Friends and Change

It’s hard not to fret over unwanted changes because you’re absolutely content with this moment. Those furrowed eyebrows, beads of sweat kneading your forehead, bouts of anxiety that accompany the slightest contemplation of something and finally a panic attack unleashed in its full glory. They’re all few symptoms of your resolute no to life’s mysterious plans that plays along by rolling its dice. Sometimes, you wish your mind had a sturdy armour to deflect these pointed strikes carried out by fear. Unfortunately, for almost all of us who aren’t ready to step into a foreign land yet, it’s not possible to hinder despair or anguish. Everything comes at a great cost. For what you gain, you lose something. For all the grandeur you’re showered with, know that there’s downfall awaiting. With happiness comes equal amount of sadness. That’s how life levels itself. It always tries to play fair. However, we let ourselves ingrain specific moments into our heads that either inflict too much misery or keep us high with ecstasy. Well, that’s how I think it is.

I see how I’m drifting away from the people I love. No matter how hard I try, the currents of change are too strong for me to reach out to them. I lash out at transience, beat about and kick my legs around just so  it can let me out of its tight and suffocating grasp. If these are the consequences I have to bear for moving along with this wretched entity, I’d rather perish to stillness than witness the loss of what I cherish. But, change is inevitable, and immobility impossible until it finally chooses to take me along with it. How will I fight against this then? I don’t. In fact, no one can. It’s just not  possible to overcome the hold change has upon us.

You may ask, ” Well, if it causes you this great a misery, then why don’t you stop emotionally investing in people?” Don’t you think I tried? Snipping off all kinds of ties from people and dwelling in a shack all to myself surrounded by solitude was the first thought that crossed my doleful mind. I hardened my heart into a rock and put up a mask of intolerance. I thought that an act of biting coldness would sap people’s warmth and send them scurrying away, far away from my presence. In the end, the rock ended up weathering due to the strong forces of people around me. Like it or not, life is hell-bent upon moulding and morphing you into a new character every day by adding a new twist to your story as you proceed. You can’t see anyone more stubborn than life.

Even people whose faces are marked with a noticeable indifference aren’t that impassive toward others. They may not feel those pangs of emotions just as much as you do, but everyone has their own weaknesses  and nature always has something in store to send a ripple of feelings in every one of us. Some people just happen to have mastered the act of concealing things and pouring forth the troubles in dark with the four walls bearing witness. Change has that ability- to make a person worth the splendour or completely wear one out from within. It doesn’t matter if you’re a loner or a social butterfly. We’re all victims to reformation. There’s no running away from this one.

Whatever it is, I welcome it with my arms wide open. As much as I don’t wish for it, there’s an inner voice that tells me to stop brooding and let myself adrift for change to take me along. It certainly took me time to conciliate myself and pacify those rumbling memories that are probably scorning at me for making space for the new ones. Life has, and is, taking away my friends with it. In spite of that, it brings  new people into my story to make up for the void left behind by the former just to turn that frown upside down, and I’m forever indebted to the fates for that. I don’t think I have to be, but we won’t ponder over that.

This is how one survives life’s gut-wrenching twists. If you keep lingering in the past, you aren’t really living because you aren’t turning the pages of your book to live the adventure.  Moreover, a true survivor is the one who has finally made peace with life’s brevity. That’s my opinion. Yours could differ.

Change may have changed the relationship over time, but if there’s one thing it couldn’t, it’s my compassion. If we run into each other in a busy street at some point in our lives, it wouldn’t feel like how it always did, but this notable difference is only acting as a detour  in our lives which may or may not be that thrilling. I’m never too far gone. You’ll always find me lurking around the corners if you ever need me, and once you give me the signal, I’ll always be there to pull you in with my arms. Then, we could clank the cobblestones with our high-heels and revel in our companionship for each other,hand in hand, until the Sun goes down and we call it a night.


Letter to the Bully

Dear fellow human,

It’s been a decade since we last saw each other and since you last tormented me. I’m aware that neither will you ever come across this blog post nor will you ever come back to haunt me again. Do you even remember me? I’m sure that if you do, I’m nothing but a nameless kid who endured your worst insults and pranks. Moreover, if you don’t, I’m glad you don’t, but I can only hope that you’ve changed for the better and that the memories of the latter that overshadow me aren’t those of inflicting pain on people like me.  However, the sheer hell you made me experience back in those days is what drives me to write this post.

