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 :)