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Showing posts with label Something called Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Something called Life. Show all posts

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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Ohh, everything's okay!

Fifteen days ago, we met at the airport. Oh no, I'm not about to narrate a romantic encounter; my French Exchange partner! Raphaelle looked like a little, shriveled up creature when we first met at the airport because first they had taken a train from Grenoble to Lyon, then from Lyon to Paris where they spent the night at the airport and then they took the plane to India; so everyone was very, very tired. And so it began.

There are so many, so many, things I could say about the past fifteen days, its not even funny. When Raphaelle came to live with me for two weeks, she was an absolute stranger to me. Our virtual conversation had been limited and we didn't know each other at all. And of course at that time, I didn't know that language was gonna give us so much trouble. And to spend all hours of two weeks with a person to whom you have never spoken in your life is a scary thought; especially if you don't share a common language.

The French pronunciation is so different that even if you know the word they are saying, you're not able to understand. One time in the car, Farah and Raphaelle asked me, "Can we 'ave zose, circle, circle, sweet zsingz, uhhh, orange and sweet?"
"Jalebi?" I asked.
"Yeah, yeah!" they said. "Can we 'ave zose with onioney?"
What I could make out of that peculiar word was...onions.
"You want to have jalebi with onions?" I asked, weirded out.
Everyone burst out laughing; jalebi with oninons would be the strangest thing ever.
"You know, zat, 'onee? 'Oneen?"
"Honey!" Jili offered! That makes much more sense.

There were so many hilarious situations like these, when we couldn't understand what they were saying and interpreted something else entirely. In the beginning, I felt like banging my head on the wall out of frustration but as the days passed, we understood each other better and by the time they were about to leave, I could complete Raph's sentences easily. If were standing in a place, Raph would say, "What we wait?" which meant, what are we waiting for. If she wanted to know how much time was left till we reached a place, she would say,
"How many times, we uhhhh, we....uhh..."
"-reach?" I would say, and she would nod. Every time they understood something we would say, there would be an expression of great realization on their faces and they would say, "OH! Oh yeahhh!"

And the French, or maybe Europeans in general, have amazing manners. Too much of them, if you ask me. After every second sentence, Raph said thank you. No kidding. When she asked me if she could take a shower and I would say, yes, of course, even then, she would get a big smile on her face and say thank you. It's very French to say thank you, she told me. And every morning and night, she would wish everyone in home good morning and good night. " At my 'ome, " she told me, " we wish each ozerr all ze time. My muzerr make me, uhh, kiss 'er goodnight everyday."
I can't remember the last time I kissed my mother, let alone kiss her goodnight. It makes me wonder if I'm a little ungrateful to the people I know.

Their food habits are equally proper. And strange, if you ask me. She eats no spices at all. She can eat anything at all, if there's no spice in it. And I mean no spice AT ALL. I don't understand how they swallow all that bland, plain food. I find food pretty much tasteless without spices.
"Izn't it....odd," she looked at me to confirm if the word she used was right or not. I nodded. "Zat in France, it eez so cold but we do not eat spice, but in India it eez so 'ot and you eat so many spice. It eez....laugh, laughing?" she asked me.
"Ironic," I tell her.
"Ironic," she says.
But I guess its okay, because the French are more fond of eating sweet stuff rather than salty. Her every meal is incomplete without deserts. There would be a nagging voice in their head if they did not eat deserts. And in the breakfast, they have never taken salt. Never! Once I made her try idli-sambar for breakfast and she ate one idli with such a disgusting face that my mother took pity on her and gave her her beloved bread and confiture(jam).
And they eat so little! They hardly take breakfast and don't even snack in between meals. I live on snacks! Partially, because no matter however much I eat, I don't gain an ounce but I think everyone here is quite fond of little snacks. Hence the snacks before dinner tradition in Indian parties. "We will starve when we got to France yaa, " Navya said to me. " I'm gonna take lots of biscuits and Haldiram packets to France, in case they expect us to wait for mealtime or something."
"But my brozerr eat so much," Raph told me. "I don't know 'ow can 'ee eat so much. 'Eee do a lot of sport. I'm sure, if 'ee do not do sports, 'ee become a very, very fat man."