I was a new kid, not only in the school but in the city too. New place, new lifestyle, new people, and an alien language. Nonetheless, it wasn’t hard for me to snuggle into a cosy spot surrounded by the tenderness of people with genuine affection and concern. Unlike you, I used to win over people’s hearts with goodwill, not out of dominance as a tyrant like you.

“Other people have it worse than you”. That’s what you’d say. All you did was pierce me with the worst insults you could come up with. It was fine as long as it was centred around me, but you brought in my parents too. You told me I was useless and that the World is better off without me. You told me I was silly, so my parents were probably mental. You told me I was fat and ugly and that I looked like an ogre. Whatever you mouthed to me would kill me within everyday. I couldn’t take it any more. Some day, I had to stop surrendering to your tasteless ramblings.

I ran to the home room teacher with my eyes swollen. I cried so hard that my throat was parched. There was nothing my friends could do about it either. Who would want to be a victim to this frightening monster? I approached the teacher who was busy in another class. She was the home room teacher after all and here was her student with a runny nose, pink eyes and red lips, so naturally she diverted her attention to this kid. All eyes bore into me, as if looking into my soul, scrutinizing and probing every inch of this despairing child.

She asked me what happened and I blurt out the suppressed. Never did I feel so relieved and exempted from the pain, but all good things don’t last for long. She called for you and asked you what happened. You two conversed for a while in a language I was oblivious to. Soon enough, it hit me that you were this teacher’s pet. The bully was a beast to my eyes, but a darling to a teacher’s eyes. There was no way I could be free from your ruthless attacks. There was no way any teacher would ever believe me for my words. I was helpless just like the rest of the students in my class because you were a vicious, strategic and a calculative brawn.

You stopped for a while and would smirk whenever we crossed our paths. I did not know your intentions and dismissed the sight of you as an insignificant image. The day is still crystal clear in my mind. Sometimes, it morphs itself into a nightmare and leaves me fear-stricken and gasping for breath. It was that day when I found out, you and I were our class’ OTP.

The thought of it twists my gut and makes me cringe out of disgust. I hope that after all these years, the insensitive people who paired us up have let go of this kind of fantasy; that the school’s bad boy and a goody-two-shoes are the best couple anyone could envisage. I wish more people knew that bad boys in real life aren’t the sexy, enigmatic, ‘make-your-knees-weak’ kind of bad boys. They’re treacherous, cunning, and absolutely revolting.

You didn’t get me back immediately for exposing your heinous side, but when you did finally strike, it was far worse than what I’d imagined. In fact, it was so terrible that I’d lie to my teachers about being sick from having too much ‘curd’ and go back home. This, became a routine and I’d do it twice a week. However, the secret routine only lasted for a month. The teacher who’d let me call my father up knew there was more to the story than what I had let her in, but she never stopped me, and I’m grateful to her for that. Neither did my parents question me nor did I ever tell them about you.

It often felt like you knew exactly what to do to make me feel really awful by not actually doing anything. You were a master puppeteer and I the puppet, who moved along exactly as the player expected. All you had to do was be ‘nice’ to me to instil fear within my mind. No. It wasn’t the genuine nice, but a mask of nice that people put on to psychologically make a person distraught. You even switched places and started sitting behind me. My back, which used to be a little inclined, now found itself erect, and my seat, which was once a refuge from your presence, now had me on edge throughout the prolonged classes.

Time flew by and it all waned. I was finally out of your horrific grasp and found myself truly enjoying the new setting. You stopped bothering me and keeping me under your radar, and I completely forgot about your existence in the big classroom. For the first time in a long time, I stopped living in utter fear.

The academic year soon came to an end and I finally moved to another state. I don’t know what happened to you after that, but fates didn’t stop bringing in the likes of you. There was a girl and another girl. The girls were snarly and enjoyed their glory on the throne.  A boy too, but his mother was on my side and made sure he never pounced on me with his words again. Soon, I left the country itself and those years have shaped me into a real life Boudicca. The Boudicca who shall not be defeated because of your tyranny.

