Chin-Twin

While looking at the mirror, I had always wondered why my Co-creators had made me the way they had. My chin had always been a subject of concern (for me). Why didn’t my chin look like everybody else’s? I didn’t know how to describe it and how exactly it differed from ‘normal chins’. It was just, different.

Once in class, Abhu and I were talking about some inane things when suddenly our facial features were brought up. I don’t know why but she said my chin was….er… yes, this is what she said, ‘pointed’. Naturally, I was pretty appalled at having my chin being insulted this way! I didn’t say anything at that point because somewhere inside, a little voice told me, “Honey, you do have a strange pointed chin to be frank.”

Since then I had been gazing at myself in the mirror, wondering about all those people who could possibly have such a feature(I am a firm believer that when you have someone else to suffer with, the suffering becomes much lesser-- the we-go-down-together theory). I started noticing people’s chins very intently. I think some of them must have passed me for a moron when they found me looking fixedly at the region below their lips. Hmm… I can be very strange, you know.

One fine day, while surfing channels, I happened to see a trailer of a ReeseWitherspoon starrer. There it was!! *jumping on the couch* It was in that one second of enlightenment, of supreme illumination that I found my chin-twin!! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Reese Witherspoon is my chin-twin (sorry to Ms.Witherspoon for any bad publicity this may cause *blush blush*)!!!

I rushed to the mirror to observe my chin for about 12 minutes or so after which I confirmed, that yes indeed, she was my god-sent chin-twin.

I think these images clearly show the pointed-ness of her chin. Now, you mustn’t think I resemble her in any way whatsoever, because I don’t (unfortunate people like me can only wish!). I am pretty much a troll *sniff* to look at. Only my chin is similar to hers, this is what I think. (This is the advantage of blogging almost anonymously. People don't know the real you! *1000-watt smile*)

I might even outdo Joey at finding body-part twins. This little bit of information is for the entertainment of curious readers. My hand-twin, nose-twin and collar-bone-twin is one of my sister’s best friends, Sal(oh yes, I do have a collar-bone-twin!)(you see, both of us have lovely *vain & dreamy look* jutting collar bones).

I am signing off with a note of thanks to Ms.Witherspoon for being born with that fabulously unique (well, not so unique) chin which must be making hundreds of pointed-chinned girls around the world rest in peace that they have company!

THE journal

There was this time when I had a cute little girly journal(pink adds the needed feel, you know). I adored it so much that I had even named it (I shall NOT disclose the name in order to protect the remaining izzat of the blogowner and to let people keep thinking that I do have some threads of sanity left in me).

I would write about things that bothered me in that dirty lil book of mine. Of course, it was kept hidden from my sister’s prying eyes. Not that she didn’t know about all the things that were in that book (I tell her EVERYTHING and vice versa)(heylo, what are sisters for?!) but I just didn’t want her to read it. My writing. What I had written. I just have this thing about people reading things that I don’t want them to read. A quirky one is that I don’t like her (or anyone for that matter) looking over my shoulder while I type a blog entry. Basically, I don’t like people prying over my work which is in progress. It just gives me the creeps. Similarly, I hate it when teachers try to look into my notebook while Iam working out a sum. It simply destroys my concentration and makes me hasty and get disoriented. This one time during an exam, the invigilator was staring away to glory at my work! It got on my nerves(like duh!!) and I stared back at her. I didn’t want to distrub the rest of the students around me by talking to her and asking her to go away. So I simply gave a nice, long, piercing frown-type-stare. Hah! The good ole lady walked away and didn’t come back!!

So. Where were we? Yea, the journal. Yesterday, I happened to come across it and couldn’t help feeling what-a-moron-I-was-back-then. It was simply hilarious, and at times outrageous. Things like, sheesh!!-how-could-I-ever-let-that-bother-me-so-much and how-could-I-possibly-have-a-crush-on-HIM *shock*. The crush part was especially strange! You know how weird 12-13 year olds can get!