This one time, Raph and I were waiting outside a restaurant for the others.
"Srishtee, " she says in her French accent. "In France, on zuh roads I see so many, so many people kissing and 'olding 'ands, walking togezzurr, but 'ere, I see nobody!" she held up her hands in surprise. "In our school too, zere are so many, so many coouples and zey are always kissing, but 'ere, nobody!"
It was quite funny.

And they loved traveling by auto-rickshaw. 'Tuk-tuk', they called them. Lets go by tuk-tuk.

But not everything was hunky-dory. My partner, and I'm not talking about the French in general, mostly didn't like Indian things. All she bought was 4 scarves and box, although she had carried a lot of money for shopping. She didn't like Janpath, hated Dilli Haat, couldn't stand Red Fort and didn't buy any souvenirs. She preferred going to the mall and the amusement park and parties and drinking rather than going to any historical monument or seeing anything ethnic. Which was a little disappointing, but it was okay because I tried my best and if they didn't take interest, it was their loss. I'm all ready to soak up everything French. :D

In the beginning, a lot of us couldn't establish a rapport with their partners. We were all so sick of them and their English. "These French people, " I said, "are like a bug you can't get rid of. And the worst part is, you paid for that bug. " We were all very glad when they were all taken to Jaipur without us for two days. Because staying with them all the time meant taking care of them every second of the day, and that is not easy. I will never take my parents for granted now. Even when we Indians talked, we talked about these French as if they were our kids; we discussed about their habits, their likes, dislikes, and all. So aunty-ish, I tell you.
And that when the French were so unconcerned and unaffected by all did we did for them. As soon as they saw their friends, they jabbered away in rapid French and forgot everything else. But I guess thats everywhere. Our teacher told us that we'll do the same when we go there, its natural.
French people were also quite flaky. Sometimes, their mood, humeur, was so good they couldn't stop gushing, how nice Indians were. And sometimes they were very curt and short. "I can't wait to go to France to create a fuss and watch them take care of us."
I couldn't agree more. These past two weeks, its like we don't have a life of our own. We take care of them all the time and have no time ofr our freinds, or for our hobbies. There's this constant nagging, worry in our heads if they are feeling fine.

There are just so many, so many things I've learned these past few days. Raphaelle is one of the most awesome people I've ever met. She travels so, so much and she told me all about her trips to New York and California and Egypt and morocco and Europe. She has great knowledge about every city she has visited and our shared love for movies made it very easy for us to make conversation once we were in the humeur. We have had so many long talks about different cities and places. You know how every city is mostly defined by a typical thing of that city? Like if someone says Paris, I would say fashion. If someone says New York, I would say Times Square or I dunno, maybe a fast paced life. If someone said USA to Raphaelle, she would say crazy people.Absolutely bizarre! And I used to think London is more industrial kinda city, more about jobs, Paris has more artists. But Raph says thats not true anymore. There has been a great mix of culture and you can't really define a city by just one thing typical to it. Its just a great, big, mish-mash now. In this mish-mash, so much mixes together and emerges as something entirely new and different. Like we start with primary colours, Red, Green and Blue but if we keep mixing and mixing, there's no end to the colours we develop.

We've had deep, insightful talks like these in addition to the extremely stupid situations. When Raphaelle saw my French notebook, she had tears of laughter in her eyes. " Zis eez my life, zuh things I do and you are studying eet! Eetz too funny!" she said, laughing.

It was quite sad yesterday, when the whole day we talked about her going away. Six months, we kept saying. We see each other after six months. "But you know, " Raphaelle said. "Six months eez nothing. Tell me, what izz six months in life? They'll pass like zis!" she snapped her fingers. "You go to school, you do 'omework, you ski in winter, make snowman, and zen you are 'ere!"

At the airport, everyone was saying all this cheesy stuff like, "Don't cry that its over; smile that it happened" and all that. But we didn't shed a tear. I mean, I was sad and all but I needed to be on my own for sometime now too!

