Love = Bullshit

I read this on my cousins facebook profile page - " I love you has eight letters and so does bullshit." I didnt think about it much, till it came up in one of our lunch "talks" between me and Niyati that is.
Another one of my friends had her personal message on msn as - Why do fools fall in love?

Really got me thinking.

As little girls we saw those freaking Disney movies, you know with the happily ever after endings. Thats where the notion of - oh my God, I want to be in love too someday too - birthed from, And then there's chick lit, chick flicks, even in those damn action movies the hero after all his thrills an stunts, with blood and scars on his body, his oh-so hot perfect muscles, dirt all over his clothes manages to get the hot girl at the end of it all. Basically almost everything around us, what we see gives us false expectations about this thing called love. Whatever that is.

As Niyati and I got talking about this, we realized that there are a few friends of ours who are apparently "in love" , well we just decided not to acknowledge them, passed them off as the few "lucky" ones. So in conclusion, after about fifteen minutes of talking about this, we decided, love is bullshit. I said it with all my heart, love is bullshit. It doesnt exist, it's just a jumbling of neurotransmitters, hormones and of course the infatuation inducing stimulant - phenylethylamine in our bodies. There aren't any real Edwards Cullens.Period.

So we got talking, why the fuck do we need the male species.... Niyati said at the end of it all they are needed just to procreate, carry the race forward. We managed to come up for a solution for that too. Sounds ridiculous and it is influenced by our English class but we can just save all the sperms in a sperm donation bank and kill the male species. It sounded so majorly cool when i said it at that time, after typing it right now, I realize how idiotic it sounds. For some reason, its sounds idiotically super cool.

Hatred towards men and love, we've read about it in Miss.Julie, an extract from the play that I enjoyed alot - (Miss Julie to Jean) "You think I'm so weak - oh, I should like to see your blood, your brains, on a chopping block - I'd like to see all of your sex swimming in a lake of blood - I think I could drink from your skulls, I'd like to bathe my feet in your guts, I could eat your heart, roasted! You think I'm weak - you think I loved you, because my womb wanted your seed, you think I want to carry your embryo under my heart and feed it with my blood, bear your child and take your name !"

99% of the people reading this aren't going to agree with the "love is bullshit" theory. Even though, Love is created by chemical reactions in the brain. Eating chocolate gives off the same chemicals in the brain, giving one the feeling of love. Eating chocolate seems like a better option.

Love is "supposed" to be this beautiful, magical thing and then today afternoon after my aha-moment, I realized its not. Its really not. A very negative way of looking at it some might say, I havent ever been in love, I dont intend on. By this time, our friend Anthea had shot us quite a few looks filled with pity, at least thats what I perceived it as. Pity. And she said, "you guys have lost it, completely" with such conviction that for a moment I really did feel like I've lost it.

I may change my mind a few years from now, I may not.

It seems pessimistic, I think for me, It's just practical.
Bullshit love.

Choked-up

I hate it when I choke-up. This large, suffocating lump in my throat. The lump gets bigger, and bigger. My eyes sting with tears that refuse to come out not because they dont want to but because the can't. I refuse to let them come out. The lump is getting bigger, I realized I've forgotten to breathe. I gasp for air, hoping it will help make the lump in my throat go away. It doesnt, the air just seeps in through the lump, like water percolating through a rock.

My head is swimming in all directions, Is it my fault? Is it not? Why am I being put to blame? Why am i stuck in this situation? WHY?

The lump is beginning to disappear, I'm not getting any answers.
Breathing becomes easier, I'm still not getting any answers.
The un-fallen tears go away, I'm still not getting answers.
My jaws untighten, I'm still not getting answers.

I really hate it when I choke-up, I feel dumb, uncapable of any normal human like behavior. I'd probably be standing still even if I saw someone throw something at me.

It all gets over in a moment or two. A really short time period, seems damn insignificant later on, but then there's the after effect.
Hard core heart ache.

Still looking for answers.

Letting it "be"

Letting it be.
Seriously, like just letting things be the way they are. How hard is it? Or how hard do we make it to be?

Easier said than done, right?

"Forget about it, let it be"
How many times have we heard this, and said, "Yeah, I'm just going to let things be the way they are" And how many times do we actually listen to ourselves?

