Things that fail to grab my attention.

Okay I seriously cannot keep pace with technology anymore. I'll tell you about the funnier facts.

20 years back when you would fight with your best friends you'd give them the cold look, nonchalant shrugs, then maybe as you grew older you showed the finger. Now, you delete them off your facebook friendlist. Whatever has happened to the display of emotions? I mean do you really expect me to scroll down my friendlist to check if you're still there or not? And then maybe if you're not do you expect me to sms you asking why because you're too much of a chicken to talk to me face to face? Wrong thought. High expectations. Everybody is not Mark.



And a doodle.

A story to tell.

The chinese spam stopped! Woo hoo! Something I randomly sms-ed a friend for lack of creativity. Yes. I'm lousy.
It was a dark night. Windy. A dimly lit sky with only a few tiny twinkling stars. Heavy silence. The street dogs howled from some shelter that she could not locate in the darkness. The windows of the houses in the neighbourhood rattled madly as if possessed by some supernatural power. A chill ran through her nerves breaking into convulsions. It was eerie. She walked alone and the loud footsteps walked behind her. She gulped her saliva. Her mouth was dry. She cried to herself inwardly," Nonsense! Nonsense!" while at that very moment she could feel the threat of life's insecurity. The feet behind her shuffled. The brutal force in the atmosphere stirred. Whatever it was,it hated her. She knew this. Should she turn back and face it? Should she run with whatever energy was left in her? Her legs became heavy,she could not move. The footsteps were coming closer. Her heart was thumping loudly against her body that it could drown the noise of the wind. She turned. Gasped. Let out a stifled cry. The figure blurred,her head went dizzy.
She woke up amidst strangers panting for breath. Look around and shrivelled up seeing so many faces. Who are you? They asked. How did you come here? They demanded to know. What have you done to deserve this? They were curious.
Only one thought ran across her mind. What was the face? What was it? It was bony,wrinkled,the eyes were bloodshot,the corners of the mouth had phlegm . How could it resemble her?
It was getting hotter and lot more people surrounded her now. The cacophony around her was getting harsher for her ears. Then she noticed the people. They were different! Was she in heaven or in hell?

Take me home.

It's so cloudy today. Some would say gloomy. But it's cold and cloudy and that is what I have learnt to connect happiness with. You won't understand what I want to express. And there's no particular word in English language to represent it and its emptiness makes me feel it more.
I listen to the band performances here,saunter about the huge malls,get happy. Only momentarily.
I recline against a bean bag and look outside the window through the glass while it rains and when I finally decide to open the window,the clouds rush in,the inconvenience seems trivial then.
She has got so much less of everything to offer and so much more to give than I could ever ask for. But she makes me happy with her green hills and her incessant rains and her pine trees that no human could ever provide for me. That's all I ask for. Where else can I walk amidst clouds?
That is where I and Ruskin Bond connect. He feels the same way for Mussorie as I do for Shillong.
Thank you Mr. Bond for writing.

(and a cheesy line: Shillong come to me,if I can't come to thee. That's the best I can ever rhyme.)

Too jobless.

(Just why do I get spammed by the Chinese? I mean,Indian haters,accepted. But Chinese? I haven't even been mean to them yet!)



Rain in Delhi is amusing. It's like the clouds going through an adolescent phase;throwing tantrums, "Now I want to rain,I will rain bad!"
"Now I don't feel like and now I do! Just leave me alone!"
But I do not quite understand the people when they crave for rain when its sunny and vice versa because>>just-stop-complaining-and-shut-the-fuck-up-human!
It's not a very optimistic situation when Delhi starts stinking and my poor father rings me from miles away asking me to stay indoors because Yamuna has crossed it's danger level. My father's paranoia-moment(s) is hilarious maybe because I am convinced that my amazing life line won't let me die. Not in the floods. Not yet. That is not a graceful way of dying.

They will decorate Delhi for the Commonwealth games but how do they control the stink when it rains? Droopy faces,disappointment and excuses-a lot of it!
But do you not like the dirty slime on your legs? In his legs and her legs when they spread their hands and run before you? Wind and rain. And you walk behind them slowly. You smile. I can hear you smile even if I cannot see you.
*If you did not notice the new template,slap yourself thrice and jump off a cliff.

(Photo credits: Abhilasha Sachan)

Give me *raises eyes*

"Give her! Give her! Okay take mine and give her!"

"Will you just talk?"

"Just give her!"

"See? She went away. I told you!"

Yes,I'm coming to the point. I get nervous around beggars. I shake fervently and try to surrender all I have because here they know "fuck you" and "bastard" and many more.

We're back!

In my last post,I totally forgot to mention that when we went backpacking,we didn't brush our teeth for a whole day and night.You still love me a lot,right?You can make it sparkly clean in the morning but the colour is going to transmute back to yellow anyway.Uhh,I brush my teeth(generally speaking).
A'right so,today is Sexy Na?'s(Radhika Saxena) interludial day which comes back every 365 days,(read:Budday!Budday!) which reminds me,that I don't even have one.It's like those beauty products-got a manufacturing date and an expiry date.Nobody used this date to celebrate the presense of an unearthly person.I mean it's such a dormant date,nobody cares.It's only so much useful to me as a dead fish is to the sea.Why is it only a bunch of lucky homo sapien's prerogative to blow candles over a cake?This is insane!This is bigotry!

