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. 

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

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 :)

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.

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:)

I'm addicted to you. Don't you know that you're toxic?

"Come home na, we'll study together! " said she.

We were both taking a test the next day and I was a bit skeptical about the study together thing, thanks to my great results the previous term. *note sarcasm* I desperately wanted a better score, and she was no good in it either, but somehow I convinced my mum to let us study together. I had already cancelled on her a couple of times in the past, but there was no getting out of it this time.

I walked to the beat of Titanium, as I made my way to her apartment. I jogged to the first floor, and knocked on the door. In about a minute she stood in front of me, flashing me her crooked smile. I smiled back, out of courtesy as she grabbed my hand and pulled me in.

I took a minute to take in my surroundings. It was a small apartment-a 1 BHK. We were the only ones in there. To say it was messy, would be an understatement. There lay books and papers on every surface. Ironed clothes in a pile, on a nearby settee. And a huge cluster of designer shoes near the door. The flat-screen TV and the iPhone on the pile of newspapers, being the only indicators of the money running through the family. I suddenly felt claustrophobic and suffocated. The apartment could seriously use some aeration.

She swiftly picked up her bag and pile of notebooks from the makeshift couch, and motioned for me to sit on it. I did the same, and pulled out my textbook. We quickly started working through our portion.

Once we were about half-way through the lesson, there was a banging on the door. I was startled. She quickly got up and opened it.
"ANNNUUU!!(name changed, duh.) You would not believe what happened!!! Oh, you have a guest." That was all I heard, before this guy just turned away and ran down the stairs.

" Arrey Aaron(name changed, again.)." She then turned to me. "You don't mind him smoking, do you?"

"No, no. No probs." I replied, still looking in my book. No matter how casually she took the test, I was serious about it and certainly wanted good grades this time.

"Aaaaron. She dosent have a problem with smokers!" She yelled at him.

I suddenly looked up to see this eighteen-ish guy in a navy-blue over-sized tee and black shorts enter the living room, with a phone held to his ear, a ciggy and a bag in his other hand. I was left gaping.
 He was gorgeous.

If you looked closely, you could see the semblance. He looked like a thinner, male version of her.

He turned to me instantly, and probably caught me oogling. "Please excuse my language for the next 180 seconds."

He turned to Anu and narrated this story, full of profanities describing the extremity of the situation. How his driver got a spasm in the middle of the road, and how he wandered to find help, and in due course met this adorable cocker spaniel, and almost stepped on a snake shedding its skin, all this while his dark- brown eyes twinkling with excitement. Anu seemed to take it all in with a matched level of curiosity.

I was just left staring at this exchange between the siblings. He started telling her every thing that happened to him, and she had equal interest in his rantings. They both had this air around them that I hardly wanted to disturb, you know. It just makes you want to look and laugh at. They were so at ease with each other. They both included me in the conversation at times, but then I was just content with sitting back and watching them!

After a while, he left the room.
"You guys are so adorable together! " I said to her.
"Oh, no. He's a prick." I laughed.

She then went on to tell me the story behind "them". About how her father left her mother, and how she went on to make a career for herself. And, how Aaron was always there for her in all aspects.
This made my respect for them grow. I mean, isn't that how a family should be?

They say, "When all else fails, there's family." This is how it is. They are each-other's family.
Circumstances bring people together, and make a better person out of them.
The camaraderie, the little sarcastic exchanges, the promises to keep secrets intact, the little surprises, that emotional blackmailing. Its all a part of the package!
Im glad I got to experience that through Aaron and Anu, and my own brother. And, would wish for everyone to experience that atleast once in their lifetime.

My brush with History.

Visits to Dadar are always special. Is it the special Parsi - Marathi feel to it? Or the fact that my parents practically grew there? Or the feel of walking through history? I will never know.
Every city has its past. Its secrets, which are now being buried deep by the layers of modernization being forced onto it.
Every heroic city has its story.
Dadar is that part of Mumbai which housed many of the city's historic events.
The hub of all activities in the Victorian Era, it still does not fail to impress outsiders with its charm. It has this inept ability to capture any passerby's attention. Every time I pass the area, I feel as if Im magically transported back to when India was under the British Raj and half expect horse-carriages with counts in their beautiful attire with that air of hostility on their way to yet another important meet.
The Parsi tea-shops are a common feature, highlighted in many of those movies. A typical old pot-bellied owner with his trademark white cap, black glasses and white khaccha getting all cranky over those good-for-nothing collegians who keep hanging out in that tiny shop of his, drinking milky-chai and eating maska pav.
The long Shivaji Park, where my grandfather used to take me for walks, long long ago. Where you are bound to find the freshest young cricket talent, and perhaps also the next Sachin Tendulkar! Well it was Sachin's homeground!
The nearby beach gives the place a whole different outlook. Cool drifts of wind kept those hot summer afternoons pleasant, kept those trees swaying back and forth.
The area being the best shopping area for festivals. Anything, like any of the rare-est item, can be found here!
And speaking of festivals, the Ganesh Chaturthi period, here being a fortnight-long celebration, second to none!  Almost every other house here, houses a Ganesh idol and worships it for a certain time. And the visarjan days are the ones when everybody is out on their verandahs looking for a glimpse of the varied sizes of idols making their way towards immersion. Huge Sarvajanik Ganpati idols and small nuclear-family idols alike. The chants of Ganpati leaving and coming back the next year ring throughout the city and mark the optimism of the city dwellers.