As we were coming back after taking her to the airport, I remembered when two weeks ago, I had come to pick her up. When she had gotten in the car, she was sitting at the back and she had strapped her seatbelt on. I've never, ever put on my seatbelt, especially when I'm at the back. So I told her, "You don't need to put your seatbelt on, its okay." Raphaelle had smiled and said, "Ohh, everything's okay!" and kept her seatbelt on.

Two weeks later, her words seemed true. That yes, everything IS okay. Its how you make of situations that make them okay or not okay. You can get along well with a stranger with whom you don't share a common language or culture and have the time of your life or you can sit and crib and cry about it.
Everything is okay; its what you make of it. There were good times and bad times but, all's well that ends well.

This was just one small episode in my life; maybe I'll have many, many more like these. If I get to make new friends and learn new things about different cultures, lifestyles and maybe even languages, I'm sure I'll love it.

You know how everyone and everything, people, things, places, all have separate distinct scent? Raph's scent is still lingering in the room, I sometimes catch a whiff of it. But I know it'll be lost in a day or two.
 Until six months later.

Cuz its not the end; its actually the beginning.

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Post # 50 :)

Eet

'Its like forgetting the words to your favorite song,
You can't believe it, you were always singing along,
It was so easy, and the words so sweet
You can't remember, you try to feel the beat'


Once upon a time, there was a little boy. A happy and healthy baby, he was born into a very privileged family, the kind that seem to lack nothing. They were a wealthy lot, not just in money, but in other things too, that mattered much more. They were kind and loving, looked out for their friends and were generally popular. The father and the mother of the little boy loved each other immensely, and why wouldn't they, since they had every reason to celebrate life as they knew it, every other day.
When their son was born, they were naturally overjoyed, and having a large family scattered across the globe, all of them came together to celebrate.

He was born a beautiful baby, and even at this age, everyone could tell he would grow up to be a handsome man. Friends and well-wishers never stopped arriving, as they envied the couple's good fortune, cooed at the baby and stared at him in wonderment.; his mother was over the moon and his father couldn't be prouder.

As he grew up, his parents never saw a day when their little son wasn't up to mischief. He caused chaos in the house, running up and down all day, disrupting the household work, breaking valuables and teasing the life out of any girl that came by his house. But yet nobody minded, because all they had to do was take one look at that adorable thing and all their anger would vanish.

As years passed by, he became an absolute charmer, as he greeted his mother's friends warmly and shook hands with his father's friends. His mother saw the mischievous glint in his eye and would just wait for the moment he would make her burst into laughter. Being an artist, she painted scores of paintings which she treasured deeply. She would display them proudly in the hall and gaze at them, content.

This family of three would go for vacations with friends, buy ridiculously expensive items and led a happy life. But by no means was this boy a brat. You see, born and brought up in the high society had taught the mother an important lesson- if you can't stay grounded, you can't stay at all.
She taught her son the most basic of values, and taught him to respect everything, from the food he ate to the people he met. She taught him to be sincere and polite, kind and humble. As he listened to his mother day after day, he turned out to be one of the most loyal, charming and genuine person one would ever have the good fortune to meet.
So even though his mischief did bring back a few complaints, his parents knew his heart was in the right place. A crack here and a joke there always did good to a person's soul, his mother used to say.
As he became a teenager, and grew taller and more handsome every day, he had a strong, independent mind of his own. He had heard and seen enough to attain a good judgement of what was right and what was wrong. He had grown up to be vary smart indeed. His mother secretly loved passing him the phone as girls giggled madly over the line and asked to speak to her son. She was very, very fond of him and they were one small happy family for a while.

Until one stormy, fateful evening and a terrible evening it was.

The mother, that evening, decided to drive to the local store to buy some groceries.
As her son reached home that evening, he was exhausted. His football coach had started rigorous training, and that boy was an exceptional player, best he had seen in a long time, he used to say.
So as he came home that evening and found his mother nowhere in sight, he just assumed that maybe she was with a friend or probably caught up somewhere. After some time, when he had taken a shower and cooled himself off, he tried calling her and found her unreachable.

