Tuesday, December 31, 2013

The Final Rant

I hate happy endings. 
Speaks the biggest pessimist on the eve of New Year. 
I mean, I should be grateful for the end of a (long list coming up) unfruitful, event-less, boring, horrible, depressive, ugly, killing-the-world, polluting-the-world, killing-nice-people, stinky, sometimes nice but still unlikable year. 
There is always another chapter left for opening. Happy endings do not end there. Happily ever afters are, sadly, impossible even in fairy tales. Take Cinderella for instance. She married the prince and lived happily ever after. Only she didn't live forever......
Let's envision ourselves in the beautiful realm of wherever they were living. Cinderella and the prince are going on a lovely chariot ride and BAM!! The chariot tumbles over. And squishes the prince. Like a bug. End of 'lived happily ever after'.
Sure, you have the freedom to go and imagine my head on one of those punch-the-people-you-hate games and pummel it till there are no teeth left in the mouth of my virtual face. I just killed one of the most loved fairy tales. Only thing, I didn't. If any fairy tales have even an ounce of truth in them (I like to think that they do) some bit of sadness ought to inhibit them at some point of their lives.
So coming to my point, while millions are celebrating, millions are grieving. The year will be received  with happiness by some while some won't even notice it in their profound grief. Some won't live to welcome 2014. They had a sad ending. And that's where their ending ends. There is no sequel, no epilogues, no pain, no future. Just an End. 
Whereas happily-ever-after have a but coming up. Damocles swords hanging over their heads, looking for the most opportune time to ruin your paradise. 
I will agree to the fact that I am a spoilsport. All over the world is rejoicing in welcome of a new year and here I sit and write pessimistic ends to Cinderella. 
Oh my god, I am such a retard. And I read the previous sentence in cool-girl voice. Gosh, such a retard.
I am not thankless. This year has been good to me and bad to me. But I think it was just being bad to myself. So before this moment slips out of my hand....

  • I kinda became a better writer. I started this blog. I became a newer person.
  • I stuck to my New Year resolution for the first time. Wait, don't congratulate me yet. I had vowed that I would never take up new resolutions ever ever again. Wooohooooo me!
  • I learnt a lot from my mistakes. Well I did make a hell lot of them to learn from them, but that's optimistic me speaking.
  • I became more pessimistic. Wait, that's not a good thing is it?
  • I finally have a workable story.
So people, enjoy your time left in this year. There are 365 days left of next year but just a few hours of this one. SO be sure not to lose out on them. Reminisce when you write the date X/X/2013 for the last time. Welcome the new year but hold onto this one for just a bit more.
Happy New Year.
PS- I miss writing blog posts in 2013 already. Now its going to be 2014. I dislike 14. 13 is my lucky number right? It is this year's final rant already.

Friday, December 20, 2013

The Exhibition

(NOTE: The following to be read in the tune of Jingle bells) Blalala Blalala Blalalala Blalala Blalala BLALALALALA!!!
Yes people. I am have lost more screws than usual. So bear with me till I locate them and fit them back in.
Today was my school's EPIC FUNCTION OF THE YEAR..... the Exhibition. We have an annual exhibition ever year before the the school releases on temporary bail, but this thing is designed to make the school get free labor out of poor students. And since I belong to those poor students, I end up with immovable legs and a pounding headache of not sleeping properly for about 3-4 weeks.
Yesterday we had an exam. And today we had the Exhibition. And yesterday after the exam when hauled out benches, hauled in factories and apartments and earths and oxygen banks and jet packs. (Don't worry, they were just models, we are not The Titans or anything.) Then today after the exhibition got over in the afternoon, we hauled out the factories and apartments and earths and oxygen banks and jet packs and re-hauled in the desks and benches. I mean..... oh forget it. I don't mean anything.
I am one of the only people in our class who is interested in the Exhibition months before the Exhibition. And I end up with the clerk like duties of the Exhibition such as collecting money and collecting things and dogging people around to get their work done. And I love it.
Well, last time my class was a humongous flop. This year, however we did pretty great. I am kinda proud of my classmates for having involved themselves considerably more than last year.
Me and my best friends had a blast. We had 'lemon and blueberry' and 'apple and blueberry' and 'apple and lemon' sodas(No really, they do taste great together. And the blueberry and apple was turquoise blue in color so me and crazy best friend pretended that we were sipping cocktails. Pretended.). And we ripped crazy best friend off her money(It was voluntarily agreed ripping). I hopped around the class like a sugar-rush induced bunny which I probably was. I spilled half a soda on my dress. I bankrupted myself by buying a pair of earrings that my class-teacher made. I ate a lot, almost fell of a desk twice and stubbed my toe 5 times. I got so tired after rearranging everything that I went home, ate a huge lunch and dozed off till seven. And now I am up here............snoooooze............... vcgzcmhgkicxwan kiuahb.
Uh, what?
Good night people. I need to catch up on sleep. 

Friday, December 13, 2013


Oh... so here it is. I know I am not supposed to write. But my mother decided to be a little lenient with me because

  • I just finished 4 exams (horrible ones) and managed to study for about 7 hours everyday
  • It is my birthday
Yeah. I have finally turned 14. Or maybe just turned 14. Because the fact that I am 14 just emphasizes the fact that I have wasted that many years of my life doing nothing. I just WASTED SO MUCH TIME. Seconds that are not coming back. Maybe I changed in between all these years. But how much of the change has actually made me a better person? Someone worth living?
This is the first birthday I am not hyperventilating about. Usually days of counting and scrimping and constant reminding precede birthdays. This time the only thing that remains are the reminders to parents to get me books and that too only because I am typically poor high-school-er. And not many people remembered to wish either. Just notification reminder wishes and machine wishes. Google wished me. And technically Facebook wished me. But I am not one to complain. I am so horrible at remembering birthdays that even I forget my own birthday. I only know my brother's birthday by heart. NOTHING ELSE. So thanks to any one who wished me anyway.
I wanted to do something meaningful this day. Write something good, do something good, be something good. All I did was by heart Malayalam meanings (for my exams) and continue to be the blog-addicted-social-life-less-zombie.
I hope my above statement conveyed the exact feeling I am feeling.
Blast it.
Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to a loser, that's all I will be.


PS(Added after noticing the date)- Its Friday the 13th today. Happy birthday to me.

Sunday, November 24, 2013


The thing about writing a blog is that if you don't write it will haunt you. It follows you, inhabiting the fat textbooks that my bag are burdened with. They silently scream at me when I open them when prodded by my even-eviller teachers. They come with me in my dilapidated van, squeezing themselves in the gap between me and very fat 10 year old. The leaky pen looks at me like a mini, very-angry Medusa, wanting to punish me for not using and making something more useful than equations and pancake suns. My MP3 sings the song 'The Writer' permanently despite desperate attempts to change it from repeat. I think it is because on last checking Google says that there is no song called 'The Blogger'. I mean the reason why it is playing the song called 'The Writer'. I wake up sweaty after failing in blog-o-exams. Which means that all my good posts would be deleted and the all my chemistry notes would be automatically uploaded online. (Yaaaaaaaaaargh!!)
Yeah, the blog-o-exam nightmare is much worse.
 Blog writing needs more motivation than doing a million somersaults in a minute (even though I have never done more than one in five minutes). It is even more addictive than cocaine or alcohol (I have never tried either so basically this may or may not be true). So if anybody thinking about creating a blog... RUN!! RUN FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR SOCIAL LIFE!!! RUN FAR AWAY IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE A ZOMBIE PERENNIALLY STARING AT A COMPUTER WHILE YUKKY DROOL COMES OUT OF A HOLE THAT USED TO YOUR MOUTH!!

