What is my blog about now?

I completely overlooked the fact that my blog is 4 years old. I should have made a big deal of it considering how quickly my passions oscillate. I am astonished that I haven’t let my blog die.

For the past 4 years, I kept writing without any theme in mind. I wrote about my life, some short stories and lately photo challenge posts. I enjoyed writing. I relished the feedback I received from friends in my real life and the ones I made through WordPress.

The 4 years weren’t smooth sailing,  there were times I thought about stopping. I would always come back though, usually with an urge to get my thoughts on paper.

In January, I took my blog seriously again. I had a few goals:

  1. Write every week.
  2. Generate the minimum traffic everyday.
  3. Comments, likes don’t matter even though they are always appreciated.

I knew that I would always have one viewer on my blog ( Hi Mummy! 🙂 ). But attracting people everyday to my blog was hard. Writing every week is also hard. So far, I have a few irregularities but mostly I have been successful. I won’t admit it was easy, there was a month long gap where I didn’t post anything. But I have to go on since the year’s not over.

For #2, I found two easy ways to get people on my blog: Community Pool and Photo Challenges from Daily Post. However, last week I found out that Daily Post will stop publishing new challenges and hosting pools.

Now, I have to figure out a way to keep my blog alive and post something at least weekly. I can do the latter. I do have enough ideas and content in my head to keep going. My life is exciting enough for me to do that.

I have no idea how to generate traffic. I ought to figure it out someday.

In the months since I started, I realized a few things. I don’t write for the benefit of others. My blog probably never was. It’s mine.

A glorified journal for me to log my important memories and experiences. It was for posting photos I am proud of, for posting short stories I enjoyed writing ( I haven’t done that in a while ).

So this is what this blog is about now: me. It is my attempt to keep something good in my life going. Welcome.


Musical Farewell

* Note: This post is more than a week late
* Also, all people in this post are mentioned by their initials

This was my fourth farewell in the last couple of weeks. I joked with P the other day, I am losing my friends. Some friends are leaving because they don’t have a visa and others like E because she wants to travel.

With every goodbye I utter, I expect myself to grow indifferent and apathetic and yet I haven’t. Every farewell is different but each bring about a emotion in me. This scares me. I realize that I am more attached to my friends that I thought I was.

‘I am going to miss you,’ I say as I hug E goodbye after the farewell, ‘it is unusual for me to be so comfortable around people. I am going to miss that.’

‘Of course, we are really cool people’ E jokes. Obviously, someone has to discharge the emotion in the room with humor.

Last Saturday was E’s farewell. I met her around my first hackathon and then we became friends as we started hosting a meetup along with P and A. Our group became larger as the weeks passed on by and I was glad for that. It didn’t change the group dynamics on the contrary it made hanging out even more fun. It was no surprise that Saturday night was amazing.

Somehow a stupid song ‘Ken Lee’ became the anthem of the night, sung repeatedly. The night became truly extraordinary after the clock struck 10pm, guitars and keyboards were brought out.

We demanded performances as if we had never heard songs before. The hits rolled out: Can’t Live without You by Mariah Carey, Winds of Change by Scorpio, Africa by Toto, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper, Better Half of Me by Dash Burlin and more. We sang without really being drunk, our mood imitating the ambiance one can find in a Karaoke bar. We were happy. We were laughing and we were singing.

We were sitting down. J mentioned a conversation between her and E about our group. The crux of it was that E has become sort of a mother for the group: she would bring food for meetups, she would organize and plans for all of us to get together: sometimes movie nights at her group.

‘It is true,’ I say, ‘E is sort of the planner/mom of the group. We will not have any plans or things to do in the next couple of weeks.’

Everyone laughs.

I remember my brain taking a snapshot of the room. My brain does that from time to time, ensuring that I would never forget something really important. It is as if time slows down and I observe everything in utmost clarity as I did on Saturday night.

E is playing her guitar, R is playing his keyboard, Ir is holding her phone to read the lyrics of the song as we all sing along in a massive out of tune chorus. I feel a grin on my face and at that time I kind of regret that P and A had left the party early. I also know that it would be a while before we would get together like this again. I also know that I will try to capture the essence of the party into this post and will ultimately fail.

There was a house cat at the party. He would be the center of attraction as soon as he walked in the room. As Enzo was being petted by multiple hands, P mentioned about humans being petted.

The joke was simple: will it be weird if we are walking down the road and random people stop us to give our heads a nice pat.

I might actually like that.

It was a great night. It was one of those times in which the sum of emotions is hard to describe. I was happy to be a part of the family that I had formed, sad because I knew that it might not go back to normal for a while, amazed because I didn’t know that my friends are so talented and… I don’t know what else. It is difficult to dissect my feelings about the night.


Ramble On Book Launch

This last Sunday was Z.R.Southcombe’s “Ramble On” book launch and I was a part of it. I read an excerpt of my piece. I loved the entire event, it was simple and full of lovely people.

Before arriving at the venue, I had to decide what part of my piece I was going to read. I knew the essence of my piece but I wanted to reread it to find the one part where I start smiling because of the memories it brings back. I reread my piece and I smiled throughout.

I could read my pieces on my blog all the time ( but I don’t because I don’t think they are good ) but it is a completely different feeling to read my words from a book. I could see paragraphs which could have been better, or the locations described better and it wasn’t perfect but it did what it wanted it to do: make me smile. I loved my essay and I knew exactly what I was gonna read.

Ramble On” was launched in Auckland City Library. According to me, city libraries is the best building in Auckland filled with three floors of books. Zee had invited all of the contributors and other authors for the launch. She had arranged for free goodies, spot prizes ( I won ), face painting ( I didn’t wanna do it ), children’s activities. Library organizers had arranged for refreshments so that guests mingled before and after the event.

I didn’t know there were so many things that went into a book launch. I was shocked by the amount of preparations Zee had done for Ramble on and awed by her efforts. I met Zee for the first time after Twitter and email correspondence. Before I could thank her for letting me be a part of her book, she thanked me for contributing and she insisted that I helped her out.

I met other contributors too. There was one man who was a highlight in the entire event. He called everyone else a ‘Hobbit’. He was huge and broad so I felt like a hobbit in front of him too. He was one of those guys who you meet and you know he is a great guy. He was basically a real-life Hagrid. He invited me to lunch sometime and his wife later told me that he really meant it. He would love to host lunch.

The other thing was really significant about the day was that I was asked to sign copies of “Ramble On”. I looked at the people asking me to sign their copies confused because I didn’t expect it. I was getting my name published for the very first time so how would I know what to write on their copies. What does an author do when they sign copies?

I wanted to tell them that it is just an essay and it is not a big deal. They should probably get their copies signed from Zee because it is her book. They didn’t listen and I caved in. I signed at the end of my essay, hardly writing anything.

When Zee called me up to speak about my piece, I was scared and excited. I cracked a few jokes and everyone laughed. I was funny! I read while paraphrasing small excerpts from my piece where I described my first hike.

Everyone enjoyed it. They all told me that they could relate to the essay, especially the part where I said that I would rather walk in the lead because it was easier than talking to people. I guess most writers fit the stereotypes of being socially awkward.

There it was, my very first book launch. I narrated the entire thing to my friend and I was so excited, I am still excited. It was absolutely perfect.

Buy Ramble On here.


How hard can it be? (New Plymouth-Paritutu Rock Edition)

(My weekend was not hard except this bit. Considering how much fun I had writing last week’s post, I wanted to continue this. I might write an entire post about my New Plymouth trip later)

‘Is it hard?’ someone in the van asked. A guy, let’s call him C had done it before with his partner L said ‘You need good upper body strength to do it. L did it!’

Well, if L was able to do it, I thought how hard can it be?

My fear of cliffs and shear drops was forgotten. See a while back, while walking along the coastal hills in Piha in West Auckland, I found that I am scared of heights. I can do it but I would rather not stand close to the edge and look down at the abrupt chasm. I can walk on any height as long as I don’t have to look down at a cliff.

Paritutu Rock is hardly 100 ms, located at the edge of New Plymouth over looking the ocean. Hikes take the stairs halfway and then reach the peak rock climbing. The climb isn’t vertical so you can use just your feet while getting to the top.

I went on all fours. And I made the mistake of looking down halfway through. I bit down a scream because I was at a cliff looking down at the embrace of harbor rocks. I swear they were arranged hands spread apart.

View Down, Credits: D

I knew coming down would be harder. For the residents of the city, the hike would/should be a weekly exercise. I saw a family descending with their 6 year old daughter while I was standing at the same edge with A. It was sobering moment, cause I was really tempted to go back down.

I was right about one thing: coming down was harder and scarier. If I slipped, I would tumble down on hard rocks all the way, if I don’t fall off a cliff. My left knee (I guess the ice skating issue) had to bother me while descending too. Great!

I took my time. I didn’t care that children were climbing a million times more gracefully than I was. I squatted to keep balance, used my hands for grips slowly covered ground (or rocks?). My eyes were wide open and I don’t think I was blinking them anymore. I told (pleaded?) others behind me, ‘Don’t rush me’.

The only solace descending was I could the carpark getting closer. I knew I wasn’t just going around in circles. I took more time than my group and they were waiting for me at the carpark.I reached the stairs but didn’t stop till I reached my group. K asked me ‘How’s it?’, my face must have shown my fears. I blew out some air while nodding and sat down, allowing my fear to take over.

‘How hard can it be?’ I thought and had a small laugh. I realized that my week could have been completely different, I could have been walking around snow clad Mt Taranaki. The cliff on Taranaki would have been so much scarier.

Of course, it was worth it. The view from the top of the rock was splendid-breathtaking-astonishing and my vocabulary can’t cover it. As I got the summit, to the left, I could see the New Plymouth arrayed systematically like legos. I could see Mt Taranaki in the distance beyond the city, staunch and inviting in its white attire. Clouds obscured the peak from time to time, testing the patience of the group’s photographers H and D. The view on the opposite side was even better.

New Plymouth, Credits: H

I was standing on the edge of the world. If I started sailing straight from there I might not encounter any land till Africa. Edge of the World with nothing but blue sky shading the ocean with a darker hue, the sky and ocean seemed to be going a long way and finally meeting at the horizons. I could hear seagulls, I could see the waves crashing on the shore.

Ocean, Credits: A

Now, if I do that again, I will not be afraid. I could do it when I was scared, I could do it again. In fact, I am looking forward to the next trip and I am hoping that someone invites me for the hike to Mt Taranaki soon.

After all, how hard can that be?

Weekend, Credits: D

How Hard can it be? (Ice Skating Edition)

If you are going to try something you have never tried before, a person is bound to tell you ‘How hard can it be?’. That person might think that they are encouraging. It is either that or they want to watch you fail so bad that they can send your fail video to FailArmy.  My advice to you: punch that person in the face.

How hard can it be? Extremely hard.

Now my advice backfires on me. I am usually the one who says ‘How hard can it be?’, mostly to encourage myself. Maybe I am overconfident too. Afterwards I regret it because my body hurts and if I could glare at myself, I would glare myself to smoldering bits.

Today, I decided that I wanted to go ice skating. I have never even roller skated so I should have been aware of my imminent regret. Instead, I thought how hard can it be. Plus, there was a free event for beginners and who isn’t ready for free stuff.

Boy, oh boy I was wrong.

Firstly, it feels different just standing in balancing with the entire sole of the feet and balancing on a metal skate. How was I standing? I wasn’t standing, my legs were dancing and my body’s momentum pulled me forwards. It was like I had new feet and I had skipped the tutorial on using them (I think I did that). My left ankle decided to shake disturbing my balance and I would flail my arms in the air trying to catch balance (it didn’t work). I would fall to the ground and then began the embarrassing process of standing up.

I fell four times throughout. First time I fell, I was trying to skate at the outer edge. A beginner behind me patiently waited as I tried to stand up again. Second time I fell was about half hour later, by then I was getting confident again because I wasn’t using the boundary for support.

‘I will never learn how to do this if I keep taking support of the wall’ were the exact words in my mind before I fell on my ass. I fell again a few minutes later and after the last time I was done.

Every time I fell, I told myself I can do it. The problem was I didn’t know what I was doing. After the last time, my legs were sore and I had no energy left in me to try again.I was miserable, cold and my ankles hurt. I slipped a lot of time and every time I did, I noticed a pain in my left knee. I think I was bending my knee along the wrong axis and at last I realized that if I kept doing this I might hurt myself.

And I wanna continue doing stupid things so I don’t wanna hurt myself. Nope!

Others around me kept giving me advice. ‘Bend your knees’, ‘right leg forward, angle it and then left leg forward’, ‘1-2-1-2-1’ and so on. I just couldn’t do it properly. I never went beyond the first 1-2 sequence because I would loose my balance there.

There is a positive side to this though. Firstly, and this should be obvious to the dumb, I wouldn’t have tried if I had thought this is going to be really hard. I would probably prepared myself a little if I had thought that way, but the technology isn’t advanced enough for me to Google skating simulation.

Next,  do you know the sensation you get after swimming? You are walking on land but still feel like you floating in the water. Nothing has ever come close to that feeling. Today after I was done and walked to my bus stop I felt like I was on ice again. I felt I was gonna slip and fall on my ass again. I loved that sensation.

Third, I thought back and realized how many things have I tried by thinking ‘How hard can it be?’ and I failed miserably. I am not ashamed of the fact that I failed, I find it funny though. I am going tramping next weekend I told my roommate, ‘how hard can it be’ today. Yay!

Lastly, I got an idea to write this post. I know ~4 people read this blog, one of whom is my mother (Hi Mom!!!) so yeah! I think I am back.

Weekend Coffee Share: Week’s helper

I missed last weekend’s coffee share as I was doing something. I don’t remember what. The week started early, some 5 am when one of my friend called me to talk to me. Something was wrong I knew immediately and we Skyped so early in the morning. Something had came up and she was scared. I did what I do best: make the lamest jokes possible to alleviate her worries. I wish that was the only time it happened in the entire week but another friend also had some issues and messaged me. Did the same thing but I was only thinking: only last entire week I was in a bad place and now are some of my friends. What is happening?

If we do have coffee, I would break the news: my application for continuing my master’s is approved. I can now work on my Masters project which is exactly what I wanted to do. I am so happy and finally a little relaxed. I knew who all helped me, kept touch with me when I needed it. Thank you.

In other news, I love Pokemon Go. The weekend me and my friends walked around the harbour catching pokemon rather than go out to a pub to relax and kill them. I kept thinking: this has got to be the only time I enjoyed my phone more than my friends company. If we do have coffee and you have the game then we will probably stop talking and go catch them all. It is not just me who is addicted but the entire Auckland is catching only pokemon these days. Can’t really blame anyone for it is amazing.

One of the best things I now realize I did was encourage one of my friends to apply for his Masters. His grades were similar to mine and he had given up before applying.

I guess that is all for the week. It is your turn to speak up and say how was your week?

Weekend Coffee Share: New House

If we were having coffee, I would tell you that I moved to a new house past Sunday. It’s not as luxurious as my previous house but then again I knew it was coming. I spent the week here, making friends with the roommates and slowly our bond seems to be getting stronger, unlike my previous roommates.

Also, while sipping coffee, I would complain about my cycle. Start of the week it had a puncture and now there is another problem with the rear gear derailleur. No wonder people give advises to buy a good cycle and not a cheap one. Well, I still have to get a quote on the derailleur problem.

However I love cycling around here. There is a direct separate cycling way to my university, an easy way to the church and both sides it is fun to cycle. Yeah it is also tiring but then again I am having fun. I would have more fun if my cycle stops breaking down so much.

I would tell you that I started working on my Master’s project even before my grades were out. This is especially risky as I didn’t know at that time what is going to happen with my degree anymore. Regardless, even though I worked for a couple of days, I was happy. Finally!

Speaking of grades: they are also out. Unfortunately, I don’t know if I clear them to qualify for my Master’s or not yet. As my grades are bordering between B and C, I don’t know what to infer. When I read the grades all I could do was laugh: even now I feel like Life’s playing with me.