He called his father, and he too, was equally puzzled. After hours of calling and checking up on the possible places where she could be, they finally approached the police.
The police, to be fair to them, carried out a thorough investigation. It was revealed that she had bought the groceries and then was never seen again. The car was left abandoned on the road. There were few passersby on the road because of the bad weather and there weren't much leads to follow.

The father used his contacts to make sure that people on the case worked to the best of their abilities. An extensive list of suspects was made and were interrogated thoroughly, but still nothing was found. It was as if she had vanished in thin air. The son got into a wild fight with some boys of another school who suggested obscene reasons explaining her mother's disappearance.

Seventeen days after that terrible evening, the mother's body was found outside her house, tossed carelessly at the edge. An autopsy of the body reported that she had been assaulted and murdered by being stabbed in back and chest and struck on the head.

Misery struck that family from then on. It was as if a cyclone had come and devastated everything they had ever known. You see, they were the perfect family across the street with the perfect house. No matter what, nothing this bad ever happened to families like these- they were the people to whom the local club first sent the invitation on special occasions, the people whose lawn smelt of freshly mown grass and house of potpourri. Murder of the mother didn't fit anywhere in the picture.

In the first initial days, the father and son were by each other's side. Friends and acquaintances mourned with them and rarely left them alone. Condolences were expressed and food and flowers arrived but the fact remained; neither of them had ever felt grief like this before and they didn't know how to deal with it.
As the weeks passed, they started to get on with their life but somehow, neither of them ever recovered from the trauma. A tragedy may bring out the best in people or the worst. For the father and the son, it brought out both.

They both worked harder than ever before, put on the bravest face possible while trying to help each other out, hoping that the killer be found. The father buried himself in work, hoping to fill the void caused by his wife's absence . Everything has a cause, he used to think. What had gone wrong here then? He couldn't for his life even begin to IMAGINE why anybody would even consider hurting her like it had been done. He completely involved himself in the investigation, worked ruthless hours but as the days passed, the case, like all others, began to lose momentum.

The son tried to gain some sense of normalcy in his life, as he became the 'dead woman's kid'. He avoided the pitying eyes, and was rash at any discussion that involved his mother. He busied himself in friends and school, sports and work, ignoring the sympathy.

Slowly and unknowingly, a distance crept between the father and the son. At first, they had been inseparable, supporting each other throughout, but the mother's absence started to gnaw at them. She had been like the glue of the family, the butter of the sandwich, keeping them together. They both stayed away from home as much as possible, avoiding each other. The father saw his wife's shadow and his incompetence in catching the killer in his son. This in turn made the son realize his father's lack of support and love at this time, making him bitter and resentful.

Time passed and the lives of the father and the son, which had always been interconnected in different ways soon took a separate turn. A time came when they would barely nod when they passed each other; they had learnt to live without each other.
The son, as he occupied himself and got on with his life, never saw one moment where he was truly content at the end of the day when he lay on the bed. He could never be the same former self he once was; it was like something inside his heart had died.

Until.

Until one beautiful, sunny, ordinary day when all that changed again.
You see, on that day, a little girl came along....

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Not Intrusted


Everyone knows that no one really studies before July after you've completed tenth (doesn't apply to science people). But the school can't let us stay at home for WHOLE three months, can it? So this is what my school does- makes us reach school at SEVEN A.M. in the morning. Yes. Seven. Because its too hot at 7: 45. It lets us off at 1. Because its too hot at 2. This would've made sense, just a TINY, TINY bit if we had something to do in school.
For example, yesterday
First Block - Played Pictionary.
Second Block- Made up plans for tomorrow's trip but then dumped them all.
Third Block- Roamed around in school.

