If this was the last dance of the night, will you join me 'til the morning light?

I have come to think that I live a solitary existence, in the figurative sense.

I am a nomad.

Just because somebody looks happy doesn't mean they are
Even a white rose has a dark shadow.

Of all the things I remember, summer has never looked the same.

I watched as cars passed by in flashes. A drift of wind blew and I took a deep breath in. The air faintly smelled of burnt grass. The darkness on either side of the road left the actual landscape to imagination. The immense emptiness. Our car had broken down, and we were awaiting the mechanic. Normally I would've been irritated, but I was not. There was something weird about the happy streak I have been on lately. And I'm not complaining.

I started walking along the fringes of the highway while the grown ups dealt with the situation, drowning in thoughts about school, and how everything was coming to an end. Finality of the situation pleased me. I have craved freedom ever since I can remember. New beginnings lie ahead of me-I couldn't have been happier.

Goosebumps rose on my neck and I could feel a pair of arms snake around my waist, and all of a sudden those arms started tickling me. I squealed, causing him to burst into an endless bout of laughter. I rolled my eyes at him.
"Why so serious?" he said, impeccably imitating Heath Ledger's accent, and succeeding in making me join him. That's what he always does: makes me happy whenever he's around me, and there are very few people in this world who actually succeed in doing so.

Meeting him for the first time in ten years two days ago, I never thought we could be so close so fast. I am socially awkward, but somehow there was no such awkwardness with him. In the beginning, being in the same 'rebellious teen' phase of life got us talking. Things and situations we could relate to, and in no time we were spilling our deepest secrets. We talked about everything and nothing at the same time. It was as if those ten years had never passed.

It was as if when he hugged me tight, he finally put all pieces of me together, as cheesy as it sounds. I thought I was okay before. That, that was who I am. No more a single glass, but a constellation. Beyond repair. But that one week with him, transformed me into something new and wondrous.

And that night, on that desolated highway in the middle of Karnataka, I knew I was going to be fine, happy even. He did not change me. I'd like to think that meeting him, made me evolve to a better person.

When the light's turning down, they don't know what they heard.

She struck the matchstick once. Twice. A brilliant yellow flame burst at the end of the matchstick.

The warmth eluded by the flame was a tiny spot in the cold night. Just like her, in this vast darkness. The immensity of the moment overwhelmed her.

She started to think about all that was going to be burnt and just as she did, the raw pain started to emerge again and immediately, she knew it was a bad idea. Not wanting to cower to the past, she decided to take that leap into the boundless unknown and threw the matchstick onto the pile.

There was no going back.

Flames burst out, and set the mound of her belongings ablaze. Bright plumes of the fire reflected in her dark eyes. Everything was in slow motion. She could only watch as the flames grew steadily and started consuming every memory of his. She felt like paper. The flames seemed rambunctious to her- so boisterous, yet alive. Vibrant in the stark harshness of the cold, December night. The warmth of the fire providing the courage to move on. She had to believe.

And so she turned and walked to her car with a newly found lightness in her shoulders. Throwing caution to the wind, she drove to a faraway land. And she knew everything was going to be okay. Everything will be okay. She had to believe.

PS: My board results come out tomorrow. Keep me in your prayers, will ya (:

How to save a life.

Moments of realization can strike you anywhere. At any point in time.
One moment there is the plain truth. The other the reality of that truth.

One event:
 The whole purpose behind that night was to commemorate our last year in high school.
And that night, amid the fancy ballgowns and party lights, everything became clear. It was never what I had thought it to be.

I have never had a true friend. This fact bothers me much more than I show.
It tears me apart.

A sign lost in the abyss, this Metropolis.

To tell you the truth, when I heard about the plans for a trip down south I was reluctant to go. For the last couple of years whenever plans for visiting Bangalore were brought up I used to wiggle my way out by mentioning an upcoming set of exams. Now you wouldn't want me unprepared for those, would you?
But now, having my board exams done and dusted with nothing to take refuge behind, I could not resist and eventually gave up to my mother's advances.

Frankly, I do not have anything against Bangalore. I love the weather there. But being born and bought up mostly in Mumbai does not do much in favor of me fluently conversing in my mother tongue, let alone Kannada- which leaves me in a fix. One cannot survive in Bangalore without basic Kannada. Besides, my cousins live in a joint family. A myriad of people in a house. With me in it. Yeah, not a good situation.

