Nostalgia Engulfed...

-There's gotta be one thing about weddings that you like. - Open bar. - No. -All right. So when the bride comes in and she makes her giant, grand entrance, I like to glance back at the poor bastard getting married. 'Cause even though I think he's an idiot for willingly entering into the last legal form of slavery he always looks really, really happy. And, for some reason, I-- What the hell are you looking at me like that for? - Are you shitting me right now? - What? -That's my favorite part. She paused the movie and looked at him with a big grin on her face. He smiled, her genuine smiles made him want to always keep her happy. He raised his eyebrows and when she still wouldn't answer, he asked "What!?" She squealed, "That's my favorite part too." He said "Buuuuut.. Indian weddings aren't like that." She started laughing so hard he thought he'd unintentionally cracked a joke. Looking at his confused and baffl...

He withdrew from the beach after a while, smiling as he saw his friends having fun like kids. It was amusing to him how alcohol sometimes worked as a truth serum, bringing out the truest child within each person. He turned back and started walking towards the girl who was with them only in the physical sense of the words. Her mind, as anyone could clearly tell, was elsewhere. He went and sat next to her, silently watching and trying to demystify this person who sat next to him. Every time he had tried to do that in the past, he had discovered there were far too many layers to her personality for anyone to be able to understand her at all. He watched as her fingers thrummed against her knees, playing to some music on her mind. Her hands were.. interesting, to say the least. She had those long fingers that artists are known to have, with rings on way too many fingers. She wore some junky bracelets on her left wrist, beneath which he could see faint scars peeking out. Her right wrist was ...

I woke up with an uneasy feeling in my stomach, the good kind. It was finally here - the day I had been waiting for about a month and half now. But to me it felt like this was what I had been waiting for all my life. I was moving to Mumbai with a new job in hand and a few dreams safely hidden beneath my eyelashes. I didn't realise these dreams completely yet, just felt their fidgety presence and the excitement they instilled in me. It seemed unreal, like a childhood fantasy coming true. Growing up through my childhood years, I'd seen pictures of my my friends posing in front of the Gateway of India or chilling in their shorts at Juhu. I only began traveling when I was fifteen and to places that I could easily count off on my fingers. More than anything else, the writer in me had her hopes pinned to this change in my life. A part of me believed this was the answer to my increasingly frequent writer block issues. I was desperate for a fresh start, a do over. I had made too...

I recently took a short trip and I love how such trips give me the solace to think about all the things that bring me peace. So one day I randomly started to think about how there are some writers you instantly feel connected to. Its like one moment you're reading and within a few pages you go "Whoa! That's so me!" or "Hey I know how that feels. Poor guy." Sometimes you don't even have words and you just sit there admiring the beauty of the words in front of you. This made me want to write a list - one that enlists all the important ingredients that go into the making of a writer who is popular among his/her readers for all the right reasons. 1. Experience I remember when I was thirteen and the first chapter of my science book had a line that said everything is made up of at least 8% truth. (No, it's not crap I just came up with, trust me!) I have no idea why this has stuck with me for so long considering all of the important stuff from that very ...

I know the title doesn't really fit, I know the world is an unfair place and I know we get way too many sad moments compared to the happy ones. But then its all in our head. We can live through the sorrow if we just make up our mind and find happiness in silly, little things around us. I remember back in the tenth standard when I had gone on a school excursion, it was freezing in Nainital, and I just had one new sweater with me which turned out to be no good. So a very good friend, had advised me to just think that it wasn't cold, and it actually did work. So when our mind is capable of adapting to actual, physical conditions the way we want to, why not do the same with our emotions? I know what you're thinking. That it's all bullshit, that you can't just make things go your way. That it hurts when you see him with her whatever you try to think. That you still prefer the pain over happiness because it symbolises something. That its all big talk and in the end none...

I just read an awesome blog so I wanted to write, plus its been long, really long. I've always had a hard time with endings. Its not so much about something not existing anymore, rather about missing the essence of something that made your life concrete. Sixteen days from now, my college life comes to an end. Unlike school, where the feeling sunk in after I had already passed a year at college, this ending really stings. Firstly because I didn't interact with people for seven hours a day but actually lived with them. I shared happiness over innumerable cups of coffee. I woke up to the tunes of 'Kolaveri Di', kicking and screaming at my roommates to wake up and rush to the exam hall after having slept for just an hour. I shed silent tears at the window a few late nights and looked to my best friend to hug me amidst violent sobs a few other times. Being a person who has the emotional comfort level of about zero and is awkward around people by default, I actually made pe...

Out of the hundreds of feelings you’ll come across in your human life, its betrayal that would sting the most. Nothing compares to that ache you feel right after you've been back stabbed. The struggle to pacify your wounds, the heartbreak, its all too unbearable to be put into words. That’s how she was feeling at that very instant. Betrayed . For the tenth time, her best friend Priyasha tried to reason with her. "I’m just trying to avoid conflict, its nothing personal." She silenced herself after seeing the unspoken yet unmistakable anger in her eyes. Its not reason she needed, but vengeance, thoughtless vengeance. Priyasha could see it in the way her brows furrowed, and her nostrils flared. She had seen Natasha mad before, but this time was different. Her pretty face was transformed, she was almost unrecognizable. This time, she had resolved not to listen. Exasperated, Priyasha tried one last time. She held her hand and started speaking, calmly yet confidently. ...