That is exactly the same advice I wish some kind zombie had given me before I became the victim of the blog-addict-social-life-less-zombie disease. Also know as BASLLZ syndrome.Though that sounds kinda cool. I have the BASLLZ syndrome. Run away from me before I turn you into BASLLZ Zombie!!

Saturday, November 9, 2013


I guess I am not the most motivated person at the person. I don't even want to list out the things that I procrastinated for the end of time to come. And there they shall stay till the end of time. NaNoWriMo for instance. I was desperately desperate to do it till the 31st of October. Day One 'November 1st': Plan dropped and labelled as 'The Endless List Of Niranjana Menon's Failures". Day Two: Despair. Day Three: Despair. Day Four: Despair. Day Five: Forget about the entire thingy.
I am easily the most forgetful person on the planet. I received a chocolate from a not-really-good-friend. But chocolate is chocolate. Unless she poisoned it. Then it is not good chocolate. I vaguely remember putting the chocolate somewhere. Later in lunch break: Crisis mode activated. I am in hysterics. After all I LOST A BAR OF CHOCOLATE. My best-friends attempted to play Sherlock and asked me where I kept the bar of chocolate. I told her "I kept it in my pocket but I don't have a pocket." with a very mournful expression on my face. My friends stared at me incredulously. One banged her head on a wall and the other shook her head. I am obviously the wrong person to find things from.
In other words, everybody on the planet sucks except me. Feel free to take this personally.
I do not have a single complete pen on me. I think I have a cap, a refill and a body of pen all of pens belonging to different brands. I usually end up borrowing a pen worth ₹ 3 (or 0.05 USD) from my friend. I usually mange to lose it too.
I am reading four different books right now. All by different authors, set it in different times, all with different styles. And I have a gazillion tests. I have not opened a single textbook this term. And my marks have suffered. I have swore on all my internet privileges that my exam marks will be waaaaaaay better.
Or else I am toast. With internet-less butter and novel-less jam. Kindly ignore the pun.

This is is where I will run away if my internet is cut. It is almost as good. ALMOST.
Either I am depressed or hyper. My best-friends are not sure which one they prefer. One replied very diplomatically, "When you are depressed I like the hyper you. But when you are hyper, I prefer depressed." Either way I am not very stable. And not the ideal person to approach. But as of November 6th I am hyper. HYPER. 


I AM BACK. Really really back. I mean not from the one week blog-o-break, but the depression-o-break.
I feel happy. And its a long time since that. I mean really, name one person not dipped and roasted in depression-o-sauce after reading my recent posts. And by recent I mean a generous 10 posts or so. And I have with 'increasing unhappiness' when I was unhappy and with 'increasing rearing to undo that when I am happy' noticed my fast falling viewer list.
Graph of Blogger page views
Up, down. up .down, just like my moods. But I am always happy when my ratings are down and unhappy when the ratings are up. Huh.
Don't worry. I am stopping this post here because this is not really the post I mean to share or post. A better one will be out in about an hour. So till then.

Friday, November 1, 2013


Notes, marks, teachers, friendships, best-friends, lies, death, music, sad, grades, tests, breathing, sleep, love, hate, forest, darkness, crushes, pasta, rain, internet, sad songs, tears, fears, poem, novel, circles, depression, backstabbing, clouds, pizza, essays, exams, characters, lost pens, computer,  books, mistakes, maths, idiots, stars, lost, birds, tremor, earthquake, disaster, chocolate,watches, deserts, mistakes, flowers, language, pages, writing, paper, trees, feather.
Wings. Birds. Sky.
I want to fly away. I want to touch the blue skies. I want to feel those demeaning clouds that try to scare me. They can't frighten me away. The monsters of the night are much worse.
I want to fly away. My mind soars all the time. But I want wings. Delicate wings that I can't see. I know that they are there, but I can't find them.
I can't see anybody. I feel blind. Things change faster than time passes. The things are not staying still. They are blurry. So blurry. I can't see any edges. Everything is so vague. I can't see at all. I am blind.
I don't see myself anymore. The mirror shows somebody else. Unknown eyes stare back at me. The eyes once so filled with curiosity now loathes the day. Sometimes it is hidden but the raw pain still surfaces,
I find ugliness when I see things. Beauty has ceased to exist here. I feel that, because I don't have beauty in me nothing else should either. I think I need something to show me that there is still beauty left in what I am and what I do. Somebody. Anybody.
Everything hides. My mind hides. My imagination hides. My pens hide from me. Reports, books, help, friends, myself. Everything dislikes the thing called me.
But I still think my wings are there. I still think that I can fly. I think that I won't cry.
I will fly far away.

Friday, October 25, 2013


After a continuous line of very melancholic, depressive and generally horrible posts I am kind-of-ish back to my normal-ish self. But since the normal-ish self is rarely very happy, I am not very happy right now. I had a freakish week. Seriously I think I can divide myself into two equal halves now. The very loud and quite happy person who magically appears when I am at school, and the depressed, vulnerable side with myself. I officially proclaim out to the world that I suck and that I am a horrible, horrible person.
I technically had not planned this post so I really don't have much idea about what to write. My life is going on a monotonous routine. Wake up really early, do whatever homework I was too lazy to complete the day before, catch up on the things I have to study for the test, frantically search for my uniform and end up wearing mismatched socks. I usually eat my breakfast from the seat of my extremely,super, over-crowded van. I scream at the van driver and disinterestedly listen to newest gossip in the school. I honestly don't care about who like whom or which teacher did the mistake of the week. I climb up the van to grab my bag and trudge to the school, trying to avoid the omnipresent puddles. I go up, do a quick revision, then get sent to the assembly. I doodle over my textbooks and hands and get in minor trouble for not paying attention when in reality I just wasn't staring at the teacher because her lesson really sucked. I hope she goes into jail for killing her students out of boredom. I try to get my classmate out of the class. I go back, endure horrible subjects and get my lunch. I try to murder at least one person with a book or a lunchbox. I get thrown at by chalks. I listen. I go home. I eat. I cry. I sleep.
I wish maybe people would stop hating me.
I know I am not likable but still.
I wish the world, or somebody could make me like myself. I wish I could finally learn to accept myself. I wish that there was something that could make me believe that I am beautiful. I know I ask for too much, but then is it really impossible? Too far-fetched?
I wish I could learn to fly. I want to fly. And I want to breath. I really cannot right now.

Sunday, October 20, 2013


The girl stood up. She had grabbed the hand that was offered to her. Her rise was slow and painful. But then she threw her head back and laughed. Because right then, she had found that she no longer cared.

She looked at her hands. There, on the back of them were small crescent shaped marks. Once in frustration she had dug her nails in and there were tiny imprints left there. That was some days ago. But the imprints were still there. They still stayed. That was some time ago when she had not decided not to take out her anger on her nails. Now they were bitten down, her cuticles were red in the frustration she couldn't seem to let out. Never would it let her go free.

Something, or someone suddenly hit her from behind. It knocked the wind out of her. She trembled out of shock. But when she turned around nothing was there. She still was alone. No one was behind her. Could she have had a delusion? She contemplated this with herself. But the pain had felt so real. It brought her back to real life. 
She wished she knew why everyday she was changing. She wished she knew why, everyday she was getting so, so angry. 

Her mind could not calm down. It would not shut up. She began to wonder whether she had gone crazy. But crazy was funny. Crazy could be nice. She was neither. She was lost. She screamed out in her frustration. Was there no one ever there to hear her? She stumbled on a tiny rock. She found herself lying on the ground. She didn't move. She couldn't move.

A person came crashing through the woods  She stared at the girl splayed on the ground. She had heard her. It sounded so much like her own cry.

