I fell in love!

Somewhere between the dripping of nectar like thoughts from his beautiful soul
And the craziness of his whirling and playful mind,
I fell in love.

Somewhere between the comfort of pouring heart-wrenching feelings,
And filling the empty spaces in his heart,
I fell in love.

While rejoicing in suffering,
And crying tears of joy,
I fell in love.

Between realising his soft heartedness,
And feeling his strengthening presence,
I fell in love!

Somewhere between finding a warm protective cocoon in his affection
And the gentle pushes of the cold breezes of his encouragement
I fell in love.

Between writing words that don’t rhyme,
To reading what’s going on in his mind,
I fell in love.

P.S. No oranges fell in love recently!
Yeh soochana orange hit mein jaari ki gayi ae ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ™ˆ

Nobody knows everything

Life was like an inflated tire with a nail always around during the initial days of a new batch in class 11. With top notch teachers and super intelligent classmates. I acted like I master physics like my classmates do. Deep inside, I knew that I didn’t know. I didn’t have the knowledge that our teacher delivered to them when I was in the other batch. I didn’t know the simple yet key concepts they did. But what stopped me from admitting this was the fact that I did not want to look stupid. I didn’t want to be labelled stupid, and being the only girl in the class made it mandatory for me to be smart, lest it should invite a lot more criticism.

I got my first results, and I realised that this was doing me no good. At that point, I just decided to be honest to myself, and to everyone else, without any reflections on why and how it would help. I remember being mocked at. I remember how I read ‘girls should learn home science, not physics and maths’ written on the white board with a blue marker to welcome me in the morning once. I remember how my name on the first page of my notebook was scratched and how they wrote ‘mental illness’ below it once. My classmates were good, but you know, there are always a few , I better not continue these ‘I remembers’, because I simply ignored all of it. I honestly clarified all that I didn’t understand in class and I progressed. And yeah, there were reasons to smile soon!

Thinking of the days now, I really have a lot to say. None of us are born with all the knowledge. None of us can acquire all the knowledge as well, we are humans and we have our limitations.

Why do you think people are expected to study for competitive exams? In my opinion, it is because none of us are capable. None of us. Education makes us capable. The process of preparation, not just studies, the pressure, targets, mocktests, all of it make us capable. Maybe we aren’t capable today, but I’m sure our capabilities today don’t decide our capabilities tomorrow. We can enhance our capabilities and that is precisely what learning does.

There is no shame in admitting that you do not know something. When you do not know something, you are not being stupid. If someone chooses to judge you, mock you, due to the fact that ‘you don’t know’, please know, please know that it is perhaps an arrow shot without knowledge of archery, some other hard feelings or intentions or just a little limited knowledge, perhaps they don’t know what you are reading yet.

And now coming to honestly; honestly is not just a virtue to build powerful relationships with others, being honest makes you comfortable in your own skin. It makes you feel confident. Unless you and I have meaningful relationships with ourselves, we can do no good to the people around. Being real makes us comfortable with ourselves, and thus with the people around. Life is a lot easier if you choose to support yourself and do not succumb to circumstances. 

Lots of love to all of you and a virtual hug to celebrate the process of growth, the acquisition of knowledge, a process that starts in the womb and ends in the grave.

Being ‘hit’ on, hard, hammered!

Today I came across Sangbad bhai’s and Sheetal’s friday fables challenge, and so, here is my story the two of you ๐Ÿ™‚

When I was in tenth grade, I joined the last batch of swimming for the day, from 7:30 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. This was basically because there used to be a lot of rush in the morning batch. There was a guy in the same batch as we, (me and my brother) were, Akshat! Akshat was a pro at swimming. Me , my brother and dad often spoke about him being so adept at swimming on our way back home.

And there were always strange ‘coincidences’. Like Akshat’s cap used to fall from his hand when I passed by, not once, not twice, many times, I would pick it, hand it over, he would say thank you. Akshat would keep looking at me every damn time I saw him, and then he would suddenly turn around, you know like the daily soap old-school romance. Like the color of his pant would turn blue two days after I bought a new blue swimwear. He was super fast at swimming, but he was so kind to let me win the race, he came third, me second. You generally don’t find such ‘kind’ school boys, do you?

And one fine day, Akshat and me FINALLY started talking. He was funny. And I was enjoying all the good attention from him, the innocent friendship-love-crush-smiles which is so rare these days. Who doesn’t like being hit on? Who wouldn’t smile seeing the other person smiling so wide?

So in the midst of all this, I had the ‘golden opportunity’ of participating in an inter school debate competition. It was in his school. I didn’t tell him about it, because I wanted Akshat to be ‘surprised’ when he would see me. I wanted to see how he would react. All these silly things were fun back then.