If we do have coffee, I would tell you the highlight of the entire week has been the spoken word event that I attended and wrote about it. I would tell you that I’m desperately waiting for the next such event as I loved it. Considering the response that they got, I hope that they don’t charge it from the next time.

Lastly, I would turn the mike over to you and await to hear from you: how has your week been?

Maybe I should pay more attention

Racism. Something which I would hardly think of when I am dealing with people. So whenever people would ask me “Where are you from?” I would reply where am I from and just leave it at that. I hardly pay any heed to the subtle hints of racism because I do not have time for it. However after listening to at least 6 people speak about the same issue I realize that maybe I should be paying more attention.

After seeing an event on Facebook about a spoken word/poetry event, I decided to go for it. I like writing, I like poetry and I am a fan of spoken poetry. I knew the topic is not a simple one and from what I heard from the speakers I realized how unaware am I about the extent.

The bar couldn’t have been shadier. Honestly, they took underground groups too literally and they had more than 100 people gathered in such a small place. The next door rock band overpowered the speakers completely and I couldn’t make out more than a syllable or two in the first half of the event. However the next half, I sat up front and listened. I was so into it that I forgot to click photos, forgot almost everything and just absorbed.

I heard a girl try to explain and fail, try again and still get all messed up in explaining where she is from: Chinese or Kiwi. I heard a guy talk about what it was like being White after being born in a Maori family. Heard an open letter, not to White people, but to Koreans. Heard two poems from an Australian Maori girl.

Maybe I am missing some of the poems. Even more likely I am actually not doing justice to what I heard. Because I simply cannot; I am not perceptible enough of the surroundings, I don’t think along the lines as the speakers can think. Because their words moved, their experiences made me recall all the months and think: was that racism?

While I may not know which end of the spectrum I exist on, I am surely one of those ‘unawares’ the speakers spoke of. And from what I heard, I cannot help but applaud the speakers and their courage. And learn and absorb whatever I can, from their experiences, from their words and their strengths.

Sometimes I Surprise Myself

I have been cooking in a new country for a month now. Sadly, only once my cooking has produced something that I couldn’t get enough of.

I do not cook bad all the time. I don’t cook amazing either. The very first time I cooked lamb chops, I followed a recipe. The result was so good, that I wanted to cry in joy at the taste.  ‘I made this’ I thought amazed. And I have been trying to reproduce the results ever since.


But aside from the served dish, there are a couple of cooking things that I have mastered.

I heat up oil in the pan and add mustard seeds. The seeds pop and emit a great fragrance. I can add oil-blackened seeds to rice, lentils or anything else I have made. The aroma of the fried seeds, called tadka in India, is so good that everyone say ‘smells good’. I smile and try to tell them I didn’t do nothin’.

I don’t like large chunks of vegetables. Actually, I don’t like vegetables in general but I understand their importance in my food. So I spend time meticulously cutting onions, potatoes, carrots. As finely as I could. My previous housekeeper asked me how do I find so much time, I should just cook them in whatever shape they are. I didn’t tell her the answer but I don’t like that way, I like the way these small vegetables taste. The surprising thing: the chopped onions are now almost perfectly diced.And then I caramelise them so they are almost burnt. I could eat that with everything.

I have made mistakes. Twice, I cut my fingers with chef’s knife, once cutting onions and yesterday while cutting potatoes. After I bandaged my finger yesterday, my eyebrows were raised. ‘Wow, that was bloody efficient of you’ I praise myself (no pun intended) but I’m the clumsiest person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.

Roommates cook, sometimes I watch them. That’s how I learned how to cook pasta, embarrassingly. I praise them when their food looks or smell fabulous. Sometimes they offer their good food to taste, sometimes they don’t. I always offer food to taste. Food is always better when shared.

When I got here, I was prepared to eat anything I could cook. I was wrong, I want to eat food that does not makes me nauseous. If that means that I have to spend more time in prep so be it. I spend more than an hour cooking. I don’t regret it, I have found that cooking is actually fun.

I never expected myself to say that.

PS: I just completed 2 years on my blog.

Level 2016: You Are Just Going To Get Harder Aren’t You?

If life is compared to a computer game then each year would be a level.

In the beginning of the level, it seems easier but with time it gets harder and harder. You pray for the demon to appear so you could beat him and finish the level.

If life is a computer game, then that demon really cannot be defeated. Because that bastard reiterates itself in multiple forms that it no longer have a name or face. That demon can be beat but then you will be wary of its reappearance.

If life is a computer game, then the game developer must be one of the sneaky ones. Because this game does not drop hints of the coming monstrosity. However, in the game developer’s defence, there are no intimation of blissful moments either. Sneaky and gracious game developer then.

If life is a computer game then most times you get hurt. However there is no reset button, if you die there is no reincarnation at the hospital like its GTA. There are no cheat code to gain weapons so that you can kill away the bastards in life. Then again, you realize you cannot hurt even a fly, killing is way out of your league.

Friends are those bonus which come irregularly but revitalize your life. Family is the thing that can sap your energy but without them the game is worthless. Game scores become irrelevant after enough game-play because the missions matter more. You already know you can’t get a perfect score; unless of course you have money.

If life is a computer game then level 2016 is going to be tougher than 2015.

There will be more heartbreak, more brutalities, sporadic joys. But maybe you have finally gotten the hang of it now.

Now you, if life is a computer game then you know where to look if you are almost out of power. You almost can see the trap coming from a couple of meters away. And you also know that you might be wrong. You would know what you are looking for, it won’t be absolute but it will be enough for now.

If 2016 is a game level, then there are a lot of levels left to play, so do not give up. Because you will die, so take your time and get up again. The rules are almost discernible now. Life is difficult, levels are more difficult and love is impossible.

But you play this computer game of life, cause only then there’s any meaning. Cause only then there’s Elysium in hardships.

Thank You: We ought to say it more

Because we do not say thank you to anyone any more.

Not to family or friends, the prospect of saying thank you to people who owe us nothing is a far fetched dream. A irony of this lack of expression is social media though.

Say Thank You to the people, like the conductor who punched your ticket on the public transport, or the guy who held the elevator for you. Or for that matter who kept the door open when you walked in with your hands full. Their deeds are not extraordinary, but necessary nonetheless.

Thank You is a simple thing to say, common words in every language.  If used apropos, they can explicit the gratitude.

I am trying to be genuine in my expression. It is difficult because everyone is a skeptic, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

A while ago, I met a girl who said Thanks to everyone. The ticket conductor, the rickshaw driver, the person who served our meals. Intrigued and awestruck I asked her why. Her answer was a shrug, a habit I guessed was ingrained in her demeanour.

I unwittingly adopted her habit. Soon I said thank you to the elevator man, the lunch boy, canteen boy, watchman, neighbour. Yeah, pretty much everybody.

It feels good, when you say Thank you to the conductor who just gave you change when commuting. It feels better when you say thanks for doing his job. Same goes for grocery shopping, say thank you and the stall owner and he is bound to greet you back with his hands raised and posed in a Namaste or a Salaam.

Seriously, try it.

A month ago, I took a bus home. Unfortunately, I had a 500 rupee note, 16 rupee change and the ticket was a mere 26 rupee in comparison. The conductor had no change to give me. He did not want to risk taking the note from me either, he explained that recently there is a plethora of fake currency. 

He respectfully (that is a miracle in itself) asked me to get down at the next stop and take the next bus.

Distressed, I fumed about what to do because I did not want to wait for the next bus. It was already a long day at the office. The guy who sat in front of me overheard our conversation and offered to pay the remainder. That was bigger miracle.

In a small conversation he gave me a huge lesson in humility; he told me he was stuck with some money issue in the bus. Someone helped him out too then. Now he helped me out and asked me to help out another such stuck commuter if I could.

I promised that I will, thanking him more than once. I also made a promise to buy his ticket the next time we meet. Unfortunately, I no longer remember his name, face. He is now another random face in the crowd for me.

I still have not helped any other commuter in a similar fashion, but I help in any way possible.

There is more than one instance when the thank you is not acknowledged.

I get it, the listener may not have heard me. Maybe they were having a bad day. Its cool, its all cool.

Like I said, I enjoy saying the words. It is ingrained in me by my own deeds,  a habit that I do not want to obviate.

The heart of the issue is most of the people do not say thank you. They act as they do not even care. I do not help people for their thank you, and at the risk of sounding a hypocrite, that nonchalance is offending.

I feel like staring at the people for whom I just kept the elevator waiting (this happens a lot of time in my office) to coerce them into saying thank you.

Like the girl however, I just shrug it off.

The irony of this situation is social media. For me saying thank you is not manners but I am assuming that they are manners for every other socialite.

On Facebook, Twitter and everywhere else, manners are rigorously followed. Every comment gets a thank you.

But in real life, thank you is lost, meaningless and taken for granted.

It says something about us, my generation. We consider the same words as a sign of weakness.

Suddenly, due to pop culture idolizing the stolid, arrogant protagonists and other ignorant heretics, saying and acknowledging other people’s kindness depicts a weak individual.

Seriously, WTF!

In stark contrast, help out an old person and wait till you hear him say Thank You Beta (son). There is the zenith of humility and graciousness. The qualities one should be chasing and not money.

I remember speaking to a good friend once and she told me about her classmates. One thing we both agreed on is the lack of humility everywhere. Everyone is a braggadocio. Everyone wants to prove their superiority. No one wants to help though, no one can say thank you and sorry anymore.

We debate about intolerance and feminism. We have not yet learned the basic, easy humane values. Then we wonder what is wrong with the world.

Don’t Blame Me

Don’t blame me
If I fail
Cause you told me I’ll fail.

Don’t blame me
If I get angry
Cause you never appeased me.

Don’t blame me
For being a loser
You never taught me to win.

Don’t blame me
If don’t talk
You never listened.

Don’t blame me
If I’m alone
You never stood next to me.

Don’t blame me
If I trust too easy
How else could you have taken advantage?

Don’t blame me
If I don’t back myself
You taught me I’m not worthy.

Don’t blame me
If I turn cynical
Even I need a facade

Don’t blame me
For becoming vile
This is your making.

First Job

My First Job

It lasted for four days. Yes four days.

(I have previously written on my struggles to land a job.)

How did I get placed there?

I had little hopes of getting a good job. I had a specific criteria & I was not willing to enter any written agreement mandating me to work for the company for ‘x’ years. So I looked at the unconventional openings: Content Writing.

In my folly, I thought I knew how to write. I figured this would be a piece of cake. A Google search of the jobs available later I ended up on their website and my application was sent. Same day I got two more interview calls and I had three interviews arranged in a span if two days.

The Work

The in-charge proposed that I work there on a temporary basis. He wanted to see how well I can cope up with actual technical writing and he asked me to evaluate if I am sure of taking up the responsibility. Additionally he offered to pay for my travel expenses for the temporary period. After some hesitation I took the job. There is still no call from the other two places where I interviewed.

The four evaluation days were all the same. He gave me a task to perform and I had to write. My initial assessment of this being a piece of cake quickly broke down. There’s a huge difference in writing for oneself and writing for someone else. Though we thought along the same plane, my words failed to impress him time after time.

I didn’t lose hope and concentrated more. The most frustrating day was when I ended up writing the same sentence ten different times and he liked none of them. 10!

I am humbled. He kept his word on the last day and remunerated me. He had a stock of papers in his hand, my written drafts & when I bid him farewell I knew I wouldn’t be called back. But that experience was needed. I needed to learn first hand that I am not the best at what I do and I still have a long way to go. I needed the shock.

The sad thing is though

On the last day I was starting to enjoy myself. I liked the congenial work culture, the indulgence and work ethics. The in charge no matter how dogmatic is a man who he said he was and his company had the life the website promised. They were nice people. It sucked to leave.

On the worse side

Of sorts. The food I ate there had a serious effect on me. Vomiting, fever and all the accompanying symptoms. I have been lying in my bed for last two days. Helpless. Weak. If I had continued there my health would surely deteriorated.

I expect a recovery in the next couple of days. I keep joking to my friend that ‘I’m dying’ and she rebukes. She doesn’t realize that I really feel that way.

PS: If you are a php developer or writer and looking for a job”

Reach me via Facebook and I will refer you to the company. They need the manpower.

Your Eyes

(Daily Prompt : Born To Be With You
Not completely related but I found some connection so I am putting this in connection)

Literary Lion: Eye
(I’m being lazy by not writing another post but I already have written this!)

I saw you in train, I was soaked from the rains. I couldn’t see your face. Your niqab covered your face. But I saw your eyes. All I saw was your eyes. Those soft round eyes surrounded by chalk white skin. Some mascara maybe. The deep black irises. I don’t think i have been so enthralled by eyes ever before.

I kept looking, occasionally realizing that I have to look somewhere else. I don’t know if you noticed my stare, because if you did then I would have been bitten senseless in the train. I don’t know how your face looked, I couldn’t hear your voice but I saw your eyes and for me that was enough. Black as a moonless night, I don’t know if iris are ever this black. I stared because there was something about them, I know it was wrong.

I don’t think you noticed anybody in the train. For you were enthralled by your boyfriend on who’s shoulder you kept your head. And he kept talking, his voice getting louder as if he spoke with the entire compartment and not just you. I would have kept quiet and stared. Stared at something so small and so immensely beautiful.

I don’t think I’ll meet you again. I won’t remember you either in a week.

And I went home, forlorn, listening to James Blunt sing ‘You’re beautiful ’

Check out other people’s responses :
Born To Be With You
Born to be with You: Daily Post
Love Crime, Acts of Love, and wacky love bits: this week’s weird news
Born to Be With You
and the Kitchen Sync
Shoo in…
Ah, Friday…
Reflected Glory

Born to Be With You

“Born to Be With You”
Sole Mate
My Boyfriend Should be the Music Blogger: #NaBloPoMo/#DailyPost
Why Do You Like Her/Him?

Literary lion responses:
The Deadline
Literary Lion : In his mind’s eye
Apple of Her Eye
Literary Lion – Watcher
Blue sea

What Do You Want to Do in Life?

My dad sat with me the other night to have a very important talk. I expected the conversation to involve drinking or something related to it. Instead he shocked me by asking a question I was never ready for. I will probably be never be able to answer.

Beta kya karna hai life me? ‘what do you want to do with your life? ’


Two months and so many job applications. I have been choosy and more than haphazard in my options. So till date I’m still looking for a job that I’ll go and say yes without slightest hesitation. Idealistic and dreamy view.

I wrote two pieces about my recent interviews and I have realized that I have made my share of mistakes. My brain though is amazing in figuring out where a circuit is faulty is not so speedy recovering from unprepared questions thrown at me.

I couldn’t answer my father. I didn’t lie, I said I don’t know what I want to do with my life, I am confused. I am trying to figure things out. One step at a time but I need some experience to understand my capabilities and my interests. He never pushed me neither did he gave a reprimand for not knowing the answers. Usually this question sends me to Dark corner where there is no return for a day or two. This time I stood and tried my best to answer it. And I intend to make sure I have an answer for it.

And as the decision dragged on they said that I give up too soon. I might be a cantankerous and testy asshole but I never give up. And then I kept quiet. Because I knew now my words are useless and I had to get things sorted.


I have no idea how or when my parents decided to visit a fortune teller. They have their own faith and while I can’t say the same I couldn’t oppose it even if I wanted to. Because they never told us where we were going.

My brother lost his job recently. And while we are really confident that he can dust this off in no time and pick another great opportunity, we all are worried for him. And my parents had two reasons to visit the teller. And the revelations were fantastic/hilarious.

They intend to make a locket for me because I’m a sloth and that’s the way to make a person active. I don’t my parent’s concern or care but I do think it is pretty useless. I said if you both believe it then I’ll wear. The decision was instantaneous.

The funny part was when they exclaimed that they asked about my marriage. Apparently I’m going to have a love marriage. I’m sure that’s fortune’s way of mocking me.

I made a to do list. It’s huge and it’s constantly being amended. And just last week when I thought I had a great life I realize that’s because I let procrastination get the better off me. This list has unfinished items from atleast six months. Prominent among them is to get my slurred speech remedied. I am not going to be mocked because I can’t pronounce Roller.

