untitled

I am a different person than I was a year ago. Might as well, change is the only constant they say. Change is all I am anymore. Change is all I'll ever be. The same art school I was frothing at the prospect of joining, has left me with a jaded view of the world. I don't recognise myself anymore. I have lost touch with who I am. As I sit here in this dark room with the window open, enveloped in the lingering stench of nicotine, the city lights sparkling like stars in front of me, the sky as starless as possible, the only sounds coming from the constant traffic and occasional plane that flies right over my head. I am lost. Yet I have never felt more like myself. There is nobody who knows me. This me. 

Lately I've been questioning who I really am, on more occasions than I'd like. Being surrounded by such different people, I find myself in every person I meet. I am the good and the bad. I am far far away from home. I have dreams and goals I want to accomplish, places I want to see, people I want to be. Yet, I know what not to be. 

Friends, people who knew I write, have asked me if I have written anything, multiple times in the past couple of years, I just never felt like I had something to write about. But today as I sat alone, enveloped by this, this feeling, writing was my only friend, my trusted ally, the only one I could turn to. I have acquaintances, friends who confide in me, yet I could never really find anyone and trust them enough to confide in them. Today I was overwhelmed with this urge to vomit every word I have gulped and dissolved in the past year. 

It has been ages since I thought of this blog. I had started writing as an outlet, mostly out of loneliness. And here I am, years later, back to my first comfort. It'll be a shame if it turns out to be a one time thing.

i

November is creeping up to an end and the nights in Bangalore are getting colder. A slight gust of air nips my cheeks, rendering them numb. There is something about winter- a certain magic that the crisp air brings, the slight bite in the air that makes all the difference and if I close my eyes I could almost feel you here. I can almost hear you laugh and then groan about how lame my puns are, and my chest starts to hurt.

I remember the first time I saw you on the staircase and the way you stumbled. I remember laughing awkwardly and then trying to run away but you stopped me and said one thing, and then I said another and the next thing I knew, I wanted to spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation.

Faint notes of a piano drift in amongst the rustling of the leaves. Being with you was easy ever since the beginning. Effortless, even. The more time we spent together I realised I found someone absolutely nuts, in the best way.

A honk and a flash of headlights bring me out of my stupor, and there you are. The shadows of the trees lining the street fall across your face and you run a hand through your hair in frustration and even though we’re supposed to be fighting, my heart skips a beat at the sight of you.

Another bitter gust of wind, this one stronger. Somewhere someone is burning some wood, and its earthy smell envelops me. A tear streams down my face. Despite all that happened, I am ever so glad you stopped me that day on the staircase because I cannot imagine ever not knowing you.

I am going to miss you, I know.

If you love someone you should, let them know

The light that you give me, would ever glow.

I am a nobody.

I am a nobody. I am boring. I have no witty stories, profound experiences or battle tales. I am absolutely uninteresting. Completely not engaging. I have not been sixteen and fought for female education and been shot at by Taliban. I have not been arrested for bringing a home-made clock to school. I did not have to go into hiding during the Holocaust. I have not survived cancer, I barely even get a fever. Nor am I a step-sibling to a wildly overrated ex-porn star. Neither do I have a natural talent for say singing, or origami. None. Zilch. I have been procrastinating and banging my head on the keyboard of my laptop for the past week while trying but miserably failing at composing college essays, cringing at my lack of profound experiences. I am just a simple girl who likes to sketch and watch Game of Thrones. I enjoy sunrises, those handful of moments when the dark skies are torn apart by fingers of rosy dawn. I am most content when I read classics. I like being transported to a faraway land, long long before I was even born; all while physically being cooped up on my window, but mentally miles and aeons away. I like discovering new cities, wandering around streets and lanes of a place I have never been before. I live for road trips with my family; for my dad singing the words wrong to the song on the radio, mum reprimanding my brother and I for getting us late. I absolutely adore the goofy times spent with my pet German Shepherd running around the meadow near our farmhouse. I derive great pleasure while solving challenging mathematical problems; numbers make sense to me. I have not fought for female rights, or racism. I do not have software companies fighting for rights over my genius software creation. I have no untapped source of talent. I am absolutely not extraordinary, rather extra ordinary. I am a nobody.