Well, my journal writing days didn’t last long though. I somehow felt very insecure about having my innermost feelings lying around in a cupboard. What was I to do if someone (read parents) read it?!?! *holy horror* So the intelligent brain of mine convinced me to tear the ‘danger’ sheets off, soak them in water so that the writing becomes illegible and finally smash the remains to completely destroy any evidence of my madness. Hah!! *gleaming eyes* I actually did all that. I tore the pages and soaked them in water. However, somehow, some part of me urged to stop right there and compelled me to retrieve the sheets. And so I went on a reverse mission. So what followed was a nervous emptying of a pink bucket and the heroic rescue of those precious documents. Oh the documents! They were all written with ball-point pen, so the writing was still intact. Yipee!!! I dried the paper in my sunlit balcony. I actually spent an entire afternoon in that balcony, guarding my feelings on pulp and quickly hiding them with a large towel and pretended to be drying the towel whenever my sister gave an occasional peep. After 2 hours of evaporation and all that my sheets (now they were reduced to weird smushy pulpy thingies) were carefully stapled and placed back in the same journal. The journal was then hidden away in an obscure corner of my wardrobe(clothes section) (arghh! Now you know where I keep all my secret-secret stuff!) and forgotten about.

Yesterday, while glancing through those pages, I found out something about myself. Rather, I realized something about myself which I aleady knew. (yea, its kind of twisted). I am pretty touchy when it comes to things like trust. I hate it when someone I trust breaks my heart. And I somehow feel ashamed of the fact that I ever trusted that person. I don’t know why exactly I feel this way, but this is it. I can’t take people breaking my heart and its surprising how often the same has been done. I mean seriously, why are people so mean at times?

Confessions of a net-addict

7.30 am......

Net-addict(NA) has just woken up. She had a glass of juice while charting out a mental schedule for herself (an extremely ambitious one that too). After having juice, she is supposed to do her homework, but she feels this inexplicable, incredibly strong urge to rush to the pc, switch it on and surf away to glory. What if there is a new mail? A new comment? A new something? This urge surpasses her already weak will-power(which is known to have betrayed her to such an extent that she ate up full boxes of belgian chocolate(yumm…) at a go on many occasions till date) and she is on her way to the pc. She may spend only 10 mins online, but she simply has to do it.

2 pm.......

NA has had her lunch. She should be preparing for her classes in the evening. Yet, strangely enough, she finds herself drawn to the pc the way iron filings are drawn to a magnet. She tries to resist. She takes her books to the other room. Somehow, she starts feeling so thirsty that she absolutely must get up and go to the pc room, the room where her bottles are also present. However, in a bizarre(?) turn of events she takes a detour to the pc even before she has reached the bottles. PC switched on. Net working. NA has given in. Again. SMS from friend arrives.

“Hey, what r u doin?”

“Er… Iam online. Sorrryyyy :(”

A surge of guilt takes over. NA promises to blog about this in the hope of alleviating her angst and guilt for being unable to control her whims.

9.15pm.......

NA has returned from her classes. This is normally the time when she can do all her fun-things without feeling guilty since 9-10pm is her destress time. She blogs about her addiction. Her inability to work untill she has a shot of mail-checking, blog-reading, and other net-related things.

She thinks, probably no one has even got an idea that behind that ‘normal’ exterior, there lies a hidden, dangerous, compulsive, wicked net-addict. A net-addict who wants to be normal.

Azureline

Some people have been asking me what on earth azureline means and why is it *ahem* fortunate enough to be on my blog url. Well, there are several ways in which I can explain this really cute and sophisticated sounding term (by the way, its pronounced as uzh-your-lin)(its pronounced this way because I pronounce it this way). Hmm.

Azure means blue. Blue has always brought me luck. Most of my clothes are blue or pink(yes, yes, very girly). The endless, elusive, intriguing skies are azure. The seas and oceans are azure. The picture hanging on the wall behind this PC is azure. Azureline somehow represents the horizons, the boundaryless edges, where the sun rises and sets, where the waters and ships go out of sight, all things elusive. All things that show that the world is round and what goes around, comes around- Karma basically, which I am a believer of.