When I went to the school, Akshat totally slipped out of my mind. It was a hectic day and I was totally drained out. Me and my friend wanted to use the washroom since really long, and she kept saying that her urinary bladder would burst today. It was 3:00 p.m., approx. Our great Kannada teacher Mr Moses told us the way to the washroom. We both ran like Usain Bolt does and entered the washroom together. Suddenly there was a loud shout, and then after they finished shouting, both of us shouted at the top of our voices. It was shrill. Really really Shrill. Yes dear readers, Mr Moses told us the way to the boys’ restroom. The one for girls was in the other corner of the school. And guess who was with his friends in the washroom? A-K-S-H-A-T. ‘The’ Akshat who shouted ‘Minty’ after our shrill voices were silenced. When we ran back, Mr Moses came running and asked “เฒเฒจเฒพเฒฏเฒฟเฒคเณ เฒเฒจเฒพเฒฏเฒฟเฒคเณ?” (What happened, what happened?)

I was so embarrassed, I didn’t go swimming that day, Akshat didn’t go too. When he saw me, after two days, he had a great laugh. And I jumped into the pool, to hide my face.

Train journey

I recently read two posts about train journeys, one by Ravish and the other by Varahi . And my experience six years ago was sort of similar to that of varahi’s, and so kind hearts, here it is!

This was six years ago, I was thirteen, but I didn’t differ much from what I am today! Back then too, when the lioness and lamb debated, the lioness won, and I was possessive; damn possesive when it comes to my food.
Imagine. Imagine a Superkid, trashing goons and hooligans left and right. *Dishoom* *aye bisha* Beating them up with a pencil and books, till they fall at her feet and surrender the kacha mango bite, HER kacha mango bite. Any guesses who you imagined just now?๐Ÿ˜‰

But the tale of this lioness has a very sad twist! I was tricked! Yes, I was.

 An old uncle and his wife were  accompanying me and my aunt to Salem, our copassengers on our journey from Bengaluru to Salem. 

Uncle did not even wait for the train to leave Bengaluru station, he and his wife started munching Bhakarwadis. He seemed to enjoy the Bhakarwadis so much, that he almost forgot that there were people around. The gargantuan munches made a few people come and have a look at our compartment. I’m not even kidding. The Bhakarwadis looked homemade. The golden brown colour, dark brown filling, it’s hard to forget the Colors and the smell.

 He then took out Khakaras. They looked so tempting, trust me. I was a die heart fan of the Khakaras that my friend used to bring, and this looked much tastier. I was a good, well mannered girl. I didn’t stare at them often. I took the seat next to the window and pretended to look out. My aunt acted as though she was reading a book, but her mouth was actually watering.
If you thought it was over,wait, then came delicious golden brown Theplas, and then mini samosas, muffins, misti dahi, yellow salted lays, salted cashews, fried moong dal and a lot more. One after the other. I pretended not to look around, but I was tempted like never before. A well mannered girl doesn’t ask for food. A well mannered girl just keeps smelling the aromas and pretends like she doesn’t eat anything that a stranger offers, though I would break the well mannered girl rules if he bothered to offer.

Now, I couldn’t bear it any longer. I just remembered that my mother had packed kachoris for us, she had recently learnt to make khasta kachori. I was so busy seeing the grass greener the other side, that I forgot to water my own grass! I told my aunt; my foolish aunt took out the big box of kachoris, took out two, gave me one, she ate the other. Now it was my turn. ๐Ÿ˜ˆ
But wait!

Uncle said: “are these kachoris?”
Me: yes
Uncle: made out of dal?
Me: yes
Uncle: home made?
Me: yes
Uncle: without garlic?
Me: yes

Before he could ask the next question, my aunt took out the big box of kachori and offered him. He took two, one for him and one for his wife. All my dreams of tempting him were shattered. I really wanted him to feel the way I did, but my aunt, she was always this fair and lovely to the world around.

Uncle munched loudly and declared that the kachoris were soft, tasty, crunchy. My aunt couldn’t control her excitement and offered him more. He took three more this time, two for him and one for his wife. The big box now had just one kachori which my aunt had to offer the uncle’s friend who visited him from another compartment and announced that he is the guest to our compartment. When someone utters the word guest, every Sita, Dick and Harpreet in India becomes Aamir Khan. “Athithi devo bhava”

So, my mom packed kachoris for me and strangers ate all of them.

