Internship Monologues

PS: I got an internship recently, and this is how I feel everyday.

Credits: The Mighty

What are you doing?

I am trying to understand this code.

You have to admit it is way beyond your comprehension.

No I got this.

You will screw up. They will know you are a fraud.

Shut up! You worked your ass off for this and damn it I am not going to let you quit now. Come on now, move!

Oh, this is gonna end well.

My mind is constantly working. When I am reading, my mind is concocting the next military fantasy novel, when I am coding my mind is trying to create ideas for the next big application. My mind does not deal with small issues.

Go Big or Go Home.

I sometimes hear my mind speak in a voice not very distant from my own, but it has a certain sense of arrogance that I can never manifest in mine. My mind wants perfection, it craves success and lastly, it wants that high of achievement.

I push myself to get it: constantly for almost everything. I have met people who say that it is tiring and they get burnout at the end of the day. I am lucky enough to not experience that so far. My mind is also smart enough to know when to stop trying.

Alas, it doesn’t know when to stop talking.

Oh shit! I screwed up.

No you did not, relax.

What have I done in my program: it completely crashes everything.

It is okay. Take a deep breath, you got this.

No I don’t. I should never have come here.

You are trying. That is all one can ever do, if it works or not is not in your hand.

Yeah I guess I can try.

It gets weird at times though. It is like I have the devil (he is not evil, mostly) and an angel sitting on my shoulders. One tells me to be the master of everything, to push above and beyond I have ever gone before. He tells me not to take shit from anyone ever, to keep chasing that perfection. It doesn’t give me the option of failure.

The other: it catches me when I fall, which is very often. It supports me, allows me to watch lots of dog videos when I am feeling down and slowly gets me back on track. It tells me it is okay to fail.

My internship has made the two voices extra loud. I am scared. Seriously scared about what will happen if I can’t do this.

You will not fail, you can’t.

I am struggling to understand how to code at the level of 4 year experienced coders. I have no idea how well I am doing.

It is okay, you are trying your best.

I am not afraid of asking for help, in fact that is what an internship is all about. Learning new things, working your way through challenges.Everyone is helpful at work, they never say no to helping out. They are also funny which is a bonus. I am just afraid of asking for too much help which can make them think I am not cut out for working at their level.

No you are!

I am afraid of being proved incapable. I am afraid of finishing my internship and realizing that maybe I wasn’t smart enough for all of this. I am afraid that my brain, which was once the my strongest asset, is no longer any asset.

If this does not work out then something else. You can manage things bro!



( ( Calling Uncle Bob

Have you ever faced a difficult situation when you had to choose between sorting it out yourself, or asking someone else for an easy fix? What did you choose — and would you make the same choice today?))

As I sat preparing for my exams my dog Jimmy decided that was the best time for him not to sleep.

Though he was supine right in the middle of the bed he was someway irritated and looking to chew something, maybe trying to grab air and chew it. This has happened many a times before and like always I gave him my hand so he could chew.

He doesn’t bite, just takes my hand inside his mouth and keeps it there. And after a while he sleeps, mostly with my hand still in his mouth, me feeling as a small dog chew toy. This time I had to scratch his head.

So with one hand tracing the textbook lines, other kept scratching and petting jimmy. Whenever I stopped scratching he would wake up and look with those big brown irises asking me why I stopped.

So this went on for half an hour, me scratching and studying. And when I stopped he was still asleep, dreaming of chicken and bones and everything favourite.

Makes you wonder what he would have said if he could have. Like somewhere along the lines of ‘Hey I have an itch to scratch, on my head. Help’ Or something else entirely.

It is thought inducing how him without saying a word or making a sound could convey what he wants. And how simple is it for him. Life’s big questions for him would be where to sleep now or what’s mummy making.

No words. No complexity.

Words. I always had a problem with them. I could never put them together, make them jell. Make the listener completely comprehend the kernel of what I intend to say.

And then I started blogging.

It is freedom.

I can write anything I want, how I want. Completely independent of who reads it and what they will think. Freedom which you will not attain outside the webpage where conversations cut short your thoughts, and sociality and mannerisms hamper you.

It is honesty.

Honesty that is interpreted as a fake in real life simply because no one can be that honest.

Every single one of the seventy something posts is me. Me, unfiltered and complete. People liked my thoughts and words, praised them. Writing became the sole way for me to express myself. I wrote to say sorry, wrote to say thank you and wrote for everything I could write on.

And I forgot that blogging ends with the website. That as soon as I click publish I have to attenuate myself for this world.

My honesty in real life spurned loose, and transpired to shamelessness. My freedom is now what I take forcefully. In complete disregard to others around me.