We care too much to just "let it be," so would letting it be make us careless about the situation?
The brain is repeatedly being reminded of the same thing. That nagging thought at the back of your head.

Thoughts, the same frikking thoughts rotating like clothes being tossed about in a washing machine. Like that annoying song stuck in your head the whole day. Like the annoying fly that keeps buzzing around your ear even though you keep trying to shoo it away. The nagging thought just doesn’t leave.

Do you want it to leave? Wouldn't "letting it be" become easier then?

Does that "something" or "someone" give you that annoyingly sick comfort, in some way or the other?

Thinking that you can change the situation, knowing that you can’t. Puts you in a fix doesn’t it?

So can you let things just be? Or can you not? Does it make you seem like a careless, indifferent person or an overthinking pathetic loser?

Is there something in between? Shades of grey? A normal person who can be both?

Sixteen years and I'm still trying to figure it out.

Going Home

Imagine a huge, heavy rock being lifted off of your head.

Imagine being under water for a time long enough to nearly kill you, and then that relief you get back from emerging from under water gasping air, that first breath you take after being suffocated under water.

Imagine walking, dragging your feet across the sand in the middle of an isolated desert, wishing for a drop of water as the heat burns your clothes to your skin, and when you get that gulp of water, in that moment you forget everything , relish each molecule of water slipping down your throat.

So it sounds damn melodramatic but thats what I felt when I landed in Dubai on the 24th of October.

It felt so so so so so so so so good to just be home and what made it better was that my best friend made it the airport to pick me up despite the flight getting delayed by more that 2 hours. Four full days in Dubai, I forgot all about bombay, JNS, IB and all the other Bombay shit. "Living in the present" is what they call it, and honestly for the first time I think I managed to do just that. Not a thought about when I was going to leave nor about how it was when I left Bombay. Just being there with my friends was enough. I cant believe how unbelievably lucky I am to have such brilliant friends who did all that they could to spend time with me, even though they were busy with school and work.... Thanks guys =)

Undoubtedly the best days I've had since I've moved here, I even woke up today morning thinking I was still in Dubai with this huge grin on my face only to open my eyes and realize I was back in Bombay. I felt really really stupid after that. Anyhow, I managed to overcome the "hate" I had for Bombay, I came back with a happy, satisfied mind. And I haven't felt this good in ages. Dubai will always be home.....as they say home is where the heart is, but right now I'm in Bombay and I'm happy.

Forgive me

I can finally feel it now. Partially.
I can feel it partially. I want to it to be whole.Not one, but Two-sided.
But as my Luck goes,
It never going to be whole.
Should I be sad, like a gloomy rain-less day?
Or,
should I feel happy because it's partial?
Should I look at the glass empty or half full? Either way, the glass is going to break, and the shards will pierce my heart and maybe, just maybe,hopefully not, another heart as well.
It's life they say. Or maybe it's just me feeling totally retarded.
It's phase, apparently. Well, honestly I'm sick of "phases" and nothing working out.
It's too good to be true -- for me to just have you as a part of my life.
And I'm just going to push you away.
Forgive me.
I love you from the depths of my heart and being,
Forgive me.

Me

Who i used to be. I could feel, I could cry, I could feel joy, I could laugh carelessly. I had my friends with me. Late night phone calls. Frantic last minute exam preparations. Sleep-overs with cold left over pizza's and movie marathons. Freedom to be me.

Restricted, hurt, unable to emote. Forced smiles, they all say it will get better with time. Ha. I think not. Lonely nights, bittersweet memories. Thats all I got left for now. The person I've become.

Who am I? What has become of me?

Random

Yes, its been a while since I’ve blogged…almost 7 months. I’m back now(hopefully), Its been a bag of emotions the past few months and I’ve definitely seen better days but that’s life as they say.

I’m moving to India, Amchi Mumbai to be more precise. Its supposed to be a new beginning, a new life yada yada yada, but I cant bring myself to “let go.” Its like being thrown into an unknown world of things, places and people I don’t want to make an attempt or an effort to get to know, I don’t want to be thrown out of my shell here in Dubai, I cant imagine life without my friends who over the years have become closer than family, It’s sort of like losing my identity… But then again I should be making an effort, shouldn’t I? A question I ask myself every single freakin day. My mother says it will be a “good change,” Something I don’t believe rather something I don’t want to believe in. Even then I should be making an effort, shouldn’t I? It’s the only way to be happier in a new place as most of my family members tell me, but do I want to be happy? Will I be able to be happy without my comfort zone?