She was not happy either, She had hurt herself so many times. All because of her own mistakes. 'Stupid ones', she declared out to herself. Outside, this one was just so happy. Smiling, laughing, singing. But the scars in her mind were not leaving soon either. She too had cried. She too had screamed. She too had wished that someone had heard her. She had given up. But when this piercing cry of intermingled grief and regret reached her, she knew that she had to run for that person. Because she knew it was someone like her. Because she knew that kind of pain. 

And then together they left, still laughing because now someone would be there to hear.

Sunday, October 13, 2013


I breath in.  The air is pure. It carries an after-rain scent with it. My most favourite smell.  It always seems to calm me down.  I try to make myself more comfortable on the old and rickety chair.  I can reach back to my old memories and see my grandfather sitting on this very seat with a seven year old me perched on the edge of his lap. I can't remember much of him nowadays.  He passed away about 6 years ago.  I still remember the name he used to call me. He nicknamed me his little warrior.
A bird watches me from its perch on the mango tree. I attempt to whistle a tune to it. But it seems my whistling capabilities have deteriorated.  All that comes out sounds like a little mynah has been strangled. The bird puffs out its chest and bursts a melody as though it considered me too incomparable an opponent. I laugh.
The chair pokes my elbow. I shift around jerkily. I look around the home I loved as a child. I used to wait for months to go exploring the sleepy old village with its quaint charm. Now I have to be dragged to be brought here.  And that too with sulks and an almost permanent scowl engraved in to my face. But now and then I come here willingly. 
An entire family of the birds I attempted to defeat with my pathetic singing skills are swaddling in front of me. I almost believed they were here for a full-fledged battle with me for laughing at their little proud birdie.  Turns out all they wanted was to enjoy a mid-afternoon bath in the residual water of the rain. Clouds are drifting over me.  I love the sound that the great foliage makes when the mischievous wind dances through  their leaves.
I consider taking a walk through the field of tender rice. I rule it out.  The sun it just too hot right now. 
I think about finding myself a nicer chair. My back has stated to ache. But the chair holds a piece of the curious and happy seven year old girl. I want to find that girl.  Happy all the time,  never so confused about anything. The girl content with herself.  The girl who used to talk to the car and expect it to talk to her. The little girl who wanted to be a fairy. The girl who was me.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Teacher, teacher.

I am really very busy. So here is a poem I wrote to a teacher. I wrote it for "Teacher's Day" but I never gave it to anyone at all.

 (I have not decided what to call it yet)
                                                            By me
You opened our eyes dear teacher
To a world that we never could see

You brought us somewhere better 
than we ever thought we could be.

You did much more than teach.
You created us all a wondrous place
You told us we could reach 
Where we want to wit a fixed gaze.

You put us on the roads 
And showed us our ways.
You relieved our loads
And brought the light to day.

You mean more to us than we 
Could ever tell you 
You showed us that together we are better than just 'me'.
We all love you, we really do.


Thursday, October 3, 2013

Finding Me.

How do you not remember yourself?
I tell myself everything is perfectly fine. I know that tomorrow is better. I smile. I laugh. Correction: I giggle. Once upon a time there was nothing I hated more than pair of squeaky, giggly, glittery girls.I mean, absolutely nothing. I couldn't stand teen magazines, glittery nail polish and *cute* things. And now, TAAA-DAAA I find myself to have evolved into exactly one of those........ things.
What my best-friend told me is absolutely told me today is absolutely completely true. I guess some of you have noticed subtle changes in the quality and composition of the posts too. I hate to say this but,

I have changed.
Before any of you launches into the 'It's alright. People have to change with the cycle of time to adapt' and crap, listen. I did not change to adapt. I changed for my convenience. Okay, fine I am in high-school so I have to act at least a bit like the magical awesome high school. I tried to change my life in to a mini-version of High-School Musical. And maybe I felt that having just two friends was not good enough. And then I changed and waited for myself to be swept off my feet by hordes of friends and adorers.
(That was the sound of me ramming my head in frustration.)
Do you know what was better? When I was completely my normal self, I had more time to think and see and breathe. I had more to write. My mind worked more about everything. In simpler words, life was good.  Not perfect. I had my insecurities (I still do, only increased by a ten-fold). And I had my doubts.
Now I am deceiving everybody with just present. And to top it, I never ever noticed.
I never noticed that I was changing. And today when it all came crashing down on me like a glass dome, I opened old and new wounds and scars. I realised the truth. And now I can't remeber how I really was. I want to got back there. I mean, I don;t care who hates me when I am me and how. I want to be the person I really am.
Just Me.

Sunday, September 29, 2013

Absolutely Raving Mad

I really started out with a really genius idea for a post, but after writing about half of it, I deleted it. It sounded lame. And forced. Very forced. Like somebody tried to over-squeeze a lemon and it turns slightly bitter.
So I am pretty sure you have noticed that the last two posts are, to put it in mild and simple words, DEPRESSIVE. I am not saying that I am in a great mood right now. But slightly better. Microscopically better. Which is why I decided to present a lighter post.
Well, um, uh... oh forget it. I have no humor. Blah. I feel like ramming my head against the desk.
Done. I really think I have gone completely bonkers.
I and my crazy best friend tried to murder each other.
I think the reason was an argument based on democracy or the photons or somethings.
I am not kidding.
My more sane best-friend had to drag us apart.
I was home-alone for a week.
I punched a wall.
I downloaded about 15423 songs and deleted 15405 songs of those.
I watched the first episode of Hannah Montana and found out that I hate it more than ever.
Blah blah.
I made an inspiration jar inspired by Sunny from her blog The Slightly Awkward Geek.
I think she is very nice and runs a nice blog.
I think I need a psychiatrist.
Correction: I need a psychiatrist.
Thank god for spell check on Google.
Otherwise I would never know the spelling of 'psychiatrist'.
I still don't.
I think some of you are probably murdering me in your minds.
I understand.
I think I should stop now.
Please keep your heads on top of your necks.
Got the joke?
I didn't think so.
I tried to a headstand and fell on my back.
I am multi-tasking.
Any one asking whether I lost a couple of nuts?
Probably in the process of repeatedly banging my head against the wall.

Friday, September 27, 2013


Something seems to be missing. No, my mind is deluded. Everything is here, in its place. Everything is perfectly fine. Except for me.
My heart is thudding. So hard. It is starting to hurt a bit. I ignore it. I am not sure about where I have to go. I don't know. I stumble. I am lying on the ground. I don't thing I want to get up. I stay. 
Somebody is standing beside me. I don't know that person very well. I think she wants to help me. She reaches out her hand to me. I don't know whether to reach back. I am torn. What if she let's me fall again? Some people have. Already. Let me fall harder, deeper. But I have always pulled myself back out. I am not sure I have the strength do that anymore. I am fatigued. I need help. I am too scared to ask for it. I am about to reach out for it. I stop myself. 'No, I have to get myself back onto my own feet.' I refuse the hand. I get up, grazing my palms in the process. 
The owner of the hand looks stunned. I think she believed that in the state that I was, I would take any help that came my way. Maybe she really wouldn't hurt me. Maybe...
No. No. I steel myself. I continue my trek to who-knows-where. I hear a scramble behind me. I think she is following me. 
I walk faster  I am determined to let her go. But somebody is following me. Eventually the footsteps slow down. They stop. I turn around, panting. I am alone again. All alone again.
And then I finally know. I was alone. 