I still don’t have answers. But I am going to try get them. And I won’t quit.


I had another interview. This one via a contact and this time something that I know is perfect for me.

And I didn’t keep quiet when he said this isn’t the job for me. I tried, I tried harder to somehow change his answer from ‘we have no job openings’ to something affirmative. Something that shows a glimmer of hope. Nada.

Another job I’m not made for apparently


My juniors ask me for suggestions in their project and GRE and placement. Everything they ask. And I don’t blame them, guidance is needed.

So if you are reading this and you know you are going to have to face a similar situation as my juniors my advice would be the same.

Go for it. Couple of redundant certificates don’t hurt. Do whatever comes your way for now. Do them till you figure out the answers to the questions I can’t answer. Tap on every opportunity you can get. You don’t know where your life will head. So don’t be an idiot and think you have everything figured out. Go for it.

People Suck!

*This is a rant. There’s a possibility that none of this is meant for you but for the people I have in my life and I can’t just get rid of*

Yes I said it. Yes its mean. Yes I am Rambling and ranting but i hate people.

All you ever do is make life worse. Hardly do you ever bring to the table something good, hell you don’t eve bring yourselves most of the times deciding to wear a mask rather than show who you are.

You in all your diplomacy and crafty choice of words.

You in your facebook statuses and instagram post. All you ever do is brag, i can’t seem to remember the last time there was anything sad there. Ever!

Yes you suck. Because you get everything you are looking for, with absolutely no efforts whatsoever. And no I am looking closely, I would have noticed if you are trying to make it look very easy. There’s no efforts. Just a smile and things just fall into place for you.

There’s no sorrow. There’s no regards for your friends. There’s just you and still people just scramble for your feet. No one cares if you use them and throw them away. Nope! everything’s cool.

You are mean. The rules to make you happy change in a second. There’s hypocrisy of unparalleled levels yet everyone keeps their mouth shut. Why? because it will hurt feelings. Where’s that consideration when you are being mean to me?!

And I hate you. Not because you are inhuman nor because you are an absolute asshole, but because the field’s never equal between us. No amount of good I do will ever wipe out the bad I did, but you never have to do anything good. I will never get another chance and there you will be able to be choosy with chances. I will always earn less, struggle more and lay awake at night thinking what to do tomorrow while you will be having another great night. Everyone will praise me and say shit about you yet when the time’s come then I stand alone.

Yes its just a few people who are this way but its these people who make me think its better to spend time with my dog rather than try to fit in this world.

To whomsoever it may concern(Too Honest)

I had an interview today.

And their response at the end blew my mind.

Not my preferred job profile, but its better than sitting at home and doing nothing. I have to start somewhere, if its at the bottom of ladder so be it. My ego can eat shit.

I made my share of mistakes in the interview. But I stuck with what I said, I didn’t try to dodge a question thrown at me with tact because I don’t know how to and also I don’t want to. My interview, my chance to show the panel who I am. To make them hire me for me, rather than some braggadocio.
They asked where do I see myself in next three years?

I replied I don’t know. I’m still determining where my life is headed. Honest.

They asked me about my educational knowledge. I answered everything.

While admiring my integrity, the interviewer suggested that I learn tact. That I am too honest, which will most of the times unnerve the opposite party, they said. And as a sales executive that’s the last thing they want.

I don’t expect the company to hire me and I am trying to jot down the mistakes I made. So I learn. I am not reeling. I am not upset neither am I ashamed. Rather I am complacent. And with a cold fury.

I read this article a long time ago at the time when I was not looking for employment. I loved it for what it was. Honest.

So here I write a letter for my own, maybe my own cover letter(open to your advises)

You can look at my knowledge and my technical abilities from my resume, my certificates. I am more than that.

I am a biomedical engineer. An industry not well known, in a sector where people advice not to work in. And I’m a fresher. No experience and naive.

I am Honest.

I hold it not as a weakness that others can exploit, I look at something that holds me unique among my peers.

I am not gonna manipulate you. I am not gonna lie to you. Not going to make excuses. And when I’ll give you my word I’ll mean it.

The world belongs to the cunning and the streetsmart. Ones who are unparalleled in the trait of enthralling you in the words they utter. I am not one of them. I speak true & honest, I give you a unspoken  choice to either accept what I say or don’t.

Maybe one day I’ll learn better. I am too raw in knowledge, too innocent in tact as the previous guy said, but I’ll learn. Either to successfully show it to you that my honesty isn’t a liability but a strength that I see it as. As a skill that you can help me hone.

Or I’ll learn to be tactful and cunning, just one of the thousands.

I’m untapped potential.

And how this proceeds is up to you. I’m asking you to give me the opportunity.

And I mean it when I say I’ll give it my best. Absolute best.

Mayur Wadhwani.


Ha! Ha!

I kept laughing like an absolute lunatic on the phone. She kept shouting at me to stop laughing because it was something serious. Eventually she gave up and hung up the phone.

This evening things went after a huge time better. I don’t know what prompted it. Whether there was any prompt or this was just a random act of kindness bestowed upon me by the universe.

Mostly the latter.

And I became happy. So happy that I jokingly threatened my mom to take care of her health, in an Italian accent no less. I even used The Godfather’s immortal line ‘I’ll make an offer you can’t refuse.’

And then laughed about it for like fifteen minutes.

Then skip to the phone call. I was supposed to be serious (it was more funny because of my temporary tattoo) but I couldn’t help it. The conversation was so cute that I kept on laughing and laughing.

Why So Serious

I am Happy. Over no reason at all. Yes, that makes me a little left out of center. And qualifies me for the nearest asylum. But I’m enjoying this feeling.

I’m smiling over nothing. I’m quoting movies and so many cliché Hindi statements, to my parents and brother no less that I am surprised they haven’t called asylum yet.

I even called Jimmy “Kutte!” (Dog in Hindi) full in a dharmendra (an bollywood actor who made the dialogue immortal on account of his style).

I love this feeling and writing this post because I know this happiness won’t last. And I want to make the most of it.

So I will give you an advice which I just gave.

If you ever feel like this: Enjoy it. Embrace it. This will not last. Make it count.

In a world where you are looking for reasons to be happy, being happy over nothing is rare.

Thanks For Reading

Projects, Dashing cars, Bowling, Heartbreaks and everything in between.

Usually plans are made. Let’s hang out here, let’s go there on Sundays. But nothing happens and at the end you are left at home watching a movie for like tenth time eating same comfort food.

Sometimes spontaneous plans are born, kindled by the preceding unsuccessful attempts of planned hangouts, and something great comes out of it. This evening was one of those times.

While we gathered at college to complete our project, we decided upon going for bowling. That required a lot of pleading and an unexpected surprise at the positive response we received. Probably for the first or second time, my classmates decided to hang out willingly without the threat of a lecture on top of us.

Fast forward to the mall and bowling. Though that was the main destination, we took our time to reach there. And on the way was Hamleys.

Hamleys is a toy store in Infinity mall in goregoan, and my god, what a place! Every toy you could dream of, of every toy dreamt and every toy desired was there. Stuffed toys, miniature buildings, Jenga, cars, drums and pianos. Everything! We all were like a bunch of children roaming around looking at every toy we could see in absolute merriment. And then I found the remote controlled section. And that is something that I always loved. Always.
*mental note: buy a remote controlled helicopter*

Next dashing cars. The car arena where you keep hitting other car drivers to have fun. It took me half the time to figure out how to drive the damn thing. And it took more concentration to listen what the instructors keep telling me because I was too busy laughing. I laughed my lungs out there. Then we kept on hitting and crashing and crashing. Fun times.

First time bowling. And can I say it was well worth it. It took some time for me to learn. And when there are ten people ready to play in just two lanes, its is funny as hell!

After hanging out for hours, the toy store mostly brought out true natures from all of us, and when we spoke, we let all out. Relationships, heartbreaks (or vacancies), general guys do this versus girls do that etc etc. And if I may so conclude, that one made me realize that its not just us guys who are confused about the other sex its the other way around too. Confusion is more human nature.

A great day. One which later discussed was without one group photo or selfie. One where the company was enjoyed more than the place. Where memory was made in mind rather than SD card

Thanks For Reading

How I Stitched A Button

Let’s back up a few days for now.

The last couple of weeks weren’t easy for me. For one I had to face the doomsday conundrum: Decisions.

Now, it probably is not a big deal for you but it was a big deal for me. I have to decide what to do about my future masters. And the ramifications of that weighs down on me more heavily than anything else. One of my friends pointed me that I am only considering the possibility that I will screw up and not the other side of the coin.

But that is what encumbers me: me messing up something which is almost dreamy.

While I struggled to decide what to do, facing more and more bad news, I really want to quit. Quit this and just stop trying. Knowing fully well that this isn’t going to work out.

In meanwhile I read this post by Bora. He explained perfectly what I couldn’t understand in my life. I realized that as my college life is coming to an end, studies don’t take up too much of the pressure, its what you do with them is.

So I sat down to stitch the button. And while I know next to nothing about stitching I did it. Like I everything else I overdid it. There was so many layers of thread interwoven by the time I’m done on the small poor little button that it couldn’t rotate and the thread was stuck halfway. Like everything else, I did it with a focus and concentration that even three buttons exhausted me(procrastinator!)

The over stitched button

But as I did that, I realized I love working. Not a single stray thought ran across my mind. No distractions, just me and the needle and the holes in the button. Though I was clumsy as hell, I kept losing the needle every time I kept it so I could cut the thread, I enjoyed stitching.

With my dad proudly proclaiming that his son has finally grown up (all it took was one button!), I finished the work I have been putting off for a few days. And this small work was what I had needed to get my resolve back.

I still have no clue about what to do next. I still have the same problems but maybe all I need to do now is start working. Stop thinking.

Thanks For Reading


This one is special. It is very close to my heart and I felt like writing about it for a while.

Laughter. It is contagious, spontaneous and very much precious. Ever heard a baby laugh? In no time almost everyone looking at the baby starts laughing, the joy spreads across like water.

If you know me and have heard my laugh, you will agree with this, I laugh like a maniac. Total and absolute maniac. I laugh with my feet bouncing off the floor, my arms making some unintelligible symbols in the air before clenching my stomach because its paining from laughter.

I am one of the few people who can laugh at anything and everything till tears swell out of my eyes. And I’m extremely proud of that.

How many people do you know who could look at something and make an insane joke and start howling in laugh? The answer is none. Well some can, but none like me. I have damaged my bed when I’m literally ROFL, I have broken my chair and made my dog more scared of my laughter than something really scary, like bathing. Yeah!

I laugh like crazy when we watch a show on weekends, and my parents proudly claim that any comic show is not funny without me. And I’m pretty sure that most jokes get funny because of maniacs like me. Well you are welcome!

Then I look around people. People who grew up from being children themselves. Who somewhere in their lives stopped laughing. They now laugh properly, decently(ugh) even. People with their constant attempts to be cool. And I pity them.

I dare you, next time you hear a joke that starts a giggle in your throat, just laugh. Laugh like me, leave your limbs free and let the magic(yeah!) take you over. By the time you are done laughing, your stomach will be aching, you will feel hungry and your bladder will be bursting. And tears will be shed, proving that your eyes still work.

And you will be revitalized.

My laugh is probably the only thing that has not changed. It is there from my childhood and I intend to keep it alive this way. Unadulterated and unbiased.

But, alas not all good things last forever. Now my laughter is becoming strained. When confronted with questions without any seemingly correct answer, question like what do I want to do with my life? How do I make people believe in my when I have doubts? Then there are two options. Cry like a baby, or laugh like a baby.

And I laugh, because crying makes me look weaker. I laugh and I notice hysteria slowly creeping in. I realize what had happened to others and why they have difficulty laughing like I do. Reality came crashing in. And confrontation scattered will. Madness and sadness were only discernible.

And I’m staggered by the question: Will I end up like those who have forgotten how to laugh?

My answer is maniacal laughter. Because the alternative is too terrifying.

Thanks For Reading


( By Heart

You’re asked to recite a poem (or song lyrics) from memory — what’s the first one that comes to mind? Does it have a special meaning, or is there another reason it has stayed, intact, in your mind?)

Yes, I understand that every life must end, aw-huh,..
As we sit alone, I know someday we must go, aw-huh,..
Oh I’m a lucky man, to count on both hands
the ones I love,..

Some folks just got one,
yeah, others, they got none,

The song is Just Breathe by my favorite band Pearl Jam. While watching a TV show once I heard this song for the first time, and I absolutely loved it. I still have this song in my phone, and the line from the song always touched a cord. Always.

After I heard the song I did the same, I counted the ones I love and care about. Counted the ones who I think love and care about me. And as ashamed as I am to admit it, I never count family. They are bound to love and care, they have always done so. So in conclusion I could never reach four fingers.

I cared about so many people, yet I never felt that the feeling is mutual.

I feel alone. In crowds. In the seclusion of home. I am not ashamed to admit it. Everyone feels the same, everyone is looking for something in their lives. So am I.

And now more than ever. When everything is golden and blissful, at those times the ephemeral feeling of accomplishment, the feeling of not being alone even for a small time lifts you up. When surrounded by people who laugh with you, eat with you. But when things turn sour, the people disappear with the wind.

When someone who I got really got attached to decided to walk out, I had to reevaluate my life. With the anger of  feeling of being discarded as thrash, the mourning and the selfish sadist urge to hurt back, I realized that maybe I am doing things wrong.

Maybe I expect people to be like me. To live their lives by my ideals. To fill in the picture that I painted for my perfect life. And that, even for all my nice intentions, is really the most selfish I could be. And I never realized it.

I cannot even live up to my ideals, how could I expect others to do so? And how could I expect them to know answers to questions that I should know.

The only person who can help me is me. About time I realize this. Only I can decode my life. No one else can decide which master’s am I supposed to pursue, or how to manage the abrupt stress of college work.

I have a direction, and I intend to improve myself down the path just opened.

To the friend who decided to walk out, I want to stay angry. I want to hurt you, even for small measure of pleasure I could get. But I know it is not going to help me. Your decision to end things, so be it. No more heated words exchanged, no more shouting in front of others. And I hope that when you decide to talk again, I’ll have lower expectancy. And I’ll be better. And I hope the same be said for you too.

Thanks For Reading


They are a benedictions and yet most often a malediction. And expectation come hand in hand with them.

If you have read my previous posts you will know that I absolutely abhor expectations. In fact I’m irreversibly marred by them. The tyranny of expectations breathe down the neck when holidays are descried in the horizon and I know, I have a gut feeling that they will end in tears and heartbreak.

It is like one is not complete without the other. And if I may, it is like they are fraught with sadness. Like expecting a heavenly time and getting, kind of hell. It seems a bad conclusion of Newton’s second law of motion.

Holidays for me are simple: watch movies, read books and eat and sleep. I don’t want to shop, roam pointlessly, just relax. After all I deserve it, working and traveling so much is grudging and I need some time off.

But a upcoming family holiday changes the dynamics. Everyone has expectations and abashed as I am to admit it, no one wants their perceived version of holidays to shatter. Father wants to do something, Mother wants to do something else. Brother, for the matter, just swings with the flow and is ready for every plan.

Unfortunately, not a single one of their plans is compatible with the other. And all of their ideas are resolute without any scope for compromise. Hence the tears and heartbreaks.

So my holidays are an anticlimax. With a heightened enthusiasm at the onset, disappointment comes at the end. And with each person the way to express this disappointment differs. And at the end no one is happy and praying that no such holiday comes again.

Such a scene in a few days of reprieve has been repeated so many times that even if I try, I cannot possibly come up with something new to say or do to lighten the mood. I don’t like the dolorous ambience at home but what can I do?

So when at times of Diwali(Reason for holidays, most auspicious festival in Hindus) when everything is expected to be beatific, nothing really is.

But the holidays this time had a special moment too. See on the first day of the three day family holiday, we all had breakfast. Now we never do that.