I forgot that blogging and real life is never the same. One of them is a page to write some four hundred words, other is more than just words. It is life. I got carried away.

I said things that have repercussions beyond my control. And now I realize that while my blog posts are me, I am more than those one paged posts. While I get followers and likes on blog for my thoughts, in my life thoughts are just a small role to play. My actions speak louder.

So here I am maybe taking an oath. I’ll change. Keep my freedom and honesty to my blog. But somehow finding a correct balance in life. Because I should.

Because I got carried away

Jimmy has it so easy.

Thanks For Reading

Let’s see what others have written:
At the end of the day there is no sorting hat: But Love and a greater good shall guide me
Pushing It Hard, Why wait for Uncle Bob?

Ask and you shall receive
Daily Prompt: Calling Uncle Bob – and Uncle Jim, Uncle Harry and Uncle Arthur
Uncle Bob by Default, It’s Me

Be a role model like
Calling Uncle Bob: Unfix easy
Duck, Duck, Use

What Does It Mean to Amplify?


( Pains and Gains

Do you agree with Jane Fonda’s favorite exercise motto, “no pain, no gain?” Is it impossible to attain greatness without considerable hardship?)

I haven’t written in a ten days. Neither fiction nor reality.

I hardly checked other people’s blogs either. I have no clue about what’s happening in their lives either.

I could lie about having a hectic schedule, or about being tired all the time (I am!) But that isn’t the reason.

It’s because I feel numb. Completely and utterly numb. Lifeless and senseless.


I should be tensed, I have my Ielts this Saturday. But I don’t feel tensed.

My college’s placements (Job Interviews) start this week. I should feel anticipation. I don’t.

I should feel anger at my friends for not inviting me for festivals. I don’t. I don’t feel morose either.

I should feel something. I don’t. I’m filled with apathy and it sickens me. I am human. How could I feel nothing!!!

I read news. Ukraine. Gaza. Israel. Russia. Islamic state. Ebola. Rape. Murder. Scams. Scandals. Etc. Etc.

That’s what they are to me now. Not some other human agony. Just some blah, some etc. And it is sickening for me.

I don’t even feel anything when things turn sour at home. I should feel anger, concern. Nothing!


It is like I have exhausted myself. The sudden bereavement of my emotions is like I have lost some intrinsic quality. I feel as if I have been supplanted by a clone.

And without these little tiny prompts that are born within, I couldn’t write. My posts are all driven by them. I stalled thinking I’ll find something to write about. I didn’t.

And that was the last straw. I decided I’ll come back to writing. With the number of people in life with whom I could talk to less than my fingers I needed an outlet. I don’t want to end up as a caustic fellow, full of hostility and lack of concern. Or I don’t want to end up a taciturn either. It took a whole lot of courage and will to reach this place, I’m not going back.

I read other people’s blogs. And that isn’t easy when you have about a hundred or so posts backlog. I did my best to read as many as I could. I either starred them or commented on them. I read and read. With each post my comments became more and more thoughtful. With each comment I retrieved the urge to write again.

I don’t know how much power this post is going to have. I have no idea about how you, as a reader will see me after this post. I just want to get back into writing.

I recently tried getting into the Internship Story Contest by  Don’t know how that will turn out.

I want to write more. I want to participate in more contests, grab as many chances I can to be able to be empathic again.

I’ll take pain. But I want this gain back.

Let’s see what others have written:
i don’t need your rocking chair: daily post
No gains without pains
Daily Prompt: Pains and Gains – I have plenty of pains, where are the gains?
gr8 formuLa
Pains and Gains: Fly light
A Satisficer I am not: No pain, No Gain indeed

No Pain, No Gain

7 Seals – a personal Matter

Thanks For Reading

Who Made You?

(Handmade Tales

Automation has made it possible to produce so many objects — from bread to shoes — without the intervention of human hands (assuming that pressing a button doesn’t count). What things do you still prefer in their traditional, handmade version?)


The huge metal exoskeleton looked at him. His red LED eyes could be surmised at being bloodshot. And his gargantuan arms had lifted a SUV off the ground. The internal mechanisms of the automation seemed to sound more and more like ragged breaths. Andrew gulped.

And as suddenly as that the automation went inanimate. The SUV still lifted off the ground by at least ten feet, the automation turned off. Andrew was confused. The automation shouldn’t be turned off now, not when another needs to go below the SUV and repair it.

“Heinous things aren’t these” Shawn called from behind him.

Andrew turned and greeted his childhood friend, who as of now was his boss too. But who cares, meeting him was always a good feeling.