And just as another bull-dozer knocks off yet another worn down structure of the area, bit by bit our heritage is being wiped out, leaving behind nothing more than a few smudges on the city's skyline. I pity the generations to come.


Later.
xx

So, all my women here. Chin up, its your brother-fucking day.

"You sonovabitch"-You mothafucker.

So, two people fight. One swears at the other, calling his mother or sister at times, names and whatnot. Indirectly, insulting them, their pride and their grace. So, why the hell are women targeted, if the person whom he has a grudge against is the man in front of him?

Why is it that 80% of the people use women- concentrated profanities? Why is it that even when men are fighting, curses calling their women names are rallied back and forth? Why are women always the ones getting thrown dirt at?

Is it because men have HUGE egos and self-pride and don't mind themselves being insulted, but would not take a word against their women?

Is this because their intention is to hurt the other man, by offending his women? Then I don't think it is justified. It will hurt him, maybe. A little. But more than that, it would provoke them to retaliate with an even  better  comeback. Hopefully, worse than the one they'd received. This, leads nowhere other than making the conversation one, where kids need to keep their ears covered.

When I grow up, Im gonna make a curse that does not offend anybody other than the person I intend to. And, and, and the kids won't have to cover their ears either. Yeah, man.

Women are the whole reason why you are on this earth. Respect them. Treasure them.
Think about your own mother, before going ahead and calling others' names. Think about how you'll be disgracing her by uttering those pitiful words. The jackass who deserves this, isn't likely to change if you insult his mother. Sister, even.

So, my women here hold your head high. Chin up. And, most importantly keep smiling, because life's a beautiful thing and theres a lot to smile about.

Laterr

xx


Picture courtesy : Weheartit

Theres no gravity to hold me down, for real.

I just happened to turn, and of all the things that had to catch my eye, it was him.

I just happened to gaze into his eyes, and I was lost. Again. Talk about deja vu.

My tummy does this flip-flop. And, I catch my breath.

This is not supposed to happen. Not after all this.

He smiles. I try to, too.

And, just as that gorgeous smile comes into view, the whole universe around us fades.

Its only him, and me.

All the memories we shared, flood back into my mind.

All those efforts to bury them deep down, gone futile. All because of a smile.

How can I be so weak?

He takes a few steps towards me. I felt a rush.
 The sudden electricity in the evening air, prominent.

This is where I say, I ended up making a fool outta myself.

Cause frankly, I don't remember what we spoke about. I was in a daze, literally. 

It had been one whole year, since I last saw him. 

What I felt around him, I think. Is the closest to love, I had ever felt.
And, it felt good.

What I'd give to see that face every single day. With everything between us, back to what it had been two years back.

Haikus, Ironies and a Pile of Hamburgers.

Okay, so here I am. At 1am. Sleep just not ready to come and grace me with her presence, even after listening to a bunch of hindi romantic songs. And none of the guys available to text, they always put their phones on silent mode before hitting the sack, though I wonder why.
Laying in bed, I start to think about tomorrow's exam. Its the last one, and its English. Okay, mind you English in GCSE is tough, but there's nothing you could actually study for. Its like either you have those language skills, or not.
But, my exam was far from my mind here. I actually thinking about my previous English teacher.
And, he was not your average good 'ol english teacher. He was different.
From his 6-inch mohawk, to his arms full of tattoos, Mr. D was intimidating from Day 1. From the time he had entered our first English class in Grade 9, the guys had instantly taken liking to him. He was the ultimate definition of a "cool" teacher.
For starters he allowed us to curse in class. Not that it mattered to me, but 'twas definitely a big plus point for him, as 90% of the class instantly thinking he was "the best".
In almost every class of his, the discussion would turn to either Illuminati or the ongoing football matches or how Twilight sucks. And that constant bickering between the guys(which now included Mr.D, too)always earned them an eye-roll from me.
Those constant debates over Americans or Brits, Soccer or football, Blackberry or Any other company!
And, he almost never took a class in a class! As in, he never conducted a class in a classroom. Whenever the bell rang for his period, our spirits were automatically lifted as we made our way to the resource room or the audio-visual room. Where, he would show us videos of different not-so-famous-but-with-a-strong-perspective videos and make us actually ponder over matters that mattered.
Also, the fact that he (in all his right senses) asked us to burn ourn our textbooks, did the final deed of landing him in the #1 spot on our list of favourite teachers!
It was like he had decided not to follow the mediocre ways of teaching, instead take on the path of making us good, world citizens with ofcourse, a proper command over the language...
In his quest to do the same, we picked up of things,you may say that we previously hadn't and would possibly not forget over the years..
And some of them being Haikus and ironies. We had these extensive debates on whether the mentioned statements were ironies or not!
He always taught us to make our own, individual perspective. Irrelevent of what other people think.