I decided to make an effort; I went to Bombay for five days and four nights. My new school was the complete opposite of Modern, something I don’t know if I should be proud of or not. =S. I got bitten by a gazillion mosquitoes, got my heart broken and flew back to Dubai.

I don’t know what I want, I don’t want to move from here and that is something I can’t have. Will I be able to live through it? My friends say I will but I don’t know if I can. A sea of uncertainties is what my mind is swimming in right now, and I can’t bring myself to do anything about it! I used my blog to vent out my feelings, unfortunately I lack good vocabulary to make my post more “interesting” but then again I just needed to let it out.

Infertile Mother

Surrounded by barren pain
Stinging tears
Crashed hopes
And emotional drain

Her eyes burn with fire
Free from happiness
Her heart heavily hollow
No one can fulfill her desire

The cruel comments come one after another
She wants to be lonely
Knowing she can’t give birth to a new life
Knowing she is leading the life of an infertile mother.

A reason to live

A reason to live. A few of us reach a point in our lives when we want a reason to live, rather we need a reason to live.
The torture is insufferable.
Life is a whole glob of mess and disarray.
Everything just seems bitter.
You become bitter.
You want to be free like a bird released from a cage.
You want to be loved.
You want to sit alongside a rainbow, with colours filling you in.
You don’t want bitterness, regrets, broken love, hopelessness, rejection, depression and isolation to be a part of you.
You want happy songs and days of pure unlimited bliss.
You want emerald grass to tickle your feet and the wind to brush a stroke of relief against you.
And you still want a reason to live.

I wish...

I wish I knew you and you knew me.

You seem unreal even though you’re a few miles away.

I dream you into life and it makes me smile.

You irritate me the most without you knowing it.

At the same time you unintentionally make happy.

Our conversations have decreased to a full stop.

I cant remember what you look like anymore.

I’m trying to come back to reality.

Its going to be a long, hard way.

But,

I still wish I knew you and you knew me.

What if?

What if the world was flat?

What if the skies didn’t exist?

What if I never found love?

What if I died tomorrow?

What if I couldn’t feel pain?

What if I couldn’t feel happiness?

What if I couldn’t feel both?

What if I numbed myself?

What if there was no war or violence?

What if peace didn’t live?

What if water tasted bitter?

What if air didn’t have oxygen?

What if God couldn’t take the time to bless us?

What if by being wrong I save a life?

What if the sun rose from the west?

What if I started seeing upside down?

What if I didn’t believe in life?

What if there was no life?

What if my building came crashing down?

What if I told you I’m right and you’re wrong?

What if I felt like I was loosing control of myself?

What if there was no love?

What if …….

The list goes on….”what if’s?” are thoughts we cant get out of our minds…they give us hope or just really put us off life itself. I cant imagine thinking without what if’s…can you?

Cupid Hearts & Valentines

Till date I couldn’t exactly understand what the hype was all about. Valentines day never really mattered that much to me cause I believe you can express your love for your loved ones at any time you want. So to understand all the hype I decided to do a little research…For those of you who have absolutely no idea why this “oh-so-special” day is celebrated, read on!

The origins of Valentine's Day trace back to the ancient Roman celebration of Lupercalia. Held on February 15, Lupercalia honored the gods Lupercus and Faunus, as well as the legendary founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus.

In addition to a bountiful feast, Lupercalia festivities are purported to have included the pairing of young women and men. Men would draw women's names from a box, and each couple would be paired until next year's celebration.

While this pairing of couples set the tone for today's holiday, it wasn't called "Valentine's Day" until a priest named Valentine came along. Valentine, a romantic at heart, disobeyed Emperor Claudius II's decree that soldiers remain bachelors. Claudius handed down this decree believing that soldiers would be distracted and unable to concentrate on fighting if they were married or engaged. Valentine defied the emperor and secretly performed marriage ceremonies. As a result of his defiance, Valentine was put to death on February 14.