Shawn continued “If they spend thousands of dollars making these machines can’t they look a little less horrible. I mean look at it, all the cables popping out of his limbs, cables all over him. If you have a figment of my imagination, that looks like a crabbed old man. Um wait, it also looks like your granddad Andrew.”

They both laughed at the similarities between the machine and the loving granddad. Shawn was always like that, he could smell if anyone had any difficulty and would always come to  aid. They both talked for a while and then continued to move towards the cafeteria.

The entire factory was deserted. Most of the workers were on strike, opposite the factory. Strike was simple, stop using machines, it increases their chances of getting a pink slip. A couple of the other issues, unions and certain interested parties also had their motives in the strike. But the main concern was this. Workers are being replaced by machines.

“Say Shawn” Andrew began “How long do you think the strike is gonna go on for?”

“Can’t say. They always go to strike these days. Every issue it seems is solved by strikes. But I don’t think they should be concerned with they getting replaced by machines.”

“Um, we are replacing them aren’t we? That’s what those machines are for?”

“Yeah but they,are forgetting something. Who is gonna make those machines? We are. That’s right, the authorities are so darn impressed by these bots that they are considering building a separate factory just to make that. And then sell the machines of course.”

Andrew couldn’t help but think about Terminator. His face must have shown it because Shawn continued, “You see the bosses are not very keen on mass termination of employees”

Andrew looked sharply at Shawn who snickered a laugh and continued “You aren’t looking at the bigger picture here. The more bigger the neighboring new factory is gonna be, the more employees they are gonna handle. We have employees who are loyal just there, doing nothing. They are great in mechanics and auto machinery. Perfect for new factory.”

Shawn has a point. “After all these machines aren’t here to steal people’s jobs, they are here so that people couldn’t work more. Simple jobs that require the employees only to press buttons.”

“You must have forgotten something. Even if we are turning this town into machines, who makes these machines? Well we do. And as long as the machines are there, there are jobs!”

Andrew was convinced that Shawn was right. More machines, more jobs. After all these autos were nothing but man made creations aren’t they?

(Since I am an engineer, I couldn’t write bad about these automatons. So I just wrote that these machines too are man made!)

Let’s see what others have written:
red speck
While on CIPRO longing for a handmade strawberry daiquiri and mojito

Monochrome Monday: Craft Fair
Daily Prompt: Handmade Tales – I am Mrs. Do-It-Yourself in person
Rise of the Machines: 3D-Printed Pizza Vs. Handmade Pizza
The lost art of penmanship (writing prompt)
Handmade Gifts of Love

Thanks For Reading


(Back to Life

After an especially long and exhausting drive or flight, a grueling week at work, or a mind-numbing exam period — what’s the one thing you do to feel human again?)

Feel human again? That’s new.

Post exam/stress condition:

My right hand is numb, pains all over the arm. Writing so much has its consequences.

My back is killing me simply because they don’t make benches for tall people(stupid college authorities).

And I can’t think. Numbers are all still floating in my head. And if I start to so much as suppress my mental activity I get reminded of all the mistakes I made in the papers.

Its like my mind telling me to let itself unwind! So I don’t even try to control my mind.

See after my exam is done the next day I always have to, I repeat I HAVE TO watch movies.

It can be either a comedy or action packed movie. Or a simple decent movie that leaves me moved at the end.

But does that make me feel human again? Probably not. Don’t get me wrong, movies do work great. I forget all about my stupid exams(during which I end up being so distraught that I write stuff like these!) And I just enjoy those two hours.

I become enthralled by those movies, even if they are stupid and they don’t make any sense. That’s why after my I exam day I have now a Movie Day. After every single one of my exam. If you are engineering student in Mumbai University you would know how many days we have between exams.

But that’s not the point. They relieve stress, but they don’t exhilarate me.

What then makes me human?

Simple it is the sleep that I get in the train. See I have mentioned before I have an hour or more of travel in the train one way. And while coming home I do always make sure I get a place to sit, listen to songs and just close my eyes. And let the tiredness run its course.

It isn’t perfect, but it is like splashing water to my tired face. Works wonders.

And it is way better than reading books, or watching movies or any other thing. Because it is the only thing my body needs. Reprieve.

Let’s see what others have written:
Daily Prompt: Back to Life – did I die??
5 Ways to Unwind After a Stressful Plane Flight
Como se dice? #dpchallenge #poetry #children
Force myself to relax and then hit the ongoing fast-paced merry-go-round
Revive, rejuvenate, or, how I relax (writing prompt)
Back to Life: Unwinding
Post A Day: Back to Life

Thanks For Reading

Age is


Age-Old Questions

“Age is just a number,” says the well-worn adage. But is it a number you care about, or one you tend (or try) to ignore?)

