this happened on the same day. In one trip! 

4. I suppose my brain got a hate-spot for Scoot after that because once, a few months ago while coming back from college, I took a rickshaw and went back home. It was late evening when dad came home and asked, 'Hey, where's Scoot? I didn't see it outside.' That brought my heart straight to my mouth! I forgot Scoot in the metro parking! :P I actually forgot I had Scoot in the parking, that I had used it to travel! *Bangs head on a hundred walls* Then I pleaded with dad to bring it back as I could not imagine it all alone in the parking. God knows some aatma might have invaded it and then that very same aatma came into me? I'm already full with my own soul, thank you very much. I forgot Scoot in some other parking one more time. That was last week I suppose. I'll sue my brain for such hate and carelessness someday.

5. Now this is when I almost lost Scoot because of being clumsy! Back in school, tuition class. I had a new purple keychain, a simple purple heart. I had been using it since the past few days. Then one evening I couldn't find it and as I was (as usual) running late, I took the spare key and went to class. While returning to Scoot in the parking after the class, I tried to open the helmet compartment to put in my new notes when I saw, horrified and all Thank-God-ish, that my old key was strung there, inside the slot, waiting for someone to open it! It was broad daylight, the parking is not exactly a proper parking, but an open space of sorts and the only reason no one saw the key (or maybe saw and ignored it. If God made such people, I'd die of happiness) was that the keychain was the exact color of Scoot and it blended very well. Camouflage. I did get the lecture-of-the-year from my parents that day. Thankfully, I've never done that again. That just happened once again, but Scoot was outside our home. The key was in the ignition. Overnight. Someone shoot me. :| 

There have been more such incidents and experiences associated with Scoot, but I'll stop here for now. That's all my worked up brain can think of. I love Scoot. A lot! :D 

I used to frown on materialistic stuff. I thought they could never be a source of deep happiness. Scoot proved me wrong, and instead of hating it for that, I love it all the more! ^_^ Do you have someone like Scoot in your life?

PS- I did get to go to Landmark again. I wanted to purchase just The Other Side of the Table but ended up buying three more! Including Cecelia Ahern's One Hundred Names, the one with the super-gorgeous cover! :D