Small Things

How many times do we stop in our present to dream of the future. Me? Loads and loads of time. I am always procastinating my today’s work to dream of the future, far far away. And my favourite  potraits are those where I dream of the impossible. I like dreaming of things that will never come true. I like to dream that I am a super model (stretching the fantasy to the extreme) or  a world reknowned neursosurgeon, better still, an all-rounder artist, that is, a singer,  dancer, painter, poet, novelist. Of course there are more. But unlike Mr. Walter Mitty, I don’t mix my reality with my fantasy, but like him I use it often to escape my frustrating reality.  And why I dream of things that can never come true?  Because those dreams come at a lesser price. If you see realistic dreams, you have hope of reaching there one day, you expect to live your fantasy in reality in your future, and when that doesn’t happen, there is always some degree of disappointment. And disappointment, as it is gene

i am laughing at myself right now. i just realized that how i make everyone read my blogs and articles irrespective of if they want to or not, if they like  my work or not. all the readers i have are under forceful readership. i am worse than a bad writer. it's ridiculous, but its amazing that they read it for me. thank you everyone. :)

I have been thinking a lot about what to write. And that's why I haven't been able add anything much lately. I am a spontaneous writer, I just write whatever comes to my head, without choosing my words carefully or planning my  ideas into paragraphs. my writings are like my conversations, i am not a good conversationalist but i talk a lot, i am not a good writer but I write a lot, without a topic, a theme or any humor (just like my conversations). And that's just me. well at least I got something to define me. Lately i have been fighting with that thought, Who am I? Now I can't say I don't exist, I do exist, but what have I done with my existence? Right now I feel like going off to some mountain and into a cave and meditating, cutting off all human contact and being in absolute solitude. I want to reflect back, explain to myself my actions, my mistakes and get over my regrets and start anew. I need time for that, and time I have not. Now when i am in this state, i

I silently smile when I see myself putting zeera and garlic into the curry as I cook, I used to vow at one point of time that I will never add them when I cook. I silently smile when I eat the things I used throw a tantrum about at home whenever i found them included in the meals, especially in the dishes I liked. One half of me feels proud, I think, its growing up, am growing up, am learning to adjust. The other half of me finds myself a hypocrite, why should I pretend to like the things I don't like? But I guess it's not pretending, am not saying I like them, I just have learnt to live with them being on my plate. It's adjusting. Adjusting, I have learnt is vital to survive. You have to learn to adjust to new surrounding as and when you move, and that's the only way you can live, or else, you are victim of depression, or in case of food, eating disorders. Well i guess, life is Darwin's theory, "survival of the fittest". Adaptation renders you fit.

does it matter how many tears you shed? who's counting? does it matter how many years you have wept? who's counting?

Of late, i haven't been able to keep in touch with my high school friends. i don't know what to talk to them about and i don't want to end up talking too much. More than often i have realized that i give away my entire life's history without them sharing more than what happened to them yesterday, and i really feel like an idiot afterward for having such a big trap for a mouth. But this results in me knowing lesser and lesser about them leading to shorter and shorter conversations until finally we seem to lose touch. I have always been bad in keeping touch with people, but it really saddens me when friends that were once close treat me like a stranger. It is but my own doing, pushing them away, but the walls that i build, that keeps them away are very weak and it requires only a little warmth from them for it to fall apart. But as i had given them no time of my own, i know it is very selfish of me to expect from them. To those friends, who have always made time, i am

last night i was tired and feeling a little low, so i talked on what bothered me. but i also had loads of fun making kheer yesterday. the best part was fighting for a bit of milkmaid, left over after cooking. i can proudly say that competing against three boys, all seniors, i still got to eat the largest share. its always fun to be a kid. and i thank everyone for coming and making a memory of an ordinary day.