I slept in last night's clothes and tomorrow's dreams.

She felt herself drowning before she opened her eyes. She reveled in the feeling of being enveloped and embraced by water. Her thoughts drowned her like anchors at sea. It was as if a dead weight was tied to her ankle, tugging her down into the deep, dark, boundless ocean. 

Above her, she saw rays of sunlight piercing through the veil of the water. And below her, the dark unknown, slowly reeling her in. One kick. That is all she would need to regain control of her body and wade back to the surface. One stroke and she could go back. Was it worth going to those days where you could only count the hours until they were over? Was it worth going back to those 2am musings about a life you never lived? Maybe it's your fault you're drowning. Maybe it's your fault you're frowning. All you can do is watch in despair, as all of their stares drift further away as you're pulled out to sea. But drowning wasn't your fault, right?

She could feel the water filling her lungs and soon numbness wrapped its slender fingers around her and creeped into her soul. 

She was as deep as the unexplored ocean, there was so much more to her than anyone had ever found. And that's why people fell in love with her, they fell in love trying to understand her. But she never felt the same way, no one could hold their breath long enough to get to the bottom of her.

She drowned anyone who ever tried.

If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together.

This month has given me so many new experiences and lessons- learnt the harder way, nonetheless, eye-openers. I haven't had time to catch my breath, and am still reeling in the daze of its aftershocks. 

***

On 1st March I attended my first concert. It was the first time Ed Sheeran came to India and I just could not pass up the opportunity (If you don't know who Ed is, click here ) 

That day was the first time in a very long time that I felt like a real teenager. A rebel, perhaps? I have always been an old soul, and I'd prefer staying in my PJs all day and read or watch tv shows, if I could. But of course the fact that I'm giving my A-levels this year, doesn't give me much time to do that. 

So coming back to the point, I don't go to clubs and get drunk off my ass at every chance I could get. This concert seemed like a rite of passage to becoming a normal urban teenager. I am a homebody. I prefer my books and fictional characters to people. So when I was suddenly pushed into an arena with about three thousand other people approximately my age, barely clothed, girls with their faces caked with makeup and guys with that ridiculous near-Mohawk, I was a little skeptical about the future of the world. With the risk of sounding like my grandpa, if this is the state of today's generation I really don't look forward to the world where our fate lies in the hands of these high, drunk, scarcely clothed animals. But looking at the condition of the world right now, I do not think it would make much of a difference anyway ( I mean, a ban on beef? What is up with you Maharashtra! Be practical and get your shit together, government.)

Once Ed came onstage it was a completely different atmosphere. A different vibe altogether. All of us from different nooks and crannies of Mumbai, were united and equally captured in this one emotion- admiration and maybe even love for this gentle, lovely voice. The whole crowd started belting out the lyrics together. It was beautiful. Mesmerizing. I was so overwhelmed.

This had to be the highlight. Almost surreal.

Another highlight of this month was this assignment I was given by my coordinator at school. I was to teach physics to 9th graders, as a part of an experiment. I was a little apprehensive about it because I can't particularly boast about my people skills. I'm an awkward potato, and what if I make a fool out of myself? I don't think I can handle getting ridiculed by a bunch of fourteen year olds. I'll die of embarrassment. Reluctantly, I agreed to it.

I was given the outline of the lesson and a worksheet to get done in class, and was told that I'll be teaching after a week. But when my coordinator cornered me three days later and asked if I could conduct my class that day, I was dumbfounded. My palms started sweating and my chest felt hollow. The lesson was no problem, but I have no idea what to do. How should I behave? How should I treat them? Why me? ugh.

So I just played it cool. Told myself it was just like teaching my brother. I brought in examples of X-men and Zindagi na Milegi Dobara to clear concepts of falling bodies and terminal velocity. Taught them tricks to find the slope of a graph. Allowed them to have wrestling matches to explain forces and their effects. Time flew by and it was already the end of class. By the time I packed up, I had kids coming to me and telling me how 'cool' a teacher I was and asking me if I would replace their actual teacher. I couldn't stop laughing, that had to be the greatest compliment I could have received and I had a goofy smile on my face for the rest of the day.