Then again, Azureline starts with an ‘a’ and the second letter is ‘z’. ‘a’ is the first letter of the english alphabet and ‘z’ is the last. This denotes completion, completion of something, a full circle. Azureline has 9 letters. Numbers like 3, 9, 13 have been often associated with bad luck. Its quite the reverse for me. Infact, 13 is a very lucky number, all you non-believers! Go to the library and read Linda Goodman’s Love Signs p.17. You’ll gain some valuable insight into the way the number 13 works. 13 stands for wisdom and is very lucky when used for the right purpose.

So, this is azureline. There.

*phew*

Dubara mat poochna!

News...

There have been certain changes in the way things are done at our dear tutorial over the past few days. Some of them have been most annoying which I thought I should record somewhere so that I remember what morons I had once shared roof with(for 3 hrs each day)(bless the heavens for that).

Firstly, the namesake director(who is actually a jobless female with neither any brains nor ethics)(power-hungry at the same time) has made it mandatory for everyone to carry a rather hideous, disgusting GREEN bag(provided by the insti, which is only for advertising) to the insti. How silly is that?? Why should I advertise the stupid insti when I don’t even like half the people there?(well, the teachers are all nice and all that. The managerial staff suck big time.) Not fair, right? Anyway, they are morons! Hah!! They know not that I dost not advertise their insti!! I creep out of my house, make a quick entry into my car, whiz off to the insti and there I am! No one, apart from the watchman(as if he cares!), sees the dreadful advertisement-bag!!No advertising on the way!! Mission accomplished! *evil grin**makes a conspiratory gesture with her fingers at the same time*

Secondly.....

Okay, this part has been censored for certain reasons. This decision has been taken by the blogowner in the best interest of her health and well-being.

Thirdly, Eye-Karela1 (one of the attendance boys) has gotten Eye-Karela2 transferred to another branch! Sheesh! Politics even amongst the attendance boys! Once, while EK1 was in our class taking our attendance, he was gloating about how successfully he has gotten EK2’s butt kicked. We were all horrified that he was actually telling us that! On being asked why he was so against EK2, he told us that EK2 gossips a lot (hah! do you see the irony here?). Of course, all of us shot right back at him! We told him that HE was gossiping. With us!(not that we were on EK2’s side)(we just wanted to pull EK1’s legs). This was followed by a rather quick succession of blushing, hushing and rushing out of the class on EK1’s part! Poor fellow!!

Fourthly, the morons(read management) at our dear tutorial have arranged for three ‘complain boxes’ at an obsure corner of the insti. All of us are conspiring to stuff it with abusive letters to the guy-in-charge-of-everything or Pathetic Loser(PL). PL actually administers corporal punishment(hitting on the palm with a duster)(how sick is that!)(is he even educated??) on students who score low on the tests. Well, this once, I was also one of the low scorers *shameful shameful* (but heylo??! Its allowed to do badly atleast once or twice in 2-3 months!!). The people who were sitting in front of me had already been hit *tearful*. It was my turn. PL was smiling sardonically at me. I refused to show my palm and gave him a looonnnggg lecture on how horrible and unethical it is to hit students and I also let him know that its illegal in many countries ,just to scare the creep! It worked! *heroic achievement**claps please* Well, it didn’t work completely though. He still does this in other classes. He didn’t dare to come to our class after that!! However, it really pains and worries me so as to how people can tolerate such injustice quietly? It is their DUTY to speak against such heinous acts. Speak people, speak!

Anyway, enough of gyan-spreading and PL-bashing (not really, no amount of PL bashing is enough!!). I should get back to work or I’ll flunk my upcoming tests.

Weird sisters are weirder than you thought!!

5 years back…

In Manali…

In some deodar park or something…

2 girls and their parents had gone site-seeing. There was this other family whom they had bumped across the second time on that trip(destiny!). The important thing to be noted is that there were two cute boys(*drool*) in that family. The girls had been most thrilled to get a few glimpses of them the second time. At one point, while touring the park(or whatever) they reached an isolated area. They thought they were the only ones there and started having a loud, animated chat about some topic they had reserved for a clandestine discussion. This seemed to be perfect. Walking along the track….

S1: I think its okay now…*looking at her side*

S2: Yea.. So, I think we should should seriously resolve not to call each other all those silly things.