I haven’t written other heartless people a letter like I write one for you. It’s not because you have a special place in my heart, and it’s definitely not because I miss you, but consider this as an effort to stop holding on to that period of my life by writing it all down. Those who came by after you have never had such an impact on me mentally. I, to this day, consider myself fortunate because you let me go and didn’t take your game of relentlessly pestering people to another level with me. I hope you’ve given that up completely and have stopped relishing the fear of other people.

There are so many people like you out there, boys and girls, who think it’s a form of amusement to strike a chord of terror in their victims. What is in it for your kind, after preying upon the helpless? Maybe, all you want is for others to bow down to you and lay a red carpet as you make your way. Maybe, you want to establish your dominance by incorporating these atrocious techniques, and maybe, you want to get away with anything without a question. Little do you know that there’s a beast in every one of us. If you kick around anyone or toy around with emotions for too long, then consider your days as numbered because just as the good doesn’t stay around for long, the wicked don’t lurk any longer either.

If only bullies like you realize sooner that the same thing could be gained through kindness. If you want people to revere you, if you want people to bow down to your greatness, do something that voluntarily makes them worship you on their altar. Win over their hearts out of benevolence. You will soon find that the rest of us will be ready to do anything for you if you are just as ready to do anything for us. Give others the respect and they will never fail to reciprocate the same respect you yearn for. Show them. Prove it to them that you deserve all the good things by doing them all the good that’s in your power. In the end, we always try to give each other more than what we can because of the compassion brimming within us toward each other. That’s just us.

I hope you’ve deviated from the murky path you undertook. Come over to the other side, and you’ll be able to live a life in harmony with the warmth you’ve become unknown to.

Yours Sincerely,
Your well-wisher.




Relationships and Conflicts

He let his bag drop on the floor and plopped down on a sofa. The last thing he wanted to hear was his wife’s rambling, but here he was listening to her periodic babbles, although he didn’t want to. Sweat trickled down his forehead and he heaved a sigh of anguish. How he wished for it to stop. Even after all these years, times hasn’t lessened their usual conflicts. He wondered what his two kids might be going through. The teenage daughter locked herself up in her room and cranked the volume of the stereo. She was listening to the usual punk-rock music. That was a good way of draining the unwanted things out. The son, on the other hand, was with his mother, persuading her to stop bringing about chaos. Unlike the daughter, he was quite mature for his age. He was five years younger than the girl and seemed to genuinely care for the rift between his parents. The father wouldn’t blame his daughter either. She has been around for longer than her brother and has witnessed things far worse than this. He pitied her and that’s what he could do-to sit and feel sorry for his two kids.

Every relationship starts off as a story in its own fairytale land. Love and hope adorn the land with blooming flowers and sweet scent. It’s mesmerizing and enchanting to be so indulged in that ecstatic feeling. You’d never want it to end and you’d wish it to be this perfect as long as you’re around, but that’s only a utopian feeling. Things wane. The same love which was so alluring turns out be an utter drab with time. I always think of love as a rose-its beauty irresistible when young, but dreary when withered. However, there’s a mysterious beauty in a withered rose too. You would be able to see it, if you want to see it.

Some people just choose to stick together no matter what happens. They are so adamant that they will struggle to see the happiness in bleak times even if it stabs them every time.

“Honey! The tea is ready.”, he called out from the kitchen.
You have your tea. I don’t want it.”, the wife replied terse.
“I made it especially for you! Just the way you want it! C’mon now, don’t let out your anger on tea. We all need a break here.”
“If you think this is going to make me feel any better Josh then forget it. You can’t make up to me with TEA.”
“Think as you please. Have your tea first.”
The wife took her cup tight-lipped. Josh watched her drink her tea. She cast him a stern glance. He shot a goofy smile.
“It’s okay.”, she said.
“I’m glad you like it!”
“I never said I like it, did I?.”
“Eighteen years Nat. You think I can’t see beneath that serious face you’re trying so hard to keep?”
Natalie smiled. She would bellow all sorts of nonsensical stuffs that came into her mind. Accuse Josh of things he never did, and all because she was frustrated. The wife wanted to get out of this place that gave her nothing but a boring life. She wanted to be free and this intense desire would switch on the tantrum key every month.
She knew that Josh was working strenuously to keep the family of four as happy as he could, but his efforts were in vain. She wasn’t satisfied at all. It wasn’t his fault either. Some people have huge expectations no matter the situation.
Meanwhile, the daughter peeked into the room and smiled to herself. She was finally relieved that they weren’t arguing any more and were having their tea together. The house, somehow, felt more cosy and serene when her mom and dad were at peace with each other. If only, if only they wouldn’t clash so much. They were a perfect couple. Despite all these years of turmoil and arguments, they continued to be each other’s backbone, where can you find a love like that in this seemingly hopeless World? As much as Via pretended she didn’t care, the thoughts of her parents’ rift always occupied her mind. She just couldn’t stand and witness the scene of bitter conflict unfold before her. That’s why she’d retire to her room and try her best to dwell on things outside the fight.