Let me see,when was the last time I really had a birthday?Ohh,I have seen photos of it,I look only a foot long,dazed,because I wasn't aware that it's a celebration.My mother used to at least bake cakes for me seven years back,but now,she'll be like "Ohh,you're so old,you don't need one."And my dork friends will say,"Ohh shit,can we shift it tomorrow?I really gotta meet my boy friend today(who is the dad of our generation)."

YOU CANNOT SHIFT BIRTHDAYS OK?It is not only free food,it's an overflow of emotions.It's like my parents met,and on this day that had me.I bet they regret it secretly and sometimes loudly.

And you know that I'm mother nature but I cannot do anything about the depletion of tigers,a'right?Not now at least.

Project Tiger is almost as old as I am and still tigers manage to die illegally.Instead of text messaging me,let the forest officials know that you have noticed that their houses are made of teak,mahogany and that you have a feeling that they hid a tiger's head or say a rhinoceros' head in the locker,and that their oh-so-pretty-fucked-up-rotund-will-implode-any-moment wife carries an illegal crocodile skin bag.I know a few of them,fathers of my I-shall-not-call-them-friends.They think I shouldn't be alive within a range of 2km radius around their house.It's unholy!I can insult almost as comfortably as I can breathe.I don't blow my own trumpet because I don't have one.

What does it take to not wear a leopard skin dress?It's not like you're pretty,well if you should know,you're excruciatingly ugly and that crocodile skin bag you carry,hates your very baneful touch and that beaver fur around your neck,well it only makes me say that you look better as a beaver than the beaver itself does.

I and this particular senior were discussing Delhi females and we evolved a theory that works for most,not exactly evolved because it was always there,steady.If you see a girl,you need to ask yourself a few question to know if that girl had been manufactered and brought up in Delhi or not.

Straight hair?Check.
Fair?Check.
Girly clothes(REALLY GIRLY)?Check.
Painted nails?Check.
Never looks better or worse?Check.
Has only one expression on her face?Check.
Looks the splitsvilla kind?Check.
Hugs her girl friends 50 times a day?Check.
Congratulations!You found your Delhi girl of dreams!

*I have this syndrome of invective speech,sorry.In case,you're all that is mentioned above^^I don't exist,sorry.

Like what the senior said,you have two types of jeans in your wardrobe-one that fits you well and a baggy one.When you're happy,you wear the nicer one and when you're sad,you wear the baggy one,so you look different on different days,but Delhi girls have got the same kind of clothes,so they only look good,never better or worse.

This man,whatever his name maybe,he gave me an insight into the lives of men.Well all I can say is,if females are bitches,males are male-bitches.Equality.

Ohh,incase you're into reading translated stories,the translation of Manto's stories by Aatish Taseer is way better than
Khalid Hassan's or Harish Trivedi's translations.

Dictionary:Asphalt-Blame the donkey.
Byeeee!

I had to ransack my brain to guess my password because the last time I logged in here,was when I just began college,and
I'm on the verge of passing my first year now(I think).My college has a psuedo crowd,who likes you because you wore oh-so-
pretty a dress or because you've got oh-so-fake an accent,because you know a lot of people there who're like you,no matter
how dumb she/he maybe.Not cool.At all.They're all little barbie dolls.Secretly,I hate most.I DO NOT understand the way
cash spirals out of control.Now I have it,now I don't.The more I get to know humanity,the more I hate it.There's this
place,I call it Romantic because you have no idea,how it feels to be there alone at night,though I'm never alone there.
It's got a cheap burger selling restaurant on one side(it's my patent right to be there)and a railway track underneath.
The burger sellers know my face I think and have a strong feeling that I'm going to order a Don Burger.Funny name,yes.I
am a part of this music society,they're strong willed people,when they say practise,it means,practise till your throat
bleeds and your mind screams of boredom.I know my sentences are random but not that a serial post would matter much.
I went backpacking with a few people who have no sense of security whatsoever.But I liked it,it felt like I were a pauper.
Cold slices of leftover pizza for dinner.Unhealthy.The bus,utterly desolate,windows rattling like dentures of men who
are a century old,a rod in front you,which hits your head,the moment you fall asleep,free AC service even when unwanted...
pretty different from my luxurious trips with family.I have travelled alone for a quite a few times now and got immensely
bored all the time.Some unseen force seems to plan my trip with really retarded co-passengers.If it's a train,they'll be
old people,if it's a flight,they'll be sleepy foreigners.How much does it cost to just give a talkable handsome man?Ohh,
that reminds me that my room mate who's not exactly the brightest bulb around has a boy friend who texts her incessently.
Most of the time,she's in the next room in the Stupid Meet Of The Day(it's a very important meeting) and the SMS alert is
a whole song from God-knows-what movie.I think she's got a lop-sided face.My best friends are two dorks from a different
planet.A'right.Bye.