Break

Workshop

Its like this everyday. Anyway, coming back to my post topic,

We have workshops every single day. Career Counselling. People from different organisations come everyday to make us aware of all the options we have before we make a decision. Mostly, we are told about the unconventional, lesser known careers, which is rather fun. Like yesterday, we had a guy telling us about animation. Did you know that the entire Avatar was shot in an airport hangar?!! Wait, I'm going a little off the point now.
So we have very different people coming up and talking to us. People in my school don't accept anyone new easily. They poke fun and mock them, unless they judge them cool enough to listen.

There came some people who spoke a little differently. With an accent, or weird pronunciations. Face it, nobody's perfect. There was this one guy who kept pronouncing interesting as 'intrusting' and kept saying 'You needs'. So maybe its a little funny. Once. Twice. Then you've had enough with the mockery.
This is one thing I don't get- if people speak in a different way, why does the rest of the world have such a huge problem with it? Is it the reluctance to accept someone unusual?
My dad always says, if the content in your speech is good enough, if there is power in your words, then it doesn't really matter how you say it. People want to listen to you.

Last year, we had this teacher who broke up words, like she'd say, "Consti...." Pause. "Tution." "Legis...." pause. "Lation". When she started to teach us, many people inserted a 'pation' after the consti, before she could get to tution. But then everyone started to realize, she was a really, really good teacher. The best in her subject. Soon everyone forgot about the consti, and listened to her eagerly.
New Kid started making fun of the 'intrusting' guy and I told him to get over it.
"Come on, Srishti," said New Kid. "Don't be such a Mother India."
That doesn't even make sense. How does not making fun of somebody make you a mother India? Its not even called being nice...its just plain, common, courtesy.
And the New Kid is a published author.
Go figure. :|


We were taken to an old age home today. It was nice, but I certainly can't say moving. Everyone treated them like they were time bombs, who could explode any time and start crying and narrating their life story. They looked happy enough. A girl in my class started crying. Really. She did. :|

One important point one uncle there raised was, why don't we have religious studies as a subject? Not centered on one particular religion, but a basic, common understanding of all religions. After all, religion is an integral part of any society, its important that we know about it.



He's telling us about his childhood days. :)


He's telling us a joke. Everyone was laughing crazily when he finished, but I didn't get it. Something' really, really wrong with me.


I also had to stand up and tell them how cool it was to be there! I used some really good Hindi words. :D

Also, I really, really like Regina Spektor. That woman is a genius. I love her music. Its all about Lady GaGa and Mariah Carey these days....Regina Spektor trumps all of them. Here is one of her coolest songs-




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Black Valentine's

They decided lets meet.

Lets meet over a coffee.
Pre-valentine's?

@German Bakery

They took a table. Ordered a coffee. Laughing, chatting.
Not a worry in the world. Except placement exams, He thought.
But He was with Her. Who cared about exams?

And suddenly, blast.
Everything's black.

@Hospital

They had to amputate His legs. She was ninety per cent burnt. Barely alive. Negligible chance of survival. He was still unconscious.

Government officials handed a cheque to His mother. His mother tore it up and threw it on his face.

He died yesterday night. She's on the brink of death.

All they wanted,




was coffee.


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All I Want For Christmas Is...

...a box full of Christmas Movies, nothing else.


Santa is just a costume and gifts are just excuses; using these two, all people want is to spread love.

This may sound hysterical but its true.

I read a Christmas based book, The Gift by Cecilia Ahern (who now, has become one of my very favorite authors). Its a beautiful book, and I recommend it to anyone who's as crazy about Christmas and lesson-teaching stories as I am. This is an extract from the book: (note how vividly she describes everything, and how true all of it is)

'On Christmas Morning, an air of calm settles outside. The emptiness on the streets doesn't instill fear; in fact it has an opposite effect. It's a picture of safety, and, despite the seasonal chill; there's warmth. For varying reasons, for every household this day of every year is just spent inside. While outside is sombre, inside is a world of bright, frenzied colour, a hysteria of ripping wrapping paper and flying coloured ribbons.
Christmas music and festive fragrances of cinnamon and spice of all things nice fill the air. Exclamations of glee, of hugs and thanks, explode like party streamers. These Christmas days and indoor days; not a sinner lingering outside, for even they have a roof over their heads.'
In my old school, on the walls along the staircase, there were quotes and Thought-for-the-day's pasted. And I read the quotes each time I passed. One of them I recall clearly, and a few days ago, I realized its true-ness.