No matter what you do, there are people who are never content with your work. I remember bagging the first prize in an essay competition (I don’t mean to brag here. Honestly) and thought to myself  how proud my mother would be. Writing an essay on Bill Gates was a mind-racking job. Moreover, I was very happy with that feat. However, mother dismissed it as something ordinary. Was I furious at her for this? Of course not! It was expected because what means the whole World to you may be a tiny speck of dust in this vast expanse of the Universe to someone else. It’s the same differing perceptions that develop a chasm between people.

Josh thought the family was content with whatever they had. In fact, he was getting them everything they asked for and couldn’t see what they were lacking. He failed to see what Natalie truly wanted because he was so absorbed in his own perceptions and beliefs that neither could he feel nor see the wife’s growing angst which eventually led her to take the form of a vicious dragon. Ouch.

Love is not just about sticking to each other and scraping yourselves in the process. It’s about understanding one another even when the situation seems like a dead-end. People change and so do their expectations. Why does Via think her mother and father are a perfect couple? It could be because despite the arguments and bitter fights, they still took the time to comprehend each other’s problems. No matter how irrational or illogical the feud was, they took the time to sort things out once the fiery storm quelled.

Sometimes, people just choose to let things go probably because that’s what’s best for them. Staying together and slitting each other’s throats often is definitely not an appealing option. In the end, it all depends on people’s choices. If Josh and Natalie want to stay together despite all that, it’s their choice. If  another couple decides to put a period to their relationship, that’s their choice. What’s essential is a consensus and an understanding. No love is above all and all love is above all. GET IT?! It only means that a particular form of love isn’t above other forms of love because love is technically the same thing, but seemingly different forms of love  are above other kinds of feelings. Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?

Natalie and Josh walked into the hall to find their two kids playing Star Wars. They seemed so happy while jumping around and swinging their arms about to kill those evil droids.
Hey Kiddos! Your mum and I have decided to go to a park. Switch it off and hup-hup!”, Josh said. He’d always say ‘hup-hup’ for ‘come along’ and Via always found it rather silly. She giggled.
“All right, dad. Just give me a few seconds to change into a better tee.”
Soon enough, the lights in the house turned off and the door shut behind Josh. It was a pleasant night to take a stroll in the park indeed.

*I’m not a relationship pundit. I kinda found it necessary to mention that.

Creativity and Scepticism

I’m writing this after reading an inspiring message posted by one of the people I follow on Wattpad on creativity. I am a huge critic when it comes to my own work and accepting the product of my creativity has always been on the extreme end of uncertainty. Sometimes, I am satisfied with what I do, but the other times? I find myself scorning  what’s in front of me and immediately brush it aside as trash.

I, most possibly, am doing this out of zero self-confidence. It’s zilch. Nada. My mind does not know anything of self-confidence. In fact, the word is a big void that has no meaning to me whatsoever, and that is where my problem lies in.

We’re all creative in so many different ways that it’s absolutely fascinating to imagine the uniqueness we bring about in different areas of the ‘creative sphere’. The World, as we see today, wouldn’t be the same if it weren’t for our minds which have been wired for such beautiful and creative outputs. Yet, some of us choose to deprecate our own works. Like they say, the grass is always greener on the other side.

I’ve been told so many times not to fret and be so sceptic about my own work. They said it’s profound and sets one’s heart fluttering with feelings like all the other poems do, but I can never wrap my head around it even if I could.

Being a stern critic of your own work does have its upsides. You, obviously, tend to strive harder for a better output, as a result. However, the same characteristic can cast a dark shade over your bright work and not let you see what the others may see. It does push you for the better, but it brings you back from what’s YOUR better and turns you into a sceptic.