I’m a twenty years old kid. Yes I still am a kid. Just because I crossed the threshold of eighteen doesn’t change it. Neither does the fact that I have just progressed into my twenty’s.

I am still a kid.

And that is the thing about age. It is just a number.

I am here talking in general about people aged between adolescence and retirement.

Let me explain that.

Age doesn’t guarantee respect. And that coming from an Indian is a contradiction. Indian culture a founding stone in respecting elders. But I hardly see that. Sure we append ji as suffix to them when we converse, but it doesn’t mean respect.

I believe we live in a world that is adamant to the idea, “You want my respect, you have to earn it”. Wonder whatever happened to “Give respect first and then receive respect”.

Next important thing, age doesn’t mean experience. Experience isn’t something that gets cumulated by age. It is accumulated by what all you do in that age/time spent.

Age doesn’t give you maturity, and increasing age doesn’t take away your jovial nature.

Yes, experience is by what YOU do with the time spent. It is your choice! And respect is also at the end is still your choice!

So if I may conclude I’ll say this, age doesn’t mean anything, it is just a contributing factor. It is at the end your choices that decide things.

So age is just a number. That increases without any control.

You are as young as you want to be.

Let’s see what others have written:
Daily Prompt: Age-Old Questions – The Golden Oldie strikes again
Daily Prompt: Old as Dirt
Musings on age (writing prompt)
Age-Old Questions: Father Time times out?
Always Sixteen

Thanks For Reading

Cord Struck : Are We Listening?

Daily prompt
( Strike a Chord

Do you play an instrument? Is there a musical instrument whose sound you find particularly pleasing? Tell us a story about your experience or relationship with an instrument of your choice.)

Rains splashing,
Thunder growling,
Lightening flashing.

Some place:
Waves crashing,
Winds whistling.

Some days:
Birds chirping,
Dogs growling,
Cats purring.

Everyday they play,
Instruments of the Creator:
Never did they fray,
Nothing ever sounds soother.

Seems like noise they are,
But when you are listening,
If seconds you could spare;
Complements the visuals glistening.

Instruments come and go,
Physical will be replaced by digital,
But these will forever be aboriginal.

Let’s see what others have written:

Strike a Chord
Struck a Chord
Clair by Ruswa Fatehpuri
Daily Prompt: Strike a Chord – The Lost Chord
Guitar Hero: Daily Post
All That Resonates
I was in a meeting today where people said no: is that allowed?
Ah the sound of the grade school recorders
Things NOT to Worry About
Wedding in Mina A’Salam – Madinat Jumeirah, Dubai – Nouf & Ammar

Thanks For Reading

Back in the queue

Daily Prompt
( Back of the Queue

Is there something you’ve always wanted to do, but never got around to starting (an activity, a hobby, or anything else, really)? Tell us about it — and tell us about what’s keeping you from doing it.)

I try. I so try!

When I do something, something I really want to do, something I am really looking forward to, I dive in.

No time for second thoughts, no time for studying the situation. Just dive in headlong. Pure impulse. And I never leave anything behind. I give it my best.

That is something I never got around to change. I don’t know how I’ll do it either. This is me! Impulsive.

Let it anything I end up doing.




Writing now.

And then when I give it so much I expect too much. I am not realistic about it. Not every exam is giving me good grades. Not every friend will always like my habits. Not every time my parents will be happy with what I do.

And not every post will receive great views and likes.( And to think I expect to be freshly pressed!)

That is the second thing. Be realistic. I know I should. But I can’t simply detach myself.

And then there is the favourite archenemy. Whispers in the head. Repeating my past mistakes. Saying I am not good enough. Saying I belong at the back of the queue. And me believing it rather than at me.

Third thing. I really should start believing in myself and my abilities.

Fourth and main thing. Every one of the above leaves me drained. I look and think too much about the future. I ponder too much of my past. I still remember a quote from movie Rang De Basanti

“One leg in the future, one leg in the past. That’s why we are peeing on the present”

That’s what I need to do. Stop peeing on the present. But it is so hard!

Let’s see what others have written:
A Life to treasure
A better life
Doggie stompin’ on Fear
Where life queue and bucket lists shall meet
Daily Prompt: Back of the Queue – How to be a Failure
Daily Post: Not so forgotten goals

The Things I Never Got Around To

Thanks For Reading

Punctuation And Misfits

Daily Prompt
( By the Dots

We all have strange relationships with punctuation — do you overuse exclamation marks? Do you avoid semicolons like the plague? What type of punctuation could you never live without? Tell us all about your punctuation quirks!)