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Alice In Wonderland

I am lost. I didn't fall through a hole. I didn't follow a rabbit. A cold breeze brought me here. I could recognize it but then it was a memory from a far past. I know not what it is. I need to follow it. I go through a black hole which seems to be its source. Such a beautiful one.Glistening, glittering. I was in my land. I was in my Wonderland. Everything was a half-truth here. Everything was a half lie here. Nothing was complete. Nothing began. Nothing had ever ended. I know this place. It's a safe haven for me. It won't give me away.It was the one home I have. 
Ah, that breeze is back again. It chills me, it freezes me. But I know the feeling it was bringing along with it. It seems to make happy. So very happy. I have forgotten its name. But I know I remember it. 
I suddenly started. Turn around and find a pair of eyes looking at me. I look at them. I am mesmerized by them. They are brown, liquid like. Velvet eyes I want to reach out to. Eyes like never before. But they have started to look away. Those are moving away. They are running away from me. I realize a need for them to stay. I can't breath. I knew I could never catch up. Those  moving to fast. But I blindly ran up the forest. I vainly try to pursue them. I am too slow. Panting, tripping, I come to a slow stop. It is too late. The golden forests are empty but for the silently whispering trees.
Something is running down my cheek. Tears. I never cried before. I never cared enough to cry. 
I make my way through the forest. I knew my way here. It seemed as though I had come here with a map etched in my mind. I knew this place in my heart. I know that a little farther ahead rests a a shore. A small patch of sand decorated with  millions of glittering shells. The forest slowly receded. It cleared out. I rapidly suck my breath in. It is so much prettier than the way I knew it. Than the way I had dreamed about it.I set myself down on the prickly sand. It hurt me. It hurt me quite a lot. 
I don't know how long I had stayed there before I feel somebody's searching gaze. I pray that it is my velvet eyes before I turn around. It is not. However I don't mind these either. These eyes don't want to hurt me. I invite them to join me in my desolate and yet comforting dwelling. These eyes are different from the first ones. They want to come. But they don't. They too start to run away. 
I somehow know I need to keep moving. I am sweating. I am tired. I keep losing myself. I fall. I see glimpses of some other eyes. Some that were hiding dark, alien secrets. Some I knew so well but still didn't know at all. Some that were hurting themselves and hurting me. A set trying to show me the way. A lying pair too. I realize that no one was really staying. I feel a lance of pain shoot through my chest.I am hurting. I am in pain. I do not have anybody with me. I am all alone.
I pick up a twig and write in big, crude letters with tears clouding my vision,
'Please stay. Don't leave me alone. Please help.'
With a jolt I realize the breeze has stopped. I suddenly know its name too. It was known as hope.

Thursday, September 12, 2013


This is all spontaneous so you may not like this. I am suddenly feeling all down. It started with a conversation and suddenly I am all upset. For no reasons at all. I am freaking out for things I can't understand. I don't understand who is a friend, who is not. I am mixed. I am risking upsetting at least 5 people. Very badly. I tried to listen to music to make me happier. I just got some crappy songs. Nothing seems to be going right this afternoon. I wish I had somebody I could really open up to right now.Everybody seems missing right when I need them.
I just am trying to diagnose my feelings. I talked a bit to my best friend and she told me that I had got a severe case of confusion with a large dose of not being able to comprehend anything. I would do anything to talk to her right now. I simply can't.
I simply can't mess up right now. Not in my life. I keep on trying to make myself happy but in the end get so sad. Upset with things that I can't seem to control.I have the reins but the horses of life just too strong. I am lucky. But still the luckier the more upset.
I know that life is very good. But just when I think I am perfectly patched up I go and get a new bruise. I feel like Bella from Twilight (I don't like it but I am reading it cause my friends love it). Stumbling over everything. So very clumsy.
Don't worry. I am perfectly fine. I keep on getting upset like this every now and then. I just was on the computer when I got this pang of desperation. I will be fine. I will survive. Au revoir. (French)

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Pasta and Masks and Tempers

By the way, have ever told any of you this? I get annoyed really, really quick. The smallest joke wounds my ego which seems too tender by the bigger bruises. Anything and everything tends to make me a upset. Yeah so, hello again. Here is my promised post. But beware, I am not in the best of moods.
I made pasta without injuring myself too much. I did chip off a little bit of my finger's skin. The pasta turned out pretty great. It was just a medley of some kinda pasta plus a million sauces plus a liter of ketchup plus old oregano plus a melted blob of cheese and a ruined sausage. It is definitely surprising that it turned out edible.
I did a mask for my SUPW project. I can definitely see that bewildered expression on your face.
S- Socially U-Useful P-Productive W- Work. 
I don't know how making masks and baskets out of handmade paper is helping my society. One of the weird paradoxes of my school. My mask originally looked terrible. It looked like a dying pharoah and a sea-sick man combined together.
Yeah. So I guess this is the end of the earlier promised post. I gotta go. Peace people! 


Nope. I am not even bothering with an apology.  I will just write a quick post and be back by Friday. Hopefully.
7 quirks about me:
1. I love raw mangoes. Salted raw mangoes.  I eat them by the tonne.
2. I have a tendency to bite my nails and lips a lot. A LOT.
3. I get terrible car sickness.  Just car sickness.  Nothing on trains,  buses or flights.
4. I lose everything.  Especially my glasses.  The problem with losing glasses is that you can't keep them to find them.
5. I tend to multi task a lot.  I study, eat, listen to music, watch television and babysit my brother simultaneously.
6. I like to keep my room dirty.  It makes me feel right at home.
7. I am hyperactive.  Not medically but ask qnyone who knows me for a minute.  They will swear that not only am I hyperactive and nuts but also slightly crazy. And very weird.

so that's how we come to the end of a very short post. I will be able to get a chance to write a post by Friday but I think I have an incomplete one somewhere here.  If I find i will post it.  Ciao. 

Tuesday, August 27, 2013


I won' bother with an explanation about why I didn't write for about three weeks. I am losing count. My life is busy. However most of the  busy-time is utilized by daydreaming. I definitely spend too many hours a day in fantasies. Faraway places I wished were really true. Which could be what I want to write about today.
As always I am the weirdo. The dreamer. The girl who apparently looks like the world would go past and still not notice. A person who is generally affected by barely anything. I am the rock. Made of steel. But of course in my fantasy world I am not the same. I am more generally a person who I can never be. A popular, loved, cute, adorable person. Well known and having and with a hell lot of friends. Having fun. And happy. Well there ain;t nothing I can do about it is there? And since I am too busy ( read too lazy) to write even more I will write later. Maybe today itself as tomorrow is a holiday. Bye

Wednesday, August 14, 2013


Honestly... sorry. I am a lazy, lazy idiot.  And I ave been busy. Doing almost nothing. I have been busy in my head. Don't you dare question me.
 And remember my obsolete, unknown civilization place where I was going? On the contrary there are a lot of people there. And a lot of food. Especially food. Did I ever mention the fact that I love food? I eat like a cannibal who hasn't eaten 15 days. I keep on saying that I am on diet but my resolve breaks down the second I see food again. So.... yeah. (Note: I am a little crazier than usual)
I really don't have a specific topic to write about. I am actually having a nice-ish time at school. I missed a day of school on Wednesday. And my school is gone into overdrive because a little bit of rain, a political tiff and an extended 'Eid' which resulted in a week of holiday. So a single day of holiday meant that I would end up 20 pages of maths work, 5 pages of biology and some Malayalam. My maths teacher unfairly suggests that we have to submit the book the same day or we would lose marks. Apparently, being absent is not an excuse.
Otherwise, life seems pretty good to me. Oh, yeah! There is another little problem. My MP3 died and I lost the charger. It simply seems to have vanished off the face of earth. Boo-hoo. I am hungry. I am weird. I suck. But I am awesome. I am so weird that even if I know I suck I think I am the greatest person on the freaking planet. I love music. My greatest wish:
(It is great quote) 'I want books and food to be free and have endless amount of money.'
Its the best thing god could ever bestow on me. Anyways I will write later. 'Krikette sayı'. (Turkish)
P.S. My arch nemesis has started a blog. It is over here. Do not check it. Never.