I taught the class for two days, and by the time I was done there was a heavy weight on my chest. I never thought I'd enjoy teaching so much, the moment when the understanding dawns in the kid was my favorite. It was so rewarding. I really had this connection with those kids. I'm going to miss those two days.

***

Zayn Malik left One Direction. I never saw this coming. I really wanted to see all five of them perform together live one day. Guess that's never happening.

***

That's all from my side. I now have a bunch of  submissions and textbooks calling my name :(
Ciao.

She's the giggle at a funeral

There was a slight bite in the air that night. The trees lining the curb rustled as the wind breezed by. The periodic sound of waves flinging themselves at the rocks and crashing the wall we were sitting on; calmed my erratic heartbeat. The air smelled of salt, aftershave and bad decisions. The streetlights glowed in a systematic line down the street, their yellow light creating a halo around his ruffled hair and a havoc of butterflies in my stomach. His hair was always messed up no matter how much he tried to tame it down; I smiled. Occasionally a car or two would speed by, but other than that the city which never sleeps seemed to have blown off the candles and retired for the day. Except for us maybe.

Just one night, he had said. One night for us to be who we were. Tomorrow we'll let the distance tear us apart. Tonight is about us. Just us.

The lights on the part of the road that curved ahead of us, reflected in the water, and almost glinted like jewels. We didn't need words to fill the air hanging between us. Silence was comforting. It was magical.

I felt his hand slip into mine and his face turn towards mine, and lift into a smile.

"Monalisa, one last dance?"

The way he said 'last' made me cringe internally, but I just laughed as he pulled me up. He put my hands around his neck, and rested his own on my waist. He looked right into my eyes and the whole city around us could've been up in flames at that point of time and I wouldn't have known.

I could see all our memories together. How he always made me happy, as if it was his ultimate goal in life. How nice it felt to be around him, how right it felt, how I used to go to sleep with a smile on my face every single night. How giving up all of that meant giving up my chance at happiness.
The late night conversations, the darkest secrets and the promises for a future together, all swimming around us, and suddenly it all became too much to handle. A tear trickled down my cheek and I let go of my hold over him, literally and figuratively, and just ran for my life.

And he didn't chase me.

Distance will inevitably tear us apart, but I think our choices already did.

I hate the beach but I stand, in Cali-fornia with my toes in the sand

I sat passively on the bed with my legs folded. On impulse, I reached under my mattress and pulled out a polaroid. It was a family photo taken in Brisbane, two summers ago. Closing my eyes, and I thought back to that day on that port on the east Australian coast. It was one day my dad could manage to leave the ship and we could finally explore the city. The sun was beaming down at us, there was steady sound of waves crashing against the dock and the occasional caw of the sea gulls. It was biting cold, but we still had goofy smiles that were a result of finally being able to leave the confines of the ship after a month-long voyage. Happiness shining through and through.

Out of nowhere my brother pushed himself onto my lap, pulling me out of my reverie. I never noticed him enter the room. He wiped my cheeks dry of tears I hadn't noticed, and looked at me pensively.

"Don't." he said, while pulling the photo out of my tight grasp. "It's not your fault."

This caused more tears to well up. He pulled me into a tight bear hug. How did he grow up so fast?
He murmured into my hair,"You have me, and I have you. Always."



Always.

Living in the ruins of the palace within my dreams.

The room was flooded with moonlight, one summer night. The steady drift of wind played with the folds of her dress. She could see him clearly. Her heart clenched. His infectious smile lit up the room, and she found herself beaming back at him.  She lost herself in the maze of golden swirls in his brown eyes. He was captivating to his last molecule. 

She had missed being happy. In the eternal distress and pace her life seemed to have taken up, he had been a breath of fresh air. His face was etched in her memory. Permanently. Like acrylic paint on a canvas. Once splattered, there is no going back. And just like that, she knew. Since the very day she had bumped into him, she knew. She would never be able to forget him.

