Sunday, August 31, 2014

Face Planting on Stages and Other Interesting Rants

I give up. My writing has deteriorated so much that I can't even understand what I bother to write. It helps that I was feeling down a lot. And when I was not feeling down, my head was all over the place. It is like my mind has decided to tear itself apart and go in about thirty different directions at once. Is that even possible? I mean I really am thinking of a billion different thoughts at the same time. My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into galaxies.
But I have decided to rant. My life is very, very crazy. Craziness redefined. And the fact that I have exams does not even play a minor part of it. Speaking of which, WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING IN FRONT OF A COMPUTER WITH YOUTUBE, BLOGGER AND CHOCOLATE WHEN I HAVE A THREE HOURS LONG PAPER ON MALAYALAM TOMORROW!! Malayalam makes as much sense to me German does at this point in time. And I barely know any German other than 'Deutsch'.
My brain can't concentrate on anything anymore. I stare out of the window randomly, daydreaming. If I was distracted before then I probably don't even have any words to describe the span of concentration I have nowadays. I make up stories in my head while I am writing descriptions about the earth's core or the constitution. My fantasy life is extremely rich. I love living in my head. Even though physically that could be impossible. Still, I try.
Tomorrow is Teachers' Day in our school. Since our exams are going on, the captains were told not to do dances, songs, skits or short plays. Basically anything interesting. So the captain, in despair asked us whether we could do anything, or whether we had any ideas. My hand instantly shot up, before my brain could even process it. He looked expectantly at me and I grudgingly told him that I had written a poem for a teacher ages ago. He told me to bring it. And that's how I ended up having to recite a pathetic poem of mine on stage tomorrow. Though, knowing me, I won't even reach the stage. I will probably land face-first on the stairs first, probably break my nose, and read out my poem with blood leaking out of it. At least people won't notice how horrible my poem really is.
We had a cultural fest in between. That WAS THE MOST FUN I EVER HAD IN MY LIFE!!! We went to this school that was a seven hours journey away and we all enjoyed so bloody much! We teased one of our seniors. We dared him either to call a girl who had a crush on him or to name five people he had crushes on. In desperation he started naming all the girls around him as his crushes. I was sitting next to him and staring out of the window. Suddenly he tapped my shoulder and told me that he had a crush on me. I had not been concentrating on the conversation and did not even understand. I had this look on my face which probably resembles the one deer get when they are caught in the headlights. Everybody burst out laughing at my incredulous reaction and someone told the guy to leave poor me alone.
I will be writing a more detailed report o the cultural fest (full of twists, drama, action, adventure blah, blah, blah).
PS We kinda lost. Some girls started crying but I was perfectly fine one ice cream later. Chocolate ice cream should be proclaimed as a magical substance.
I bought a new school bag. Its got a scooter and a guy's picture on it. I don't think he likes me much. he keeps looking at the other direction. But the bag is very awesome. It is got this bag cover which protects it form the rain. Whoo-hooo! No more drenched books. I show off the rain cover to everyone I see, in a vain attempt to get them to be jealous. It hasn't worked so far, but let's see.

Friday, August 29, 2014


A friendship dying is like a fire fizzling out.

You remember how the sparks were. Slow, hesitant afraid. But they existed. And they wanted to burn, become a raging fire.

The sparks lived. They caught. They shined.

The fire became a warm heart. One that comforted you everyday.

It becomes your life source. It becomes the reason why you are alive. The reason you wake up everyday.

The fire becomes too large. All-consuming. Too strong. 

You try to rescue it. But it has already consumed the bonds.

It calms down, cools down to embers.You blow at them, you try to save them. but its too late.

And then the whole things explodes.

And then it dies out.

