I'b sick

Sore Throat. Fever. But the worst of all, the deadly...Cold. (I guess cold is not really called cold, ...but I don't know the scientific, or official name)
Except the part where people will get you whatever you want in bed, being sick sucks.

But the weirdest thing, is the Urge. The inexplicable urge to do exactly the thing you're not supposed to do. Even though I sound like that girl in The Exorcist, if anybody flashed a chuski in front of me, I'll eat it, without the slightest feeling of guilt. I even had chicken today! Fried. Which would help my throat a lot, I'm sure.
Why do we do things that are the exact OPPOSITE of things which we are supposed to?
The question haunts me.

The Zombie Community would definitely give me a membership now. I sound like them, I look like them. And I can probably go to Zombie High, the high school for Zombies. Oughta be fun.

Goodnight everyone :)

Retiring Sick,

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Those Things He Does.

He does it.
But what was the cause? The smile? The eyes? The expression?
All of them.
It hits me suddenly.
Recall. Say you're a book-lover, and you walk into a bookstore. You're in your favourite part of the store, the shelf you love the most. You look at it. Your see it lined with books you love the most in the world. You look at their jazzy covers, their catchy titles. You smile. Involuntarily, widening your eyes for a better view.
Then, you walk into Archies or Hallmark. You see an array of objects, all colourful, glittering and gleaming. The colours dance in front of your eyes, inviting. You stare at them and you almost shield your eyes, narrowing them, lest the colours hurt them.
Its like that. Only both. I don't know whether to narrow or widen. I want to look at him, stare at him, to absorb...but I'm afraid. Afraid that the beauty would be so powerful, that it might damage them. My eyes.

When do you get goosebumps? When you're shivering, either from the cold or fear. But there is another kind of goosebumps. The wrong-place, wrong-time kind. The what-are-you-doing-here-kind.
When the temperature is very high. When its so hot, that you can't feel the sweat. Its a part of you already. Its hot beyond a limit. And the goosebumps come. They're not supposed to be here, but they are. And it feels good. The goosebumps make you giddy. You want to laugh.
There are goosebumps on your arm because of the heat.
Thats how it is. Its not supposed to be like it is. Its unexpected, uncalled for. Against the laws. Wrong place, wrong time. Wrong. But it feels good. Its not supposed to happen, but when it does, you don't care anymore.

Those Things He Does.

* This was written when the author was, as defined medically, not completely mentally stable. Only temporarily. Also, err...I have a tendency to exaggerate. So its not to be taken very seriously.

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Angrezi mat jhaad!

Only in India...will you find the Indian English. Something which is termed as 'Hinglish'.
Quotes and words when spoken, you can't help but giggle, no matter how bad your own English is. Here goes.

-"Dont argooo with me!"
Couldn't if I wanted to.

-"If x+y izikal to x+z..."
What izikal to WHAT?

-"Oh my God, look at her butts!"
What? I can't find anything wrong in this sentence.

You're the boss.

(A girl who had read the word 'dude' and knew what it meant, but had never actually heard someone say it)
-"Oye, Dudey!"
She probably meant Dubey...

-"I have a Pee-sychic"
Not in a condition to comment.

-"Hi, my name is Rahul. You wanna make fraandship with me?"
or sometimes
"Hi, you wanna fraand me?"
Why not?

-"Angrez chale gaye, tujhe chod gaye!"
Is that even possible?

-"Toh what?"
Aur kya!

-"Let the rains fall down..."
Please, do!

Also, I find the concept of using 'like' after every third word extremely amusing.
-"Look, I'm like, really hungry, so can we like, make a move, so I can like, eat?"
Sure, what would you like?
"So he's like 'I don't like you' and I'm like 'Whats not to like?' and he's like 'I don't know what to, like, say...' "
Huh. What indeed.


*I don't mean to intentionally hurt anyone. All views and opinions in this post are purely fictional , and any person resembling anyone, living or dead, is entirely co-incidental. Well, almost ;)

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You're Beautiful :)

Jonathan Rhys Meyers. Born in Dublin, Ireland in 1977, he was expelled from school at the age of 16. Spending most of his time at a Cork pool hall, he was subsequently discovered by Casting Agents. Thank you, Casting Agents, for bringing to my notice that something as beautiful as him exists.
- Coffin-shaped face
-Chiselled cheekbones
-Smoky, hazel eyes
-Bee-stung lips
-That adorable accent [<3]

8 words for you, from the James Blunt song
"I saw an angel, of that I'm sure"
We'll meet someday. Pakka. You'll see. And I'll call you Jonathan, not Jo or Jon. Because Jonathan sounds so sophisticated, just like you.
And since being sophisticated is something which I'm very bad at, I admire you even more for it.
But till the time we meet, I'll just keep singing...
"And I'm breathless, over the edge and I'm sleepless, I never thought that I'd catch this...lovebug again :-)"

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O saavan raja!

Traffic jams


Greener grass

Every year, they come back with a bang. Literally. They sweep across the sky, pour down relentlessly and everyone utters a sigh of relief. Finally, we say. Monsoon has arrived.
It begins with the weather becoming humid. Temperatures and tempers soar, clothes and sweat never part company and there is a general air of digruntlement.

But then suddenly, you see a patch of clouds in the sky and a flicker of hope builds inside you. And hence, it starts raining. Shower after shower of rain hits the ground, winds blow venting out all their emotions on the trees and sometimes, even lightening makes an appearence.

Its the aftermath of the rain, that is most pleasent. The air is clearer and the weather is cooler, not a single sign of the sweltering heat and humidity. There is musty smell in the air, which brings on a wave of nostalgia. People's clothes are damp, not from the sweat but from the rain.
The sky is bluer and the birds chirp endlessly. The grass, which was prickly, parched and yellow earlier was now much more softer and greener. Even people look brighter, after relieving the heat of the past few days, their colourful umbrellas glowing. It was as if the world was yellowing away, fading out and the rain has restored its original colours.
There is a traffic jam on the road, as cars splash through the puddles of water. Coffee shops are packed, while everyone tries to grab a mug of hot cocoa.

I see a family sitting cosily in their balcony, their comforters around them, watching the raindrops splatter on the ground. The smeall of hot tea and pakoras wafts from their house. Monsoon has come, they say. Its here.

Sigining off drenched,

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