Hang on, please

He is Sam. He is fourteen. I think he's very cool. He plays excellent football, and has a very good haircut. He wears his jeans too low, but it comes off as adorable to me. He's also very funny.
When he first moved here, all the little girls could not stop gushing. I think he deserved it.
He is always very sweet to me, apart from those jokes at my expense. He always asks me to play hide and seek. Sometimes, I do. Sometimes, I do not. But I do think he is very nice.
One thing, I do not like. He smokes too much. But what can I do?
His girlfriend is a girl named Angel. I think thats a very funny name, but what can I do?

This is the strange nature of a blog post; there's always a 'but'.

You know how they say, 'trouble comes on an idle Tuesday afternoon, when you least expect it.' And then it did, it finally did.

He fell off the terrace yesterday. He lay there shaking for fifteen minutes, until somebody found him. I did not have the guts to go and see his spattered blood, but my friends did. Its very, very serious and they're saying there's a very dim chance. Its mostly head injury, and with that, you can never say. I cannot imagine.
T'was very, very sad yesterday, it seemed like the whole world had come out to find out whats happening. I think he will like to know, that so many people care. I do too, very much.
His parents are not even in town; nobody can even begin to imagine what they'd be going through.

I prayed for him yesterday, and I hope he makes it.

We discussed Tuesdays With Morrie in school yesterday, our teacher had told us to read it. We had a fantastic time, talking about what we liked about Morrie, and what we didn't. He was a funny character, this Morrie. That book is all about death and nothing else has gone through my mind for the past few days. Yesterday was also Tuesday.
Morrie too is also very wise, no. He tells us all these great things about death, that if you learn to die, you learn to live. I liked his ideas about emotions and family more, the Theory of Detachment. A very good scene, part of the ocean, which we enacted out in class yesterday.
Death, death, death. It just won't end. Live like you're dying, my teacher had said.

Its quite funny the way Morrie absolutely dismissed everything he didn't believe in. The young are not wise, they have very little understanding, he says. He says we will always remain deficient if we keep getting manipulated by people who tell us to buy this perfume, and you'll look pretty, and buy that jeans, and you'll look sexy. This will never complete your spiritual development.

But here, I think, Morrie is wrong. He fails to understand that these things may be a part of somebody's spiritual development. Does that sound odd? I will feel very, very good if I buy a jeans that makes me look sexy. Better than if I, say, donate that money to a charity or something, however shallow that may sound.
I will feel absolutely ecstatic, if I buy a good perfume. Maybe its Morrie's age. I don't know. But he's not understanding, that deriving pleasure out of simple things in life IS development. Fine, the other love and devotion is important too, but what is so wrong with buying good stuff for yourself? Why shouldn't people buy  the next great car if they can afford it and will be on a high for the whole following year, thanks to that car. Don't chase materialistic things, he says. I don't find anything wrong in getting pleasure out of materialistic things.
What is wrong with being number two, Morrie also says. Lets be number two. But from where will we get the incentive to grow, if we're happy being number two? Sure, don't beat yourself for being number two. But at least try for number one next time, try to see what your faults were. Try to improve. I'm nowhere NEAR number one or two, see, but I like to rant.

But there are many things Morrie says that I agree with.
"Do the kinds of things that come from the heart. When you do, you won’t be dissatisfied, you won’t be envious, you won’t be longing for somebody else’s things. On the contrary, you’ll be overwhelmed with what comes back"

"Sometimes you cannot believe what you see, you have to believe what you feel. And if you are ever going to have other people trust you, you must feel that you can trust them, too - even when you’re in the dark. Even when you’re falling."

Very beautiful lines, all of these. He also says this- Death: the only true emotion felt in an apathetic world.
I don't know what to say. True? At one hand, he's talking about love and all its wonders, and then he says that death is the only true emotion? Is that possible?

So many questions.

Pray for him though please?

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But it makes me out of breath when you say..

Who doesn't  love the magic of a Saturday night out. Could be a date, could be a party, could be a girls night out, the excitement that this prospect triggers is amazing. It all begins with urgent phone calls, where, what, when, with who. How are we going, how are we coming back. And for people like me, "Mum, can I go?"
Its all very, very exciting. And then, once the plan is made, once everything is set, you settle down with a nice book or a movie to calm yourself. You try to forget about the plan, because over thinking it kills it somehow. You try to let it remain untouched, we'll see what we'll see. Don't think about it.

After immersing yourself in the book, you sneak a look at the clock and decide when to start getting ready. And when the time finally comes, you get up with a smile. The time before or after a party is the best. The anticipation of the whole thing, the imagining what will happen, how the night will end.

Then you start the hot water and take out the clothes and shoes (pre-decided). You take everything you'll need in the bathroom, the dry towels, the soap, the moisturizer, the dryer, the loofah and whatever else. You take your time and get rid of all the scents of the day. You wash your hair like crazy, determined to get it right. Then you dry them impeccably straight or curly or however. And finally, comes the most awaited part, when you get into the clothes, specially chosen for that occasion, matching perfectly, because on a Saturday Night, dear, they will. Now comes the Routine.

You put on the cream to even out the texture, then dab the powder to even out the tone. Eyes, you do with careful concentration, because for some reason, they are the most important. Slowly and conscientiously, you have to get them exactly right. Lip gloss, and a little something here and there. Then you walk over to the other side, and a spritz of your favorite perfume. Not too much, not too little. You walk towards the mirror, and give yourself the final once-over, nodding.