Once I'd dodged the customary starters of conversation pertaining to when they had last seen me and how vastly I have changed since then, my eldest uncle dropped the bomb on us. He was beaming proudly while my aunt announced their plan to take us all on an adventurous expedition around Karnataka. Let me tell you why this was a big facepalm moment of mine:

1. I had not carried my cellphone. My iPod charger broke at the airport. Courtesy: My brother. Therefore, No Music. Cue hyperventilation.
2. In my attempt at travelling light, the only footwear I carried was a pair of white chucks.
3. I did not carry any adventure-appropriate clothing. It was winter for crying out loud. I was ready for hibernation.
4. I was still recovering from cramps after a mega light-saber fight with my brother from a few days ago where I fell badly.

Do I need more?



***


After enduring a 12-hour car journey with an annoying cousin beside me, I emerged seemingly unscathed. We got lost a couple of times, but managed to reach the destination which, for the love of God- I couldn't even pronounce! But the night sky had me stumped. I mean, it was so clear- I was in a daze. Cloud-less dark sky, with a bright moon beaming down at us, surrounded by stars. I could even point out a couple of constellations. We had a bonfire to keep us warm. Only thing missing was smores. Still, it was pretty amazing.

Not clicked by me, but almost identical to the actual one.

Sadly, things I deem to be amazing end right there. Days were spent trekking nearby hills, wading through streams, browning my sparkly white converse, conversations with my pot-bellied uncles- who mildly coerced me to pursue engineering as a career and visiting temples. Temples. My goodness. South Indians sure love their temples. This little town we visited literally had temples around every corner. And where there are temples, foreigners are sure to be found. God only knows what they do there as most temples don't even permit foreigners. And where there are foreigners, there are bound to be tourist-traps in the form of exorbitantly priced shopping streets. Basically, it was a mini-Goa. Their own piece of Goa, in south. How wonderful.

Another fascination people from the south have, that I don't really share: Beaches. My sisters nearly threw a fit when an uncle suggested skipping the beach town from our itinerary. How could they miss their meticulously planned beach photo-session. But how will I know, I am a Mumbaikar after all. Beaches are like a second home to me.
By the time we returned to Bangalore, I was thoroughly bored of having Idli- the safest possible option; and itching for a vada pav. Badly.

In the meantime, an uncle taught me how to ride a motorbike. A couple of scratches on me and my cousin's bike later, I was riding on my own!
Before we knew, it was time to end the year. And what better way to bring in the new year than Bangalore's happening nightlife?



*


How much ever I complained about having idlis everyday, I felt a certain emptiness around the house, once back in Mumbai. I had to admit- Mumbai will never be Bangalore. I would certainly miss the amount of greenery amid the urban infrastructure, but on the inside I know- I live in this concrete jungle called Mumbai and although the plasticity of life here makes me wary, I have to acknowledge the distinct feel of familiarity around here. Mumbai is home.



So tell me, whaddaya prefer- Mumbai or Bangalore?


Photo source: Tumblr

Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away Beating like a drum and it's coming your way Can't you hear that boom, badoom, boom bass?

I have totally lost it. See that *points to the title* right there.
CIE is ruthless. All those who think international boards are easy, go take a walk.

-Coming to the point,

HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY TO MY BLOGGGG!
I'm am so excited. It has been one helluva year.
I write-I disappear-I reappear-I write. Its been a vicious circle, but man have I loved being here.
A big shoutout to all those jolly good fellas who've been with me all along. Looovve youu guyyys <3 x I really appreciate ya'll sticking around.
Zero to thirty- something followers and two blog awards along, I have come a long way. I never expected my little dumpyard to become something like this. And something tells me this is just the beginning.
I just wish I could revel this moment, but sadly I can't. I'm in the middle of my grade 10 board exams which get over on the 19th of next month so the next biiiig post on the 20th, seeing that I'll be partying my wits off on the 19th :P
I should go now.

Truck loads of love,
Yours truly.

Cuz you and I- We were born to die.

I just hate people.
And peanut-butter. That's about it all.

Everybody loses, We all got bruises.

Ever had a moment when all your deepest, darkest fears, the worst-case scenario, your wildest imagination flash in front of your eyes- ones which you never unveiled to anybody in the fear of it coming true, or rather in the fear of being cajoled into believing that it isn't true, even when deep-down you know it is?

***
My father is a Captain in the Merchant Navy. Ever since I remember I have been watching him pack and bid goodbye for months to come. In those times, there was no method of communication whatsoever and I swear my mother thanked the gods when the service of the humble e-mail was made available. It used to be crazy living in anticipation of a letter, and not being able to see his face for six months, sometimes even longer.