With my college, my brother’s and parent’s job schedules we never have viands at the same time. Never.

This time we did. Only once in the three days but we did. And we laughed and talked. All of us sitting in that table together and eating and sharing stories. No sadness, no tension. And to make things better even my dog came along to eat. Yeah, he completed the family picture at that time.

If we all weren’t so disheveled and somnolent I would have clicked a picture. I can’t even believe that the best time was then, when no one was wearing newly brought clothes, no expensive food or sweets. Just tea and some breakfast. And it was perfect.

I later said that after how much time did we all eat together, that now my Diwali is now complete. I probably jinxed the mood.

I hope that in a couple of days or months when I look back I only remember that morning and not the subsequent days. Because that morning was special. What followed was like a over repeated commercial that you are fed up with.

Thanks For Reading


( In Transit

Train stations, airport terminals, subway stops: soulless spaces full of distracted, stressed zombies, or magical sets for fleeting, interlocking human stories?)

This post can be taken as a continuation of an earlier post about the train travel experience.

Almost three and a half years of travels via trains,  which could be summed up to about four hours a day. That’s a lot.

When I started my college, everyone said that college is too far,  which they are right,  and I politely replied ‘You get used to the travels.’ You do get used to it,  the train journey becoming an integral part of everyday life. Leaving college according to the train timing and waiting at the edge of station straining to get a glimpse of imminent train. 

Mumbai Local Trains. They make your life.

But my post isn’t about the trains. It’s related to what happened in 2006. (For full story read here and here)

File photo of the blast. Image courtesy : http://www.outlookindia.com/article/Forking-Paths-Of-Faith/235136

Those terror attacks changed everything. I mean everything. I admit,  from the first day of my college my parents told me to call them when I reach college.  That habit grew old and I stopped it. But it doesn’t change anything.

Those attacks killed common people,  commuters like me.  Maybe they were returning from jobs or from college and they never reached home. And ever since trains are no longer completely trusted.

Authorities did what they could,  and stations still have metal detectors and emergency ambulances standing by and countless measures were taken but the fear is still there.

When I travel there comes a time when I suddenly notice a rather normal looking Bag. Completely ordinary yet it grabs my attention. And I take eschew glances till someone picks the bag up and departs the train. I sigh in relief,  guilty for mentally accusing a person’s innocuous bag as a means of terror and death.

And I’m not alone in this. I have seen people who form groups and sing pious lauds but are very cautious about the luggage. Every bag that seems to be left out is called out. Mostly at Dadar where the trains halts,  commuters calls for the owners of the bag.

The fear is now ingrained. Every train journey there is a nagging sensation that something can go wrong. And the thought scares me.
At that time people who died, were grievously injured were unaware. And now the vigilance in the trains, portrayed by everyone is some assurance.

Everything else in the trains, like fights and cussing,  the rush to grab a window seat or even the stupid couples standing near the door when the train is empty seems natural. Seems a part of the routine.

But the dread of a mishap is not. Don’t get me wrong,  being wary and vigilant is our responsibility. And I will do the same whenever I travel.

And this is what travel is. A promiscuous mixture of kindness, anxiousness and apprehension.

The four hours of life.

Let’s see what others have written :

no parking
A Yellow Tale: part ii
My Secret Thoughts!

Support the GLCC During National Coming Out Week


Moving People

World’s Best Teleportation Device

Hanging out at the train station
Daily Prompt: In Transit – in Switzerland
And I was No Where at All #microfiction #travel #dpchallenge
In Transit: Solitary Reader

Thanks For Reading

I’m proud

Daily Post
( Truth Serum

You’ve come into possession of one vial of truth serum. Who would you give it to (with the person’s consent, of course) — and what questions would you ask?

Not the best relation to the topic. But if I could frame a question to this post it would probably be like what are you proud of?

I did my best.  Really I did. I don’t know how it didn’t go so well.

In retrospect I can’t even count how many times I said this.  I repeated this again and again to everyone and everyone who listened. 

And I did this every time I failed.  I was distraught,  the weight of disappointment too heavy for my lank shoulders.

Tonight when I was watching a tv show,  a reality show nonetheless,  I heard one contestant say she is proud of what she did. Even if she is eliminated she knows she couldn’t have done better.

And she is proud of that fact.

That one line caught my attention.  If she fails or she isn’t up to the standard,  she is eliminated.  No second  chance.  No retries. Just gone. 

But she said she will be proud of what she did regardless the results.
I never said that. I never said that when I screwed up a big exam three years ago.  I never say it now when I have so many things to be proud of.  I never say I’m proud of that.  Even when I got great scores which I just recently did,  I was ecstatic but never uttered or felt proud.

Is that even possible?

So I asked friends.  Almost all said the same.  They were proud of themselves when they did great.  But when they didn’t accomplish what they sought,  they didn’t feel happiness much less pride.

And they certainly never felt pride when they fell. Unlike the girl on the show.

Maybe the show is fake and not reality, a deceiving telecast just to win audience.  Or maybe the girl lived halfway down in Australia maybe.  Or some other rationale can be valid here.

It is like someone poured an ice bucket on me.  Realization is disheartening and sends a shiver down my spine.

So I ask you,  After you failed in something you put your heart and soul into, after you did your best, 
Did you say to yourself that you are proud of yourself? Not after days of crying and hurting yourself.  Immediately after.  When and if the shock is just given and the first thought in your mind is ‘Hey I did my best,  I’m proud of that’

If you are anything like me you wouldn’t have.  You would have cursed and punished yourself for the failure.  I always said to others it is the efforts that matter,  not the end product.  Now I regard this a bit differently.

Being proud of your investment is what matters.

And this is rather more important to believe in when you fall.

Saying it that matters. Believing it that matters. Because great outcomes are rare.  And when you are down,  clothes bloodied and downcast sight only pride on your efforts may lift you. And make you try again.

If you do not feel the same then I plead you to consider it.  Ponder it for time being.  I propound this to you.

Next time when you fall,  which honestly I don’t want,  I want you to say you are proud of what you tried to do. It couldn’t have been otherwise.

And I vow that what come in near futures, I will always be proud of my efforts. It will not be easy. Appreciating the good amidst the worse situation is never easy. But I’ll try.

I always put in my best.  Be it my family or friends, or academic or my extra activities, I’m proud of I chased and achieved,  and what I fell short of grabbing. Good and the bad.

Thanks For Reading

Let’s see what others have written :
Daily Prompt: Truth Serum – the truth always hurts
What do you live for?
Truth Serum

Truth Serum Special Guest

The Easy-Peasy Road
Truth Serum or are you listening?
Truth Serum: Q & A

Recruitments, so Chill

Sometimes I think that my brain is going to commit suicide. Honestly. It has all premontions of it, the frequent migrains are maybe my brain warning me to cool down. I am not saying I am suicidal, I am great and happy, its my brain that concerns me. If my brain ever starts speaking to me, mostly in a dream I think the monlogue will probably be like this:


You can’t even get it that I can’t take it anymore. I have to do so much and youy, you idiot just rush headlong into indiscrimante commitments that even I can’t keep track of them all. Seriously, bro stop! Or else I’ll stop and you will end up all ‘vegetabley’ in a hospital.

Well I think that’s what he’ll (definitely HE) say. Last time I mentiined about my upcoming recruitment process. Now for an engineer this is important. This is how Indians will recognize you mostly (He got into Delloite/L&T/XYZ) , you will get respect(if you get a good salary package, of course) and blahblahblah all the other stupid social norms (Who started things like this?!!!)

Now let’s back it a bit. Engineers are born the day when their father/mother/some random elder look at them and utter in all pride “Mera Beta Engineer banega”,(My son/daughter is going to be an Engineer!) I am sure that most people who stand where I stand now, are mostly cursing that abominable day. ‘3 Idiots’ movie that line so funny that even mentioning that line brings out fits of laughter among engineers!



I am a super idiot, considering I came home one day and said “I am going to be an engineer!” So stupid. And yet I think better than my decision to aspire to be a doctor some years ago. Imagining myself cutting up cadavers on a monday because it is that practicals, I laugh at the incredulosity of it. It isn’t for me.

Then we give a thousand exams whose abbrevations sound like a terrorist organizations, join coaching classes, accumulate illimitable study materials that our storage space becomes glutted. And that is before engineering mind you, it only gets worse. Just to get into a great college. When I say a great college, I mean to end up in an city, like Bandra in my case.

You expect people to be different in big hotspot colleges like these. They aren’t. The just are more affluent than your previous classmates. Many fakes, liers and sycophants you will encounter, likes of which you will definitely find a local Pan wala shop(hangout spot). It takes a while to spot the authentic from the horde and guess what, you are mostly wrong. But that’s okay, sometimes you do find great people.

Now skim to last year and the recruitment. I really can’t emphasize how important this day is. You find the library packed with students revising aptitude and various programming languages a month before, or two months. We engineers are awesome, aren’t we?

On day, your nerves kill you. You find yourself thirsty even if you just gulped down a litre of water. Hands are sweaty and feets are tapping restlessly. And guess what? I think I made an blunder in my interviews too! I’m human so its okay.

Well I just gave one interview after which I was ashamed to death by the mistakes I made. And I decided never again. Last five days in a row, I woke up and I prepared myself mentally for the tasks I have to achieve. Whether it be the IELTS exam (which went okay) or the recruitment. I was determined and persistent that no more mistakes! I may have that line my phone wallpaper too.

And I (actually a group of us) were thrown out like a some leftover rotten last night dinner in the next recruitment rounds. We weren’t eligible and that’s a story for another day. With the recruitment officer resonating “I have 200+ students to cater to, I can’t entertain everybody’s individual problems”, we walked out in shame.

I was angry, agahst and a little disappointed. I wanted that comapany’s offer letter.

As i woke up today, with practically no tension and nothig to prepare for, I ended up chuckling at how much this is affecting me. With continously flagging confidence levels, I should be worried.

I am not. There is always some other opprotunity. And when it knocks I am going to go there, grinning the entire time and try my best. If I’m not able to achieve it then something else will come up. And I’ll try again.

Speaking/Placements Day 1

It is kind of Amazing how things pan out sometimes!

As I mentioned before today I had a part of my IELTS exam, only the speaking module. And also today we have our college placements beginning.

Day 1.

Today we had the aptitude test for Accenture at 8.30 am. That’s right, 8.30. I never reach college by 8.30 and I had to come for the aptitude test by that time.

Not only that, my speaking module was scheduled at 9.00 am. The aptitude test timing I didn’t know till a day ago. I had asked in the college about it, but they didn’t disclose it.

And my college and the speaking test module location were far, like separated by an hour or so. So I had to make a decision, either Ielts or aptitude.

Rescheduling my speaking test was not an option. No way! I had prepared for this exam, a month’s worries and tension had cumulated to this. No way!

Don’t get me wrong, I am not greedy. I just wanted to do both, get good grades in my speaking test and achieve passing in my aptitude. But I knew I could do only one.

I reached the speaking module location, which by the way is the ITC Grand Central in Parel. Mind you, the hotel is amazing. Just by looking at it I was agape. Huge and sumptuous.

The lobby, i just did not want to leave!!

I was a good hour before my test. I waited in the lobby for the test to begin. Met a couple of people there, all test givers who for various reasons were giving the test. I found out that I’m the first person to give the test. Okay, I can do it I thought. And I gulped down some water for my parched throat.

Finally they called us, took us to the tenth floor, which turned out to be the spa floor(?) And one by one checked our documents and took one photograph. I was escorted to room 1007(I not gonna forget the details of a test like this!) Where I met my test taker Mrs Poonam.

Now I can’t describe my test in words. It was good, satisfactory. She asked a couple of questions I answered them. And in a blink of an eye, my fifteen minutes of speaking test were done. I enjoyed it, and I hope the results don’t disappoint either(coming on 19th September).

Turned out when I reached my college, I could give my aptitude too. There was another batch and I squeezed in. I hardly prepared for this but I did my best.

And voila, I got through the aptitude also!

Tomorrow I have group discussion round of Accenture placement. Followed by the remaining modules of Ielts exam on Saturday. And from Monday again I’ll have other companies coming to college for recruitment. Talk about a busy schedule! But this is better. I find myself growing more and more restive each day, that such coming days may prove fruitful for me. I don’t know what tomorrow holds for me.

Just because today was a good day, doesn’t mean tomorrow I’ll be lucky again. Luck is capricious bitch which hardly favors me. But I will still do my best. Funny thing is this, my classmates had more confidence in me than I did. Now to amidst all the bantering I received they held the opinion I’ll get recruited tomorrow.

I know it is not going to be easy. With such a huge pool of candidates applying tomorrow, I find my chances miniscule. But even if I don’t get in, I do hope I could remember the fact that I DID give it my best shot. That it is okay to not get in.

Let’s see how tomorrow goes!

Thanks For Reading


( 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 Internshala.com.  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

The Other Species

( Not Lemonade

When life gives you lemons… make something else. Tell us about a time you used an object or resolved a tricky situation in an unorthodox way.)

(Not a tricky situation, but I found some relation to the post I was writing so I submitted anyway)


I’m not going to say that I am some expert, in fact it is the complete opposite of it.

If I talk about the different women in my life, I’ll probably never finish this post. Not because I know so many, it is because they are so complex that I won’t be able to pen down one point. So I’ll probably stick this posts to the main and vital ones.


First and obviously, my mom. And yes, after living with her for twenty years I still can’t foresee when she will break down and cry rivers. Sometimes I could get it, but most of the times it is ‘let’s see how it goes’. And what’s worse is when she says ‘okay’.

Example, I say I’m going to my friend’s and she says okay. I know I am in trouble. Extent of the trouble I’ll find out later. And all at once.

But she is my Mom and still comparatively easy to understand. I know she cares about me, and most of her actions are still based on that affection. And it is adorable so I never say a word. She is best mom ever!

Now let’s talk about women/girls of my age. It wasn’t always difficult picking up conversation with them when I was tiny.

Then they decided to hit puberty and well grow things.

In summation, my school and junior college went with as limited interaction with girls. Only Hi! And usual assignments.

Cut to present day. I am in a class whose sex ratio is like 3 girls to 1 guy. Seclusion won’t work, and honestly I didn’t want to either. I wanted to talk, get involved because I felt I was missing out.

To paraphrase a friend, I not only speak now, I speak a lot! Somehow the awkwardness around girls, stammering and shyness reduced.

But that doesn’t mean everything’s okay.

I have a teacher who could not give one lecture without passing a jibe at me. Literally she made me a joke in class (no she isn’t ragging me!)

And the girls!

They are so so so so confusing. Seriously. I know they are as confused as I am, and I shouldn’t be so harsh in judging them. But sometimes it is like they are from another species. So frustrating it gets!


One moment they are all so nice and saccharine, next I feel their animosity towards me that I get an urge to go and hide under some rock. I am seriously afraid that one day one of them will stab me.

Friends for one day, next they say they aren’t talking to me anymore. Random reasons to pick fights. I Didn’t tell her to join me when I ate, ‘Don’t talk to me anymore’. Or the latest, ‘You are gonna forget me anyway’.


What did I do? I find the most complex maths problems easier. Studies is easier. Talking to bunch of guys is way easier.

And talk between guys is fixed, either sports or end up telling how hot the girl passing by is. No offense girls. Men will be men.

But somehow I managed. Today I don’t stammer whenever I talk to a girl. Their erratic behavior is somehow amiable, in certain girls cute too. And they know something about listening.

A friend who I judged incorrectly in the beginning turned out to be the best friend I could have asked for.

Another girl who I befriended is complete opposite of me. I still don’t get how we end up being friends. Ended up among the leftovers and made a presentation group. Talking to her is so easy. If I could go back two years and help her, I will.

The main reason I am writing this post is that I found out that I can’t say no to girls. Logic goes completely out of the window when they ask for help. And they know just how to ask. Puppy faced, slightly tensed visage.

It isn’t possible. I agreed to stupid thing for which a guy is teasing me to death. Not exactly a stupid thing, just headlong. Should have given it more thought. But she really needed my help and I couldn’t say no. And my help paid off, I got repaid and now no harm done.