Jon: We could try to get that guy he knows how to work this project out he is good last year he worked for another group on their project and delivered a quality product

Kay: Oh come on! Pause a bit. There are full stops and commas in English language for this purpose exactly. You are very difficult to understand when you keep babbling like this.

Dave: Ha. Ha. Ha. You. Are. So. Stupid. At. Times. Jon.

Quentin sighed. Three weeks it has been and almost every time they meet they hardly come to a decision. And as usual he kept his silence.

Jon: Alright. You guys remember Shawn and his group?

It was painfully plain to Quentin that Jon was trying his best to speak properly. Wonder how long that will last.

Everyone nodded their affirmation.

Jon:  Yeah yeah Shawn and his group needed an application on their project and they didn’t know what to do they tried and tried but till last they couldn’t make one and at last they had to resort to a app developer for hire and it was costly yes yes but it took the hired developer to make an app like a day or so…..

Jon would have continued but professor William walked into their conversation.

Quentin regretted this already. Meeting and discussing their project in the college university was a mistake. If someone overheard them their ideas could easily be stolen. A big university like this had a lot of people competing for attention. And now Jon was speaking of cheating. And a professor had overheard them.

This was not going to be good.

William: Don’t mind’e. I’m jus’ passin’ by. But couldn’t help’t overh’r you talkin’ about cheatin’?

Quentin spoke for the first time.

Quentin: Was nothing sir. We don’t know anything about no cheating sir.

William looked at Quentin closely and nodded.

He walked away. Every member of the group looked at Quentin.

Quentin looked around and grinned.

Quentin: You were saying Jon?

(Please do comment and give your feedback!)

Let’s see what others wrote:
Grunt Work
Daily Prompt: By the dots – what dots?
Pointed Avoidance
Punctuation, Perfectly Positioned, Promotes Productive Prose
I Love You Oxford Comma
Ellipsis Queen: Daily Post

Thanks For Reading

“Guitar Lessons”

This is a reblog, I couldn’t have written it. But it is somewhat related to today’s daily prompt so.

The most touching story I have read so far!

the drew moody


I come from a family of musicians. On my mother’s side, anyway—the members of my father’s side of the family have trouble enough playing the radio, let alone any musical instruments. My mother and aunt dabbled with the piano when they were young; their mother has been playing jazz and boogie woogie piano semi-professionally for years; her younger brother played blues guitar; their youngest brother plays the blues on the mighty Hammond B-3 professionally; and their father, my great-grandfather, Pa, played bluegrass and skiffle on the banjo almost his entire life. These years of musicianship were passed down through the generations and have landed with me—an acoustic guitarist by trade. It’s my hope to continue passing down my family’s ear for music to my children, should that day ever come.

I first picked up the guitar when I was eleven. Just like everyone else who picked up the guitar for…

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My Day’s Musings(Attempt at poetry)

Daily prompt
( Rare Medium

Describe a typical day in your life — but do it in a form or in a medium you’ve rarely — if ever – used before. If you’re a photoblogger, write a poem. If you’re a poet, write an open letter. If you’re a travel blogger, write a rant. (These are all examples — choose whatever form you feel like trying out!))

Awake but still somnolent,
Lots to do but indolent.
Yet I can’t help but muse,
What’s the use?

I drag myself and fumble,
And dread every imminent stumble.
Can’t help but feel lost,
But have to put a smug face no matter the cost.

What am I to do? Where do I turn?
In this musing I remain a taciturn.
But can’t muse entire day,
Cause I know at the end I won’t have a say.

So I club all this into pulp,
Chew, ruminate and then gulp.
This diurnal habit brings rage,
But no choice but to lock it in a cage.

Gawk all around,
People with their purpose and destination found.
And the cage rattles,
The desperate attempt and prattles.

I keep myself busy,
Twitter, Facebook, instagram all easy.
Movies, books give me distractions at loan,
Cause honestly I still feel alone.

Can’t help but wonder,
Do people my age ponder?
Or am I just plain weird,
And answer to that is what I feared.

When the cage is just on verge of break,
And the day just couldn’t look more bleak.
I pull myself together,
And become hard as a reptile’s leather.

(I usually write fiction or just a essay/post about the topic. I readily never write poetry, so there may be some mistakel.)

Please do comment and let me know your views.

Let’s see what others have written:
Mimi’s Day Summed up in a Haiku
Do You want to know a secret?
Daily Prompt: Rare Medium – Hello Mr. Shakespeare
Do I Have To Stick To A Schedule?