And, Haiku's were a delight! We had to come up with one, as a part of our weekend homework. But at the end of that weekend- zilch, nada. I just couldnt  make one (And we had also sworn to him, that we would never use the aid of the internet to do our English homework, so that option was out too..)
But after two long weeks of brainstorming, I came up with this:

Sock and shoes make a pair
Just like Pitt and Anniston did

Brad and Jenny had a tiff
Angie took advantage
Stole Pitt

Socks and shoes fell apart
Just as Pitt and Anniston did

Yeah, lame. I know. And, probably it wasn't even fitting the proper conditions of a Haiku. But it was the least I could think of! And, he appreciated it  B|
And then the fact that he gave us group assignments, made the class even more enjoyable. Like, there was this one assignment where we had to create a story which had random characters like Lady Gaga. I mean, Lady Gaga! Which normal teacher would do that?! Thats why we loved him.
Also we had this assignment where we make a short story, anything pertaining to our interests, and then go on to make a comic strip on it! I mean, how cool can English get!?

Mr.D was the conductor of our weekly movie clubs. Almost the whole of the high school had signed up for it. Trust me, Im not exaggerating.
The movies he showed us were decided by him on not their being suitable for our viewing, but on their content. And, by that I certainly do not mean Heidi or Jane Eyre. The movie club had started with Fight Club as its very first movie. And I literally fell in love with that movie. The other movies we saw (and I loved) were The Illusionist,  Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, Dead Poets' Society, School of Rock among others.

His adorable handwriting on the green-board, the way he used to hold the chalk...literally had us die with laughter!

But, jokes aside. What I really like about him, was him. He was originally, him. Gosh, I dont even know whether that makes sense.. Its just that he inspired us to think creative. And be ourselves.

And, reasons why I hate my new English teacher. Frankly, I dont think I have any.
Its just the idea of her, being his replacement that bothers me. Its just that I act like such an obstinate mule in her class, refusing to do anything she asks me straight away and never answering her properly; makes her hate my guts. And, in order to instigate her, I wrote this rebellious essay in my review, expecting a low grade and a long lecture. But she gave me the highest marks and even read out my essay to the whole class. Talk about embarrassment -.-

That's all for now. I wrote this in an utterly agitated and sleepy state, so please excuse my rants one more time?



Later.



Ciao ;) xx

Days turn to sand, losing all the strength in hand.

My Life sucks. Everything in it sucks.
Change is the principle of the universe- They say.
Changes suck.
They suck.

Exactly a year back, I was in my old home, perhaps sound asleep. But here I am.
New house, new car, new school. And perhaps, a new me.

When I think about it, I simply feel I prefer the new me. I know the older me was different.
If I say that there are times that I crave to be the older me, is there something wrong with me?

Maybe I prefer the truth not coming out. It'll make that douchebag realize the extent to which I miss him.
 He, instead might take pride in it. Who knows?
God, he has changed too.
 For now, lets call him-Ted.
Whenever I see him these days, he is with this other girl he's supposedly dating, a year junior to us.

I think I should've known.

Replaced. So easily I was taken outta his life, and replaced. All those promises of calling, with every detail, along with the momentary trust I had in them, broken.
 Even if I tried, I couldnt go on forever.

Forever. A word, I no longer had faith in.

The bad part was that I still loved him.
But this love was different. It was understanding, supporting and admiring each other. It was love, but of a different sort.
Definitely.
It was like, our own brand of love.

He was there for me. Always.
My dad often had to go abroad, for months together. And every time he left, I was teary-eyed. I had to act strong in front of mum, and my brother. I couldnt help it. I was their Iron-man.
He was always there,lending me a shoulder to cry on. The breakdowns I had with him, were our secrets.

He was one person who could bear my grumpy mood.
Whenever I was pissed at him, he knew how to steer himself out of trouble..so well.


Look, we were not made for each other. We just chose to stay together. He was the best friend I ever had.