We had kheer party today. We were all gathered, my seniors, some of my juniors and batch mates.   Three of us were the cook of the day, one of my senior, one of my batch mate and me. With kheer there was a potato curry, aludum, and it was so yummy, that the entire pot got cleaned up and I was the one to end it. My senior, daju, was serving me what was left of it, the gravy part. He was shaking the spatula to get off every last bit of it on my plate, but instead it hit my forehead. I believe it was right on the centre like a tika because a friend of mine began laughing and pointing it out to everyone. I asked for a tissue, someone passed it, but she got hold of it and wouldn’t pass it to me. She kept laughing and pointing it out to everyone, I felt so embarrassed that I was on the verge of tears. I squinted my eyes to make it look like I had something in my eye too, but I was simply trying to hide the tears of embarrassment that had welled up in my eyes. Finally someone passed the tissu

I know I am stupid. Infact I don’t believe any one else appreciates the level of my stupidity greater than me. So I have a question I need answered. I open my mouth, I prove to the world that I am stupid, if I stay shut, I remain stupid.   I know, it’s an easy option, it’s better to be open with your stupidity and become wiser and more knowlegdable at every step. But someone who hasn’t gone through this situation won’t understand at what cost this knowledge comes. Though I have accepted I am stupid, and for a long time too, but   having it being spelled it out to you over and over again, has its own trauma. It makes you lose all the confidence you have in yourself, it makes you judge yourself, doubt your capabilities, and before you know it, you have chosen to stand in the shadows. You have no courage or confidence left to face the light. And all that knowledge and wisdom you acquired becomes meaningless. Wasn’t it better when you were stupid? You atleast never doubted yourself and you

I just got back after receiving my juniors from the airport, it’s 2:00 am and I have a tute in the morning. But I just had to get out of bed and write this. what is it? just realization.   Two random things combining to prove one thesis of my life, whatever happens in life, happens for the very best of reasons. Firstly, I suffered a massive heartache in highschool, and today I understand why, and all I have to say now for that is, “thank you god, you saved me big time.” Secondly: I was deprived of attention, you know the kind where your physical beauty is appreciated, for almost all my life till date. Well, I always questioned god, why? Why did he not make me beautiful? But again, today I realize it has all turned out to be for the good. This lack of attention has helped me become a better person. I don’t know what kind of a snob I would have been if things had been otherwise. So again, I thank you god. So far so good, I always thought myself as intelligent, and ofcourse I bragged.

writing has always been my passion, you will always find me with a pen and a paper and a sombre face, always lost in thoughts. its the best way i express myself, and i love letting others read my work. so, i end up creating loads of notes on facebook and tag people all the time, so some one suggested to me that i should blog. now i have joined this site for some days now, and i am finding myself at loss of what exactly am i suppose to write. when you create a blog, you have to give it a name. i really didn't know what to call my blog, i didn't know why i was even creating a blog, but then chimi (my room mate and senior) suggested "small things", and it just fit. we always end up concentrating on the big picture of life, but it's the small things that matter, that count.  and since then, i have been making attempts to capture my moments in words, and failing brutally. i really don't know, how u express an ordinary moment, like travelling by bus everyday, o

I stand alone amid the crowd staring at my blurred reflection I stand alone amid the crowd Smiling at my own deception So many things I led you to believe So many things that aint true to me I m a stranger I always will be no matter how many years go by…

Sitting beside him, smiling at his irresistible charm, I began to realize how unusually accustomed I had become to his presence. I, of all people who hadn’t missed a soul in life time, missed him terribly on his absence. He continued with his narrations of one of those unforgettable days he had spent with her, his first and only love. I couldn’t but adore his sensitivity, his passion, and care. He spoke of her with such care and utmost detail, that he dragged me back to when it happened. I poked a little to make him blush, and his sarcastic laughter rang in my eyes, the color on his cheeks was high. He always tries to create a careless atmosphere to hide the pain in his heart, that he could never tell her the way he felt. I don’t know if it was the fear of rejection, or losing her friendship or simply the fear of all his fantasies to be with her being destroyed, burned to ashes. Hope keeps us all alive, maybe it was hope he was trying to cling on. I don’t think he knows himself either