Middle of the Night

Thanks For Reading

Life And Art

(Living Art

One day, your favorite piece of art — a famous painting or sculpture, the graffiti next door — comes to life. What happens next?)

Favourite piece of art comes to life?

A great topic for writing fiction in itself yet I find it a contradiction in itself.

How can art be lifeless?

Art, be a painting or a sculpture or even it be a written article or a poem. How can it be lifeless?

Why is a painting drawn? To capture something. Same goes for photography. Mostly it is to capture life in still.

A sculpture is made in resemblance to a certain life form. Be it an animal or a human, it is made to decorate and increase its appeal.

If art itself is nothing but an attempt to capture life in still, how can it be said art comes to life? Art itself is life.

Every time someone draws a portrait, a life is captured. Thus even the most delicate of lines in the visage are portrayed. The life is being captured. Everything has to be resemble the life itself.

Same goes for sculptures. The inanimate form is said beautiful, elegant and many more names because it is life.

Though you already know this and I am the only one understanding it now. Art is life. That is why walls are being filled with paintings full of colors and Life. That is why sculptures are one of the main attractions anywhere.

Because life attracts life. And as long someone notices these still lifeforms, they remain alive and beating. And as long they are shared they remain what they are, a representation of life.

Let’s see what others have written:
21 Rules to My Life
Dubai Art Season – SIKKA14
Living Art
The Daily Post Writing Prompt: The Pitchfork Murders
Daily Post: Living Art – A Journey into the world of Surrealism
The King Beneath the Mountain of Gold

Thanks For Reading

I stood… Now I move (An autobiography)

(Living Art

One day, your favorite piece of art — a famous painting or sculpture, the graffiti next door — comes to life. What happens next?)


I stood my ground. For ten years I stood my ground. Now I move. No more.

You made me in homage. You made me in resemblance to someone. Mostly someone great. Someone you never met. Someone you read about in your history books. But you made me.

I was black ceramic, lustrous in my birth. I stood in that posture that you wanted. That posture which must have become an identity. And I stood my ground.

I was proud. Head held high. Broaden chest. My eyes turned towards the skies, yet I still saw those who stood beneath me. And I stood my ground.

But years went by. You held speeches around me. You wore clothes like I wear. As if that makes you like me. You paid your respects to me on one day of the year. And I stood my ground.

I stood in the sun. No shade for my eyes. No relief for my skin. I lost my lustre. But I gave shade for those who couldn’t find shade. I stood my ground.

I drenched in the rains. Saw the city flooded, with water seeping into my ankles. Water made cracks in my unscathed skin. And I still stood my ground.

Birds chirped on my shoulders. And gave their offerings there. Cats and dogs dogs slept against my legs. I didn’t move. I stood my ground.

This place became acknowledged by a new name. I changed the name. I became a landmark. Guess that is how you make people remember the dead. Make them part of the diurnal routes. I achieved my goal.

Now I am leaving. Maybe people will run witnessing me move. I’ll definitely be on their phones and whatnot. But I stood my ground. Now I want to sit. And bath in the nearby lake.

And embrace the end that I have earned.

Let’s see what others have written:
21 Rules to My Life
Dubai Art Season – SIKKA14
Living Art
The Daily Post Writing Prompt: The Pitchfork Murders
Daily Post: Living Art – A Journey into the world of Surrealism
The King Beneath the Mountain of Gold

Thanks For Reading

Unexpected Burdens

Daily prompt

(Unsafe Containers

Which emotion(s) — joy, envy, rage, pity, or something else — do you find to be the hardest to contain?)

First:  Thank you, the authors of daily prompts. Somehow you know exactly what I am feeling and you give me an opportunity to share it.

I feel lost. Every direction beckons me, and every direction repels me. I feel like walking down the road where the destination is unknown.

What am I doing I don’t know. Why am I doing them I don’t know either. I am just ‘going with the flow’.

What makes me feel this way? I have my exams going on. And they aren’t going well.

Last exam I scored way better than I expected. Probably the only time I outdid my expectations. And while the ephemeral blithe lasted, I realized that now  the stakes have risen. I CAN’T get any lesser than that, and I have to get better this time.

I know what people will say. ‘You did it last time, be happy’, ‘Come on you are a scholar, you can do it’, and the favourite of theirs ‘Don’t lie dude’

Well I am not lying. No I can’t lie now. Partly I blame this blog because after being so blunt and honest it is quite difficult to go and lie pretend. But I am saying this honestly, I was more tensed this time, during this exam than most of exams.

I know it is stupid. I know I made a big deal of them this time, when I should have just relaxed and prepared like every other exam. I couldn’t.