S1: Yea, please yaa, don’t call me chimpoo in public

S2: You also don’t call me buzzi in public… Its most embarrassing.

S1: The other day at Elite, that man thought we were nutcases. Calling each other weird things.

S2: I know!! I saw the look on his face!! He was awestruck. Poor man! *giggles*

S1: *giggles hysterically* Ok. So it’s a deal then?

S2: Yep, deal.

S1: Only proper names to be used.

S2: Yes.

Both were happy and satisfied that they came to an amicable deal. So far so good. Suddenly, they hear footfalls. *beads of sweat on S2’s forehead**S1 gulps audibly* . The two of them turn around to find cute boys walking along the same track!! They were apparently there all along and these two were blithely unaware of them!*both turn a deep shade of pink instantly**quickly disappear from scene of crime*

Moral of the story- Always check all four directions before blabbering shame-inducing-making-ears-turn-pink type things.

Note: Elite Fashions is a garment store in Bandra, Mumbai (atleast it was one untill 3 years back) which S1 and S2 are very fond of and love shopping over there since they believe it has the best clothes one can possibly find under one roof.

Weird Sisters

I would like to thank J.K.Rowling for, among many other things, having thought of the Weird Sisters- a label that suits my sister and me more than any other label possibly could(of course, apart from the lunatic twosome and mega-morons and such)!

This particular incident took place on a rainy August morning.

S: *staring at the keyboard with utter awe*

Me: *drying a pouch with a hair dryer* What?

S: *now beaming at something on her index finger; finger is pointing toward the monitor* That’s so cool!!

Me: *looking at her with sheer disgust* WHAT is so amusing to you?

S: *blowing air at the index finger* Sheesh!

Me:*has given up hope of finding out what it is that amazes her so much* *continues with the drying*

S: Ants are like, soo strong!!

Me: *gaping stupidly at her* Is that all the wisdom you have gathered after 21 years on this planet?

S: *still thrilled* Ssh! Look at this cute little thing! It simply refuses to be blown away!

Me: Wow, what an observation. *grumbles something about S being such a freak*

S: *has apparently heard the grumbling* Yea, right. Look who is speaking! The one who is trying to dry a damn pencil pouch with a blow-dryer!

Me: *gives threatening looks**continues with the blow drying**refuses to respond to that*

S’s victory laugh fills the room

S:*smiling gleefully* Hah!

Fun Stuff!!

Paint my nails! Make my hair!!
I want to fall asleep. Isn’t that dreamy, drowsy feeling when someone pampers you just the ultimate? I have the good fortune of experiencing that feeling more often than before, thanks to my maid. She is the all girly-girly-slumber-party-lover-sorts. She makes it a point to paint my, my sister’s and my mom’s nails every two weeks. She tries out new(and old) hairstyles on me each time she gets a chance to lay her paws on my oh-so-silky hair.

This feeling of bliss is probably alien to many a male who hasn’t had the luck to feel the acetone evaporating from his nails (apart from the weird road-side-romeo types with a long red pinky finger-nail *yuck*). At times, I feel the life of a male could be so drab. No pretty make-up, no gloss to fuss about, no cute tops to compare with your girlfriends, no silky-straight-super-shiny-hair-to-die-for (the four Ss that must describe your hair), no barbie when you are young, no pink stuff to adorn your room, no jewels and trinkets (sheesh!! That is *such* a pity!!)(of course, I do have a certain aversion to guys/men who wear chunky jewellery. It looks pretty cheap, you know), no nail polish, no girl-talk and soo many other things that make life techni-colour!!

Me is proud to be a gal!

Masterpiece!!

Ya, I know I am pathetic. This is probably the closest I get to *serious* sketching. This is a product of my oh-so-over-flowing-creativity which oozes in copious amounts during boring lectures. Doodling is better than sleeping nah? So, this fine day I surprised Abhu with my skills with the brush (rather flair fortune pen, should I be paid for advertising? ) and had her in her usual "you-be-upto-such-inane-out-of-my-league-things-you-silly-girl"fit!!