Thursday, August 28, 2014


There is so much beauty in in getting caught in the rains.
There is an edge of tiredness in the air that makes everybody irritable and angry. Everyone can feel the exhaustion creeping on them as they trudge home. You look up and you know it's going to pour but you clasp your fingers and you pray. But when the drops start falling, a smile comes up. You can feel the happiness when the winds buffet you, the drops caress you as they leave you. You hear your friend screaming in delight as the wind attempts to steal the umbrella. You walk together, not caring if you get wet anymore because, it was worth it. Seeing her smile, laughing till it hurt, running behind the upturned umbrella, holding her hand.
The sky was gorgeous in the morning, so beautiful that it almost hurt. The sky was dark and blue and sunny and deep, all at the same time. There were angry clouds dominating the sky But there was bright blue light shining right behind them. It was like a picture that is too perfect, so perfect that it doesn't look real. The sky was too dark, the blue in it too piercing, the sunlight too bright. It was just too beautiful.
There is happiness in drowning. In not being able to breathe. In smiling too much even when you tell yourself that you probably look like a weird moron. In feeling the world is spinning too fast, too out of control. In seeing way too many colours. In wiping tears of others. In being there and caring. In being worried whether you're cared about. In falling even though you tell yourself that you are going to get hurt, that you are going to end up crying. In dancing when no one is watching. In singing even though you can't sing. In not caring about what others think. In laughing till it hurts. In feeling like the world is about to crash down on you.
An old lullaby. A song you have not heard in a long time but still know the lyrics of. Winds that make your hair fly, tickle the faces of other. Laughing about something that happened a long time ago. Feeling like you have known someone forever. Like your heart is about to explode. Feeling alive again.
That's the real beauty in this world.

Monday, August 25, 2014


She liked to write in the dark. Her words made more sense when she couldn't see them. But they were engraved in her head, they were stuck in head. They breathed lightly on her palms as they were imprinted onto the blank paper with light swoops of her pencil.
Her words could drown het. Sometimes they cared but they usually swept her up in a dark prison from which she could not escape. From which she couldn't claw her way out. She used to feel the unsaid words graze down her throat. She could sense them pounding in her head, swirling around in senseless combinations, trying to escape, trying to sound lucid. This frustrated her, it angered her. She used to curse herself as tears rolled down her scarlet cheeks.
Sometimes the clouds were so intense that they used to suffocate her. They hugged her so tight that she could scarcely breathe. Her eyes would tear up as she struggled to stay alive, to catch a wisp of air. She would lie motionless as all those around her cursed her, taunted her, ridiculed her. Their hurtful words flowed freely, unlike the ones that were stuck in her head. But they never really saw how their remarks would tear into her flesh, how they could claw they way into her heart. All she wanted than was a friend, someone to save her when the words no longer came out, when they began to choke her, when the silence started growing too loud, when the words drowned out her voice and her cries for help.
But sometimes her words, they cared for her. They would caress her as they were gently and lovingly strung into poetry, into laughter, into magic, into declarations of love, into her songs, into her dreams and into her sleep. That's when the words themselves rescued her, that's when they became her companion, the voices that lulled her into her sleep every night.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

The Magician

He fiddled with his wrinkled hands. He fingered all the burn marks on them, the scars from the tricks gone wrong. He reached out for his hat all torn form years and years of procuring bunnies form them.  He stroked the hat tenderly, as one might caress a wound.  He felt the worn edges, the frying cloth, the torn ribbon. It had been a gift from his father, so many decades ago. He could see himself as a boy, ecstatic at receiving something so expensive, something normally they couldn't even dream of. Only later did he know about how many extra shows his father had had to do, how many meals he had skipped. But his father's exhausted face had glowed as he made the grand gesture. The old magician's eyes filled with tears as he recalled all this.
There was an electric atmosphere all around him. The circus was getting ready for the next performance. The acrobats warmed up the animals were dressed and painted, the knife throwers armed to teeth. The manager was behind them all, urging them to get ready faster, resorting to either begging or threatening or commanding, according to the person he was speaking to. Only the old magician was ignored, nobody asked him to do anything. He was as old as the circus, though gossip claimed that he was thousands of years old and that he used black magic to keep themselves alive. He knew this wasn't true. Even though his eyes carried the burden of one who had lived forever, he too was mortal. But he never refuted theses claims, He knew better. He sighed and reminisced about the time when everybody was his age. Now they were al gone, and he was left back alone. He went back a little more in time and he could remember the time when he was the headliner of the show.
The posters would advertise.  People from towns far, far away would come to watch him do, what seemed to them, miracles. Now he was one of the less preferred acts. Often they didn't even have him on the whole shoe. Children were no longer interested in watching magically produced birds or disappearing balls. They had greater sleighs of hands along with them. The computers they carried were far more interesting. They were so immersed in their world of digitization, they no longer cared.
But today, he was performing. For the last time, he had decided. He lifted his dusty purple cape, inspected it for the magic holes and pockets they had. He grabbed all his magical equipment,. He petted the rabbits, chirped a bit to the birds. He wore his hat and took his wand. He made his grand entrance, in tune to disinterested and scattered applause. And then he said his magic words for the last time, "Abracadabra......."