Its nice to be important, but its more important to be nice.

This Christmas, lets try to be a little nicer. Family, friends, strangers, anyone.

So,

If you could wish for one thing this Christmas, what would you wish for?

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Undo it

Every once in a while, you hear something or see something that makes you appreciate what you have in life. That makes you thank your lucky stars. That makes you laugh at yourself for worrying about stupid, trivial things just five minutes ago.

L, the sweet, funny L, who made me laugh as we walked through the Haunted House, who made me smile instead of scream, is alone. I've just met him a few times, but I liked him instantly. Twinkling eyes, goofy grin-how could you not like him? He had all the comforts in the world.
And now, everything's gone. In a flash.
His father passed away today. How can it be? I had seen him healthy and happy on Diwali, laughing. Not fair, this. L's 13 too young. It can't be.
My Saru went through something like this last year, a week before finals. I remember her cry as I managed to call her from school; I remember trying to say something, anything but nothing came out. I remember everything.
I am unable to get it out of my head.
I'm in two minds over going there tomorrow. Can I bear to see the tears instead of twinkle?
Can I bear to see him like I had seen my Saru?
I don't know.
I just know that I want it undone.

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Good enough?


Every so often, these thoughts, they enter my mind, sometimes strong, sometimes weak. A random photograph, a song, a passage from a book, triggers my mind and I think.

Am I good enough?

Do I have what it takes?

Will I make it?

The people around me are sophisticated, poised, shrewd. They know how to get what they want. They know how to get around. They know the way.

They’re aware of the tactics, and they don’t mind breaking the rules. Morality comes later.

They are the types who won’t mind shoving it in your face; they won’t mind clawing you to get ahead.

They have it all, people say. They have it all.

And again I think:

Am I good enough? Good…but is it enough?

And then…then the Voice spoke aloud again. The very same Voice which had helped me when I needed it, the Voice which had guided me forward when I couldn’t see, the Voice which was always by my side. The Voice which urged me to move ahead no matter what, which kept me grounded when I floated above.

And the Voice told me, as it had always done, “The only person you need to be good enough for is only, and only, you. As long as you're honest to what you do, they cannot harm you. ”

And instantly, all my doubts, fears, insecurities were washed away. All of them. As long as I knew that I did my best, that I gave it all I had, that I was the best I could be…t’would be alright. I needn’t be good enough for them. I needed to be good enough for me, and for me alone.

They are whatever they are, but I'm not bad. I have a positive outlook, loving family, supportive friends and and numerous reasons to smile.

Content.

Thats what I am.

Content.


"I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and doggone it; people like me. " - Al Franken

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Uncertainty


It seems as if the only certain thing in my life…is Uncertainty. Everything right now is uncertain. Uncertainty comes with the Wait. The waiting, the wondering...will I get it? Will we go? Will it be OK? Will something happen?

Answers: None. Only the Wait.

I wake up one morning, thinking it to be any other normal day…and suddenly it seems as if the whole world’s tumbling down. And on the day something should happen, the huge feeling of anti-climax envelops me.

This Uncertainty, this makes each emotion extreme. Every single one. When I’ve lost all hope and I think, this is it. Ain’t gonna happen. And suddenly it does…obviously, I’ll be overjoyed. Over the moon. Bliss.

And when…when I wake up in the morning, excited, anticipative thinking, yes. Today’s the day. What I’ve been looking for. It all crumples down with the swish of a feather. With one wrong decision. Then I’m crestfallen, downcast.

It’s a wonder I haven’t been diagnosed with Bi-polar Disorder.

And at the end of the day I lie in bed thinking, ‘If only…’

What could have been had I…? The possibilities are endless. So are the outcomes.

With each decision dictating the next turn in our life…how do we choose the correct one?