Okay, these are some of the teachers at my tutorial. The first one was sketched in loving memory (especially for Abhu) of the very *famous* physical chemistry teacher who has now left the insti for reasons that God alone knows. Anyway, he always had an uncanny knack for being at the centre of all possible rumours, so, suits him good.

The second sketch is that of our pot-bellied physics teacher who is oh-so-rolly-polly-n-cute. The wayward curves here and there were made in an attempt to display this feature, in vain though. So this sketch obviously did not cut the mustard since it doesn't exactly showcase his cute chubbiness (is that even a word?).

Hmm. This part has been censored (am I following the footsteps of our doomed govt. or what?) by the blogowner in the best interest of her health and well-being. She suddenly got a feeling that all her teeth may be knocked off in the near future which is why these drastic steps are being taken. Thank you for your cooperation. New readers may kindly ignore this paragraph.

The fourth one is pretty straight. Its our math teacher. The one who threatens (lovingly of course, but not always!) to chuck us out of the window if we can't vomit out the formulae for the perpendicular-distance-of-a-point-from-a-line and such in less than a picosecond.

So. This work of *art* has indeed given me a lot of "personal satisfaction". May many more similar dull classes be spent in such "constructive" activities.

Oh! I almost forgot! When I showed Abhu these pearls of mine, she absolutely refused to accept that 1 looks like that *certain* teacher of ours! In fact, she started scribbling weird "thetas" in my notebook. I retorted by unleashing another of my masterpieces - Abhu herself!!

Statutory Warning- Before you have a look at this picture, please keep a glass of water by your side.
P.s.To Abhu- Revenge of the betrayed!! haha!! :P

Chained

Days should have been atleast 40 hours long and all the clocks, watches or anything that shows the ‘time’ should be destroyed. What is this life? Iam totally chained by my watch. What I do every hour of the day is decided from the day before. All spontaneity has vanished. No time to day-dream(barring those 45 mins in college when Phulbani Sir is droning away to glory). No time to blog. AND to add a cherry to the cake (yea right), something has gone wrong with my previous pretty-pretty template and I have to make do with this drab one for a while. Hmp.

The day I lost it…. Completely!

This particular conversation took place through the (god bless them) msn messenger.

He: hey...u supportin GERMANY!!

Me: hey!!

Me: yep.. iam!

Me: howz u??

He: am fine..me england all da way...

Me: huh??!?!?!!

Me: cool

Me: how come??

He: wat r u upto nwdays...??..ROONEY..rocks

Me: me?? nothing really worth mentioning.. jus the ususal.. n how cum ur in ENGLAND?'

Me: ohk.. but the WC is in GERMANY

Me: so wat r u doin in england?

He: am suportin englnd in da wrld cup....PRINCESS

Me : *realisation dawns* OHHHH

Me: *feels like jumping into a well* IAM SOOOO STUPID

Me: seriously

Me: I JUST got it!

What a blooper! *blush blush*

Well. Something else also happened today which supports the Sneha-has-lost-it-today theory. I was talking to Abhu in front of her class. Psi had apparently gone somewhere *gloomy expression*. He seemed to appear out of nothing (actually he must have simply come up the stairs, the little detail which I missed) and was marching towards his (Abhu’s) class. In other words, he was marching towards us. I was caught totally off-guard and when that happens, I am very much comparable to a simpering(or loud, as it turned out to be in this case) idiot. I shouted on top of my voice “Look who is here!! Psi!”. Deadly blunder. And guess what happened right after that?? Abhu had to burst out laughing!! I was hoping to just evaporate. Hmm… Will have to think of some damage control now. Any suggestions??

Back!

With not so much of a bang, so ,er lets just say that I am back. I hadn't updated this space since a long time, well, simply because I was too lazy to do so *talk about being a lazy libran*.

Even though I was not my best this last month, quite a few things have surely happened. Like, Abhu has got specs (poor thing, she has been pestering me to teach her my oh-so-effective-and-popular eye exercises since that day) ; Gopala(of course, name changed! who on earth has names like this ?! ) (by the way, I was inspired to call Gopala, well, that after watching a certain madly hilarious episode of the Great Indian Comedy Show) came, lived with us for a month and now she is gone; the rain gods are happy and its raining here, and , I haven't done my routine pilates this last month due to which it is now much difficult to tell me and a bovine creature apart.