Try saying no! I dare you!

This isn’t a big tricky situation like so many others may be facing.  But I wanted to share anyway.

(Girls of my class if you are reading this, just because I can not say no doesn’t mean I am going to say yes. I learned that trick!)

Thanks For Reading

Let’s see what other have written:
Turning a Meltdown into Songfest 🙂
Not Lemonade: Have some!

Take What You Get..

In the recent years, there have been hospital visits for my family.

My dad had an kidney stone operation some two years back. My mom had to remove her appendix a year ago. My big brother too was in the hospital for a week because of a chest infection.

Now too my dad is undergoing a dental procedure. My mom is showing early signs of arthritis. My brother is well, he is the same idiot he was.

So whenever they undergo some procedure, they call me.

They have to get an X ray done, they ask me why should they. Or what may be the alternative to a certain procedure. And I tell them in elucidate details.

I know I have ranted and whined about there may be no good employment for me in the coming future. I don’t know where my life is going. I don’t know if I could pursue further studies or not. I can’t possibly predict what is going to happen.

It isn't easy

And to start thinking about, fretting about what may happen and what may go dire; it is gruelling. There is prophetic way.

Not to mention, my nerves are all jarred and the anxiety is too much to bear. My results are yet to be revealed, while most of my friends who study in different branches have already received their scores. The trepidation is killing me.

I have my impending exams to study for, I worry more than once in a day about how am I going to survive in the world when I find myself struggling in college. Other than this blog, even communication with my best friends is difficult for me. No clue about what to do after college, no clue what to do in college!

If you think I am forlorn about this, then no, I am not. I am actually laughing to have a written the same list of worries here from my brain. And for the first time, these concerns no longer concern me.

Back to the scene at my home then.

With the way my parents ask me about all medical technicalities these days. More often than not, I find myself describing in length the different mechanisms and working of these procedures or the way their body works. I do have the knowledge, though I am no doctor but I do more learned here than my family.


And they never understand a word that I utter. No matter in how simple I make it sound. They never do! And yet each time I find them agape.

They can’t understand it, I know. They have done their degrees in commerce while I am yet the only (imminent) technical degree holder in the house. I can’t understand either when they start talking about accounts and taxes.

But I absolutely cherish those moments. To amaze my family with my ken. To find the same pride in their faces that was lost somewhere when I grew up.

The concerns in my life aren’t going away. I may still end up in some underprivileged employment where I cannot tap my caliber. Or in some foreign university where the scene may be worse than what I face here. Or something else may go wrong.

But today I find myself proud and immune to those concerns. I am happy with what I am accomplishing at home. The small happiness and pride in what I do. In what I love.

And maybe that’s what I should seek.
Why look for the monumental felicity when you find yourself facing ephemeral joy.

You take what you can get right?

(Sometimes I find my dog too staring at me in awe!)

Thanks For Reading


Today was pretty much normal. Aside from the fact that we had to present our engineering projects to the professors, yeah it was normal.

The project was approved, officially. And then we went to lunch. And lunch isn’t the commonplace restaurant like McDonald or KFC. We went to a shabby dhabba kind of place.

For its Misal Pav.

Misal Pav

I used to eat there when I used to practice my street play in college. I knew, a few of my friends knew it. All heard about it from me, of course. The food there was long overdue. I loved eating there, so did a few.

It was kind of fun to enter a small stall and ask seats for ten people. They had to array their customers around to make space for all of us.

We ate.

We laughed.

One got scared of a small cute black kitten.

We laughed again.

And again.

It is a memorable day in itself for me. Possibly the best I have had in a week or so. No worries, just favourite food and congenial company.

But the day got better for me after it.

I am not a atheist. I am not a believer either. I don’t know what I believe in, but it may have its roots in fatalism.

Temples are not for me. All the carillon ringing is never amiable. But I always adored Sikh temples or Gurudwalas.

Ever been to one? No? Then I highly recommend you to go there. It is like unparalleled.

Sikh Temple

Doesn’t matter when I go, with whom I go, it is the place that imbues peace to me. The Tranquility there is always surreal.

I could never shut my mind. There is always something that my brain keeps processing (Engineers will laugh at this!) A moment of quiet for me? Absurd.

Today I got it. The ten minutes there, I just looked. My mind didn’t even dare whisper a thought. For once, I was at the place where I stood. My mind didn’t take a trip down the memory lane.

And I relish those ten minutes profoundly.

I could hear my own heartbeat. Listen to the ceiling fan spin, cutting the air.

Whenever I visit Sikh temples, I never know what to do. But my subconscious does. Most of the time it is like I have lost control of my limbs, and my subconscious drives me. The number of times I prostrate myself, how much time should I bow my head. It is never a decision, it is autonomous.

So definitely I enjoyed the lunch. But the temple’s quietude I will not let go.

As I write this post, there is a peace in me that I never feel, and now I am basked in it

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

Turning Tides

Ever had a day where things go bad?

Definitely you must have. And I want you to look back on that day, and see if you agree with me. That a chain of bad things, like everything else, do come to an end.

I haven’t written for a while. I had some dull couple of days. Nothing to talk about. And honestly I guess I wanted a break.

But these two days were enough to make me write something.

Fights suck. I know, had enough if them myself. Thankfully I had none myself now. But I saw others recover from their wounds. Saw others try to help anyway they can. Even if it means trying to arrange a birthday party at the end of the day. But it doesn’t happen in a second. I hope it gets better for my friends.

And I wonder what exactly happens to me in college? It is like as soon as I enter the gates there I discard all sense and maturity. I become a jerk. I speak obscenities, my arrogance knows no bounds. It is like having some multiple personality disorder.

That is a complain that I usually get. And I noticed that it is true. Sadly, I am a different person in college. It is like wearing a mask with which I am so comfortable with I can’t even realize where I feigning starts.

Or maybe me as a person is a haphazard mixture of parts jerk and parts…(I can’t find a word here).

I planned on going for trekking on the Sunday.  And I love treks. It feels so good standing at the peak and look around. Effulgence of vista is breathtaking. But I had to cancel. Yesterday I twisted my leg in the train. That gall decision was the start of today.

And to continue, I just got the worse upbraiding in the three years I have had. Stupid mistake and if you are talking to someone who gives marks, its is better to keep quiet. Endure the heckles, cause things may deteriorate if more words are exchanged. And I can bet on me to exacerbate the scene.

After that I just stormed off. Didn’t say a word to anyone. Plugged in earphones and listened to songs and tried not to recollect the words directed at me. I still recollect them, phrases like what sort of upbringing have I had. I am not going to forget that one.

But like how I began the post about BAD things ending, I meant it. The difficult times in the past, I know it gets better. That time there may not any hope but the path is just ahead of you.

And my shame of making that stupid mistake in college was soon eclipsed.

I got my first check. My intern ship’s payment came through. And irrespective of how my temperament was that time, the message of getting paid brought a smile to my face.

First paycheck!!!!

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

The Ease of

You are confident.

You are sure.

Everything’s going the way it is supposed to.

And as suddenly as that things change. A mistake here, big or small and everything changes.

Confidence gone, vaporized by a ray gun. Nothing’s sure. Every path holds a appeal. Every path holds a snarl. And a voice appears in you head.

Whispering at first, but soon starts dominating your thoughts. The voice tells you to take the path which you haven’t considered.

Voice exhumes your past. Makes you face your past mistakes. Reminds you of all the failures.

And there is no beating that voice. It says your successes are luck. It wasn’t you, it says, it was beginner’s luck. Not you not you, it repeats. And you believe it. Because somewhere deep you know it is true.

Somewhere deep you fear that maybe it wasn’t me who got things right, maybe it was just dumb luck. Voice wins.

Fear turns to phobia. And it takes a shortcut to doubting yourself. Buried fears mount up by the dozen. Shoulders drop lower that chest. Face buried somewhere in the neck.

Always amazes me. The Ease of falling from confidence and surety to despair.

Thanks For Reading

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

Internship day one

1. How not to get an internship:

Never trust your teacher when he says that he’ll call the company on your behalf and try to get you an internship there.

He is not going to call, and you will keep circling around him for two weeks or so before you give up.

Second no matter how many companies or hospitals (Biomed people get internships there too!) you call/meet they won’t keep you.

2. Only thing to do:

Call the person who you know has a job in the same field and he maybe able to help you.

Or like in my case, my parents knew someone who helped.

That all aside, today I had my first day as an intern.

Experience: Amazing

I had to leave and keep calling the company so many times to get there, I didn’t know where the company was.

When I finally got there, I understood it wasn’t a big company but rather a small scale industry. Which deals with Repairs, reselling and maintenance of CT machines.

Yes a little old machines but only because the contracts on their maintenance is now void. So these guys come in to help.

With a little skeptical about the ‘company’ I got in, and what do I see: engineers putting together a x-ray tube. Now I already have a very big interest in all imaging machines(X ray is one of them, so is CT).

After talking with the concerned authorities I joined those engineers. And I just assembled my first tube. Well they did, but I was with them. And it turned out to work in contradiction to how it was supposed to work. But after a little troubleshooting it worked perfectly.

X ray tube, a little light is now source of x rays
Top view of x ray tube. That is the filament connection
Inside of the CT scan machine console

Though skeptical about this in the beginning, now I am looking forward to this. This is exactly how I wanted. Practical knowledge!

For those who don’t know

X ray tube is like a heart of most imaging machines

CT scan machine is a advanced version of x ray machines which can take a 3D image of the body.

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

Liebster award!

Liebster Award is given to bloggers by other bloggers. It is a great way to connect with new bloggers, and to welcome them to the blogosphere.


(Here are the rules:

1. Link back to the blogger who nominated you.

2. Answer the 11 questions given to you by the blogger who nominated you.

3. Nominate 11 other bloggers with less than 200 followers.

4. Go to the blogs you nominated and notify them of your nomination.

5. Give your nominees 11 questions to answer.)

This is my post:

I was nominated by Veda whose blog you SHOULD check out, its amazing.

These are my answers to the questions asked:

1. Why did you start writing a blog?

I always liked writing. A friend of mine told me to start blogging. She said I am good and blog is a platform for me to show my talents and develop.

2. If given chance, which fantasy world would you like to live in and why?

This is easy. Harry Potter’s world. Who doesn’t want to do magic.

3. What was your first post on your blog?

It was called Ephemeral Feelings and it was about about my state after my results were declared.

4. What is your take on live in relations?
Live in relationships are good place to start and see how much committed you are in relationship, how compatible you are with your partner.

5. Which is your favorite book and why?
Easy. Crippled God, book 10 of Malazan Book Of The Fallen series by Steven Erikson.

Also How to kill a Mocking Bird.

6. Do you believe in love at first sight? 

Don’t know.

7. The top 5 destinations you want to cover in your life. 

New York, London, Sydney, Leh and Himalayas.

8. Which of your childhood memory is the prettiest one, please brief. 

Don’t remember.

9. What’s the thing you wanted most in your life? 

To buy a cottage/farm house by myself.

10. Which incident has touched you most in your life? 

The night when I was walking and I saw a stray puppy being run over by a speeding car.
My grandmothers (both) funerals.

11. What’s your relaxing mantra?
Before I listened to songs. Slept.
Now I don’t have any.

People who I nominate:
1. Mitra Archita
2. Gaurav Deshpande
4.Akriti Mattu
5.Crysta Icore
7.Easter Ellen
8.A Holistic Journey
9.300 Stories
10.Kait Mauro
11.Our Front Door
12. Scott Dannemiller

Now as far as your questions:

1. What’s your relaxing mantra?

2. Which incident has touched you most in your life?

3. What’s the thing you wanted most in your life?

4. Which of your childhood memory is the prettiest one, please brief.

5. The top 5 destinations you want to cover in your life.

6. Your favourite movie

7. Which is your favorite book and why?

8. What was your first post on your blog?

9. If given chance, which fantasy world would you like to live in and why?

10. Why did you start writing a blog?

11. Your favourite quote from movie/book.

Thanks For Reading

That Night….

Daily Prompt

(Pick Your Gadget

Your local electronics store has just started selling time machines, anywhere doors, and invisibility helmets. You can only afford one. Which of these do you buy, and why?

(Thanks, atana’s world!, for inspiring this prompt!))

Time Machine.

Like three and half or more years ago I was walking my dog. My dog was still a pup then and he used to play a lot, running around the house like a lunatic, biting and chewing down every thing he could grab on with his mouth. He was full of energy and at that time(and till today and maybe forever) I called him my most prized possession.

But this isn’t about my dog. That day I saw something that is seared into my memory, still today burning hot.

I saw a swaying, speeding car coming down the road. I couldn’t see who was behind the wheel but my brain always fit there a youngster. Always.

I saw that car speeding and then running over a pup. A small pup that you could hold in your palm. Who looked like my dog. I still remember the whimper that escaped my throat when I saw that. I don’t know whether the pup had time to make a grasp or sound of pain.

All I saw was the pup, a second ago like any other stray pup, now no more then a inanimate body.

It took a second for me to turn and shout that bastard driver to stop. I would have hit him, fought with him if he would have stopped the car. He didn’t stop.

But in that one second I saw the scene repeat in my memory a thousand times. I imagined the look of pain in that pups face. I know that isn’t possible but I saw it. And every replay of gruesome scene made it more filled with anguish.

But nothing could have prepared me for what came next.

I saw the pups mother(I think so) come running. And the mere sight broke me. And then she howled. She barked. She nudged the body with her nose, trying to wake him up.

She seemed like crying. It was like a scene of a funeral. I may be imagining this but I could understand the raw cries of mourning there.

The mother turned in circles, barked at every moving human as if demanding answers, demanding explanation for what had happened to her pup.

I moved the dead and brought it to the side of the road. My dog was also curious to what happened.

I want a time machine. I want to go back to that night. I want to pick that pup before he is run over. I want to hit that guy senseless before he gets into his car.

I don’t care how it changes things. I don’t care about anything else, I just want to go back to that day and change it.


Life is life. No matter in any form.
Continue reading “That Night….”

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

To the Men I Never Met

Daily Prompt

(Modern Families

If one of your late ancestors were to come back from the dead and join you for dinner, what things about your family would this person find the most shocking?)


This is the kind of thing I hardly talk about, so this is difficult.

My Grandfathers. From both my parent’s side.

I never met any of them. I do want to meet them.

I heard from others about their grandfather. How much they adored them. How much they admire them. I have seen them broken up when they lost they adored. I saw my best friend lose his grandfather a day before my friends birthday.

They cried. I tried to console. But I couldn’t. I don’t know that feeling. Never had that person in my life. Never heard his voice, never heard his laughter, never had his blessing, never. Too many things I never will know.

It is like never having something and yet missing with such anguish.

My father never says much about his father. From what all he has spoken, I saw some pain in his face, I heard admiration in his voice.

My mother talks about her father. My mom never met him on his last days. She was hours late. And she stills regret it.

I want to meet my grandfathers. I want to know them. I want to see them. I want to be rapt by their stories of my parents’ childhood. I want to hear their version of events.

I want to meet my father’s role model. I want to meet my mothers strength.

I want to to meet the men who made my parents what they are today.

Or I simply want to be at the same dining table with them, while my parents sit with me and my brother.

Something I’ll never have.

Let’s see who others want to share:
Daily Prompt: Modern Families and no connection available on the daily prompt.
A Bottle of Ketchup
A visit from my Pathan ancestor…

Diverse Family


To my fellow Commuters

Daily Prompt

(The Kindness of Strangers

When was the last time a stranger did something particularly kind, generous, or selfless for you? Tell us what happened!)

He climbed on to the bus and scanned around for a seat. There was none. He was an old fellow, with stooped posture, few grey hair on his balding scalp and had two bags of grocery in his hands which didn’t look so heavy, but for him the burden looked too much.

Before I could get up and offer my seat to the said elderly some other guy in proximity did. And as the elderly sat down with a rush, and sighed audibly with relief, I saw the other guy smile.