It’s pretty easy to comprehend what I just stated. If you don’t like what you do, you turn to others for inspiration and imbibe their style of putting forward things. Although, it’s not really a bad thing to be inspired by others because my poetry is a result of all the poems that have inspired me, but there is another interpretation of the same thing-to let go of your way of doing things and follow along the footsteps of others.

This, in a way, kills your creativity because you’re doing the exact same thing they have done. If it makes you feel any comfortable and if it gives you a sense of satisfaction, it’s because you’re already aware that such a style is widely accepted by critics all around the World. It only gives you a sense of security from the assessments. Why? Because trying out something new faces both appraisals and criticism and some of us still aren’t ready to face the possible backlash.

The reason why I am such a huge critic of myself is because I do not want to dissatisfy the people who read my works. I rarely think about my satisfaction. Am I content with what I’ve written? Do I think it’s beautiful without other people’s opinions in mind? No. Neither am I content nor do I think it’s beautiful because I’m doubtful about my own work. This is all based on what others think of it. If I didn’t keep all that in mind, I’d definitely say that I’m quite happy with what I’ve written down.

However, I’ve realized that different people have differing tastes and what’s appealing to me may be a bit bland to a group of people. It’s almost impossible to appease every single one of them. Besides, coming up with a new form of art is refreshing and can also be inspiring. This is an idea that should dawn in everyone’s minds. All right, I may or may not be late to the realization party, but never mind that.

Criticism is not really a bad thing. It can help you hone your skills. However, one shouldn’t give up their style entirely because of the criticism. It only means one can WORK or BUILD upon their style, giving it a sharper edge to pierce people’s hearts with the profound ingenuity.

Creativity is something that is not easily and quickly recognized. It takes time for people to see beneath the different layers of creativity to find yours and laud it for its uniqueness. In fact, there are many prominent people who have only gained recognition posthumously (which is kind of sad, but get what I mean?). Nonetheless, this does not mean that you give up entirely because of the smaller audience you get. Don’t stop doing what you do and keep doing what you do. Losing hope is the worst nightmare that one must never endure, not even you.

So, don’t be so hard on yourself! The most important thing is, you should enjoy and love what you do. Stay calm and unleash the inner creativity within you! You may never know when your uniqueness can kick the monotony away and start a new trend in this sphere.

Here’s the message I saw on Wattpad-

“Creativity is pretty much rare. No I don’t mean to say that only few people are creative nowadays. I mean everybody is unwilling to make something new, try something different, question something nobody has ever questioned before. They stay satisfied with what they have and sadly they are not really satisfied with what they have.

And if ever a poor soul is willing to try something new, he is meet with scorn and loathing for not following the great chain of the majority, cause really everyone will only listen to you if you have some influence or a long list of followers. Basically, its all about the numbers.

Every idea is started small. It is through dedication and focused work, you are able to make it get noticed. You make be struggling for years and more years to come to make sure something you have done, something significant, to get support yet is still left in the shadows due to favoritism. But it does not dictate that your work is less than theirs. Stop thinking right there.

It is hard to have something you have worked for so long get scoffed at or made fun of but, it does not mean it is trash. Only you can decide if it is good or not. And you should be WISE in deciding, cause criticizing your own work can give you new ideas how to improve it. It is a process of hit or miss. But never give up: Be creative. Be different. Be yourself.


If you’re on wattpad and would like to follow this user (Please do. He’ll give you the laughs and the philosophy, and that’s amazing.) then here’s the link to his profile-

William Riverdale


Letter to the Newbie

Dear fellow human,


Sometimes I wish I could blurt out whatever I hold back. To tell something I truly feel is an arduous task because I can’t help but ponder about all the consequences it could lead to. It seems like a chance I clearly don’t want to risk. What will happen if I say this? Will they be vexed? Will they just shake their heads and think how incredibly ridiculous I am? It’s hard not to over think in cases I don’t want to mar.

In the end, it only leads to infuriating me because all the things that I have crammed within my head start boiling to escape from this rotten cauldron. It only ends up making me regret the things I never did which  makes my World imbibe a darker shade of grey. It’s sad and bitterly pathetic. Why should I stand back and watch the show from the sidelines? Why should I let others push me away to get the same thing they want? Why shouldn’t I grab the chance when I get it? Most importantly, why can’t I muster the courage to get what I crave?