Monday, August 5, 2013

Terrible post.

Righty right... I have news. I am going away to another place with no internet for a week. Forget internet, I doubt there is civilization there. Ugh. I am being dragged away by force to that lost, unknown and terrible place. Today's post will not, I repeat will not be talking about a specific topic.
So yesterday was friendship day. I do not believe in a day set aside for friendship. Even though I have about three people I can call friends, I have great logic and philosophies about friendship day being unnecessary. I mean friends are forever. You don't need a specific day to celebrate for friends. If you have friends you are always celebrating. Which reminds me of the second topic of the day..... my At Home.
It was on Saturday and  Saturday was the most rainiest day the city saw this year. I mean the drops were literally the size of mini elephants. You couldn't get out without soaking yourself to the bone. On the dress rehearsal day I managed to get the less-est amount of makeup that would required on stage all over my face. On the actual performance day I dabbed way tooo much powder on my nose. But the program was a smash hit.
I am sorry people I really, really have to leave. I won't even have time to share this post. I will see you guys later. Bye-bye.

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Getting ready

Hey everybody!! (Cheery, optimistic mode ON) I am in a really good mood after..... well let's just say its been a loooooooong time. And I  have a longish post incoming.
So another school even t is on. I bet you all remember the old one. Or do you? Ah here is the link. Click it. I order you. Click!!! SO yeah. This is our annual day. Or talent show. Or some crap like that. Only catch is.. the teachers decide what we do. I mean We can't pick the event we do. I mean we can pick whether we want to recite or dance but be warned. The teacher's will kick you out if they feel you are not good. And the selection criteria is kinda random. Or a little more bluntly put, crazy.Anyways this year like last year I went for recitation. In the (hopefully) forgotten two years ago's past I was 'Alice' in Wonderland. And the rabbit was my arch-nemesis. Needless to say, we weren't great on the stage together. Let's just say that it was not one of the greatest thing I have ever done.
So, yeah my recitation. We are reciting poem Keramos. And on the stage there will be a depiction of a potter molding things and a child becoming a man (and dancing to the tunes of You are sixteen, Going on Seventeen) ( It's absolutely hilarious. I almost fell off the stage laughing the first time I saw it. My Arch-nemesis who hates girls is dancing with a partner. During a twirling move he touches his partner as though she is some kind of bacteria. Hilarious. He will probably murder me) So. Then we are by technicality supposed to rehearse all day. In reality we practice for about an hour. And that too with quite a lot of breaks. But the practice we do is quite a lot of fun. So today we assembled on the stage and stood up on benches. Let me explain. We, the reciters are of varying heights. So in order for everybody to be 'visible' the teachers ordered 5 of us to stand on a small bench and 5 to stand on a bigger bench. The rest stands on the ground. And since I am the good-willed soul I went and fetched heavy benches from the first grade class room. And when we all stood on the bench... it decided to wobble furiously. Half of us almost toppled over. But I stayed put. Then the very boring parts. The teachers decided we were really good and kept on rehearsing the drama part of it. But obviously for the drama we had to recite. In the end we all sat down. A friend sitting beside me started reading as though there was no tomorrow at all. Me and a couple of people in back started talking about how we missed the old cartoons. The old Disney, Cartoon Network. I even got emotional. Then came the part when we started laughing so hard about our naivety when we were small. The resolutions like "I want to become a fairy". The beliefs that if we tried hard enough a Pokemon would come out a toy and that a letter from Hogwarts would appear. And a little joke about somebody believing coconuts could be sent via the email. (I am definitely getting murdered tomorrow. By several people.) I had tears running down my cheek by the time the final bell rang. So I am just saying.... no matter how bad it gets, one day it will start getting better. Way better. And hopefully it has for me. Adios. (Spanish)

Friday, July 26, 2013


Okay. Hello people. I had a very very depressing week. Don't even ask me where I was. The location would be locked up in my bedroom bawling my eyes out. Reasons are pretty much confidential. I don't know but I miss my old life. Or I should say 'lives'. 
People of my age generally don't do that. Specifically, people around me. They don't know how it feels to be outcast everywhere. To not know where your home. To startle awake in the middle of the night and wonder where you are. To be... stuck in middle. Missing a place you didn't love at all.: now that's an extremely hard emotion to cope with. To understand. Look, I don't even remember half the things but I just want to invent a time machine and pop back into the past. Ugh. See, even though I hate moving, I love moving. Makes sense? No? Not to me, either.
My travels are long enough to complete a travelogue with. I have attended as many schools as Percy Jackson had by the second book(my latest obsession). Its kinda good to start anew, but then its hard. Life doesn't work in way that you completely start over again. Some part of your old life will forever be with, dragging you and if unpleasant, scarring you. So what about me? I had many friends. I had even more enemies. What has my journeys given me? A chance to affect more people? A lot of car-sickness? I absolutely have no idea. I just know that i have trampled over, squished and molded into this person who is stuck in the middle of nowhere.
 So how was I keeping for the few days? Well I will try to explain. I tried to observe 'normal' day. I tried to prove that my craziness was self-induced to protect the vulnerable half. I watched old videos and cried a bit. I read a book in 2 hours (half from my moving van and getting sick).I got screamed at by my best friend. I learnt from a boy that everyone hated me because I am a showoff. What I showoff is still a mystery to me. Whatever. I miss being small. I miss easy life. Ciao. (Italian)

Sunday, July 14, 2013

A typical family movie night

Guess what? I watched a movie with cousins and uncle and my aunt and my parents and my little brother, Now you think 'Not such a big deal'. Yeah I agree. That's what I thought too. But seeing a movie with a cousin sister who can't wait to get back to her books and h her temperamental dad and her biiig brother who keeps on kicking me and my little brother who kept stamping over me and... well now I have got your attention, don't I? So let's get kicking.
So, actually my cousin sister study's in a semi-boarding school kinda place. Its just the weird things designed to make to student life harder than it already is. But it absolutely reformed her from the girl who doesn't like studying much too a religiously hard working studious girl. Her parents like the new version her. But if I were given a choice... well let's just say it wouldn't be hard. So she took a couple of days off and came over to our house instead of her own one. Let me explain. The place where she studies is far from my house. Her house is far too. But in opposite directions. Thus my house is the midway point. So to save time and travelling, she comes from her school to my house and her family comes from their home to mine. So after dinner we decided to watch a movie. Despite loud protests from my recently- turned-into-geek cousin we pulled her upstairs turned on the television and inserted the disk to watch a what seemed like typical boy meets girl story. At first my sis and I tried to snuggle under a blanket. But it was soon discarded when we realized we weren't in a country where it was cold even when it was pouring tanks outside.We tried to fashion it into a pillow but threw it away when we realized it was not big enough and started fighting for it. Soon the movie started getting so boring I wondered whether Algebra was better. And I hate maths. My brother started playing bungee jumper over my tummy. And when I tell you this believe me. It hurts to get stamped on your stomach after stuffing yourself. I pushed him off me when I got an idea about writing a blog post about this. I scribbled it onto a notebook and hoped that I would remember it today. (I did) Anyway the blanket slowly started to look more and more tempting probably because my cousin brother put the fan on full speed. The movie tugged on. My brother started fussing. My mom put him to sleep. She started asking me what happened in her absence right when a interesting-ish twist came. Which pissed me off. Humph. My uncle left halfway. My aunt dozed off. So did the brother of cousin. And then..... BOOM after a million twists the girl in the movie suicides and the the directors make us think 'You just made so many twists to make this girl kill herself?' My cousin quickly returned to her books. I went to search for a new novel my dad gave me and sat up an finished it. Time check: 2:00 am.
So people, later. I have classes to attend. Tootle pips. 