Another legend has it that Valentine was an imprisoned man who fell in love with his jailor's daughter. Before he was put to death he sent the first 'valentine' himself when he wrote her a letter and signed it 'Your Valentine', words still used on cards today.

According to Roman mythology, Cupid was the son of Venus, the goddess of love and beauty. Cupid was known to cause people to fall in love by shooting them with his magical arrows. But Cupid didn't just cause others to fall in love - he himself fell deeply in love. As legend has it, Cupid fell in love with a mortal maiden named Psyche. Cupid married Psyche, but Venus, jealous of Psyche's beauty, forbade her daughter-in-law to look at Cupid. Psyche, of course, couldn't resist temptation and sneaked a peek at her handsome husband. As punishment, Venus demanded that she perform three hard tasks, the last of which caused Psyche's death.
Cupid brought Psyche back to life and the gods, moved by their love, granted Pysche immortality. Cupid thus represents the heart and Psyche the (struggles of the) human soul.

Facts

-->Over 1 billion Valentine cards are sent in the U.S each year. 85% of all valentines are purchased by women. Parents receive 1 out of every 5 valentines.

-->About 15% of women in the US send themselves flowers on Valentines (?!?)

-->Worldwide, over 50 million roses are given for Valentine's Day each year.

-->Red roses are the single most popular flower to give on Valentine's Day. Although they may all look the same to the untrained eye, there are actually more than 900 varieties of dark-red and medium-red rose

-->Chinese Valentine's Day is not celebrated on February 14, but on the seventh day of the seventh month of the Chinese lunar calendar. This year it will be August 25.

-->It's traditional to sign a Valentine's Day card with Xs to represent kisses, but what's the origin of this practice? It's believed to have started in Medieval times, when people who could not write were allowed to sign documents with an X, which they then kissed to prove their sincerity. Over time, the Xs became associated with kisses.

For all you valentine-less people please go visit http://www.stupidcupid77.blogspot.com/ :)

Happy Valentines Day!!

Holes, Voids and Empty spaces

Holes, voids and empty spaces. They split you into a million different pieces.
They can shatter your sanity. They can rip your soul out.
They can make you feel abandoned and unwanted.
They make you feel like no one identifies with you.
They make you realize how saline your tears taste and how bad they sting.
Or,
They motivate you to get back together the bits and pieces that were split at one point of time. They inspire to become emotionally stronger, keep you sane and protect your soul beneath the underlying layers of mended holes and closed empty spaces. They make you feel wanted, if not by anyone else but at least by yourself. They inspire you to identify with yourself and instead of other people identifying with you, you start wanting to identify with other people. They make you realize that your tears aren’t worth for something you have lost but have a high value of making you tough.
These empty spaces, lie in each one of us…Ready to be exposed and it’s up to us to mend them and put them behind us. Some of us cover them up but in reality we are to scared to fix them.
I have seen a few of my friends, who have covered, unfixed souls and they suffer silently. I pray for them to secure themselves and give themselves a chance. A real chance.

Choices

You might see it somewhere in the school magazine, if it gets selected. Anyhow...Enjoy reading....!!

Choices
A choice, that’s what I had to make. I drove my beat-up convertible down the road. The sunlight filtered through the orange, auburn and ginger leaves of the maple trees and the soft rays rested on my soul. I felt a sense of happiness after a long time, I was surrounded by isolated peace and there was a hint of jazz playing in the background, I immersed myself in this ambiance suitably forgetting the choice I had made.


Without myself realizing it I had reached the parking lot of Saint Michaels Hospital. As I forced myself to make my way to the intensive care unit, room number 1357. My legs were wobbly, an uneasy and fretful feeling swept over my body like an ice cold wave. Soon, I was at door number 1357 turning the doorknob, my hands were damp with fear, my eyes were trying hard not to let the tears drop down. I had to be brave. I opened the door and entered the room. A heartbreaking silence filled the room; I looked at my brother as he lied there powerlessly. He was my best friend and companion. We were orphaned at a young and tender age, and have been each other’s weakness and strength since then. It killed me to see him lie there, asking for salvation. He had been the victim of a drunken driver accident that had left him brain dead. He had been hooked onto a life supporter machine, I had been told not to hope as there was a very little chance of recovery. The doctors told me he couldn’t hear me, but I knew in my heart that he could and I spent every afternoon reading his much loved poems.