This act is very common if you are a frequent traveller like me. People offering their seats to old men, old women, female passengers (the sentence is “ladies is there, seat”), and mostly pregnant and mothers with small toddlers.

And this is done in every single compartment, every single bus route. And it is entirely voluntary. (Sometimes though it isn’t as some have to be told to get up.)

And the answering murmured thanks and smiles are exchanged. Always. I have done this. Sometimes while studying in trains I’m offered seats and asked about my course.

These are strangers who do this. Strangers who help, who receive help. They may get off at the same station but they still assist.

This is local travels of Mumbai. Thousands of commuters travel to and fro from college, work. They(myself included) do the same travel every day. Know the tiredness we feel. And along the way they do this.

And it got me thinking why do this? Only then that I realized this is in fact the most basic(smallest) amount of kindness we could do.

Showing kindness to strangers. I realize this that it is only way kindness can be shown. I mean from my examples why are those things done? Nothing is gained.

When you assisting a stranger, you only expect a Thank You. And as it is received there is an automatic smile spreading across your face. You may never see that person again(This is Mumbai, you mostly won’t). But yet you help.

And that is according to me the most artless and selfless form of help. There is expectations, the person is not beholden,  and there is no master plan in it(I’m seeing too many movies to think this way).

And this is what I told my friend the other day, I’m gonna share it here too:
If you want to smile, first make others smile.

A quote from Evan Almighty:

God: How do you change the world?

Evan: One single act of random kindness at a time.

Let’s see what other have written:

Kindness of Strangers Daily Post
The Kindness of Strangers
The helpfulness of swearing up a storm and using vibrating pills: This week’s weird news around the globe
Kindness of Strangers, Again : Daily Post
Daily Prompt: The Kindness of Strangers?
The Kindness of Strangers
A Girl Should be 2 Things….

Lessons Given & Received

Writing challenge

( Student versus Teacher

Throughout our lives, we play the role of both student and teacher many times, and in many forms. As a child, you watch your parents, siblings, and friends for cues on how to interact, speak, and communicate. Later, you may attend school, vocational courses, or university.

As we grow older, we also find that we’ve transitioned into the role of a teacher, as well. As a parent, you teach your children about the world around them, and why things happen the way they do. As a colleague, you teach your coworkers how to become a better version of their professional selves.

Despite this, we are never no longer a student, since there’s always more to learn.)

The challengers are giving this challenge this time. I have my exams coming up in the week and here goes the schedule of learning, revising and teaching(helping) friends.

I have friend who teach better than I do. I have friend who is so tensed before the exam he can’t teach. And then there are some who look so relaxed at the times of exams that makes me want to shout “Aren’t you supposed to be tensed?”

First, teaching is wonderful profession. How do I know? Because my mom is a teacher for the past ten years now. And no matter the stress, or the encumber she has, she insists on continuing her job. And before I hardly understood why she is insisting on continuing her job, I understand now.

Along the way I started teaching too. But that doesn’t mean I want to pick this up as a profession. In India it is hardly respected, hardly rewarding and (being one) I know students don’t want any teachers in college.

These are the things about teaching as I understand:

1) Teaching comes easy to me. I like teaching (or helping out you may say). And it is also a great revision of what all I have studied.

2) There is nothing like it. When you do spend time teaching(helping) people you do get involved. So the first question that comes out of your mouth after the exam is “How was your exam?” You want them to get great marks. It is not just their hard work in it, also some of yours.

3) Once you make a group of people you study with, people who you help and receive help from it is a little hard to adjust to other groups. And honestly it is not nice finding them studying with others.

4) You want to get good grades, not just for yourself but for your entire group.

5) Teaching may backfire. Something you say wrong or something is partially understood may cause them to answer wrong. And then blame is on you. Nothing worse than spending time teaching and then being blamed for the mistake.

6) If you are anything like me then most of the time after you are done helping out, sometimes your eagerness to help is perceived as arrogance.  I have had people say that I am arrogant and know it all. Though it may be because I brag (bragging is fun when you are not taking me seriously). But if you are reading this, undermining others is not my intent.

Now studies is the only thing I can teach, I should teach. I am good in studying. But that is not the only there is, is there? There my role changes. I am a student here.

I have a lot to learn. I read a post that made me realize that maybe my behavior is not appropriate. I learnt how to act(not that good) this year and honestly there is hardly anytime when I don’t like acting now.

I still have to learn how to clear my head from distractions. I am learning how to let the past go. And maybe, just maybe I’ll be able to help others along the way.

How do I learn?
I read novels. I watch movies. Mind you none of these are superficial type. I watch around, I observe people, animals, trees and skies. I learn from any source, all I could learn. I learned from family, I learned from my dog.
But I could say that me teaching studies is nothing compared to life giving lessons. Lessons can’t be more permanent.  Nothing gives a more harder lesson.

I don’t know when I’ll write after this because my exams start this week on 13th and end next month after so.

Let’s see what others wrote about this:
The Assault: Part 4: Mulisch’s Five Times
Lessons from my foster children
Food Taught Me Everything I Ever Needed To Know About Life
Student versus Teacher – Memories of the Classroom
I Could Teach Someone A Thing Or Two
The Perils of Giving Advice
Tech Tip: Part 2
A Letter In Trees

Guest Lecturer – Dosen Tamu

My Child, My Teacher
Student, Teacher. And me in Between
The Oblivion of Amphibians
Is that Good Science? A Guide to Cutting through BS
Bachelor’s Degree Bargain
Lessons Without Walls
There has to be an app for that… Teens, Communication and Modern Vampire Parenting


Pride and Joy

Yesterday night while coming home I saw a couple carrying a big plastic bag. I would have ignored them if not for the line of stray dogs following them. And as I watched I saw them take some food(leftovers or freshly made I don’t know) and give it to the dogs. The dogs hogged the thing down in a matter of minutes. And then almost every dog received a good scratch behind his/her ears.

I watched because sometimes even I have done something similar. I watched because I have seen many other people do the same. I watched because my dog was also a stray dog before we adopted him. I watched because in watching those dogs hungrily gulp down their viand there’s a sense of satisfaction(Maybe, I don’t know the exact feeling)

Today’s post is about prized possession. If not obvious by now then I’ll say; for me it is my four year old mongrel Jimmy.

Here’s a list of things my dog taught me:

1. Get as much petting(pampering) as you could:

Do I have to explain this? Simple. Take as much pampering you could get, and best close your eyes, flatten your ears as someone scratches your head(figuratively)

2. Never say NO to food:

Dogs I think are too cunning. They have this big brown eyes and surprisingly they twinkle at the time when you are having their favourite food. Try saying no to those twinkling puppy eyes, I dare you! Yes it is a sort of competition in the household now every time meat is made. Jimmy easily hogs down at double the speed than I am even capable of. And it is the same for any of his dinner, meat or veggie.

3. Have a deep sleep:

No matter what, always have a deep sleep. And never have a frown in your sleep, you could sleep with you doggie grin but I don’t think it will as funny for humans as it will be for dogs.

4. Be friendly to everyone:

Ironically this only applies of you are a human interacting with my dog. But if you are a pet owner with a male dog then your dog is my dog’s nemesis. Similarly, any dog is an archenemy if they so much as come near to sniffing a bitch’s butt. My dog goes berserk, at times it is like I have Hulk on lease. Wait, this point doesn’t count.

5. Show your gratitude:

Main point. A simple act. Licking. After their food’s are ravished or their pampering is done, my dog just turns to me and licks my fingers clean. At times he places his head on my knee and looks at me with those big brown eyes. Sometimes he bows his head down and keeps his head locked at my knees. And he doesn’t leave till a scratch or some words of appreciation isn’t given. That is the routine. And I would like to believe that each and every one of this behavior is a Thank You. No words are uttered neither is any sound made. Yet the message is conveyed. Thank you. And in this simple act I realized that while we humans say thank you, write down our appreciation we couldn’t come close to make the receiver understand the depth of our feelings. Words fail our feelings. And this is the crux of what I learned. Sometimes our gratitude has to be conveyed through actions rather than simple cliché words.

Let’s see what others have written:
Pride and Joy
pride and joy
#DailyPrompt: Pride and Joy

Do You Prize Your Peace of Mind?

The Daily Prompt: Pride and Joy in Person
Scrapbooks: Daily Post
Pride & Joy, Prized Possessions

High Expectations

Great Expectations


He had to. Everyone is looking at him to give a great oral exam. He is expecting himself to give a great exam.

He is a great speaker. And more so than anything else, he knows that all he needs is portray confidence. He may only know the half answer but he could convince the examiner that he knows the entire on the back of his hand.

His turn comes, like always he is just numb. The nervousness and anxiety of the exam vanished minutes before his turn comes. As he enters there’s no trembling of hands, no rapid thumping of heart. All that comes before and after the exam. But during exam only numbness.

But today, things didn’t go his way. He expected to walk out with a smile on his face but now all he could do was try to understand where he went wrong.

And he knows where. He expected himself to do great.  And he fell short of his expectations.

That’s me. Yesterday’s exam. It didn’t go great. I was overconfident. I took it for granted that my exam will go great.

Expectations. This is a scary topic to write about. Because most of the time I have had really bad experiences.

Let me tell you what I am expecting my day to go like:
Waking up feeling refreshed.
Getting to travel comfortably to college.
Having some congenial company in college(who don’t try to create misunderstandings between my friends). Getting all my studies and other work to get done easily without any hiccups.
Having people accepting me for who I am.

These expectations are just from the top of my head. My day is filled with more of these. And as conditions go, some expectations are weighted more than others.

I have seen my parents face when I couldn’t fulfill their expectations. I have my friends who expect me to know everything (and I am called an arrogant know it all for that), and well I don’t know everything.

And worse are my own expectations. I never do them justice. And this is why I hate expectation.


I don’t their burden. I already put too much burden on myself. And I can’t change myself because I don’t know how to. I don’t want others to expect more from me. That is why I like laying low at times(don’t look at me, don’t expect anything from me).

I suffer because I expect too much from me. I can’t help it. I never could stop myself(any advice appreciated). And I face disappointment at the end. Followed by some curses directed at myself for the said disappointment.

I’ll be lying if I tell you I have only faced disappointment. Sometimes I do get more than I expect(NSS and my first blog‘s response).

And it isn’t just me that I expect too much. I expect too much from friends, my parents, hell I even expect my dog to become an ideal Hachiko someday. Too many disappointments from this side to.

So here I am saying that expectations for me is something I don’t know how to control. They are never joyous, never fulfilled and yet are always there at the back of my mind. I guess this is why I come off as a very competitive bastard.

What is worse. People tell me to stop expecting great things to happen. IF I KNEW HOW TO DO THAT I WOULD HAVE DONE IT DUDE.

I am trying not to expect anything from this post, really trying.

Let’s see what others have written:
Great Expectations
End Of The Boxes

The Road to Hell is Paved, Really?


This week.

Great Expectations: 365 books a year
I Should Probably Lower My Expectations…
The Tooth Fairy Gives Cash Bonuses For Pain & Bad Decisions
The Expectation and Reality of Living Abroad
afterwords: Sex and the Wheelchair
Carolina Dreaming
Beautiful Expectations
Making friends with failure

My one year

Thank you NSS-TSEC

A year and a half ago, I attended my first NSS camp. And I had a blast. Absolute blast.

And at that time I had made up my mind about applying for the committee in the upcoming year/tenure. And I applied for it a year ago. And was selected too.

And this year in college! It is probably the best in my college life so far. I did everything. Well almost everything.

Treks, camp, blood donation drive, street play, etc. I can go on and on. I was there for all of them. I did all of them. I enjoyed all of them.

A year of sweats and hard work, yet also a year of unrestrained joy and fun. And just two days my committee sat down to select our successors.

And while I conducted interviews I understood why I was selected. What did they see in me a year ago.

And this post is to tell you about what I learned in the last year:

1. Anything can happen- 
I mean it when I say anything can happen. And this is not to tell you that only good things can happen. Imagine the worst scenario and guess what it can happen. And seeing our luck, it will happen. So honestly how to plan ahead for something unpredictable? Well you can’t. Simply because if you can predict it so it isn’t unpredictable anymore. And there it comes down to how your instincts. Honestly my instincts weren’t super, but now actually sort of trained. No matter how useless my instincts were at least now they will kick in at times of need.

2. Confidence is the key-
A year ago I did have confidence. Not a lot and I could still fake confidence. And whatever confidence I had was baseless, untested. And my confidence was shattered too many times.  But after all I have done I do have confidence. Not baseless, not untested, Not fragile. Hell I can be sure that it is NSS which gave me enough for me to start blogging. Start being open about myself on the internet.

3. I have anger issues-
Typical case of shattering of confidence. I used to be confident that I could control my anger. Now I know better. My anger which on most occasions is swallowed and stored is a toxin. And when it does get out I hurt people. People that I care about, people that I respect and adore. So here I am trying to find a way to vent out my anger. I try talking to the person who made me angry(which I never did before).  

4. I suck at communication-
Like I just said, I tried talking. And I suck at it. But now I know better than to just raise my hands up in surrender and accept it. I know there is a lot of scope for improvement. I also know what people think about me. When my friends really did get a chance to know me then they liked me. It took its own time, but it did happen. And to those who are still bickering behind my back, either I’ll win you over or I’ll make sure that you never dare do it again.

5.   Me-
I am a little childish and when I tease people I enjoy it. Kind of having a sadistic self who enjoys seeing other’s misery. And yet I am also too mature for my age. I grew up to quick.  And this year showed me to balance that. Here I am sure that over a year I have developed a lot, and also sure that there is lots to be done. And I no longer have any doubts to my abilities. I know what I can do, what I’ll be able to do if I push myself. Like I said my confidence isn’t baseless anymore.

And the entire credit goes to NSS. Without that opportunity I wouldn’t have been able to list out even 1 small point. Without NSS I would have stayed the same self. The same self doubting, shy and scared person.

So thank you!
P.S I still couldn’t put it into proper words about how I benefitted from this one year.

Saturday Birthdays

Daily Prompt
Saturday Night

Saturday. This is on most weekends the best time. Holiday the next day. I become automatically relaxed. Before even the clock shows 11pm I feel sleepy and go to sleep.

And Saturdays is the time when I can sleep for hours because I don’t have to get up early the next day. Saturdays I read novels, watch TV shows I missed out on, movies I want to watch. Saturdays I stay at home as my entire family’s at home.

But this Saturday was a little different. It was my big brother, Navin’s 22nd birthday. And what’s different? This birthday he spent at the hospital.

Earlier this week he was admitted to the hospital on the susceptibility of having a chest infection. Though now almost fine and back to being himself(pain in the ass), he is still being kept under observation till Monday. So birthday in the hospital.

I went to the hospital in the morning with tea and cakes. And when in the evening daddy mommy and me got to the hospital to celebrate his birthday the best way we could under the circumstances, we found he had already had enough restricted food for the day.

He had cakes, will have pizza with his friends and was telling for chicken in dinner. Idiot brother. He could control his hunger for food like that for a few days but no, he had to eat now.

We left him with his friends that night and came home for the second birthday, my dog Jimmy’s.

Now if you don’t have a pet or never had one you will find this bit strange. Trust me I have seen the look on people’s faces when I talk about Jimmy.

Four years ago, after celebrating Navin’s birthday,me and Navin were coming home when we started playing with this random stray dog. We never had a dog and always wanted one. That night we brought the stray home. On impulse, without worrying if our parents will agree or not.

Mommy loved the dog and daddy took his time getting used to the presence of a brown fur ball in the house. But eventually everyone was happy about the dog(there’s a story here too, not gonna get into it now).

And this Saturday was his fourth birthday. He is a bit older than that but we take 19 or 20th April to count his age.

Chicken rice for him too. He just hogged the entire thing down in like minutes. Surprisingly this two feet nothing dog eats more than I do when it is his favourite. And when he looks at your with those puppy eyes as if asking for more chicken there’s no way you can say ‘No’.

And the bastard knows it.

So he it is, Saturday night, two birthdays.