Thursday, July 11, 2013

A goodish day

After a long time in aaaaaaaaaages I feel good. And that too is in my mind. I mean only feeling happy. I am coughing like a person who has really, really bad cough. Oh, I know that simile sucked. But what else coughs like I am coughing right now? So here is little list of what I have been doing in the last two days.
Well I had a little holiday yesterday. Don't ask me why. Some dumb politicians bickering with each other like babies. Well, that works for us. Anyway I wanted a little break from my MONOTONOUS routine. I had to prepare for a Mock-interview (Wait, I will come to that later.) and literary club. In the end I did nothing yesterday except stare at the computer, download some songs without listening to them and having to delete them when I realize they are totally not my kind of songs. So in another way, nothing useful.  So yeah, coming back to the Mock-interview which can also be classified as the second most embarrassing day of my life. Technically mock-interview is a competition in which you become somebody famous (You know, like Abraham Lincoln) and then teachers interview you as though you are that person. I had gone for the preliminary round just for fun. I mean I was absolutely, completely sure that I wouldn't get selected for the finals. Well, but I did. Which meant today I would have to dress up as  Indira Gandhi, the first women prime minister of India. Which was not a good idea. NOT a good idea. So now coming to the second engagement of today, the literary club (Christened LitAura). Okay now..... I am too lazy to write about it. So let's leave that for another day. Just know that I had to maroon my debate team in beginning as I had to go for the finals of the above-mentioned competition. And when I returned my team had almost lost. The main reasons:
  • My best friend (One of the best debaters I know) was on the other team. When we are on different teams we just end up debating among ourselves when most others watch in silence. (I am not sure what causes the silence. I probably guess its because we two are too loud.)  
  • I have no idea what the second reason was. 
So, in the end I semi-rescued my group (with a lot of help from some other people, who filled me up on what had happened). But technically speaking the other team won. Humph.
Anyways one more thing. I have added a new page called 'Knowing me little bit better'. So look at it. Follow a few guidelines I have listed there. So toodles. (I have officially kinda run out of languages to say farewell in. So I will get some words here and there and then I will start again from the beginning)

Monday, July 8, 2013


Oh I don't know anymore. I am confused. About everything. I don't even tell the difference from an elephant and a hippo. Nothing makes sense anymore. Dread everywhere. I am more upset than I should sound. Nothing much happened today. But the last two days... well let's just say they have been in the dumps. This is actually the fifth time I am attempting to write. Which means I have four more drafts in my post list.7 Which I will have to delete if I succeed in completing and clicking that orange button that boldly proclaims 'Publish'. I don't have heart in anything I do anymore. I don't even know hey I write when I am hardly any good. I am not good at anything I try. I am not like those people who can get everything they do right the first time they try. I can't get it right second third or maybe even the fourth time. And its not like I don't want to get it right the first time. If people can't see that I try not to be my obnoxious, bossy self I can't do anything. A couple of days ago I made a list of the things I have been called. Needless to say, it was quite long. Over 30 names. And yesterday I have been expanding it. I then doodled it onto my rough book. A small dark figure with a huge cloud of names on top of the head. Me. I don't have anything much to say. I will just type down a poem I wrote a couple of days ago after seeing a depressed person ranting away about how she wants to die and all that. Me, nah I want to live a good life. I am hoping for the happy tomorrow.

                                                             Going Away
                                                                            -Niranjana Menon
Look for me,
Cry out for me,
But now you can't
Find me for I
Am going, gone.
Lost, hurt, tired
Of the wounds
That you caused on me.

Crying, broken, going away
Search for me all you can
But now I am invisible
Hiding so cannot
Scar me anymore
Or tear that last shred
Of hope I cling on to.

Monday, July 1, 2013


My typical idea of a holiday:
  • Laze around
  • Get bored
  • Surf on the internet
  • And forget work I have to do
This leads to having to wake up at five on Monday. And learn for all the dumb tests I have. I think that all these tests are pointless. But that's just the early morning grumpy me.  Then I trudge off to my school with my weighing-a-ton bag in my stupid overfilled van. I reach in class and discover I had homework. I sit with a grumpy face and scream at my best pal and whoever is sitting next to me. I get called down for assembly when I am trying to finish math corrections. I stare at the rumbling clouds at pray to the lords to not make it rain so that some of our first period will usurped by the assembly. We line up, say the prayer and bang... what happen? The heavens open their taps and we all manage to get ourselves drenched to the bone while getting screamed at our safely dry principal that we were running.  We enter the class and the teacher takes a million notes. The second the bell rings, Entrez my positively evil maths teacher. Scowling she turns my bad math grade into a good one (her mistake, I assure you) and sets a evil test. We write till the next bell ring and then enters next teacher..
(Paraamparrra parara) (Sound horn)
extremely dramatic history teacher. After overhearing her scolding those who didn't complete their work (I did not join them today, fortunately) I submit my work and shamelessly talk throughout the class while the teacher rants away about the constitutions. Then a short break, only 15 minutes though. But very busy minutes. I finish one diagram in physics, go with my sick best friend to get a sanction for a socio-environment club and manage to eat quarter a cookie. The bell rings all too  fast and then I sit and listen to the monotomous voice of my physics teacher while being unable to concentrate on the diagram of a periscope. My friend finally snatches the book from me and finishes a complex picture that I had been sweating over. The rest is more or less a blur. I prop my eyelids open during Economics, tear a piece of paper meant for origami in Craft and getting scold in Art for forgetting my drawing works.I share lunch with friends, dump gravy on my shirt and do some computer work. I am pretty sure I sleep through the next two classes. Our class teacher dumps the news that we will be having class on the next Saturday as a result of the extended weekend. And finally while waiting to be carted home I get drenched in muddy water by my van. This is what I call boring, exhausting and unfair. My friends are holidaying somewhere while I learn equations.  Anyways I just want to say that I would warn you not to expect posts any time soon. Please understand. 안녕히 가세요. (Korean)

Sunday, June 23, 2013

My bit

Last week I was depressed. I mean depressed. But then this week I was extremely happy. Well most of the time anyways. See you would think that depression would hit me bad but then I shrug it off and continue. But there is thing really on my mind.
In the North India there is a huge flood. A huge flood that has killed thousands of people. Left several more homeless and often hopeless. India is waiting with bated breath to learn the extent of the disaster. And the epicenter of the disaster is a holy place called Kedarnath. Most of the people were pilgrims and tourists. Roads disappearing as though they never existed. I was glued to the television watching three storeyed buildings getting washed away as though they were my baby brother's building blocks. Only they weren't. And they had people in them. Real people with dreams and hopes and people waiting for them at home. And right now dumb politicians are fighting about why so-and-so hasn't done anything and making tasteless remarks about the disaster stricken area. I was shocked. I sat, mouth wide open. People are dying, dead and they're fighting like toddlers? I couldn't believe the leaders of my country.
I shudder, it could have been me. It could have been anybody I care about. Right now, I don't know anybody there but if I did I know how painful it would be. I have been screaming at my best friend (through a phone so old it probably was owned by a caveman.  Ugh, here I am complaining about my life when I am talking about a disaster) that we had to do something. She very sensibly and diplomatically replied, 'We can't.' Two words but the complete realty. What the hell can a 13 year old living a million miles away from where the disaster happened do? So I decided to write about it. To let the world know. I can scream about and let the world pray. I can pray alongside. I won't sit idle. I will help. I have to help. I have helped. 'Sib ntsib dua'. (Hmong)

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Lahdidah deedah

I am unhappy. I have several reasons to be. I discovered that in my school of 1500 people exactly two people like me. Yes that's right.  And suddenly without reason today I got angry at them. I was stuffed into a six-seater van with seventeen people, I have a 25 marks maths assignment tomorrow  I had a surprise english test and I am upset for god-knows what reasons. I don't know why but all these days I am either too bubbly or depressed. And this makes me weirder. I do weird poses, apparently laugh too much and overreact. And even though the people who say all this don't know the first thing about me, it still hurts. I mean I thought that I was used to this. Getting teased, made fun of, getting stabbed from behind. Then I used to cry. Now it just feels like a lurching. A numbness due to too much pain. Then I realize that I just want to be someone else. A perfectly normal person. I guess nothing is abnormal about normal. Then you can hide in the shadows. Shadows so deep that nobody will ever find you. I don't care any longer. 
I am not melancholic. I am not a psycho. I am not dumb either. I am just in a bad mood. I wish there were more people who actually cared about everybody. Ah anyway a good does of ranting always improves my mood. I am happy again. Lahdidah deedah. Anyways since I am all settled in school now I will go back to regular posting schedules. 