I can’t because I don’t want to come across as someone desperate. I don’t do it because I don’t want them thinking that I’m pitiful and I have nothing better in my life. You don’t find me doing it because I feel like I’m being a hindrance in their life which may or may not be flowing without a turbulence. In short, I don’t find myself as someone who deserves the things they really want.

Why do I think this? I reproach myself for even deliberating such a painful possibility. Am I such a lowly being that I can’t approach one and tell them exactly how I feel? Why in the World do I consider myself so insignificant? I can’t blame anyone for that. However, I still thrust my annoyance on people for doing this to me which is blatantly wrong.

If I want something, I should stand up for it rather than backing off to let others swoop in and take my spot I acquired with great effort. I should stop thinking that I’m not worthy of certain relationships. I’m more than what people take me for and treat me as. If I want the respect and attention, I should work for it and not just drop on my bed to pen down tales and fables on things that affect me because they may help me ameliorate the stress that’s building up within me in that particular moment, but it’s not really a long term solution. If I want this to end once and for all, I should confront the source and let it know what’s it doing to me. I should speak up.

Speaking up is so hard. I wish it was as easy as it sounded like. This is what anxiety feels like. Being anxious about things only makes me fall behind. Anxiety is a chronic pain I desperately want to get rid of.

My heart beats wildly because I want to let it all off my chest. It gets erratic because my mind is chaotic. I could flood their timeline with posts and pictures that reflect the situation, or I could directly tell them that it’s hurting me. This feels a lot like bench pressing and trying to lift a 1000 pounds weight. I just can’t, even if I want to. I feel terribly helpless and abandoned. If there is something I always feared-it’s to be forsaken for someone new, enigmatic and fascinating.

You let them know how loneliness feels like after a few missed calls and I only let out a silent cry when I have to let go of the precious moment for you out of modesty. You bag the chance when you get it and I wait for the right time to arrive at my doorstep. You come in as you please and I come in when they please. You stride right in like a storm and I grace like the gentle summer breeze. That’s the difference between you and me. You know when to strike and I don’t. You make sure you don’t get abandoned and I do, for the other people.

Who am I to blame you for this? I wish I could hold you accountable for depriving me of the attention. My rage wants to make you feel guilty for what has become of this. This biting sadness wants to tell you of how unimportant I’ve possibly become because of you. I want to grab you by your shoulders and curse you for bringing in so much misery in this phase. The mouth only wishes to bellow all the horrendous things that come into this mind.

However, I know I won’t because I know you’re not responsible for any of this. I sit here crying and typing this not for what you did, but for what I’ve brought upon myself. You did what you had to and I didn’t what I had to. It’s as simple as it gets but extremely hard to overcome. I, honestly, dislike you for coming in between us. In spite of that, I look up to you for who you are. I don’t hate you. That’s too strong a word to describe the dislike I harbour for you. I do like you. That’s for keeping the person happy when I can’t and for the kind of person you are. You’re amazing and this awesomeness has brought me down from the altar. Sometimes, I wonder if we could be great friends. Will we? Only time can resolve this mystery.

Maybe, things haven’t changed between me and her and I could be over thinking  what’s in front of me, but it does not stop me from feeling as someone who’s been cast away because you made your grand entry in the hallway. You’d feel that too, wouldn’t you? Of course you would. We’re all similar yet so dissimilar.

I do not understand what it is that I hold for you, but I extend this hand of truce to vanquish this feeling of despair once and for all. This time, I won’t stop myself from telling you what I feel. I have only learnt that from the expert and I hope time has much more in store than what it has unveiled for both of us so far.


Yours Sincerely,
The one who wants back what you got away with.


A Music Maniac


The chubby baby wailed for reasons unknown and turned the house into mania because there was absolutely nothing that could calm its worrying whines. The nappies were spick and span. She clearly did not want a pacifier and flung it aside. Was she hungry? The mouth only spewed mushy baby food. Toys and TV failed in their endeavour to distract her. The Mother finally picked the crying child and bounced her in her arms slightly to hush her. This too did not seem to work. Distressed, she started humming a sweet lullaby her mother used to sing. The baby finally seemed to forget her misery and stared at the mother goggle-eyed. The young lady’s slender finger wiped the saliva dripping from the baby’s mouth and began singing the enchanting song. It worked wonders and the baby soon fell asleep.

Years flew by with their usual pace and the troublesome baby grew up to be me. The ears always sought for music and there wasn’t a single day when I wouldn’t crank the volume and turn the floor into a dance-floor. My world was another reality and the reality was another world. Did that make sense? That’s how it always is!

Music never failed to pull me into its vortex. When books failed to trap me in their realm, music was the knight in shining armour and saved me from being distressed. Music was the antidote to the poison that life would feed me in my journey.

I like all kinds of music. From indie to hip-hop. For me, there’s no distinction between the different genres of music and I let myself bask in the tunes whenever I can. However, I don’t like all of them. That’s pretty obvious because a person can’t be expected to like and relish everything that comes their way. Music with its melodious tunes has given me more than I could ask for. Sometimes, I wonder how life would be without a pleasing melody.

Everything around us has its own music. I believe that the Universe itself has its own song we aren’t privileged to hear. The nature has its own rhythmic tune. Hear close and you’ll find yourself treating your ears to the unsung stories from nature’s wildlife itself. From the gigantic whales to the decent ants, there’s music that we may or may not hear.

I walk on the pavement jerking my head to hardcore punk-rock music. It fills me with an energy and a zest to take over the World with awesomeness, to show people the strength I possess and pulverize all the things that come in my way to fill me with sorrow. It makes me want to say, “Not today sadness. You can’t ruin my day when I have my inner punk unleashed. Nah uh! So sayonara sucker!” That’s what music does to people, it sets one on a riveting pursuit they can’t deviate from and it has now set me on a pursuit of glee and adventure.

What loneliness did to me

Now that everything in the house has hushed itself, I can hear the birds whisper. The brown walls of those aged buildings tell a story of children foregone; of how they painted and sketched on the barren canvas-thinking as artists, marvelling their creations and giggling at their mischievousness. The tree sighs as if missing its only company and the cat plops down on the pavement after a tiring day.

I can hear the kids laugh and the neighbours quarrel. I can see the dust aloof and the clouds swim in the blue sky. I can feel the calmness of our street bearing brown. I’ve camouflaged with this little World crammed in a little corner of this country.

The Sun looks down at me, prodding me to go forth and gallop down the lane like a wild horse. I’ve been confined to this cage of loneliness for so long that my tongue has forgotten  the taste of a social life. People often speak of loneliness as a dark refuge or something unwanted that puts a leash around your neck. It’s all true. I did not want any of this and sometimes the four walls would hear me scream until my throat would rip apart. No one would swerve toward my cacophonous call. Everyone’s succumbed to what revolves around them or maybe, it is I who does not see what’s meant to be seen because in the end, what you see is what you want to see.

Festivity and melancholy fill the air. It’s a surreal aroma that lives a bland taste. Arguments and wails hit the eardrum. It’s a raucous music that makes my ears bleed. Flight and freedom pierce my eyes. It’s a motionless picture that enchants an artist’s mind. The mind captures all elements of nature. It suddenly feels like a 1080p youtube video.

The blue is peaceful and not a bit miserable. The camaraderie which had me pen down so many tales on pain and misery now has me reminiscing of the sweet times long gone. Sloven mistakes had me double up in laughter. Loneliness paved way to memories I thought were lost.

It’s this solitude that drives me into sadness. The same solitude that turns me into a bitter person. However,  loneliness fills me with a new desire and I now want to break this door open to let in the light and endure what I refrained from.


Bury the Regrets

I bite my lip and swear at the morbid screen. I shouldn’t have said that. I probably hurt her. She’s already so sensitive and fragile that all it takes is a little nudge to see her breaking apart like a glass would. 

Heart drops heavy and I heave a sigh of distress. There are regrets that abound in every page of my story. I should have, I could have, I must have, things would be so different otherwise, like  the Chaos Theory says-a little tweak now, a kaboom in the future.

It’s so tempting to envisage an alternate reality where things don’t get stuck in the pipe and gently flow through it. No turbulence. Just tranquillity. We wish every decision, every step, didn’t have to come up with such sordid consequences. You do something on the spur of the moment and then you mutter to yourself,“Damn it! I should have thought that through.” However, it’s too late. The damage has been done. Now, it’s time to flee before your parents bite into your already frustrated soul.