When I was about five, I overheard my dad talking to a few guests over dinner. He spoke about this massive fire on his vessel and the fact that it had taken him hours to put it off, skillfully nonetheless. I guess that was when the fear was sown in my mind. Over the years he tried to shield me from the monstrosities of his occupational hazard, but somehow I came to know. Pirates, ice, fire, storms- were all a part of the so-called monstrosities.
One time, his ship was sailing across the African coast, along Somalia and its neighbors. I couldn't sleep at night, and my days were filled with unrest. The time when I received a mail saying they had crossed those waters and were headed toward Australia, I let out a sigh of relief. They did have a piracy scare, but the pirates' boat just passed by theirs, like literally five miles from theirs.

Every time he packed his bags to leave, I am in tears. Years since, I still cannot help it. I try to hide them, but he sees it. And even after a million talks with him about how he will be cautious, I cannot help it. Its not like I don't trust him to keep safe; Its the others who lack my trust. Along the way, I tried to hide my tears because it made him feel guilty about it, and its made it tougher for him.

Watching Captain Phillips today, was my worst nightmare come true. All those traces of fear in the darkest crevices of my mind were brought up front. The role of the protagonist, although beautifully portrayed by Tom Hanks, reminded me of my father the whole time. It gave an insight into the minds of the pirates.
 But the thing that constantly gnawed at me was the fact that the American government sent Navy SEALs and whatnot to save the abducted captain and managed to rescue him. Knowing just how incompetent the Indian government is, piled onto my already sky-high list of things to worry about.

I just feel like my hands are tied. Helplessness consumes me every time I think about the situation.
There is just no fucking way to ward this fear away. 

ASDFGHJKL.

Yesterday was one of the worst days I've had recently. Ironically, it was one day where I actually set my books aside and took a well-deserved break.

Seeing I had no classes that day, my mum scheduled an appointment with my ophthalmologist. I had a teeny-weeny number, and Mum thought it was time for a check-up. So I reluctantly left my One Tree Hill marathon, to go all the way to the other side of town, in a rickshaw.  :/

Once there, the nurse poured some drops into my eyes. And just as those came into contact with my cornea,  I shrieked. I had totally forgotten how much that stuff hurt. It was like friggin' acid.
It was supposed to dilate my pupils, and make my vision hazy for a few hours, and help the doc see whether there was anything wrong with my eye. Thankfully, there wasn't. And my eyes were okay now.
That should make me happy, right?
Wrong. That stuff was like frickin' acid and had me practically blind. I couldn't see a bloody thing!

The world was just a big Pablo Picasso painting for me.
All I could see was big blotches of color.

By the time we left the clinic, it started raining pitch-forks. My great kismet. *note sarcasm*
And no rickshaw- waala was ready to come all the way back, in that pouring rain.

So my poor mum, a hand linked through mine to keep me from straying away, the other hand holding the umbrella for both of us and clenching onto her bag and waving frantically for the rickshaw waalas to stop. They didn't, nonetheless. Morons.

After a while the Rain-God had mercy on us, and tamed down.

But instead, Mum took that as a bait to do some street shopping. I mean, seriously?
She stuck to her guns till the vendor did not give her the pumpkin for her price. And later she had the victorious feel in her tone, when she spoke of her achievement of getting the pumpkin at half the price we get in our locality.
And still no rickshaw- waala.

We would've been a sight, I tell you. My shorts were drenched, and my hair felt frizzy. Mum was not on her best, either. I was sulky, and stomping my way through the pot-holes, and in turn splashing muddy water all over my bare calves. Mum staggering on the road, with her arm full of plastic bags and an umbrella and trying to keep track of me, every other second.

 How much ever I try to portray rains as those wonderful, magical events they certainly weren't those for me.

When what seemed like hours had passed, a rickshaw-waala finally agreed. We quickly got in, and I started my rambles on how it was all a bad idea and how mum owed me a pedicure after all that dirty water we walked in- water people with diseases stomp and spit in; when my mum quietly mumbled something that really made me think.

Every cloud has a silver lining- She said.

Surely I had heard about it in school.
She made me think of a silver lining about this situation.

I, being the red-hot angry, stubborn head- couldn't think of any.

She said, When was the last time we actually held hands while walking?
-When I was 10. Five years back.

"When was the last time you got wet in rains?"
-I don't remember. I've always hated rains,

"When was the last time Mumbai got rains on time?"
-Long, long back.

"When was the last time I got pumpkin for fifteen rupees?"
- I laughed at that.