Precisely 7 days ago I was told that there was no hope and I had to make a choice – To give me brother freedom and get those tubes and needle of off him or to leave him there begging for mercy. I was told that there were other patients who could use this machine as they had hope. I looked into my brothers’ brown eyes that once showed the dreams of becoming a doctor himself. They were filled with dread and wanted to escape. As much as I didn’t want him to leave me, I made the decision of setting him free, for he had a right to fly just like the rest of us.

Today was the last day of us being together. I kissed his hand good-bye. My eyes couldn’t control themselves as I felt the tears drop, the time had come, and the doctors switched off the machine. I knew I had lost the most precious thing in this world but in knew my brother would forever be in my heart. And then he was just gone in a moment.

That afternoon I read his poems to myself sitting in a park, all by myself... As I looked towards the green lush grass that shone in under sunbeams as if someone has sprinkled broken glass pieces all over the grass, I thought to myself that choices are a way of life that we all have to accept. Choices can make you or break you. Our lives depend on the choices we make and the choices we make depend on the life we want to lead. Our decisions can be rewarding and worthwhile or just disappointing, unsatisfactory and emotionally wrenching; at the end of our journey we all go back to the maker of it all – God. Our choices give us the right to fly and soar the skies, we all have once dreamed of. I stared at a bird flying gaily overhead, and that gave me a sign and sense of satisfaction that my brother had reached a place where he wanted to be.

Blogger's Break

Well, I haven’t been updating my blog and a few of my friends have been waiting for me to do so. Sorry to let you guys down but I’m taking a break for a while because I have things going on in my life that I’m trying to cope with. Once all this shit stops, and when I can start thinking straight again….I will be back.

“Sometimes, it's hard to say no if you really mean yes. It's hard to close our eyes if we really want to see. It's hard to forget if we really can't. The hardest is to go if we really want to stay.”

Thoughts of the day!!

Hey everyone!! Okay, this is just a random post so don’t expect too much. I haven’t written anything specific but I have just put down a few of thoughts that crossed my mind and well a few that I “stumbled” upon across while Yahoo!ing….Feel free to add some of your own.

1. I plan on living forever. So far, so good

2. Conscience is what hurts when everything else feels so good.

3. Love is grand; divorce is several hundred grand.

4. Politicians and diapers have one thing in common. They should both be changed regularly and for the same reason.

5. An optimist thinks that this is the best possible world. A pessimist fears that this is
true.

6. In just two days, tomorrow will be yesterday.

7. Brain cells come and brain cells go, but fat cells live forever.

8. Age doesn't always bring wisdom, sometimes age comes alone.

9. You don't stop laughing because you grow old, you grow old because you stopped laughing.

10. A lie stands on one leg, truth on two.

11. Feed your faith and doubt will starve to death.

12. God gives and forgives. Man gets and forgets.

13. Haveyou ever noticed how nothing is impossible for those who don't have to do it?

Well….I hope this wasn’t too down in the dumps :P
Something better next time. Promise.

PS- Again, all the comments are welcome along with constructive criticism!

Betrayed Trust

I was horribly shocked when I turned on the new this morning. It was really a documentary by BBC… Hats off to them for carrying out such an investigation. I have tried and summed it up for you…

A BBC investigation has found Children have been subjected to rape and prostitution by United Nations peacekeepers in Haiti and Liberia. Again, United Nations peacekeepers. Girls have told of regular encounters with soldiers where sex is demanded in return for food or money. The assistant secretary-general for peacekeeping operations acknowledges that sexual abuse is widespread.

In Haiti, a street girl as young as 11 had reported sexual abuse by peacekeepers outside the gates of the presidential palace in Port-au-Prince.

A 14-year-old described her abduction and rape inside a UN naval base in the country two years ago. Despite detailed medical and circumstantial evidence, the allegation was dismissed by the UN for lack of evidence - and the alleged attacker returned to his home country. In Liberia, meanwhile, a 15-year-old said she had been attacked by a UN officer on 15 November.

Peace workers who sent to places, to help the population and make their lives easier in turn betray them. The lives of those young children our scarred for ever, just because they trusted a humanitarian worker. I think it’s absolutely disgusting, pathetic and spiteful to even have such workers working in an organization like the UN.