With everything uncertain in the life, do we learn to go with the flow…or do we plan even more relentlessly?

With the world moving by in a rush, how do we keep our feet on the ground while keeping pace?

How?


"The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next" - Ursula K. LeGuin

I'm not blaming uncertainty; because in the end, uncertainty is what makes life enjoyable. I'm just saying...its not very easy to live with. Sixteen is not easy.


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Pearls of Wisdom

'Passion and satisfaction go hand in hand, and without them, any happiness is only temporary, because there's nothing to make it last.'


'My dad always said that when you're struggling with something, look at all the people around you and realize that every single person you see is struggling with something and to them, its just as hard as what you're going.'

'And when her lips met mine, I knew that I could live to be a hundred and visit every country in the world, but nothing would ever compare to that single moment when I first kissed the girl of my dreams and knew that my love would last forever.'

-Dear John, my favorite Nicholas Sparks<3

'There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I have loved someone with all my heart and soul, and for me, that has always been enough.'
-The Notebook

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Unaffected

Because of you, I know now. That sometimes, its okay. Its okay if I don't cross the finish line first. Its okay if I don't cross the finish line at all. Its okay if i just stay back and cheer for others.


If something is not going according to the plan, if something doesn't turn out the way you wanted it to-you have to learn to accept things. To let it go.

When we're all running after the same thing, fighting for the same thing and cribbing about the same thing, I learned from you how to stop. To breathe. And to look around. Then realize- it doesn't matter.
I learned from you- how to stop caring when you don't need to; and remain Unaffected.

I argued and I cried, I tried a hundred times. But I couldn't get what they had. But then I looked at you. You. Odd. You didn't want what everyone was after. You were happy, content, satisfied.
So Unaffected.
And I realized. Thats what I want to be.
Unaffected.

People fight around us, they shout, they argue about the smallest of things. I get sucked in. But then I look at you. And you remain Unaffected.

People want more. They become clones of each other, get dictated by each other and blindly wait for the next upgrade. But you remain Unaffected.
You do so well what I want to do.
Draw joy from trivialities in life. If things are not working out, be okay with it.
Not care what's being said about you.
To enjoy being on the Cheering Side.

And remain Unaffected. From things and people who don't matter. At all.
That how I wannabe<3

You May Have Won The Rat Race But You're Still A Rat.

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:?

:O

A few days ago, I caught up with a friend. 'Friend' may not be the correct term, but whatever. "We broke up", she said. "Ohh" was all I could say. And then I was shown something which horrified me. "See, I did this", she says. I see a distinct 'M' carved on her stomach. She had cut herself with a knife, the shape M and was actually happy about it. And it was pretty large. "Oh my God! What have you done?!" I yell, freaked out. "Relax, its nothing. I got a tetanus, you know" she said with a wink. Some achievement. What kind of thought process would actually make someone do something like that? I'm all for eternal love, but this? I actually plan to get a tatoo (way, way into the future). The name of my One True Love, you know ;) But to cut myself for a JERK? No way :O

:\

My maths teacher reminds me of Boman Irani from Mai Hoon Naa. I have NEVER met a more scatter-brained and absent minded person in my entire life. Some of her pearls of wisdom include:

Ma'am: (Angry because nobody is studying) : 9th D...

Class: Ma'am 10th D!

Ma'am(?): 10th D. You are the worst section of 9th...

-------

Ma'am: Q10 is the last exercise of this chapter...

-------

Ma'am: You have to show the working, as in you don't have to show the working...

-------

Ma'am: Srishti, start writing and top stalking...

:\

:D

Maybe someone threw laughing powder over everyone, because this month is turning out to be the most Hilarious month EVER! The only thing I did sincerely all month is laugh. Well, laughter is the best policy. Wait, that was honesty. Wasn't it? Anyway, He Who Shall Not Be Named swallowed a nail today :D

:)

The weather's pleasent, the company's beautiful so how can I help not smiling? Slowly, I'm learning to face my fears and work on them, trying to prioritize and failing, and also trying not to be sad about D-Day, which is getting closer everyday.

:)

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