So if any of you reader ever meets any ‘nerd’ or ‘scholar’ and that person happens to say he is tensed, I ask of you to refrain yourself from commenting stupid things if you don’t believe him. Because, although I don’t know the tension and pressure of giving a reexam after failing, you don’t know the pressure of repeating your best performance, let alone beating your best.

And because of this I can say, things didn’t go smoothly. I messed up more than one paper. Overconfidence, ego and pride took their shares. And now I am left with only two papers this time.

I don’t think I’ll come close to my goal this time. I don’t believe I will. Four out of six papers weren’t up to the mark. And now I am tired. The pressure is gone because I know that I have lost my chance. And I am left wondering whether I should try my best. Whether it is still worth giving my best.

This is just a question whose answer I know. I am still giving my best. I have to, no choice. And that makes it more disappointing because I know it isn’t enough. No matter how many sleepless nights I spend now is not enough.

I am not enough.

And now as I took a small hiatus from my studies I realized that this is how I always felt. No matter how many feats I accomplished, no matter how much I know, or how much knowledge I attain, I am still not going to feel it is enough.

It will never be up to the mark. I will always feel like there was something more I could do. And then the cycle of self blame and criticism begins.


And trust me I know how bad this kind of thinking is. It doesn’t help. It just leads down a bottomless dark chasm on whose fringes I have always walked.
And considering the novel I last read I already know the answer to that.

From Stephan R Donaldson’s Fatal Revenant:

When all hope was gone, they heeded the counsels of despair. Had they continued to strive, defying their doom, some unforseen wonder might have occurred. And if it did not, still their glory would have surpassed their failure.

So here’s the answer daily prompt. I can’t shut up when I am upset. When I am low. I choose to sequester myself at these times. And I know I am not gonna change. Something I have to learn to change.

Let’s see what others have written.
Wedding in Four Points by Sheraton, Dubai – Shama & Shahid
Knowing when to Quit
It’s up to you
Daily Post: The Rage to Live!
Unsafe Containers: Daily Prompt
Too Many Faces

Pittsburgh Dyke and Trans March Set for Sat June 21 in Bloomfield
A Lid on My Emotions
Daily Prompt: Unsafe Containers or how I cope with life’s small problems
Unsafe Containers – Schoolroom vignette

Unsafe Containers
Green-Eyed Monster: Daily Post

Thanks For Reading

Open Letter To That Friend

( Break the Silence

When was the last time you really wanted (or needed) to say something, but kept quiet? Write a post about what you should’ve said.)


I’m going to make this as precise and truthful as possible.
I know I should wait till situation are normal and things get cooled down. But I haven’t slept well last night and it is difficult for me to sleep well tonight either.
The scenes keep replaying in my head, every argument we had, every stupid thing you and i said. The words keep resounding in my ears, as fresh and brutal as when I heard you or myself utter them.
I don’t think you will ever understand that how much I dislike fighting. Yet half the time we fight. I hate it. Fighting with anyone. It isn’t me, and I can’t forget them. The memories just get permanently stored in my brain.
I don’t know why. I tried. I tried so hard for it to not happen. Maybe you saw it. Maybe you did not. Or maybe you didn’t think it was enough.
I don’t why you insult me every chance you get.
I don’t know why you taunt me every time.
I don’t know what I did or what I said to MAKE YOU HATE ME THIS MUCH!
This message is for you but I wanted to get these things said or written so I could relax a bit.
I tried talking to you so many times as to ask you this. Never you heeded or even acknowledged. So I had to get this mountain of things said this way.

You hate me for some reason you never said.
You take me for granted.
You insult and demean me.
You are biased. Same mistakes from others are easily forgiven and forgotten but if I do the same then it is my intention!
I don’t know how you will react after you read this. Hell I don’t know if you will even read this entirely and comprehend what I just said.
I don’t know what to expect from You after this. Mostly you will call me a desperate loser after this.
Maybe you don’t think the same. Maybe you do.
But I can’t keep up with this constant clashes.
So either you try making things better between us or ..
There are so many things left unsaid here simply because I don’t know how to write them down.)

Let’s see what others have said about this:
No Means No!
#DailyPrompt: Break the Silence
hear ye, hear ye: i support gay parents… (any pretty much all other things “gay”)
Daily Prompt: Break the Silence – What Silence?
Silence Never Broken
What are your superpowers?
Can we be kind all the time? Really?

Thanks For Reading

I got better than Expected!

Daily prompt

A year ago. Things were different.

I liked writing, but I hardly showed anyone. I wrote fictions and I kept it in my cupboard. And then I lost the books in which I wrote.