Who are these citizens supposed to trust? After gaining knowledge on such incidents I wouldn’t want to, would you?

PS- Please keep the comments going, I would like to know your views on this issue.

Opening and closing doors

I know many people believe in fortune-tellers and horoscopes but if all this were actually true, would there be any fun in leading your life knowing what’s going to happen next?

The mystery keeps us going. Every moment is uncertain, you never know what’s going to happen next…It’s like opening door after , after door not knowing what kind of circumstances are going to embrace you.

Each door leads us to another and on the way we pull together experiences of love, pain and joy which becomes a part of our being. Sometimes there are times when we are faced with a number of choices, a choice to open many doors. Again, we have to make the choice not knowing where it is going lead us.

At times we regrettably close doors…distant ourselves from opportunities or save ourselves from unknown dangers but then again if we all knew what was going to happen then everybody would lead perfect lives. The anticipation and anxiousness for something new to happen would just fade away and evaporate… After thinking about this I wonder why people believe fortune-tellers, do our lives follow the stars? Or is it just a way covering our insecurities?

Opening the right doors and closing the wrong ones is in your hands. After all, Life is about opening and closing doors.

Angels don't deserve to die

Hi everyone! Well I haven’t been updating my blog regularly *sorry* and thats coz I’m too wrapped up in “study land.” For those of you who are really bored to tears, can read this story I wrote. It is the shoddier than the first version which “accidentally” got erased by my mum. Here’s the story…..

Angels Don’t Deserve To Die

I walked the scorched and arid lands of Rajasthan, the dry and burning hot air swept across my face as if I was captured between flames. I could taste the sand in my mouth. My crew and I followed our guide through the streets. We were working on an assignment, a pretty important one. It made us fly nine-thousand miles from Chicago. I was a journalist and this was my first real job and I was determined to do a good presentation. What I didn’t know that was my fate was going to be changed in just a few minutes.

Our guide, Saumdev was showing us a very popular temple in their village when we heard a deafening hue and cry. Without waiting for our guide we hurried to the spot eagerly, hoping to get some information for our assignment. What my eyes witnessed next my brain didn’t register for a long time. We were standing in front of the house in which this horrible incident was taking place. All the villagers paved way for us, keeping in mind that we were foreigners.

The women of the house were all huddled in a corner, behind a pillar. Even though their veils covered their faces, their eyes spoke for them. I saw a lot of fear and sorrow but I saw a streak of anger that really stood out. It was obvious that they were fuming with anger, but they didn’t have a say in this male dominated society. The man, most probably the eldest son of the house had seized a baby girl and was holding her over a well. The baby girl was crying and shrieking at the top her lungs, her helpless mother stood away from the other women and looked on, to see her husband carry on with this ruthless deed.

I couldn’t believe it, how could such a big crowd just stand there and not take any action. I was the only one in the crew who could understand Hindi. The man was yelling at his wife for bringing such shame to the family and not producing an heir to their family. His father ordered him to throw the child in the well. Before I knew it I was running towards the well. I stopped the man from committing such a heinous crime. The air was silent; I could hear the hot wind gushing around us. Everyone looked at me, with shock. A few minutes later I was in the family’s house begging and pleading with them, to let the girl live. Her mother was asked to leave the room, Making a brave attempt she left the girl in my hands and walked away. I stared into those innocent and beautiful eyes, they asked me whether it was right to kill her just because she was a girl?

Her father said to me that I could save the girl if I took her with me because he wasn’t going to let a shame like her live in the family. I looked at my fellow colleagues; I knew I had to make this decision on my own. I had nothing to do with the child yet, I had bonded with her. She spoke through her eyes. I knew I would be able to support her and myself. Without thinking for another second I agreed. I knew this was the best decision of my life that I had taken. And I proved to be correct.

Twenty-Three years later……

“Pari we’re getting late, Hurry up!” I looked at my daughter now twenty-three years old. Her actual name was Meera, a name her biological mother chose. I called her Pari after all she was my angel. She had grown up to be an intelligent and bright young lady. At such a young age she had published her book.