So after a long, hot shower I hit the sack.

It was a memorable day after all.
Of silver linings and despicable Bombay rains.

My click :)

Hey Macklemore, can we go thrift shopping?

Maroon 5 + watermelon ice-cream + yellow lights = Best Saturday night ever. <3

I hear the wind blow. It seems to say Hello, I'm the one who loves you so.

I don't know what went wrong. I just don't.

Ever had that feeling, where you can see it all go away? Where you know nothing will ever be the same. When you just sit, and think, where did I go wrong?

That helplessness. You think back to when it started, and what you could have done differently. Ever?

Then you start doubting yourself every time you make that move. You loose confidence.
Looking at the others look so strong, you start undermining yourself. You get intimidated. All those 'what-if's pass through your mind. You are convinced that you are no good.
You can feel the change in you. Good or bad, that's for you to decide.

Until the day you become your own monster.

Their proud faces are now just a part of that Good 'ol memory lane.
You begin to wonder where that part of you disappeared.

Try so hard. Take your chances. Search under every pillow, every blanket, every damn nook.
Still, no luck. You lose hope.
You start giving up.
Until one day, it all just becomes a memory.

When people generally refer to memories, why are only the good ones savored?  Why not the bad ones?

They are a part of you. They made you, what you are today. They helped shape you that way. That's what sets you apart from the crowd.

Your mistakes, your sufferings. They are an integral part of you.

 The real you.

When the lights fade out, all the sinners crawl.

She hates me. And, don't I know it.
She hated me from the moment I had first stepped into class- two years ago.

It was not like I wanted us to be best friends or something.
 I kept my distance. And she kept hating me.

Now don't take this wrong. She was not a bully or anything. Far from it actually.
She's barely 5' 5" and I easily tower over her with my 5' 7".

I went out of my way to keep her out of my eye shot.
One of my close friends in school was her ex-best friend. They had been inseparable, the first year I had been in this school. I had heard countless stories of theirs. They shared everything. Even boyfriends.
But the next summer, everything changed. Overnight they went from being practically leaches off the other's skin to scrunching their noses at the mere mention about the other. Something beeeeg had happened, but thats not my story.

Every now or then I would listen to how much she hates me from some of our common friends. I used to just push those thoughts out of my head. I could care less- she could just take all her hate and it and shove it up her ass.

We never had a proper conversation. Never.
A word or two here and there- That's the farthest we could bear breathing the same air.
She showed me the finger behind my back one day, and my best friend blew her top. There were a  truck-load few cuss words exchanged. And I had to literally drag my friend away to avert the nasty brawl we'd otherwise have had to witness.

I never hated her. She had done nothing to me.
I am far from judgmental. Being judgmental is wrong. I had learned it the hard way, and vowed to never do that again.

Whenever I passed her in the school hallways, I always smile or even put up an act to depict my happiness; I could literally see the hatred radiating off her. And this time I'm not exaggerating. And then looking at her, I don't even have to put up an act.


What puzzled me on more occasions than one, was that what would she have against me. Just why did she loathe me so much?

I thought back. I had done nothing to her. Not a single thing. But then I stop pondering over that- I have better things to do. I have a better life than hers-  I have every reason to be happy.

...This sounds like a typically high-school drama. *Shudders*
It is dramatic, indeed. But I reckon, as long as we have bitches like Harshika to grace the face of planet Earth... lets just say we'll never run out of entertainment.

And after all, you're my Wonderwall.

Adam Levine is now engaged. I cannot fucking believe it.



No. No.  Just no.

My knight in shining armor.

The street was dark. Dogs howling in the distance. Long shadows cast by trees making the road unnecessarily spooky. Half the street lights weren't on, and the one that was, was constantly flickering.

 The road isn't usually that dark, but the current strike of retailers, protesting against unnecessary taxes by keeping their stores shut, made the road so.

 I was on my way home, from class. And I usually have a friend with me, but he had to stay back for a punishment. So I was on my own.

At times like these I missed Ted.

Cursing at my luck and clenching my bag, I increased my pace and looked around.
 Just a guy, about a couple of feet behind me. Other than that, the road was devoid of humans. So practically, screaming my lungs out would not work.
I suddenly thought of the pepper-spray that my mum had bought me (more like forced on to me), fished out my cellphone and kept a steady finger on the speed-dial button, and started jogging.

Just as I rounded a curve, I bumped into something and my cellphone fell outta my hand.

As I bent to pick it up, I looked up. And found that it was a "somebody" that I had dashed into.

Quick to mutter an apology, I looked up to find that gorgeous face curved up, smiling down at me.
"Aaron! You scared the living hell outta me." I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
"Well, hello to you too. Why were you running? "
"Umm..just like that? " Damn. Good job with the response, tongue.

"Where were you going?"
"Home?" It came out more like a question. Argh.

"I'll walk you."
"No, no. Its alright. I can manage."
"Nah. I insist, ok? " Ok? I was more than okay with it. More like giddy with excitement.

And we walked up to my apartment. All the way making me jealous, by going on and on about the Swedish House Mafia concert in Mumbai that was a part of their last tour as a band, that he went to.. teachers, Blackberry, snakeskin, Ann and Computers, which he was a world topper in. That genius!

And as we neared my building, I said goodbye.
I stayed back for a moment, stared at his lean figure walking down the footpath. His grey sweatshirt illuminated by the yellow street lights.

All he did was to walk me home. But with that little act of care, he was my savior. My knight in shining armor.

PS: This was posted a little earlier in the day, but there was some techie error. So, I posted it again:)

Of good times and noodle salad.

She let out a shiver as she stepped into the cool Manchester air and walked towards the building.
She felt a wave of exertion overwhelm her as she stepped into the elevator, and let out a sigh.
She struggled to retrieve the keys from her purse, and her laptop bag fell at her feet. After a few tries, the door finally gave way and she stumbled into her apartment. And all of a sudden she was engulfed by a smell. Good heavens.

Masala chai.

It was as if she was magically transported back Home. Mumbai.
She was suddenly seventeen again, and could hear the rain pelting outside her window.
The smell of the wet soil.
The sudden pleasant weather welcome, after months of scorching heat.
She remembered that day distinctly.

First rain of the season. She was at home in front of her books, and was caught in a sudden trance as she heard the droplets pitter - patter on her windowsill.
The ring of her cell phone suddenly cut through the still air ; it was him.

Come down quickly- He had said, leaving no room for argument. She didn't need to be told twice.

There he was, outside the gate on his bike. Fully drenched.
The rain had stopped now. It was more beautiful.
She ran to him, ready to rebuke with all guns blazing. But he had waved her off, and given her a hand to help her get on the bike. He gave her some crap about being back in Mumbai after a long time and called her  paranoid after he sneezed a couple of times.

She would never forget that day.
She would never forget that ride.
She would never forget the lush greens and the whispering winds.
She would never forget the feel of the cool air hitting her face as he cut through the lanes skillfully.
She would never forget the quaint tea stall and the smell of masala chai.
She would never forget his mood that day.
She would never forget the twinkle of mischief in his eye.
She would never forget what he said to her.
She could not get herself to forget the way he met his death, the very next day.


Her mum waving her hand in her face, brought her back to the present.
"Earth to Savi." she said.

She found a tear escaping her eye. Just the whiff of masala chai had provoked memories she had tried so hard to bury and leave behind her, to surface.

She ran to her and consumed her in a bear hug and held her for a moment. She was thankful that her mum was finally there.
She had never been that close to her; once a daddy's girl, always a daddy's girl.
But at that moment she was the one who quenched her thirst for something familiar in an unfamiliar city. She enveloped her with the warmth, she didn't know she was aching for. She reminded her of home. Mumbai.

She was her home, away from home.

Picture courtesy : Weheartit  <3

Picture to Burn.

The 18th of April 2008 marked the start of the Indian Premier League, IPL for short.

Every summer since, the whole household dusts their hands off their responsibilities and sits in the drawing room. Their eyes glued to the idiot box, and the only sound in the room is the constant commentary, and the occasional cheers after the favored bowler picks up a wicket, or the batsmen hits a six.

Cricket is a religion in India. It binds the whole country together. Out of topics to start a conversation? There's cricket. 

A journalist called IPL cric-entertainment. I think the title befits the tournament, perfectly. 

Everybody has their favorites; so many arguments pertaining to who's the best team of 'em all. 

But lately there's been a lot of contamination in this religion. Players being bribed.. spot-fixing going on. 

Looking at the condition of the game now, just takes your faith off the game. Three were caught, God knows how many there might be?

One thing that I fail to understand is that they are getting paid in millions, so why sell yourself to those bookies for mere lakhs? 

Its just sad, what people do for "more".

What they don't understand is that they are deceiving the world, with all this faking business of theirs. It just takes the interest in the game away.

But I have to say, I respect those other players who were offered, but turned the bookies down.

So even if I write a post on how upset this makes me, tonight I am gonna sit with a bowl of popcorn in front of the television cheering for my favorite team in the finals, the thought that all of this game maybe pre - planned, lurking at the back of my mind, but my optimistic side overpowering that, and hopelessly hoping that its not true.

Picture source: Google images.

You and me? We were meant to be.

He just stared at her. Watching her frantically try to lap up water from the bowl in front of her, but failing miserably.

He looked straight ahead, with a piercing look. 

"Cindy has rabies. Its the last stage. Take her to the Parel veterinary hospital, and admit her immediately."

A tear rolled down my cheek.

All her life, this German Shepherd had been treated royally. She was more of a daughter to my parents, than I ever was. She was that one link, that brought us all together.

My mum always said that she had three children - Cindy, My brother and I.

It all started the previous night. After dinner she had been given her treat, but surprisingly she didn't gobble it up the way she normally does. She tried real hard to bite on it, but still no luck.

The next morning when having her breakfast, it all started falling from the sides of her mouth. Her jaw just couldn't be moved.

The vet had just so easily stamped her as a case of rabies.

As soon as my mum received the news, she broke down. My dad, was still not convinced.
They drove across the city, to the hospital. By now, my mother was into the possessive-mother-lioness mode.
There was no way Cindy could have had rabies. She was vaccinated and always walked by my parents, or me. And we took utmost care.
It took a lot to convince the people at the hospital otherwise. Mum plainly refused for Cindy to be kept in the Rabies Ward. It was no ward; just a fenced area without a cover for the dogs left to die, in the scorching heat.

I sat in front of her kennel at home. And cried. Cried my heart out. Cried until my crying became more like a questioning session with God.

I woke up, to find myself on my bed. I shut my eyes tightly. I didn't want to get up.
I could hear voices outside, confirming that it wasn't just a bad dream.

That was the first time I heard my father cry.

I clutched onto my pillow and suddenly there was darkness all around me.

Those two days were the worst days of my life.
It was as if my whole world had crashed, in just a day.

The doctors and ward boys refused to touch her.
But my parents never lost hope. Day in and day out, they travelled all the way to the hospital taking liquid meals with them, and force-feeding her. Not once letting the thought of her dying, let them do otherwise.

A couple of days passed. This feeding routine of my parents' went on. Her bark had changed. Her eyes had supposedly changed colour. The signs were all there.

I not once went to see her at the hospital. My life had come to a standstill.
I didn't know what I was doing. I lost appetite. I didn't feel like talking. I found myself staring into empty space, thinking about nothing.

After my parents' gazillion talks with the doctors and convincing theories, they decided to give her an ultimatum. If she survives the next week, they would be ready to take her on the table and examine her.

And my baby made it!

In the park. One year ago.

More recent. On the verandah of our home.

Her favourite pastime- Gossiping with the sparrows.

***

This happened on 20th November,2012. Cindy is perfectly awesome now :)

She lived through the week, and proved the absence of the rabies virus.

The X-rays showed a bone stuck in her throat, locking her jaw, that prevented food from going down her throat. And the difference in her bark was due to lack of water. The change in eye-color was pure BS.

She did not have rabies!

That week, was the worst one of my life.


Rabies is a virus that can be spread by the saliva of mammals. So, thats why if you have a rabies infected animal's saliva penetrating into your skin, through an open wound you should consult your family physician ASAP.

The signs of rabies in dogs, don't appear until 15 days.

Rabies has three stages. There are vaccines available. The final stage, is a death sentence.

What I learnt from the experience : India is in dire need of well educated and qualified, honest veterinarians.
Source: Worth-less blabbering veterinarian idiots.

In this tug of war, you'll always win. Even when, I'm right.

I stared back at my reflection in the mirror. Gone was the spark. The dull eyes, the pale skin, the dark circles weren't always there. A far contrast from my image of me, if you ask.

The feeling of being torn, I had become quite familiar with.

They always leave.
And in their wake, as I try to deal with their absence, I find a part of me disengaging from the world, bit-by-bit.
I find not-interacting-with-people a better option.
I admit, I get attached to people real quick. Is that a bad thing?

The idea of a my shell, seems the best to me. Where its just me. Nobody else.

Dad is not here half the time.
Al left.
Ted and I would never be the same again.
Mo, gone. Thousands of miles away.

Maybe I should change the name of my blog, to Me and My Boys. 

Sometimes the reality is too harsh to face. How I wish the earth would indeed open up, and swallow me down.
Running away from problems, am I?
 Im just fourteen.