Now, I realised that I could ask uncle to share his food too, ๐Ÿ˜I mean maybe my aunt wouldn’t scold me later for doing so. After all uncle ji, the first principle of economics says, ‘people face trade-offs’. Eating my kachoris implies sharing your food. ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜
I said, “uncle, did your wife make the Khakaras and Theplas you were eating? Let’s have it, it’ll be fun”

The reply I got was priceless. “No beta. Actually I’m a follower of Jainism. In Jains, we have a lot of Tapasya to do. We do not eat food after 6:00 p.m.” I looked at my aunt’s wrist watch. It was 6:07 p.m. I looked out of the window and sang sad songs. Uncle read some Champak magazine and gave his friend a high five after laughing for five minutes. He then burped so loudly that the man sleeping on the upper berth of the neighbouring compartment woke up and rushed to ask when would the train reach Erode…

And…I forgot. Forgot that my mom can make khasta kachori too. I dailed up my mom just now and told her that I want khasta kachoris. Thank you for the kachoris in advance, Varahi, it’s always so beneficial to read your posts. ๐Ÿ˜‰๐Ÿ™‚ ๐Ÿ’™

Just a little space

I can see a deluge of guilt in your eyes
A submerging sadness, silent cries
Your silence, your resolve to say nothing
You remaining unaffected by everything
Where have you buried your smile?
Do you mind talking to me for a while?
I shall not ask questions
The reasons for your depression
I shall not tell you stories
Or the world’s adversities
I only want to listen
To paint colors, grey or golden
And say a word that can heal
For there is pain that I feel
I want to be there for you
If you allow me to
I want to hold your hand
But all I do is quietly stand
I don’t know how to talk
To intrude doors locked
And then I just keep calm
I decide to have no qualm
You perhaps pay no heed
Because a little space is all you need
A little time to heal your wounds
Before the world sees a flower bloomed.

Changing times…

First day of school. The teacher asked me to color the crow black; I had made it pink. Why can’t crows be pink? I’m going to complain mom and dad about this school.
Mom and dad spoke to principal today. Dad was being too loud in sir’s office.
Where is the teacher who told me to color the crow black, didn’t see her since three days.

I’m not thirteen. I’m ThirTEEN and
tomorrow school reopens after summer vacations. I’m going to the mall. Books, pencils, school bags, I went shopping for stationery one week ago. It’s time to get a manicure done.

I’m not nineteen. I’m nineTEEN. What’s the Morrison Boyd organic chemistry thing? Chuck it. Anyways I have reservation and I’ll get an IIT. Let me go to the pub with those guys. “Mom, I’ll be back by one!”

First day in a hostel, away from home. I’m clueless why my roommate crying! I’m happy I finally don’t have to sleep with the old senile lady, my father’s mom.

He proposed me last night. Now I’m going shopping tomorrow, ofcourse with him, I’m buying lots of clothes, shoes, bags, chocolates and teddy bears. Chocolates and teddy bears? Nah! Valentine’s day is just a week away.

My boyfriend is suffering from diarrhoea and vomiting. Oh! I forgot to tweet.” Get well soon Jaana! My lifeline” Tweeted.

“Bitch, we enjoyed your wedding a lot! The chicken biryani was superb. But why did it take Vanish 20 minutes to apply Sindoor? Lots of instructions from the priest Haan?”
“Nah donz, it was not the priest, it was the photographer. He captured our perfect candid shot! ”

Ah! I’m so happy. I’m pregnant. Vanish we’ll go to the doctor later, please call up the guy…our wedding photographer, I need to discuss things with him.

Hey whatever your name is, come here, bring my baby here, I want a picture with my cuchhiku ulluulllluu tiara! Ufff, what’s this? Make her wear a diaper right now!

I started with sarcasm, but as I progressed, I realised that everything I’m writing is inspired by true events, where’s the sarcasm?!?! Yes, if you are ‘old school’, let me tell you that everything is inspired by true incidents that I’ve witnessed from people around me! Infact most of them have been written as it is, without any exaggeration at all.

I’m unwilling to change with changing times. I’m boring. All I want is a pen, a notebook and my heart that tells me that I don’t have to change. No. I don’t look down upon the ones who welcome these changes into their lives. Just that doors are shut for these changes here. 


I just want to sit in a dark room
A dingy corner, and cry,
Cry recalling the roars of laughter,
Cry without having anyone around.

I want to walk on the streets,
Tread downtrodden paths alone
Down the memory lane,
Feel my hands that held yours,
Feel them without being seen.

I want to run far away,
Far away to the sea shore,
To collect the myriad sea shells,
shells of your togetherness,
And smile, all alone.

I want to lock up myself,
And throw stuffs around,
And then silently murmur your name,
Murmur without being heard,
Murmur like I never said.

I want to see the sky, moonlit,
And embrace myself like you did,
Hug myself tight while no-one’s watching,
And treasure the forever.

The forever you gave me in a few days,
The infinity so rich and lovely,
The infinity that keeps me strong,
Strong with no one by my side,
Unshakeable during breakdowns.

The infinity that empowers me,
To write words,sometimes few,
And then move on, like I’m unstirred.

To cry out loud,
Then have nothing to say.
To tread forgotten lanes
And feel no pain
And to vent out emotions,
And then straighten my crown.
The infinity that can last longer,
Than forever and a day.

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