We were on our way to India to encourage the promotion of her book. It covered all the aspects of female infanticide, Pari almost being a victim of this cruel tradition was on of the few who lived to tell her story. After a while we were on an airplane, talking about our forthcoming journey. This was Pari’s first trip to India and naturally she was very eager and excited. As we continued our discussion she said that she wanted to go to Rajasthan and visit the house she was born in, I told her that it would just inflict more pain. She protested and was determined, I knew I couldn’t say no as I would regret it for the rest of my life.

Soon we were in Mumbai and we were enthralled with the feedback Pari got for her book. Her book-signings made astounding progress. My heart swelled with pride every time I saw her smiling face but at the back of mind I was worried about her reaction when we went to Rajasthan.

Four days later, we were standing in front of the village where Pari was born. After walking for about twenty silent minutes, we were on the grounds of that house that once was Pari’s. My eyes wandered around for a while, adjusting to this familiar place till I saw the same water well which once was going to decide Pari’s fate. The wind was blowing at my face, like it had done twenty-three years ago. Pari walked further on, she undid the bolts on the iron gate and entered the mansion. I followed quietly. She held my hand as we took unstable and small steps towards the door. We stood in front of the door, for a moment it seemed like time was at a stand still; we could only hear the wind. Before we could knock a young boy in his early teens opened the door. I asked him if Ram Thakur lived there, he looked down and said to me that his father passed away and I could talk to his mother. I looked at Pari, putting a stone on my heart I told her that her father had passed away and the young lad was her brother.

I sat with Pari on the front porch of the house, when I saw a woman draped in navy blue. Widows in Rajasthan were meant to dress like that to mourn over their dead husbands all their life. She waked down the stairs, I could see from her face that the not only the colour from her clothes but the colour from her life had been drained and forgotten. She looked into my eyes and she instantly recognized me, her gaze shifted to our daughter all she managed to say was Meera and then she embraced Pari like she never wanted to let go. My eyes brimmed with tears when I thought about how much she must have missed Pari, every minute of the day. I told her that Pari had become a successful author , she smiled at me and said to me she knew her daughter didn’t deserve to die.

As we sat there talking, we knew none of us wanted this day to end. Pari’s mother told us that she had dreamed and hoped for this day to come when she could hug her daughter and tell her that she was proud of her for being a free woman. I then understood that Pari must have kept the same thought in mind while she had made this courageous and bold decision to come to Rajasthan. Without her knowing it she had brought back the entire colour in her mother’s life in just a few moments and I was proud of her, after all she was my angel.

More later!
PS- I know this isn’t the best but I just felt the unnecessary urge to update my blog. :P

Exam fever!

EXAMS!! Just a few more days to go and we are gonna undergo the same process of torture that we go through term after term. The frustration of not getting stuff into your head and all the tension that surrounds us is so intense that it all just gets dramatically humorous sometimes:P

I remember last term Dolly and I thought it would be brilliant if we “accidentally” slipped in the bathroom and broke our right hand….. That way we wouldn’t have to give our exams. A pretty lame-ass idea but if you are a last minute student like me then it seems like an incredible idea.



Our class is a sight to see, on the day of the exams – actions speak louder than words, everyone’s walking around in the corridor flapping their arms up and down and pacing here to there, mugging definitions, equations and formulas. In the background you’ll hear the “all the best’s” and “best of luck’s”. Side by side the teachers are yelling at us to get into the classrooms and greet are exam papers. After that fraction of the entire exam period is over a few of us go ballistic discussing the paper, a few cry over the fact that they are losing 2 marks… a few just don’t care. This happens day after day till the final moment when we finish writing are very last exam, the joy that is experienced when we rest our pens down after putting down the last full stop is just too awful for words.

After all this, we get a weekend to enjoy…It’s a tradition to have a sleepover at my place. We watch movies, talk till 5am, eat tons of junk food, play monopoly(it can be real fun if you play with the right people) and pull a few pranks..

Then the entertaining times get over…….Its back to school, to face the cruel and bitter truth – PAPERS!! It’s the same scene term after term, year after year, girls are crying and some are jumping and screaming with glee…

I guess going through the exams is like a getting a fever or a flu. You feel sick to your stomach, all the studying makes you dizzy and makes your head spin. So for all of you who actually go through the exam fever - get well soon! For those of you who didnt get it - all the best!!