So. Talking about rain, I was wondering about the kind of feeling that rain generates in us indians. In which other country would rain be associated with a myriad of senti-menti things?! Rain, firstly, saves us from practically a natural-oven that most parts of the country seem to become during the summer months. *phew* . Bollywood has very successfully linked hoardes of lovey-dovey songs to baarish. Then, there is the very famous pakoda-chai combo (only pakoda for me! Read this) which is an absolute must, atleast for the first few rains of the season. And god knows how many other ways in which heavy showers (accompanied with wind!!yay!!)(Note:. Yay!! only when I don’t have to go anywhere out and can sit and enjoy or sleep or ruminate or do whatever I feel like at home) make us sing “Its raining men!!” (god bless Geri for that)

Abhu has, all of a sudden, grown more possessive of her ‘classmates’. (given she is a Capricorn, this sudden change is not much of a shock to me, plus, as I said, the last month I was too lazy to even ponder over such things or express any feeling of shock or horror.) This certain object of my desire(not really, more of an eye candy)(called psi) *blush blush* is unfortunately in her class. So, everytime I wish to view this character, I have to pretend that I want to talk to her(which isn’t complete pretention after all). I take the pain to get my posterior off, walk to her classroom (all this happens at our dear tutorial classes… yea, this is what happens!) summon her out of her class and surreptitiously try to position myself in such a way so that I can get a clear view of psi. But, not so easily-is what is playing on Ahbu’s mind!! She pulls me to the other end of the corridor, where I can see no one but eye-karelas, the peons and the people-with-the-attendance-registers. Sheesh! What a waste.

Nevermind. Now, this month, I have promised myself I won’t waste it away(yea, like the millionth time I have made this particular promise). But, I mean it this time!! Really! *innocent and sincere smile* . To Abhu’s pleasure college is reopening this week(because she gets to see and drool over theta then)(Note: theta is another person who has been so named for reasons that are best understood without anything being said by me)(thou don’t worry, I shalt write in length about our MGs)(enough now!) . So, I better get cracking now.

To Abhu: Don’t kill me after reading this!! Pretty please! *smiles like a baby* *batting eyelashes with the smile still there*

What?! Is it morning already?!

I slept, with my sister noisily tapping away at keys, unfazed by my threats to simply disconnect the plug if she didn’t switch the computer off pronto and turned the lights off. I woke up quite the same way, with my sister, again, clicking away to glory, unfazed by my threats to crush her glasses if she didn’t let me sleep for a little while more, by putting a stop to this monotonous tick-tap-tack.

I clumsily snuggle about in my comfortable, warm and cosy blanket ( the AC is on ) , absolutely refusing to even glimpse at that monster of a clock which I have almost come to fear. Even so, just a passing look at that dreadful thing is enough to shake me out of my wonderland (my bed, AC and blanket combined) and make me get my posterior working. It was 7.45 and I had a class at 8.15!! Lord save me, like you have done before, and before, and even before that. Basically, this scene of me scrambling out of bed with a shocked face, running about the room to get my slippers, then taking a super-quick shower, shoving cornflakes down my throat in such a terrific speed which never fails to make my mom say, “ You could be the quickest dresser-cum-eater on earth!” with that beti-kiski-hai tone , is a part of my daily morning life.

You are probably imagining a shabby dresser with a half filled stomach and messy hair who is always late for class and normally sits on the last bench. Surprise surprise!! Iam quite the contrary. The very reason why my mom calls me, well, what she does call me(as you have just read), is because I hate being late. So, I try to be as quick as possible without compromising on anything(especially the dressing part which normally gets the maximum chunk of my time). So, I get ready in like, 20 mins, catch an auto and Iam off for classes. I grab the first row with my friends(who normally come after me) and sit there all prim-and-proper so no one can even guess what my morning was actually like!

What I cannot fathom is how a certain breed of people can be okay with getting late? I may attribute this quality of mine, and this total compulsion to be punctual to my being a libran. Plus, somehow, I can’t stand walking late into a classful of people, staring at me, making up reasons for my delay. Its not their business so as to why I am late. So why should I even give them a chance?