Thursday, May 30, 2013

The sorry uses of sorry

Oh well. I am late. But this time I purposely delayed it because I was thinking about an idea for a new book. WIth the idea dumped in a trash and me sick as a dog I really was not in the mood to write.I have this horrible cold and that too right before the school starts. I mean my body had an entire two months of awful summer to get sick in and now when the climate has cooled up after a couple of rains I am sick. It sucks. And yes I am sorry for being a complaint box. Which reminds me of today's topic.
Yes, sorry is the most overused words we know of. And also so the one which is most inappropriately used. You make a mistake. Its alright when you say that you are sorry for it. But when you repeat the mistake then its pointless. It breaks trust. It is pointless. There are two waqys of misusing sorry.
A) By saying it too much
B) By saying it for things you didn't know
 The first one just gets boring. I mean okay I didn't do something: 'Sorry, I will do it tomorrow'. Then the same thing the next day and the next.
And the second one is unnecessary. If somebody's dad died you offer your condolences. Why apologize? Its not your fault that they passed away. Unless something is truly connected to your mistake don't say sorry. Save the word from misuse.
It will be important sometime and by the time that situation comes that word may not be anything more that any mere word. So anyways I am sorry for being unable to write a long post. I am sick. So till next time, 'kas nors nesvarbus'. (Lithunian)

Friday, May 24, 2013


I see several footprints in the dust. They lead to different places, to different stories, to different lives. I  cannot follow any for the wind erases those marks when I try to pursue them. I also cannot see the marks that I make for they are left for others to see and know and believe that no matter what happens, life goes on. It tells me and them that I can't try to follow any path other than mine and that I am the captain of my own ship of fate.  And it tells us not to stop anywhere until life do us part.
      In the barefooted prints of the poor man I see the cracks of his life, slowly disintegrating. He struggles to eat one square meal, yet he doesn’t give up not until the last straw fails. He will not worry about anything other than the immediate tomorrow. There is but little hope for him. The winds of  time will forget him soon enough. The winds of time will forget him when he is gone.
Then in the tracks left by the pair of broken, secondhand footwear I see the owner's worries. He is anxious about his children, his health and the fearful prospect of future. He has but few securities. He doesn't have a sound future but he will continue trudging the way till his end. The winds of time will not remember him for long either. He will die away.

The footprints of the shoes of the busy executive hold several secrets and even more anxieties. He worries about his promotions, his fussy wife and the prices of the stock-market. He fears tomorrow. He will be wiped away like sand by the winds of time. It won't take too long.
The pencil heels of the rich woman desperately trying look young tell stories of deception and doubt. She has cheated many. She has fears. She needs her money to survive and in some ways is still trying to turn time back. She is disgusted by a dirty beggar. She pays no heed to the middle aged worried middle aged looking man or the businessman in the crisp ironed suits. She lives for herself. Her tale won't be repeated for long. She too will disappear with time.
There is an unknown man hidden in the shadows, all alone. There is a farmer worried about rains. There is a old grandmother deserted by her off-spring. There is a woman worried about her weight. There is small boy who wants a new toy. But they too will go.
Then? Then there is me. I  am young. I have a long way to go. My tracks still have a long way to go. My story may be told to others, or it may not be. But I will go on. I will go on for others to see that I can. I have ‘miles to go before I sleep, miles to go before I sleep’. 'さようなら' (Japanese)

Monday, May 20, 2013


Hey everybody. Late again. Yeah I know but I had no inspiration. And I can't seem to write a single sentence properly. I just deleted half a post I had written right now and classified it as trash. And I am worried as to whether I am out of ideas. I can't be running out of ideas. That isn't fair. And as I wait to get something workable with I am running out of time. Oh, bulls eye! I hit an idea! I will tell you about a hobby of mine.
So don't think its the normal 'play a piano' or 'read a book' thing. Its rather more interesting. And more fun and informative. So what is the weird hobby of mine? Observing people. Anybody. I don't care if it is an infant or a  forty-five year old woman. This is quite hard, you know. First of all you have to make sure nobody catches you staring at them. If they do make sure you are bold enough to stand the awkwardness. But otherwise it is the easiest thing possible. There is so much to learn about a person. You can know so much more about them by watching what their wear, how their mood is, maybe what they read and how they socialize. In fact sometimes it is almost like reading a book. I have seen some really entertaining characters (Courtesy- the amount of traveling I have done). Some of them I have observed in close detail and others from farther away. And some of them have taught me some things. For example it was my best friend (I still don't understand that crazy girl) who taught me that being uncool was cool. Also, an old woman we saw while we were traveling in Singapore who gave my little brother a packet of chocolates without even knowing us taught me that kindness doesn't always come from people who love or even know you. That was a random act of kindness. And what did she earn by it? A little thank you? No, she got more. She stole a place in all our minds. So by learning about other people, you know more about the challenges you may have to face. The sight of the bed-ridden woman next-door tells me that sometime in the future it could be me. Her spoilt son tells me (metaphorically) that I have the capability to break some people. And watching everybody tells me that everybody has a story to tell. I am not the only one and that sometimes I have to listen to what those suppressed tales have to tell me. 'Vale'. (Latin)

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

A little piece of me

Hello all. I am a day late for today's post. I was traveling (still am actually) and have just managed to wrench the computer out of my cousin's hands. And I realized a thing while going through my recent posts. None of them were good enough, not even up to the standards of a crazy teen. So today I thought maybe I would write a little about myself
I am kind of a daredevil of my class. That doesn't mean I climb up trees or fist-fight or anything. I would leave that to my best friend. But in some ways I sometimes represent people. When my group or something connected to me gets in trouble I take responsibility. If a teacher asks us to meet him or her I go in first and talk to them. I am one of  the only girls who can make the lazy people do some work. I make everybody put their noses to their grinding stone. Whether its a little class presentation or an exhibition I do anything to make it good. Also I take the blame if anything goes wrong. Usually people hate me for making them do the work. They think I am just awful. They think I am the teacher's pet. They think I am made up of stone and don't care about anyone other than myself. And then they make my life a little miserable. I know that a couple of my present classmates may read this and think I am exaggerating. They won't if they had followed me through my life. I have been hurt many times. But then I pull through the change. The previous school I attended made life hell for me. I was an outcast but still since my teachers liked me was in-charge of some important things. People didn't cooperate and made it clear that nothing I did would make them like me. They even made some untruthful complaints about me. But then the teacher didn't believe it. Somebody trusted me atleast and then I continued. I finished the year and to great delight returned to the school I really loved. Here again with the odds stacked against me I lived. Though it was a close cut.
I love my life. The number of times I have to go through change is far more numerous than anybody else I have met. It gave me\ knowledge. And then I know far more than them.
Now I have put you all in a bit of melancholy. I am happy. If I were without these troubles my life would be perfect. And I hate perfect. Its too good for me. So anyways 'Agur' (Basque)