I had so many ideas, penned down so many of them. I even had many ideas for writing a novels. Many ideas for novels. Never did I complete one, though I did try to write something.

I decided to complete one novel by February this year. That was my new years resolution.

I couldn’t. I couldn’t even finish four chapters.

But I don’t regret it. Because now I blog!

Many people told me to blog. I have read about it, and as I was always interested in writing I always considered it an alternative. But I never tried it. Guess I always thought of writing novels better.

I couldn’t be more wrong. Blogging is fun! Its easy, I could write about my day, I could read about other people’s day. I could write fictions, read other people’s fiction.

When stuck on what to write I could get inspired by other people’s blog. Or get inspired by a song, or by any thing and just write.

And what’s better, I am learning to write. Writing isn’t something that requires some time to think and strategize. It comes easily, that I complete a post while travelling.

I am no longer worried about expressing my thoughts. I know and I have read about other people expressing ideas that are analogous. You would be surprised the similarity between their posts and mine.

I no longer have to be choosy about my words, even the usual problem of being misunderstood seems to be degenerating and maybe I am becoming a better communicator. I hope.

This is not a post if regret, but rather a post of joy of finding something better.

Let’s see what others have written:

Thanks For Reading

You’re Beautiful,….

Daily Prompt

(Great Expectations

Tell us about one thing (or more) that you promised yourself you’d accomplish by the end of the year. How would you feel once you do? What if you don’t?)

Writing Challenge


The Setting’s the ThingToday, we challenge you to create a compelling setting for your story.)


(Daily Prompt: Always Something There to Remind Me

It is 31st December 2011.

Harry sat and asked for another beer.

“That’s your fifth. What’s the occasion?” The bartender replied with a grin.

Someone said it right, a bartender is the best kind of priest for confession. But harry wasn’t here for confession. His obsession had brought him here.

A year ago he attended his office’s New Year’s Eve bash. He had fun. He drank, joked, laughed and occasionally flirted with every girl that could consciously move.

And then he saw her.

She was one of the best girls he saw. Brunette, hair tied behind her head in a bun, still dressed in her office clothes she walked in. Her round face and tiny eyes, which even from far he saw were blue. A smile slowly spread across her face as he interacted with others, and he saw that smiling came easy to her. Her smile had an exuberance he never saw before in anyone before.

And she had dimples in which he could dive and lay forever.

And she noticed him gawking at her.

As he came near, a whisper escaped his throat. Then words. Then he sang when she could hear him.

You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.
You’re beautiful, it’s true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don’t know what to do,

She laughed again and it only made him groan.

She heard something and turned away, completely ignoring him. And then disappeared in another man’s embrace.
They kissed.

And a fire burned in Harry’s chest. Heat so intense that it brought tears to his eyes. He left before the new year countdown begin.

He tried to forget her. He honestly did.

At first he assumed that he will forget her with time; after all he didn’t even know her name. But he saw her everywhere. Every female colleague looked like her, every cute smile had dimples, every tied hair like her.

And yet none were hers.

He couldn’t get her out of his head. Her face was ingrained in his brain. He drank to forget her. He tried dating other girls but none were interesting any more.

He cursed himself for this stupid obsession. ‘What’s wrong with me?’ he asked repeatedly.

Every couple was a reminder of them. And he felt bitter and jealous towards everyone of them. He knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t know how.

And sometime in April he understood. He ran the party but he couldn’t leave. Somehow he had made a decision to talk to that girl. Somehow his new years resolution included that girl. His new years resolution was that girl.

And he didn’t even know her name.

May. He found out her name.

Janice. Janice Price soon to be Janice Price-Quentin.

She was engaged now. And he broke his phone when he got that news.

He tried again to move on. It took a bitter turn now, self destructive now. Drugs and alcohol. Nothing helped.

Months passed and he couldn’t help himself from finding more and more about her.

And now, a year later he sat in the bar, cursing himself. Tired of this jealously. Tired of his obsession. Even a psychiatrist couldn’t help him.

His resolution was never meant to be achieved, he understood now. Just a regret.

December 31,2011. Some one played the radio and the song turned to “You are beautiful”. He sighed. No use pretending now, and began to sing the song.

And his eyes fell on the mirror behind the bartender. And there he saw Janice.

First he assumed that it is just his hallucination. But then he became sure it was her. Sitting alone. Checking her phone.

He didn’t move. He saw her, observed her. He doesn’t know or understand why but now he did not want to go and talk with her. He just wanted to see.

And James Blunt sang “You are beautiful.”

Harry said “It’s true.”

Let’s see what other have written in daily prompt: