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.