Saturday, May 11, 2013

a 'Good' meal

Okay now wait, don't think I am going to write about some restaurant or some meal I have eaten or the maker of the meal or anything. You should have noted the quotations next to the Good and the capitals I gave that word up in the heading. Today I am feeling quite crazy and have several jumbled up thoughts. So I have mixed several thoughts of mine about 'goodness' (You know - Be good, help people, etc.etc) and have served in front of you. Please enjoy! 
First Course
The hardest thing in this world is to be good. No, I don't mean the perfect, angelic goody-two-shoes type of good. I mean the normal and sound ‘good’.  Life gives us several opportunities, almost always for the better.  But if you ignore those pathways of light and take the wrong back alley, well the only thing life can do is sit and watch as your life crashes down, eventually it will. Life is helpful but in the end you are the one who has control over it and how you want to use it. But not trust the trust that you break by being 'ungood'. Trust shatters the moment it falls. And when it breaks it is impossible to pick up the pieces again. So by not being good it not only ruins you but also others. 
Second course
You can pick how good you want to be. Either you can donate three-fourths of what you earn to orphans or you can help an old woman with her shopping bags. You can pick the amount of goodness you carry in yourself. It can't be measured but others will feel it. But I will tell you that it will most certainly give you happiness. Being good brings happiness.  (Is this getting too cheesy?)
Third Course
So recently my best friend asked me a question (via internet) '  If the world had good in it, would bad have to be there?'. I stood on top of my head trying to find an appropriate reply. I didn't respond but realized on how many different levels this single question can be answered. The first thing that came into my mind was Newton's 'To every action there is always an equal and opposite reaction'.  Then I thought about answering some philosophical dump. Then I stopped thinking and observed my younger brother. He is usually angelic but a little devil at times. But if I were asked whether he is good or bad my answer will be good. It is not that he has never done bad things. But maybe his good qualities were better. So I realized that good and bad coexist in us. There will be some bad in every good. Someone's gain may be someone else's loss. 
Okay that's it. I am not torturing you anymore. So anyway hope you liked the 'meal'. Anyways 'zdravo'. (Bosnian)

Wednesday, May 8, 2013


You know what brings me happiness? Rains.
To some it means the squelching of boots. To small kids it means a chance to show off their new umbrellas and pretty  raincoats. To their mothers it says of forever wet clothes and diseases. To the daddies it means getting stuck in traffic jams and getting late. To the farmer it brings sights of young stalks of green rice slowly raising their heads. To his children it brings hopes of second-servings and maybe a new dress or doll. And to me? To me it brings chances. A chance to wipe away all my mistakes. A chance to eat lunch with my friend by the window of our class and not have to talk to communicate. A chance to lay my head on the cold glass window and watch the great big drops splash. A chance to throw away my umbrella and dance in the rain. 
And most importantly to smell the rain.
‘The smell of rain’. Some of you may have been mystified by that imagery. Rain doesn’t smell of anything, right? Wrong. I used to think that it just smelled like wet dirt. But then there is so much more than that. There is the aroma of the earth cooling down. Another one is the whiff of a plant germinating. There is the perfume of the newly-bloomed flower. And there is the scent of hope. It’s beautiful.
Or you can hear the rain. Or see the rain. But you can't be idle. There is a feast for the senses when it rains. I take idyllic strolls after a huge storm. You can sense the improvement in the moods of all those who had been driven to the point of madness by the heat. Although some of you still might still dislike rain, I feel it is the most beautiful thing to experience.  Right now while I am waiting for the great black clouds that are floating about to release their burden, those of you who have rain right now throw open your windows.  Let in the drops of happiness. Let the smell of earth teach you a little more about life. Let those drops fall into your hands. And most importantly 'Always remember to dance in the rain.' (Holly Jameston)
'Nanamilit'. (Cebuano)

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Me, the Superhero

Hello. I am back. So as I am tired of travelling right now I am just posting something I wrote a few days ago. I will go back to posting every three days. So now my post:
Sometimes when I watch dystopian movies or anime or read similar books I have a tiny desire. In almost everything of this genre we see several people die. I just feel that if a similar scene occurs I don't want to be a part of the first victims. I don't want to die without being important, without reason or being known. I would like to fight or something, not just get zombified immediately. I know we all have or still imagine ourselves as some kind of superhero. My New Year resolution when I was 5 was to become a fairy when I grow up. Silly but it explains human psychology pretty well. We all make ourselves the protagonists of our stories. At least few dozen writers can take credit to that. We self-upgrade ourselves to heroes.  We write about how we would have reacted in a similar consequences. We improve our characters and give that personality to the character. We…oh you get  the flow, right? So coming back to what I was saying, I want to be important. I don't want to die the second Martians land on the planet. I don't just want to sink immediately in the Titanic. I  don't want to be killed by a bomb before a battle starts. I just can’t be in the background.
That hardly is my definition of 'Superhero' me
        I often picture myself in the place of some main character of something, mostly female. But I just cannot consider myself being a damsel-in-distress. Neither can I see myself as a brusque, extremely powerful, withdrawn girl. I can’t be Snow White. I am not looking for a prince. And I am not dumb enough to eat an apple from a stranger. Neither am I going to be a hockey stick accompanied delinquent. I am more of an Alice in Wonderland. In my fantasies being me is good enough. I am strong enough, pretty enough and good enough. Not girly but not boyish either. Just being me feels perfect.  It just tells me that sometimes its best to be me rather than a ninja girl. Though being a ninja might help once in awhile its cooler to be me. (Hello, what am I talking about? I thought I hated being me. I guess subconsciously I am befriending the unfriendly half of me.)
That is more like it!
I have my own superhero tales. My chemistry teacher inadvertently becomes villainous. My best friend is my sidekick and my anime hero (Ichigo from Bleach if you want to check him out) is the guy who saves when I almost get sprayed by evil, chemistry-ish thingamajig. I have magic powers. It is my tale. I dream what I  want. And in my story being me is what saves me. I am me. I am my superhero. I am ‘Me, the Superhero’. So 'Undang'. (Malay)

Monday, April 22, 2013

A vehicle's tale

Hey people! I am sorry but I do not have time to whip up a new post. Unless.. you want to hear about my infamous school van. That discussion I can finish in 5 minutes.
SO you already know a little bit about this vehicle. This car is at least 10 years old and has a breakdown every single day and presumably when all of us are tired and can't wait to get home. The van driver promises us at the end of every single term and academic year that he will buy a new car, but those are just hollow ones. Nevertheless none of us can imagine going in any other car. I guess the main reason is because there aren't any other in our far-flung area but also because despite his stinginess  he gives every single child a treat at the end of the year.
Now I am getting to the complaints. Get braced;
That car doesn't have any ventilation except the half-open windows. It has a kind of a sliding door and once the door is closed it doesn't open and if it is open it doesn't close. Also our van driver stuffs 15 children into a van meant for 8 people. That means taking the smaller children on laps and the smallest ones on their laps. Kind of like a triple decker sandwich. Also the roof of the car doesn't have any foam coat so if we bump our heads we get a bruise and leftover cotton along with it.
 But we still love the van. We have fun. We threaten our driver. We buy snacks. We plan stuff. We complain about teachers. Sometimes we fight. I manage to empty my water-bottle on somebody all the time. It is great. Just great. So now I have to go. I will see you all in a week. Till then, farewell. (I figured that there should be an English goodbye as well.)