Now, you'd be like, why are you writing all this here?
Yeah, you should not read ahead. No, seriously.

I just dont know what happened.

The exasperation I faced after seeing him in his new life, led me to deactivate my facebook account. I just wanted to go ahead and finish what he did.
Break all sources of connection with him.


He was an integral part of Me.

I just dont know what happened. We grew apart, maybe? I dont know.

After him, I had just found this way of steering myself away from everybody.

Dont get me wrong. The people at my new school,  are really nice. But, I used to feel they were very two-faced. All of them. Almost.
Then came Ananya.

She took his first step towards me, and somehow managed to crack the shell I had built around myself and let herself in.

I just somehow find myself being better friends with guys. Well, I do have girls as friends too, but somehow nobody was that close to me.
Maybe, thats the baggage you get, when you're quite the tomboy.
I dont know, I just somehow tried to steer myself away from gossip, and other girly stuff. Its always been that way.
I preferred over-sized tees, to tank tops. And jeans to skirts.
Until, now. More on that later.
It was always Linkin Park, never Taylor Swift.
Blah, I despise her. She always seems to be cribbing bout how perfect or imperfect her life is.
God. Is that what Im doing now?
Tell me it isnt. Please?

I dont think this is working
Freezing so hard, my hands are hurting
Ought to let go in the first place

And I put the phone on the front lawn
Everything that shows time is gone
Im outside looking for you

If  everthing'd stop I'll listen for your heart 
To lead me right to you, yeah
I tried every way I can.

Later.

Drop it, like its HOT!

*See LOST. *

Iknewit.

I Knew It.

They broke up.

My two best-est friends, who started seeing each other, separated. And as I predicted, over a silly tiff.

I knew it. I knew it. I BLOODY WELL KNEW IT WOULD HAPPEN!!!

They had some stupid insecurity issues, and then waved it off saying they didnt think it was "LOVE" !

Take a damn reality check, you guys are just Fourteen. You dont even know what it is like. 

I seriously dint expect them to be soo immature about it. 

Annnd, as I earlier thought, they no longer talk to each other. Not if you count the snide remarks and sarcastic comments they pass at each other. Damn.

Its really getting on my nerves.

I act as if it dosent bother me, but it does. How muchever I try to wave it off, I just cant overloook it.

But, Im glad they separated, it was starting to get mushy, and stuffy hanging around wid 'em.
But, then I feel like Im being a  bitch, and get outta there.

And, since they separated, I got alone time with Mo, just the way it used to be. Though Dee just keeps sulking around. 

And thus, the rant on the blog. Ishouldstopnow.

Yeah, well. The main "aim" of the post was...

*Drum-roll*

Snoop Dogg is back in Indiaaa! Woohooo * Throws a fist in the air*

But according to my previous theories, he is only going to Pune and Gurgaon :'(

And, I couldnt go to Simple Plan, as my damn annual concert was on the same day, as I had paid a HUGE, FREAKING CHUNK of my pocket-money on the costume, and I also had a  part to play in the concert :P

Thats all for now, I guess.

"Im here, alone. Dint wanna leave

My heart wont move, its incomplete

Wish there was a way that I can make you understand.

But how, do you expect me

To live alone with just me

'Cuz my world revolves around you

Its so hard for me to breathe."

-Jordin Sparks 

Later.

Ciao x

Ps: I still hate lovestories. Its just that I love 'em both, way too much.

Blond-ness

Well, did you know that the term "blond" is unisex and "blonde" is femine? I just got to know. ;)
Thaaat reminds me,
Zayn Malik got his hair baaack<3 Wohoooo! *Pumps a fist into the air*
Well, not literally. His blond streak has been taken off! And he looks just as he was, a few months earlier.*Lets out a sigh of relief*
                                         
                                                                       BEFORE

NOW

                                                 

AND CUZ I LIKE IT SO MUCHH

One Direction. And. Dogs. This one nearly had me dead.

AND THESE ONES DID IT. le me *DEAD*

Later.

Ciao ;) xx

No Drama -_-

Okay, so First Blog! Im actually quite excited by this idea of Blogging..Was inspired by this girl at my previous school..

So, a kinda warning..Im really random; If you ever wonder whats wrong with me, just dont bother asking. Im way too Random. I dunno whether its with the teens or what, but its just me =)

Yeah, And my Blog's name is Bombay Sunshine.. obvious, I know I know.

So, thats that! And voila..My first post, of my first blog! Yeaaaah!

Sorry, Another thing  is that, you may find me  pretty self consumed, Im not. Its just that I quite like to love to myself as much as much as I love people close to me.
 Yeah..Thats about all you need to know about me, for now...

                                            

Its gotta be a good life!

Later
Ciao :) xx