Let’s see what others have written.
Saturday Night
Daily Prompt: Golden Oldie Saturday Night

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Nights!

The Wonderful World of Disney (or, Saturday Nights When I Was A Kid)

A Queer Saturday Night in Pittsburgh

Saturday Night
Saturday Night: Daily Post

I’ll stand

Daily prompt (5 days late):

George sat on the toilet seat. He was trying to swallow the gulp which was growing bigger in his throat. Shoulders slumped in defeat, sore eyed he tried. Tried to not let his vision get too blurred. Willed himself to swallow the gulp, willed his eyes to take back the tears which were trying to rush out of his eyes.

Willed. And failed.

And the tears poured out, the gulp escaping his throat sounding as a gasp. And with each tear, he broke. Broke down into another anguish. He became defenseless against the hurt he felt. Each sob and tear choked him. He became short of breath, his gasps and sobs have taken so much air out of his lungs. And yet he couldn’t stop crying. He couldn’t even he put his entire efforts into it. An damn inside of him has broke down,which contained all his hurt, all his ignored feelings and now he couldn’t stop them flowing.

He hadn’t cried, refused to cry for two years now. Refused because he was acutely aware if what would happen when he did cry. Two years. Of infernal torment.

But today was different. The entire school cafeteria had laughed. Had laughed when he was mocked. When he was bullied. When they ragged him. Pulled his pants down and made him stand on the table as an exhibit. Today he couldn’t keep it all pent up and stored.

Two years of this! Nobody listened, nobody cared. Nobody dared stand up to those arrogant bullies. He pleaded and begged for help but nobody gave it to him.

He cursed himself, finally understanding whose fault all this was. If only he was a bit stronger, a bit taller. A bit more courageous. He cursed himself for being such an easy prey. Cursed himself for being so weak and pathetic.


He screamed in pain, with his arms he tried pulled his hairs out but even his hairs were too stubborn to be plucked out.

He fell down, there beside the toilet and curled himself into a ball. His arms around his stomach as in pain he slept there.

Slept there, but the tears refused to stop flowing.

This isn’t my story. This is fiction.

I am not writing this to talk about done school bully. I am writing this to the biggest bully.

I am writing this to talk about the biggest bully, Life.

Life knows exactly how to hurt you. It sucker punches you exactly in the place where it hurts. Where you are vulnerable.

And it continues punching you. Again.

And again.

And again.

Till you don’t have the strength to get up. Till you cry. Till you loathe yourself. Till you have pushed yourself in the arms of despair and self hurt.

And from bottomless embrace of despair, you have no choice but to lash out. Hit any innocent bystander. Inflict the same hurt and pain that is being seared into your soul. And with that you refuse to let your pain die.

Life isn’t like school bully whom you can stand up to once and he will back out. You stand up against life today, it will be back tomorrow with more firepower than you can endure. And it will hurt you.

And against this authority standing up is hardest. Practically impossible if you are in despair. All other school bullies, all heartbreaks and hurt all are by life’s grace.

And when you do get up and say stop! life doesn’t stop hurting. It continues to throw punches. Hurling pain and torment on you. And only then you should find the will to withstand it. Will yourself to face it. Pull yourself away from Despair’s embrace.

As Rocky Balboa puts it:
Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place and I don’t care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard ya hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done!

I am trying. So are many people I know who refuse to show it on their faces.

Let’s see what others think:
Fight the Power
Fighting the man while still dancing with him
Daily Prompt: Fight The Power

Friends with me?

Why can’t we be friends?

The boy entered the house. He was immediately overwhelmed by seeing so many people at one place. People who were twice as tall as he was, easily his father’s age. People who he had never met before. People who’s names he will likely forget in two days.

But that didn’t matter for the time being. Because while coming he saw a couple of children playing in the garden, below the house. And all he wanted to do was join them. So he asked, entreated his father to let him play. And when he got the chance he became exuberant. He played for hours, and stopped only when he had to go back to his home.

It took him about two minutes to befriend the other children. He played with the children on slides, swings and seesaws. He player on the garden’s green grass and he played on the garden’s red mud.

That was me. From when I was eight years old.

Now cut to the current situation.

I talk to people. Small talk mostly. I say things like what’s up? And then they go with their friends. And I stand there.

I forgot what was the thing that made it easy to talk to people. I forgot how I used to make people like me instantly( other than being a eight year old cute kid). And here I stand flustered at my incompetency to make friends.

I have friends. I meet them. Talk with them. And then we go our separate ways. And I hardly talk to them again till the next time we meet. I don’t know whose fault is that.

And to make things easier we have social media. Friends are made at random. Friend request are accepted by seeing how many mutual friends does this person has. And then they are just a name in your friend list.

Friends are made by how many retweets I receive. By how many likes I get for my picture.

By how many people like my blog posts.
At least here there is a possibility of me knowing your thoughts and you reading my thoughts.

Let’s see what other people wrote:

On Homophobia

The humor and indignation taste test: The art of friendship these days

My Threshold

In response to the Weekly Photo Challenge:

Initially I was going to write a fictitious story personifying a house threshold as a human. But then this morning I experienced something that changed my mind.

Today morning after almost a week my entire family was together. My parents, my brother and my dog, who was listening to entire discussion with a big doggie grin on his face as if he understood the every joke being cracked.

Don’t get me wrong, my parents are always there. So is my brother. They are very close, they spend more time with each other. And me, they tell me to spend more time with them.

For the past three years my entire day is spent in college. I leave my house by morning and return by late evening. Some days I reached back home by late nights. Some days I had night outs with friends.

And today when we talked about cricket, elections and every other trifling issue, I had fun. I laughed like a mad man at every joke my brother cracked. I still laughed like an idiot when he didn’t joke. I didn’t care that I had to leave for college. College would wait. This moment is rather too sporadic.

My family isn’t very busy. My father works six days a week and he gets a day off on a weekday. My mother is a teacher and she enjoys teaching. My brother is also working and he has a night shift. All of them are busy. Me, I spend most days in college. Most of them hanging with friends. Sometimes study, sometimes because the schedule is that way.

And the sad part is this, my family knows that this is how things will be. That most of the time, we won’t get time to spend together. Because the days that I get free are those when I rest.

This is my house door. My house threshold. This is where things change for me.


As soon as I cross this threshold I change. I am not the Mayur of my home. I talk differently, I behave differently. I become withdrawn. I become guarded. Because I know that the world that I live in is a tragic place. Being unguarded and open is a weakness and there are wolfs circling. People don’t understand.

And I know that I am an idiot. I should not cross my threshold. There I am myself. I am understood, cared and loved for what I am. And I am a idiot to not be there at home.

But I have to learn the ways of the world. I am not to naive to presume that I know how to survive here in this place. So I made a choice, I am outside my threshold more.

And I am scared of the day when I leave for some distant place, being someplace where is there no threshold to cross back into. There is no safety, no comfort of loved ones. Because I know my choices are leading to that place.

Don’t get me wrong. I have no regrets. This is not a post of regret. This is simply a courteous nod to how things are.

And this probably shouldn’t be part of my blog. This is too open, too artless. But then again what is the point of a blog if I choose not to write what I want to write, share what I want to share.

lets see other people’s posts:
Weekly Photo Challenge: Threshold, Take Two
Weekly Photo Challenge: Threshold
Weekly Photo Challenge: Threshold
“Threshold” Weekly Photo Challenge
Weekly Photo Challenge: Threshold

Daily prompt: Where is The Line?

Daily prompt
I walk the line.
Which line? Which code?
I am no Dexter to have a code to live by.
I make things up as I go.
More of an impulsive code to live by.
Mainly my thinking in influenced by what I think is right or wrong. And I strongly intend to do the right.
I don’t know whether this is stupid or not. I am too young to understand. But I can tell you what I am sure of.
I don’t go back on my word. I don’t think it is the right conduct. If I say I’ll reach by so and so time I shall. If I said I’ll do it then I will.
I read another post; which is remarkably similar to how I think. And the one thing that clicked was how it was mentioned about helping others.
I like helping others. I never say no to people who seek my help. And I try, really try not to show them any arrogance, not to patronize them or make them feel inferior.
Big deal if you don’t know everything, here I’ll help you.
Unfortunately it is never seen as that way. My assistance was viewed as showing off. So I started becoming choosy in helping others.
I can lie and say that I say ‘No’ to those who I don’t want to help. But I don’t. I just don’t help them completely. I don’t like wasting my efforts to assist those who bad mouth me after help is received.


Because I know how hard it is to not know anything. To not receive any help. To do everything on my own. To try and fail, again and again.
I still do.
After such an experience the best I can do is make sure that people around me, ones that I really care about, don’t have to face a similar situation.
I still have a lot to learn about the ways of this world. About which people should be helped and which people to forsake. About whom to care about and whom to dismiss.
But I hope that day never comes when I am changed completely. When I only think of myself, using ‘everyone does the same’ as a justification.
This is the code that I live by. Not many understand it. Not sure I understand it completely. Only know that this is how I should be.

Daily prompt response: Tired of this Shit

I read a post Blaming and Punishing The Victim recently. And I got really angry.
My day wasn’t all that great. And on top of it, to read something like this.
We are very sure, very confident. In fact over confident. Confident in news like this is only part of others lives. We understand what plight they must be going through. But we don’t know the plight, the misery.
Open a newspaper, what will you definitely see amongst the articles of lifestyle and celebrities is a horror. An anathema.
A 5 year old girl raped.
Wife molested, abused and killed by husband.
Special Needs child refused admission in school because he can’t afford it.
Terrorist Blast in some area, killing some twenty people and injuring hundreds.
College student ragged.
And if you do read the papers you will know this to be true.
I stopped reading the papers because of this. I mean why should I? Things are not going to get better, might as well avert my eyes. But the sad thing is this, you can’t turn away from this. Every where you look the sight will be the same.
Your blood does not boil? You don’t feel any remorse after this?
I am angry. I am tired of looking the other way.


That is why I am writing this post. And I’ll do all I can so that as many people read this.
Crimes on woman.
Dude she is not a rape victim. Neither is the girl who has an explicit video on the internet. Neither is she a girl who was abused as a child. She is not any of the things which may have befallen on her in the past.
Learn to respect the girl for what she is today. Not define the girl, or categorize woman because of her past. Don’t categorize her on the basis of her profession either. Even if she is a prostitute or a stripper or a pornstar or a five year old girl.
YOU have to look at each of them in the same way. Respect each of them the same way. Each of them has the same rights. Give it to them.
Unless and until your temperament changes regarding woman, nothing will change. It is, according to me, the first milestone. Reach it and then enforcing the laws will be easier. Reach it and maybe woman will become safer.
The same goes for the rest of the things. Just because a boy likes to carry a pony shaped school bag doesn’t give anybody any right to bully him. He has the every right to do so. Belittling others is your confidence. That the same can’t befall on you.
A person may be straight or gay. YOU don’t have any right to judge that. YOU are not being judged by the said person. Grow up.
Why did I say that we are overconfident?
Because we don’t change unless and until we are stuck headfirst onto a wall. We don’t realize that today’s news can very well be their tomorrow.
How can they think that it won’t be their daughter/sister who is molested? Or it crosses their minds but they disregard the thought. How can they be feel safe in their homes, when they can be the next victims of a robbery gone awry. When their child can be next victim of ragging.
And this is what concerns me.
We are overconfident.
Our lives is based on friends, love, money and certainty. But certainty is broken then we are facing a crisis. A crisis which we have heard of, read about, talked about and then as quickly forgot about. Our confident is not baseless, but rather it is very frail. Once the dominoes fall, there is hardly any stopping it. Your family will stand with you. Some of your friends will stand. But essentially you will be alone.
You know this. So wake up. Grow up.
Don’t categorize people. Rather be humane. Show them compassion.
I may have been completely incoherent in my rage. So I’ll sum my thoughts up.
Don’t treat anybody differently. Irrelevant is their past or their profession. Understand this. Make others understand this. If I could even reach through one person via this post then you have the responsibility to make sure that someone else is also made understood. Spread the word. Don’t judge a person by what he wears, or by what he carries.
Be a better person, do your part and maybe somebody will else will follow your example.
(I used your advice to write this message)

Worst Thing to do: Filter your Playlist

I read a couple of post out of which this is in response to two posts:
Songs that saved my life pt 1 and Why We Weed: Book Deselection in Academic Libraries


I do not have a background story as to why I like some songs. Nor do I have a any experience as to how a library functions.
But what I do have is a song library in my phone, which about an hour ago was of 631 songs.
Music for me is important and essential. I travel everyday for at least 3-4 hours. Without music in that time the journey would be boring.
Don’t get me wrong, I like greats like John Lennon and Bob Dylan, but those songs are to be listened with care so that every word is understood. Not to be played in the background while I travel and occasionally fall asleep while travelling.
My phone’s music library is always being updated. If I like a new song then I had to save the song in my phone. The source may differ. Sometimes it is after I see its video on TV, sometimes it is after listening to the song on BBC’s Radio one. Or simply because it won a Grammy or is very popular on Twitter.
In a similar manner I started listening to Armin Van Buuren. I immediately loved his album, hardly have listened to trance before. So in a month or so I had about six of his weekly State of Trance radio podcasts.


And after that I stop updating my playlist. Now the problem is this:
I had so many trance tracks that I could hardly distinguish one from another. I remember some of them, but not all. Especially since every song had the same album art. Impossible at the end.
So now came the hard part: I had to remove songs from my playlist to create space for new songs.
Because my playlist had lost its diversity. Every third song was trance. Trance after trance made my playlist monotonous.
I enjoy trance. Every beat is fun and this genre is especially best while doing math.
Playlist can continue in the background.
Here comes the relation to the above mentioned posts. I had to deselect some songs, so I could enjoy my playlist again. And I am sure that I liked each song.
Immediately I knew that a couple of songs like Stairway to Heaven, Comfortably Numb or the classics are not going to be deleted. Any playlist is not complete without them. Also when I started checking my playlist I realized that at a time or two I had enjoyed each of these songs.
I every time sing Bryan Adams, every time dance to Tiesto. Rob Thomas, Tracy Chapman, the Killers, Daft Punk, Pearl Jam, Kings of Leon, Coldplay and so on are definitely not going to be removed. Every one of the above artists I listen to is amazing. I remember the lyrics, hum the tune or sing the song.
The Killers I loved because every song seemed same yet so different. Read my Mind, When You Were Young and Here with Me being my favourites.
Bryan Adams with his acoustic Heaven is probably my favourite song in that genre.
Kings of Leon with Sex on Fire, Use somebody and Wait for Me.
And I won’t forget, Pearl Jam. My favourite rock band. Betterman, Black, Rearviewmirror, State of Love and trust my favourites.
I could not stop with songs on my phone. James Morrison, Taylor Swift, Jason Mraz. I am sure you get the point.
That only left my latest obsession of AVB to be deleted. It was simple, delete those songs which I don’t remember.
I started and when I was done I had deleted about 100 songs. 100!
Now I have songs from each genre, and I am not sure whether I did the right thing by deleting 100 trance tracks. But what I do know is this: I abhor deleting songs. No matter how much space I have in my phone or PC, it is simply never enough.
Same thing goes with deleting movies and I am not a huge cloud user or follower to save stuff on the cloud. It is either keep or delete for me.
What I would like at the end, if possible, is any suggestions on any good songs.
Any song: I listen to all genres. Rock, pop, rap, dance, anything.