Monday, August 4, 2014


(Makes a nonchalant face).
Yeah. I get it. I have been lazy. You do not have to digitally reproach me for that, dear computer. Niranjana happened to be busy the previous week. (And lazy too, but she won't admit it, ever). She also apologises for the scrappy post she did the previous day, but she didn't actually do that up for anybody to read so........
Projects (uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh), tests (*repeats*), mock interview, quiz, obliteration of certain friendships, makeshift suicide helpline, free child labour for school, amateur piano, falling and tripping on flat ground, abandonment by family for a week, crap essays in Malayalam, etc. are among the highlights of my previous week. Also we observed Kargil day at school which is sort of a war memorial. All the junior captains had to hold a candle which was fixed onto a cardboard piece so as to avoid the hot wax from the burning our fingers (hint hint, I did burn my fingers in the end). I set fire to my piece of cardboard and smouldered throughout the duration of the program and had to be stamped at later to prevent it from becoming an all consuming fire. PS I also partly burnt a calendar. Our captain's face was rather hilarious when I told him about the incident.
Walking to school has gotten increasingly impossible with the advent of the monsoon. I have to wade through overflowing sewers and broken canals. The ground of my school increasingly resembles a swimming pool. A muddy, dirty, pest infested swimming pool at that. I slip at least three times on a daily basis. My uniforms are perpetually wet and I am perpetually cold. Add to that the fact that my bag gets drenched no matter what I do:. The bag also happens to be torn at about 6 different places. I don't even know how  the he'll it is possible to friggin tear a bag in 2 months. Hey, it's not my fault.
 I have been selected to represent my school for the essay writing competition. So, I have to write essays on crappy topics every single day. Yesterday's topic was ' My First  Stage Performance'. My first stage performance involved me standing at the corner of the stage lifting handmade pom-poms.
On much better, much repeated and more interesting news my blog touched 10000 viewers. So, I have decided to post my pictures in order to scare away future visitors.

Yes, all those who expected me to look like I called Mars my home, I am sorry to inform you that I look like a functional human being. Note the key words 'look like'. Does not exactly mean that  I function like one.
Tootle pips!

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Not really a post

Don't ask me where I was. I was in a world of my own. Flying, breathing, falling. I am happy. Very much so. But just sometimes, it feels like I have this little hole in my heart.  And right now I am suddenly freaking out because I need to finish this post in five minutes and go shopping for cloth with my western vocals groups. Yeah. I can sing without sounding like a jackass sometimes. I am shocked. So I am going to the cultural fest with seven other (much better) singers to represent our school and try and win a prize. Ha. Not looking forward to that part.
I also have been selected for essay writing. So I guess all the ranting on the blog had some purpose. 
Unless you are an idiot or have never come here before you should have noticed some MAJOR changes on my blog. I was actually sick of looking at my own blog. So here it is: 
Yeah. I know. I sound unlike myself. I am distracted. 
I have been reading lots of poetry. My favorites are Prufrock and Daughters.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown        
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Let us build bonfires of those unanswered prayers.
Let us learn how to leave with clean and empty hearts
Let us escape these attics still mad, still drunk, still raving
Let us vacate these badly lit odd little towns
Let us want none of what anchored our mothers
Let us never evolve to be good or beautiful
Let us spit and snarl and rattle the hatches
Let us never be conquered 
Let us no longer keep keys in our knuckles
Let us run into the streets hungry, fervent, ablaze.

So I am going to be around here dreaming, flying singing, dancing. I will try and post a bit of the song we are singing. Then you can judge whether or not i sing like a jackass. So until then I will be with the sea girls till the human voices drown me.