Suddenly, she felt him slip right through her fingers. He was there just a moment ago, and now there was nothing but a whisper of night breeze. He seemed real. He was real. He was not just a figment of her imagination, it can't be. No. He was right there. And now, there was empty space. Void. Nothingness. She flailed her hands and cried his name out. Desperation clawed at her. She needed him like she need oxygen to breathe. He was essential to her functioning. She searched all around. Nothing. Nada. The lights faded away. And just like that her life plunged into darkness. Missing him came in waves, and currently she was drowning. She tried to hold onto the last strand of her self perseverance, but it was already low. She found herself letting go. She let the last wisps of her existence slip. She let go.

He was an enigma to her. A mystery. A mystery that would forever remained unsolved. 

merci

I've liked blogging. Writing here gave me a greater sense of satisfaction than anywhere else. Its been my secret den. A safe-house. A place to hide when the going gets rough, when I need to sort my emotions out, or sometimes just to satisfy the urge to pour my heart out. I'm an introvert through and through. I don't open up to people easy. I don't know if I've always been this way, but I'm glad I have this platform in the least. This lets me talk, vent, rant, and be as big of bitch as I want to without thinking what the other person thinks about me. This blog has let me be me. I don't know if this is making any sense, or where I'm headed by writing this post, but I just had to show my gratitude in some form, Aaron Paul's Instgram post inspired me. He is such a beautiful human being, inside out.

So thank you for putting up with me and my shit.










I'm completing two years of blogging in a month.

t w o    y e a r s.

Ohmygod.

These Nikes help me define me, but I'm trying to take mine, off.

Every face in the crowd has a story. The doe eyed girl you see wandering about with starry eyes, is fresh in town, complete with inflated dreams and sky-high goals. The man you see talking on the phone animatedly, just became a father. The woman crossing the street is a corporate head honcho who fought hard to become what she is today, coming a long way from being frowned upon by society for being a widow.  The old woman trudging along the road with her head held low- just lost her sole companion of eight years, her Golden Retriever. The middle-aged man whom you bumped into is practically immersed in debt. That girl with the pretty smile, has an eating disorder and insecurities that run bone-deep. The guy with the floppy hair gets humiliated at work daily. That bulky old man walking like a man on a mission, just found out that his three year old grandson was diagnosed with cancer. The youngster walking about with a wide smile plastered over face just had the woman of his dreams accept his proposal for marriage. The guy in the sunglasses just lost the opportunity of his life at work. The rotund kid waiting on the footpath gets bullied each day, every day. The woman in the neatly pressed saree walking with the large shopping bag, has a teenager back home who slit her wrists; the fear of loosing her clouds her mind all day, all night.

Everybody has problems of their own. Everybody has their demons. Everybody has their battles to fight. Everybody has a story of their own. Be willing to hear it before you judge.

The funny thing is, nobody ever knows how much pain somebody is going through. We could be standing right next to somebody who is completely broken and we wouldn't even know it.

Masks.
Facades.
Pretenses.

Ever had your mother tell you that you are a disappointment?

Its not a very nice feeling, I can tell.

The reason is you.

There is a chaos in my head. A constant buzzing. My brain is just not ready to shut down. Thousands of epiphanies and decisions and plans fluttering through my head. I'm starting to feel the weariness. I cannot concentrate on anything for long enough. Long enough to read a book or watch a movie. Completing a TV series seems to be a mean feat. The steadily growing heap of homework is not helping. It's a mess. One place I would not want to be in right now would be my mind. It's far too cluttered. Running away seems easy. Not knowing where to go next is the hard part.

 

A levels is tough. God help me.

Change the locks, change the scene. Change it all, but can't change what we've been.

The agitation on his face, clear as day. The frustration with which he thrashed his bat on the field made me wince. He got out early, yet again. I could barely restrain myself from running over to him enveloping him in a bear hug, and cooing words in his ears to calm him down; but I thought better of it- after all I would not always be there to shield him from the adversities of life. Let this be a learning experience.

The clock ticked by. The sun seemed to gleam at us evilly. The air heavy with tension. And the match seemed to pull on. 