Those 17 minutes (My first Street Play experience)

The day started normally. No nervousness nor any anxiety. But the day wasn’t normal. Today me, along with 15 of my teammates were going to perform in our college.
The day, Friday, date 21st March. At 3pm we were going perform. Perform our Street Play.
For the last one month, almost every day after college we all ended up practicing. Practiced hard. For me this year’s street play was special. Last year I was shy, conscious of acting in public. I didn’t even try last year. This year I wanted to, I had to. So I took part.
Everyday we practiced, more than one person always ended up being slightly disappointed because they didn’t get the dialogue or the part.
Along the way, some people left saying they couldn’t adjust. Or saying they don’t want to do the play anymore.
There was resentment and someone always questioned other’s commitment. After so much slogging we finally reached the D-Day.
And guess what, I expected myself to panic, to be restless. But I was completely chilled out. We met in college and practiced our skit again and again till we ran out of time. I am sure that if we had more time we would have practiced some more. But we didn’t, so we got ready for our fifteen minutes.
We were given the 4th place to perform, and in total there was 6 teams performing. We were going to perform in open area in our college.
Half an hour left for our performance, and I won’t lie. I was scared. My hands were shivering. I shoved my hands in my pocket and pretended I wasn’t scared. And went to see how the other teams were faring.
The first team did okay. I hardly paid them any attention because I could not hear most of their dialogues. But the second team.
They were amazing. During their 15 minutes of play I couldn’t stop cheering for them. Every punchline they delivered was hilarious, every formation they made was amazing. And after seeing that I knew our chances of getting the first was tenuous.
But we had to perform, we had put so much into it that now it was either do or die.
Some other team performed at 3rd and we were next. As stood near our entry, all of us were thirsty. Me I wanted to pee again even though I had peed just a minute ago. I was scared. All 15 of my teammates were scared. All of us drank water again and again.
And then it was announced “Team 4 start.”
Life is not like movies. In movies the climax goes in slow motion, there are audible heartbeats and so many other dramatic moments.
But in reality, things were fast. So fast that I barely had any time to register my own heartbeats. They said start and we started.
How to describe those 17 minutes I don’t know. I may not do them justice.
Everything happened like clockwork. One dialogue after another. One formation after another. And then at one punchline, we got our first applause.
Hah, that was a relief. Because that was what we were hoping for, that was what we were looking for, why I did street play.
And then we got our second applause, third. I lost count after that. I do remember my particular formation and audience’s reaction. I could say that was one of the best moments for me.
We went ahead, performed, made people laugh. Then came another best moment for me. At one chorus we received such applause that we had to do the following chorus again.
I don’t know how to say this but each time I saw people having fun, people applauding us I grew happier. Everything was meant for this. We strived for this, and we received it today.
Alas. We didn’t win. Our skit was supposed to be of 15 minutes. But I am guessing the applause and the cheers made it to 17 minutes.
I am not even a bit disappointed because we couldn’t win. I am, in fact, satisfied. We did it. My goal I achieved.
After our performance, we celebrated. I saw one teammate cry out of pure joy, many others tried to voice their thanks. We quickly booed  them into silence and continued celebrating.
When we were leaving, many stopped me and said great performance. Many said hard luck. I liked the former obviously.
Some of my team mates are not happy. They wanted the victory. 
When anybody used to ask me why my society (NSS-TSEC) does street play every year even though we never win in our college. My answer to them always seemed hollow to my ears.
Now I know the answer.
It is those claps, that laughter, that joy. It is because we send a message. It is because of these things we do what we do. And will continue doing so. It is this that makes it all worth it.
As one of my teammates said, “We won hearts, what else do we need.”
This is probably gonna be the first time I won’t be able to sleep because every time I close my eyes I am relieving those 17 minutes.
I may not have done justice in describing those 17 minutes.
All my teammates:
Jayesh, Harsh, Pritam, Aishwarya, Kunj, Asiya, Pooja, Ravina, Dyandeo, Akshay, Desphande, Takrani, Sangeeta, Sagar, Pallavi.


Here’s a video link:
http:// http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=WLba9AIOUlU
I Thank you guys.

Make them Linger

(In response to Daily Prompt)
Tell us about times in which you linger — when you don’t want an event, or a day to end. What is it you love about these times?
My usual response would be I want happiness to linger. After all, my first blog was on the same topic.
But that is too broad.
Just a few days ago, while heading to college I met a big Husky. I played with it, scratched him behind his ears while the dog jumped and tried to lick my face.


And later it went about to his daily morning routine. Abruptly. And I just stood there.
I’m not saying that he shouldn’t have. I can pet any other dog, I have my own dog for that matter. But when you are having a really bad morning, you are tensed about your day and at that time the Husky or any other dog can make you forget about it. I forgot all about my bad morning. That day I entered college smiling a big grin.
I want those moments to linger.
Me and my friends met. In our lunch break we ate our lunch, cracked some jokes and went about to our own business. Some of my friends I met after a year, and though the conversation was a little too formal, I want those meetings to happen.
I want those moments to linger.
I read a post a day ago. While the entire post was heart breaking, the particular part where the author describes his father’s plight(My prayers for him) had an impact. And suddenly my problems seem too small.
I feel humbled, inspired even, there was a sudden determination in me to tackle my own problems knowing that someone, somewhere is facing worse. That gives me a much needed push.
Another post, he wrote about at the end that he looked at the stars and realized how trifling his matters are(I think I am interpreting it correctly).
I felt the same at my Camp whenever I looked up at the night sky.
I even wrote a poem about it.
“Oh stars in night sky,
They look above like firefly.
These tiny dots,really are as big as they can be;
But they let the moon give light see.
And as hard as counting stars is,
More is to get the creation of His.
And the sad part now, I can’t see them up above.
And if I have to travel for hours I will,
Coz the night is full of tiny lights;
And we forget how bright the little lights shine!”
I want those moments to linger.
( I am not saying that somebody should be faced with a fatal problem)
What am I saying?
It is this. Sometimes life seems too difficult, too boring and full of despair. But I know there is going to be something at the end to make me happy, something for me to push forward. When I met that moment, whether a dog, a person or another person story(Nick Vujicic) I get inspired.


I get humbled.
I get hope.
I get joy(Depending upon the moment)
I want those moments to last. To linger.
(P.S if I have offended anybody then I’m sorry.)

Experience with the Tiny

Now about a day ago I read a post:
Dear society: kids cry, deal with it. Dear parents: kids cry, stop bringing them to grown-up movies.
The best thing was post was easy to relate to. I have had my share of experiences when some random baby in a train started crying or people trying to calm down a crying boy in a wedding.
Here are some, though unrelated, experiences.
I had really great experiences. In a hospital once a newborn slept sucking my thumb. And I didn’t want him to stop. I was ready to wait there with him till he let my hand go.
Bad experience. Once in a wedding an over excited boy kept hitting my thighs and knees. And his parents stood there chatting. I had to smile and pretend I wasn’t a bit irate at the Boy’s behavior.
This is now the main thing I want to talk about.
Now I would like to add something else too. This one is recent and this isn’t about a small toddler but a girl of at least 7-8 years old. While coming home from college the other day, I saw the same girl crying on the train station.
She being tiny was almost lost in the crowd. Only her cries of “Mummy Mummy” were audible because at that time the song I was listening to had ended. Otherwise I wouldn’t have noticed her either.
She was properly dressed, so I understood she wasn’t some street beggar who had just received some beatings from her mother. She actually looked lost and scared.
I stopped my music player and approached her. I put my hand on her shoulder and asked what happened. She cringed away from me.
Suddenly I became aware that here I am standing with a small crying girl in a crowd of at least a hundred. If any of them thought that I was trying to kidnap the girl and raised his voice I was going to be beaten to a pulp then and there. And more importantly the girl would still be crying because she was still separated from her mother. Delicate situation.
I asked her again where is her mother. She finally said something articulate like ‘Mummy nai h'(Mummy isn’t here). Obviously. And I became sure that I had a lost girl in my hands. Now I know what am I supposed to do about this situation. Take the girl to the police. Let them handle the girl, and the girl would be safer with them than with me.
What I didn’t know that I would become scared. Scared for the safety of the girl. Scared by the looks the fellow commuters were giving me. Scared by what the police will ask me. Scared.
I tried to focus on the task on hand and tried to calm the girl down. I asked her again where is her mummy. Same answer.
Change of question then. I asked her where did she come from? That she understood instantly and pointed ahead. Oh.
The indicated direction was full with people. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was more than a single lost child here.
I looked around for police but they weren’t anywhere to be found. I know there are policemen just a few minutes distance in the opposite direction. I looked around once more, and before I could I turn the girl around and take her towards the police authorities she cried aloud and ran.
And ran directly into the arms of her mother.
Phew. The girl quickly grabbed her mother’s sari and cried even more loudly. Her hug to her mother, I could tell was the one she would hesitate to let go.
And then I looked at the mother. She had tears in her eyes. Well,things got weird after this.
She was looking at me with resentment. I could tell that much. She must have assumed that I was trying to grab the girl. I opened my mouth to remind her that it was her who had lost her daughter. I almost did. But I stopped myself.
The girl was back with her mother, her mother was not alleging me of anything. So no harm done.
I left the scene without a word, and a thought crosses my mind. How come I was the only one who stopped to ask the lost girl where is her mother?
There were Hundreds of commuters, at least some must have seen the girl. Yes I’m ashamed because I felt scared when it came down to helping  the girl.
I’m downright disappointed that I was the only one who stopped to at least ask the girl.
Why share this?
Because I think kids are a pain when they start irritating you. They are the most fun when they drag you along to play with them. But they only do that when they are feeling safe.
The girl on the station will probably be scared to let go of her mother till she grows up.
I am not saying it was the mother’s fault. I am not saying she was wrong in assuming I was trying to kidnap her daughter. I am just sharing.
I can’t presume I know of the solution. I don’t know. But given the choice I wouldn’t want another lost girl in another crowd. Tiny tots belong to the safety of their mother’s arms.
I hope they stay there.

Days Past

I just read a post of outmannedmommy  titled Simple Pleasures.
And while the 2 year old is so cute in those pictures I would like to talk about something else.
While reading the blog I started recalling my childhood. And my reminiscences of my childhood surprised me too. I remember so much of those days.


I remembered my first Picnic game which I always played with anybody and everybody in my house, guest or family. The fake currency I once even tried to use to buy biscuits.
There was chess which I never got better at. But I still played and always cheated to defeat my big brother. And at those days when there was no Tom and Jerry airing on the TV, I would pick up a deck of cards and try to make a house of cards. The toy yellow car which had opening doors!
And how could I forget the all time favourite G.I.Joe action figures. I was such a fan of those figures that I always insisted on buying a new one. Even when these figures broke and became limbless I still kept them.
I also recalled the basic electronix kit I had got on my birthday but nothing in it worked. But I had fun just trying to connect all the bulbs, motors and battery.
I could go on and probably list out all the toys I had when I was small. Also this may have little or no relation with the above mentioned post. But after reading that post I had a big smile on my face. Partly because the post was great in its own way but also I could relate to it.
And just thinking about my childhood brought back so many memories that in a second or two my present was gone and I was in the past.
So after reaching home I looked through the cupboard and guess what?! I still have the G.I.Joe action figures, the fake currencies and chess board though it is broken in two pieces now.
Just having all those toys in my hand and I was transported back into my childhood. All the memories, I don’t know from which bank, came rushing back. I could feel the joy of winning the chess game, mimicking voices while playing with action figure, and it goes on and on.
I never gave those toys away. I never knew why. I think I know why. They are memories. Memories too innocent.
What I wouldn’t give to go back to my childhood again. When I could eat what I want, when I studied because I enjoyed it, back when everything was so simple comparatively. Back when I innocent of the ways of the world. Back when pleasures were simple.
Not saying I know everything today, I’m still naive. Not saying that I don’t like growing up either or I abhor responsibilities that come along with it. I just miss the simplicity of those days.
Now I’m stuck on my phone. Everybody is stuck on their phones. There are games here too but it can’t replicate the excitement and amazement of the past.
And after I kept my toys back in the cupboard I knew I’m never gonna give them away. They may break in time and I’ll have to throw them away but somewhere still I will recall the joy of those fifteen years past days.
Thank you for that post.

How we should and how we do?

I wrote my first blog last week. And I told my friends about it. They read it and generally gave great replies. And after that the first thing on my mind is what to write for my next blog?
Usually when I write I write down the general idea and then build a chassis of what I want to write. I did the same last week.
I had a couple of ideas, but every single one of them lacked something. Till this evening I didn’t know what. Then it hit me.
I had become suddenly very conscious of how my friends will react when they read my blog. And the idea didn’t lack anything.
And then abruptly I knew what I wanted to blog about. It hit me. Last week I wrote quickly, without thinking too much about it or trying to decide whether it is good or bad. I wrote and completed it in fifteen minutes and posted it. And now I realize the difference.
Now I am thinking so much about what to write that I pretty much forgot why am I writing in the first place. It is not for getting followers, or not for getting people to viewers or comments.
It is about me enjoying the simple act of writing. I enjoy it. Give me a pen, paper, an intriguing idea and I’ll start ignoring everybody.
Now I think about it I realize that maybe that is what is mostly wrong with people around me.
If there is an exam, everybody is worried about the grades before even writing the paper. Many times worried more about a paper which they gave a few days ago.
If there is a task then the worry is about the outcome rather than the task itself.
And that is where I believe I used to be. I worried too much about what can happen(like what will my friends say about a story I wrote in my book) rather than enjoying the present.
That is why wrote a blog. I will rather enjoy the process rather than the outcome. The outcome is mostly always hardly satisfactory. Though the desired outcome makes you ecstatic, it hardly lasts. But when you enjoy the work it lasts.
So basically what I mean is: stop worrying about the results. They come and they go. There is always something else, there will always be another opportunity. And it is all temporal.
But if the dints are enjoyed then you learn something more. Value your work and efforts. After all that’s all you have in your hand. Only if you learn to enjoy the work only then you will learn something new. Only then you will feel content with what you have achieved.
Like last week another quote from Kung Fu Panda ” Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present.”

First Blog/Ephemeral Feelings

My first blog.

Mind any who is reading i have never wrote any thing like a blog before.
I just read a blog by a blogger Ephemeral Optimism before I wrote mine. Though his blog was very interesting about opinions, I couldn’t help but relate to his username.

A few days ago I was just ecstatic. I was practically dancing anywhere, hugging random people. All because I scored great grades in my exams(yes I am a nerd).

Now I am back to being normal. And mind you I am not saying normal is bad, but by comparison it is really sad. So much hard work, so much time and sweat and I become elated for a few hours only?

That is the thing which intrigues me. And I could probably imagine things further down the line in my life. Why are good or great things so ephemeral?

And being normal is part of everyday( hence it is normal, dumb me). That is my complain exactly. Why if mundane things can last then happiness can’t last? Shouldn’t it be equally balanced.
And now that made me imagine a world which is equally balanced. And think with me on this one.

Think of world war for example. If things are supposed to be balanced then after years of anguish and death shouldn’t there be equal years if not more of happiness and joy? Peace? But what happened?

Cold war? Afghanistan conflicts? Iran and Iraq conflicts? Look up in the news there is still no peace. Not even a year of peace.

That is too big for an example. Since I am an Indian let’s take an example of cricket team. After we won the cricket world cup did we celebrate for twenty something years? As it took us the same years to win the cup again. No we went and now we are struggling to even hold the top ranking.

Back to the main topic. Why are good things like pure happiness so short lived? So many people end up losing hopes and go into despair because there is hardly anything good happening in their lives.

After thinking so much(my friends say I should really stop thinking so much) I understood finally. And the answer is so simple that I want to smack myself in my head for it. Why are things so ephemeral? Because otherwise they are worthless.

They are normal.

And from there I understood. We humans are stupid creatures we don’t appreciate the things that are there in abundance. I mean how many times does a normal person wake up and appreciate the beauty of sunrise? Beauty of a butterfly on a flower? Not a picture found on the internet as HD or something. See the beauty with your own eyes?

No we don’t. It can be seen any other day. We take it for granted. Now if someone tells that tomorrow sun will rise blue colored then we will find spectators who will gawk at the natural beauty of the sun.

That is the thing. The only way we take things seriously and we actually experience it is when we don’t get it in abundance.

So happiness won’t be the same if I could experience it any day.
Drug addicts won’t need to be addicted if they just get high once after along time or so(I thought about that as well).

So to end it I’ll say, if on a dark day you are losing hope then remember. The night is darkest just before the dawn. But the dawn is coming(Yes I quoted the Dark Knight). Wait for it. The morning though ephemeral will prepare you for another dark night to come.