Now you take The Bag and put in all the essentials, which could range from as little as a phone and wallet or to phone, wallet, lip balm, eyeliner, comb, wet tissues, extra jacket and scarf, small snacks (if the food is bad), cards, earphones, a pair of flats and some.
Then you add on the accessory, earrings or a bracelet or a scarf and then finally, you are ready.

When you walk down the stairs, or take the elevator, and happen to bump into someone, they give you a knowing smile and you smile satisfactorily in return. They know its a Saturday Night Out. You love the sound your shoes make and the echo they generate.

Its time, oh yes, its time.

The equally favorite part is the after party time. When you're so exhausted, you have no idea what you are saying any more, but then, you don't care anymore. When even the most absurd things make sense, and those conversations, when recollected later, make you cringe. You're in a daze. But the sweetest, most wonderful part is when you sit down to think about all that had happened that night, all the fun you had, all the nonsense you had said and even that, for some reason, was very appreciated, you just can't stop smiling. Your cheeks ache, but you can't.

As you are minutes from falling asleep in the night, you close your eyes with absolute contentment, knowing what a good, good night it had been.

As Parrot M., or rather the cheap video that I finally convinced S. to tell me about says,
YAY. Its party time. :)

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The Girl from another World

When I was a kid, okay, I loved to watch this show called Shaka Laka Boom Boom. It was about a kid, Sanju,  who had a magic pencil, and whatever he drew from that pencil, came to life. Quite a dangerous concept, but he was a good kid, you know, pretty self-righteous, and he would never draw anything bad from it. So much did I believe in his goodness and his fun loving nature that well, I had the hugest crush on him. Plus the fact that he was outoftheworld cute. I mean, which little girl wouldn't have a crush on him, he was the epitome of everything good and fun in the world. Until I grew up and realized that all guys are jerks, but thats another story.

So I was in fourth or something, when I went to Mumbai for a trip and I don't know how, but by some twist of fate, some fluke of luck, my father somehow got his phone number for me. I was ecstatic. Absolutely, I don't think I had ever jumped so much in my life. Sanju. Sanju. His name kept ringing in my head. But my job is done, my father said. Its your turn now. So after rehearsing a million times what I was going to say to him and my thumbs under my fingers, I dialed, and miraculously, that number was not fake, it worked. It ringed, once, twice, three times and a woman picked up. I asked her timidly if I could speak to Kinshuk (his real name) and she told me he was at shoot or something. And she said he would call back once he got free and how did I get that number, which made me realize that it must be a pretty inside number. 

That said and done, he never called back and I didn't expect him to, with him being a big star and all. But even at that age, I was a persistent, little bugger so I called and called and called until his mom got sick of me and put him on the phone (thank God there wasn't the Reject Call application in those days). Anyway, all that I had rehearsed, I forgot right away and mumbled incoherent nonsense. My dad took pity and convinced him to meet me In McDonald's. OH YES. LIKE A DATE? MAYBE.

Just with parents and stuff, cuz I was nine. And he was twelve, I add slyly, whenever narrating this story to my friends. 

The day finally arrived and I remember I had bought a Mickey Mouse photo frame from Pantaloons to gift him. He didn't get anything. Typical. I remember every single detail of that day, even the color of his jacket, because I've recalled that moment so many times. 
The point I'm trying to make is, meeting him was like meeting the ultimate star at that time. I used to worship Sanju and his friends, they were like people from another world. And even when I met him, although tangible, he was still a person from a different world, a completely different world. 

As time passed, I still had his number but I never called again, although you would expect an obsessed fan to call again and again until the person being stalked changed his number. But for some reason, I never did. Years passed, and I narrated this incident to shrieks of laughter(guys) and lots of 'awwws'(girls). And two days ago, I found him on Facebook. But please, who isn't on Facebook, so that bit wasn't a surprise.
And neither was it a surprise that he was hot now. That was to be expected. 
The surprising part was, how, normal he was. As normal as, well, me. He is in college, currently not acting to focus on studies. But the rest was, all, very normal, like just another teenager. And then I found this other girl too, who played Ritu in the show, one of the main people in the cast, and she has a blog too which I read and was absolutely SHOCKED to read how normal her rambles were! I don't know what I was expecting, stories of starry tantrums maybe, or anecdotes of the 90210 life. But it was as normal as my life, or maybe even less!

I don't know how to put across the enormity of my realization, that these people, who I thought belonged to another world, a world filled with magic and fun and dancing in the rain and rescuing people, were just like me. And not only in the essential sense, no, in every possible sense right down to how we spend our evenings! 
Even this second, the thought seems so surreal, that these people are just like me! Its very strange.
A moment of awakening? I don't know.
Most people I know would say, Srishti, of course magic doesn't exist, you've got to be absolutely stupid to be still thinking that these people are different.
But its not the magic part, it isn't. Its something else, something different.

I just hope I'm able to digest this bit of information before something equally unnerving is hurtled my way again! 

Yes, go on laugh, yes you. I'll be doing the same when this moment comes to you.

School holidays extended till 17th!! Now, THIS is the life.

Whatte feeel :)

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