The first innings finally ended. The second one had my eyes glued to my little dimple-cheeked brother, standing in an aggressive stance behind the stumps, waiting with bated breath for the batsman to give the slightest room for an error, or rather a wicket. 

This innings was rather uneventful, so to say. They ended up levelling the scores. I restlessly waited. They were going to have a super over. My leg was rhythmically thumping, while I waved a magazine near my face to get some relief from the scorching heat. I couldn't wait to get home, and into the haven of the mighty air conditioner. 

The opponent team made a total of five in their over. Now it was our turn.

All of a sudden I noticed my little boy being called back to his trainer, who seemed to be in a discussion with another one of his teammate. The trainer bent a little and spoke with the two boys, confidentially. 

The talk lasted for a couple of minutes. I felt my hopes pummel as my little guy walked towards the pitch with renewed confidence. But I tried to turn it down a few notches, because let's face it- he hasn't been in form for a while now, and I'm going to have to see that dejected little soul back at home. 

My baby brother was on the non-striker's end. They ran and took a single. It was his turn to face the bowler. 

The bowler committed a big mistake of throwing a full toss ball, and my brother did not falter. He smashed it away for a six! 

A roar of cheers erupted from their camp and supporters. I jumped out of my seat clapping crazily, only to find him pointing his bat in the direction where I was seated, and then ran towards his trainer and engulfed him in a hug. 

Goosebumps erupted on my skin, and a tear rolled down my cheek. They had just won the cup, no biggie ;) 

Just hold on, we're going home.

You always have a choice. A decision to make. A decision that is yours. The options are laid out in front of you, and you choose.

Your decision could have been one that you put too much thought and calculation into, or none at all. Weighed the pros and cons, or you may have just taken the plunge- thrown caution to the air, and taken that leap of faith. The events that unfurled are all a result of what you decided. Maybe it was the right choice. Or maybe it wasn't.

I made a choice that may or may not have been the right one. I may or may not have been selfish. But the decision is cemented now. There's no going back. I often wonder what would have happened if I had chosen otherwise?  Would I be happier than before? Would it have been better than the starchy life I lead now?

To be honest, I often catch myself thinking about what-ifs. But then quickly remind myself that the truth remains unchanged and that there is no point in dwelling in what could have been. I lead my life. And you lead yours. Separately. As if they never crossed paths. As if they were never that tangled mess that they were- similar to my bunched up earphones, or the entangled ball of my grandmother's yarn. 

I remember reading somewhere that, with every choice that the universe makes, there is an infinite number of alternate realities that are created, where the paths not taken unfold. This might be a load of crap, but it gives me hope that won't burn out, that perhaps in one world atleast,there would be a 'happy ever after'.

And I just enormously wish for this world to have had that reality. 

And I've been waiting for this time to come around, but baby running after you is like chasing the clouds.

Staring mindlessly at the noticeboard in the lobby with what were once-lively brown eyes and now lacked luster, Adam let out a sigh. As the valet brought up his car, he reached into his back pocket to take out his cellphone. He sighed as he listened to his voice-mail while he drove out of those big black gates.

None of the messages held his attention. None, but one.

It was from her.
Her condition was deteriorating. Being away from him for the past year had done nothing but give her mental health a nosedive. She had phases. Phases when she got attacks of what she claimed were memories of her past-life. This was an ill-effect of her loneliness, the psychologist diagnosed.

This was one of those phases. She said she missed him and begged him to come back to her, and called him 'Steve'. It hurt him to see her like that.

They had said I do at the altar seven months ago, after seven years of dating. He could still remember that day so clearly, as if it was just yesterday. How could he ever forget the sight of her walking down the aisle in the white gown, that autumn morning? He could never forget the surge his heart felt, when they were finally pronounced man and wife.

Tears lined his eyes. He never cried. So why now?
He needed a distraction. Something to take his mind off the Cirque du soleil that his life had become.

So instead of going straight home, he drove towards the city and found himself in front of a downtown pub. He was not an avid drinker. He rarely consumed alcohol.
But he needed this today.