How could we have known that the decision wouldn’t lead us to the expected outcome? We only start regretting after we either face the results or ponder more rationally which makes us desperately want to rewind time and undo the did. I regret doing this specific thing because now I’m aware that doing it would lead me to so and so outcomes, so I ask, “can I just walk back in time Universe?” The Universe bellows NO! And here I am wasting my time regretting what I did.

We aren’t Time Lords. We can’t control time. We don’t wield the prowess to snap our fingers to be teleported right back to that instant and fix everything only to change the course of reality itself. Even if we could, it would come with its fair share of consequences because altering the reality is a troublesome work. Don’t believe me? It’s about time you bury yourself in the realm of metaphysics.



So what if you can’t erase that permanent mark on the white board? You could always draw over that permanent mark! It may turn out to be a little sketchy, but even the sketchiest thing seems whole when you accept it for what it is. Maybe, you will never be forgiven for what you did, and maybe you will be. But, clinging to that regret will only leave you behind in this marathon. Regretting is like giving up and resting your body while the other runners are way ahead of you.

I don’t know if you think of life as a race. However, this life is an individual race for those of us who still live and if we want to finish it, we have to stand right up, muster the courage and bolt toward the finishing line. There will be obstructions, pesky pebbles which will make you trip, discouragement because you’re falling behind, but keep going and don’t stop. Regrets will always find their way to your head, but you will never find your way back to that potentially  joyous moment lost.

This may be hard for you, but it’s about time you snip-snip the string that binds you to those regrets and float away in the expanse of serenity. You and I know that one can truly take a delight in their lives by bidding those regrets adieu. Do it. Cut it. Hurl it. Never let it pay you a visit again.

I Want Everything EVERYTHING! #BookThoughts2

I’ve read the book Everything Everything by the lovely Nicola Yoon about two to three months ago and even though a lot of things happened in that span of time which should have buried the experience I had with Madeline and Oli in my brain’s graveyard, it’s still as fresh as the honeysuckles in my mind.

Yet again, I assure you, there are no spoilers in this post whatsoever.

What do I like about the book? I like EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS BOOK! It may sound like I am exaggerating, but I’m not. It’s been a long while since I treated my eyes to some good story and I consider myself fortunate to come across this book. For this first time in a long time, the fates have been extremely kind to me.

The real reason why I love the story is because I was able to connect to it on a personal level. I’m currently 17 and living in a World like mine can be a bit suffocating once in a while, hence, the blog posts and stuffs like that. However, there’s more to it than just the connection.

The way it has been written is brilliant! The transition from one part of the story to another is eloquent and smooth. Though the outcome was somewhat predictable in the middle (For me. You may hold a different opinion.), it had me holding my breath throughout the overall exhilarating experience. I love Madeline’s persona. The characters in the book are witty, smart and humorous. They may be just teenagers, but they are teenagers with an insight into different facets of life and that is refreshing because you rarely find teenagers who think along different lines.

This story isn’t just restricted to Madeline’s and Oli’s romance. It accomplishes in branching out to different scenarios and the diversity incorporated by the author in the story is absolutely commendable, though some of the instances may seem a bit unnecessary due to the lack of story revolving around that particular character, it still proves to be efficient in bringing together divergent issues and not make it look like a dish that has been overdecorated, because of the elegance of the writer.

What makes this book even unique is the illustrations that come along with it which makes the book all the more exciting to read. Believe me or not, I finished reading this book in about three or four days (considering the fact that I’m a slow reader and I had tests to prepare for.), and I’d say it was possible because the amazing illustrations plus the intriguing storyline had me turning pages until Mom would reproach me for not paying her enough attention.

The book is close to my heart because of how much I can relate to it. I’m aware that I’ve said this before, but my Madeline-esque character and similarities with Oli’s familial background just deepens my bond with it.

The story may have its own highs and lows, but which one doesn’t? In the end, I’d suggest everyone reading this to read the wonderful book if they haven’t. I absolutely adore this book, and there are so many elements in the book anyone can relate to!  Although, I must warn you to fasten your seat belt for the unexpected twist. It had my mind swirling around for an hour or two and that’s how one knows the story is beautifully crafted and mesmerizing. Well, you may have your own modus operandi to determine if it’s that good, but we will not dwell on that for now.

What are you waiting for? Plunge right in into the adventure and set the butterflies rioting within.

Thank You Nicola Yoon for penning this book down! I’m grateful beyond words for a book like this ❤