Chocolate Brownies and Shakira

Some people, like me, have quite a few memories which they surely remember at the very thought of chocolate brownies. It may be a first date, or a 'fantasy meet' with a cute net friend. These sinful fudgy thingies are so sweet and delectable when associated with one occassion and suddenly turn bitter when they remind us of those days that we are trying so hard to erase from our memory( which we so often curse because it remembers things that are better forgotten and vice versa)!

And then there are songs. Yes, of course. Who doesn't have those befitting soundtracks for certain phases of their life. I remember my own and its terribly difficult to ever listen to these songs without visualizing yourself in the circumstances that you were once in, that time when you came to relate with that song. mmm...

What about clothes? That cute top that you had worn to this party where you met that someone who made you dream about them for hours. Or that bracelet which, even though broken, preserves so many memories that you wouldn't trade it even for a gold biscuit.

What was the subject of conversation that day? What song was playing in the cafe when your eyes met? What perfume were you wearing that time? How we remeber such details that tickle us later and make us crave for them to come back. If we could only live those moments of ultimate rapture just once more. And carefully avoid all the thorny parts.

Puffy Eyes And Wrinkled Corners

Your face is contorted in such a manner that on-lookers may believe you are an alien. You are so overcome with emotions - of all kinds - that you don't seem to know which one emotion should you actually be feeling completely. You are euphoric that their love story lives on for eternity, but your heart cries for his death. ' Can such a story be real?' ' Can anyone ever be so
lucky, yet unlucky, to have all that love and then, lose it all just as quickly as it came?' Well, not really lose it all as it lives on for eternity, right?


What is eternity? Can someone feel a feeling for years together? Can one really find happiness by holding on to that one feeling that makes you want to cry your heart out as well as blush and smile ear to ear, all at the same time? A broken heart is probably like a broken vase. You may join the pieces together but the scars remain.


You live in fear. Fear of the probable fact that the remnants of those days, those memories, may give in to your humane follies and may disappear into oblivion. What will you hold onto then? What if one day that one ray of light is blocked by an evil rock and you no longer feel its warmth?


She said that he saved her in every way one can be saved. She was so right. We always wait for our knight in shining armour. He comes to our rescue. We get saved and live our lives in the light that they brought in. They are our saviours. People who do realize that this event or that person is their knight are the ones who can hold on to it and live with it. Others just don't see it
and curse their luck.

People!

"So, beta, what are you planning to do after 12th?" , with that she exposes her dirty yellow teeth (remember the cow?) and grins sheepishly. Well, I'll just play it by ear. Thank you very much. Every person who has gone through or is going through the what-will-I-do-after-12th phase probably knows (I may be wrong here because there are a few know-it-alls who go about blabbering stuff to anyone who would listen) how annoying it is when auntijis keep pestering each and every family member about your future plans. Its not the same when you are discussing things with a friend. They won't judge you or ask for your results a nanosecond after they are declared. They won't go about comparing you with some other kid your age. They won't keep pestering you with how-many-hours-do-you-study questions and give looks of shock if they feel its 'below the required amount'. If only people would stop questioning. Okay, let me put it this way - If only people would stop judging.

Tips to Fight Insomnia

Who on earth am I to go around giving such tips? Well, Iam very experienced in the aforementioned field. Having tried 8754 tricks to bore myself to a good snooze, when Iam high on coffee(which especially happens during the exam season), I can only say some of these are life savers!

1.Count till 100, then count back
Actually, you may not be awake to count back. See, the trick here, is to really concentrate while counting, which in turn bores you, which is our ultimate motive. Sounds like an idiotic idea, but then again, idiotic ideas and tasks get on our nerves and bore us to death, hmm, well, sleep here.

2. Imagine sheep(or cows, whatever works for you) flying across a huge, imaginary(obviously, now that you are imagining... okay, pj) parabola
It sounds eccentric but, let me tell you, by far, this has been the best solution to all my snooze related problems! Its really hard to concentrate on those bloody things, that you tend to leave what you are doing and-- fall asleep! Now, its important to keep counting even over here, because that is where the concentrating part comes, I repeat. I think I had discovered(rather learnt) this trick while flipping through kermit channel some 5-6 years back.