The door chimed, as if to announce his arrival. He shrugged his coat off and took a seat at the bar, while telling the bartender to fix him a whiskey, on the rocks.Taking a good look around the bar, he suddenly found a red-head sauntering up to him. She took a seat beside him, and offered him a flirty smile.

A look at the girl's wild mass of curly red hair reminded him of her. He had always had a thing for red-heads. But she was an exception.
Her remembered her silky strawberry-blond tresses, and the way they felt in his fingers. Oh so soft.

The red-head scooted over, and her overpowering perfume caused him to shudder.
He was sure it was dabbed with the intention of attracting attention, but it did nothing to him.
He reminisced her fragrance.
 She always smelled of daisies. Came with the little flower shop she used to own, he guessed.

Everything about her screamed 'wrong'.

He immediately downed the amber colored liquid in his glass, left a bill on the table and made his way to the car. Driving to the apartment he used to share with her until he moved out, he was flooded with memories of their past. The way they had once been. So truly, madly and deeply in love.
Then it hit him. Like a wave of realization.
It was her.


It had been her all along. Nobody else would do anymore. She was all he needed. Everything about her pulled him towards her. Her witty humor, her intelligence, her pretty head. And even her self-consciousness. He felt as if he was giving up on them without a struggle. Without a fight. He knew abandoning her at her time of need, was the wrong thing to do but with his father's death and her issues he felt as if he was breaking into pieces. This was just a minor glitch in their life together, he was sure. He'll take care of it. Everything would be okay again.

He pulled in into the parking lot and dashed for the door. He punched in the buttons of the elevator, but he couldn't contain this sudden rush he felt so up the stairs he ran, two at a time.

He had to just hold her. Everything would be okay after that. It was her. It had always been her.

He fished the keys from his pocket and gently stepped into the apartment. It was dark. Fear clouded his senses.

He groped around in the darkness, and switched on the over head lamp. Light flooded the living room, his eyes desperately searching for her.  He called her name. No response. Shouted her name.
No response. All this while frantically running through all the rooms.


And there in the bathroom she lay.


Her fragile body lay limp against the white cold marble floor. A bottle of pills broken, with its glass shattered next to her, with one shard piercing her thigh. A scrap of blood-stained paper clenched in her pale white fingers-

I'm sorry Adam. 




PS: This is based on a real incident. All I tried to insinuate through this, is Carpe Diem. Seize the day, live in the moment. Tell the ones you love, so. Because you never know, when the chance would slip right out of your fingers.

PPS: Oh, and I turn sixteen tomorrow.

All of me loves all of you.

He stood frozen in his place, and felt the blood drain off his face.


Another gunshot.


This time it was as if somewhere in his mind a switch was turned on and he made a mad dash for it. He willed his legs to move. The instinct to flee coursing through his being. He could hear his feet pounding on the cement, rhythmically.

All of a sudden, he heard a pair of foreign footsteps, and willed himself to run faster. He was being followed. His lungs were burning, but he did not stop. He could not.

Deftly making his way through the alleys, he worked his way towards the main streets. Crowd. He needed cover.

On reaching the streets he decelerated and continued to walk at a steady pace, merging well into the evening Mumbai rush.
Panic clouded his senses. Fear gripped his nerves. His agoraphobia made it hard to think straight.

The sheer terror of the shooting. The sight of blood. The dread of being discovered. The pain of loosing his friend.The burden of knowing. 

The sound of the gun being fired never stopped ringing in his ears. He could still feel the gravel on his knees from crouching under the ledge, hiding from the unspeakable terror. The image of her getting shot, burned in front of his eyes. 

The guilt of not having done anything to save her weighed heavily on him. A tear rolled down his chiseled jaw. And there was something else too. Was it regret? 

There was this strong urge to tell someone. For the world to know. For justice to be served. But having seen the person who shot her, he was sure they would get away with it. Power and money were the two perils of the Indian society.

He wanted revenge. Justice for her. Something needed to be done. This whole incident had scarred him. He was going to carry this with him for the rest of his life. He wanted to stand up for what was right. This once. No shortcuts. She deserves this. He owed it to her.

                                                                         

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.