3. Start imagining good things
Good ole formula. Rarely works. So, after second thougts, its not a good formula. Just an old one.

4.Go back to step 2

Now if none of the above work, you are certainly not human or are the most boring person alive to have been bored by the ultra-boredom-causing tasks above, or, you have not concentrated on the counting! So, go back to step 2!

5.Read this

Or, you can simply read this blog and snooze off in front of your desk. But, don't blame me if you have drool all over your keyboard the next day!

Quite an enlightening piece for the sleep-deprived and those who are going like " what the--- ? " , wwwwwhhhhhhhrrppptttt .

That Vicious Little Cup

I woke up with a dizzy head, made a careless mistake in the very first question of my physics paper(not that I didn't make any more mistakes!) and came home with a throbbing headache. If you think i was high on something last night, you might as well drown yourself, because that wasn't the case.

I had coffee. Half a cup of it.

Yes, yes, you read alright. Caffeine headaches- one of life's mean ways to ruin that pleasant cuppa for me...

Whenever I have some coffee ( even a smidgen of it) , I get this horrendous headache which absolutely ruins the fun. Coffee, a life saver (remember cramming and working all night) for all of us (yes, me too), has a rather ugly downside for me. At times, I get so jittery and excited that I literally have to jump about the place to release some tension which consequently leads to me getting some gapes from people around.

Tea is worse. There was this one time, when a cup of tea culminated in me actually hallucinating at night! I could hear a train approaching, whistling alongwith the din; could hear some screams as well. That was, so far, the most terrible night of my life (I kid thee not).

Caffeine certainly doesn't suit me much. I still have it at times, like I said, life saver. Last evening was one such occassion when I did something that I knew I would regret later. Don't we all do such things at times?

Memories In Ink

Good days, cherished memories, how we ache for them to come back and envelope us in their warmth. Take us away from this reality and hide us in a place where nothing but goodness can touch us. How we hope against hope for a time to come when we would just love being so full of life, only to soak everything around us. But, it does come. But when such a time comes, we are so busy blushing the entire time, that we forget that it was right here. It passes by like an evanescent, blinding flash of unreal reality – unreal because later, tears make their way through our solid bearing, wondering about how lovely those days were and start questioning if they were ever there.

Everything that a man yearns for, deeply yearns for, is that fuzzy intoxicating feeling of happiness. Even the ones who are ostensibly content with their ‘rocking’ lives long for this ultimate feeling of bliss. I think that this feeling can never touch us when we want it to or when it should. Because we realize what we’ve got only after its gone. And it does go. It does. Then, when we think about those moments of joy; these thoughts are the ones which lead us into a deluge of rapture and plain, innocent happiness. Memories- the only thing that stays back with us when all else has withered away, the only thing that we can cling on to, the only thing we wish so hard would materialize in the future.But when it does, and yes it does, we just don’t notice it.

Woes Of A Science(or Greek??) Student

She steps out of school(with V=IR and F=ma swirling in her head) only to be unkindly greeted by si, pi, phi, alpha, beta , gamma, delta and also theta who just doesn't seem to let go of her! She opens her chemistry book with some interest and she is bombarded with new(not sure of the spelling), meu, omega, lambda and another set of puzzling new symbols signifying a million different things in a million different chapters in three(luckily) different subjects.

She opens her physics book with some, well, it can't be called interest, rather apprehension(after the shocking experience with chemistry) only to find a larger and more tedious volume of formulae, theories( the proper as well as the rejected(hmp!) ones) and, once again, those teeny weeny things which she has started seeing everywhere(she is learning greek now, is this science or what!)- ki, tao, sigma.....

Now she opens her math book with an exorbitant amount of apprehension. She got what she expected-thetas, alphas and betas swimming all over, not to mention the very very meagre amount of formulae that she would have to get in her blood vessels in the next 2 years.
She hopes to have aced atleast the greek alphabet in 2 years' time, if not the formulae,the theories and the statements (and what not!) that she was actually supposed to ace.