One

I had forgotten the password to my WordPress account. Agreed. Its been a long long while since I logged in here. Life has been a whirlwind ever since I moved from my home to this strange foreign land. As welcoming as it can get with its friendly baristas, chatty Uber drivers and smiling people around, this place can get terribly lonely. Most of the time. There is this general belief of one being a “misfit” here. Cold, barren trees and strong winds gush creepily, making the isolation more pronounced. One craves the warmth of family, of a loved one, a comfortable book, something that may incapacitate the fear of losing the rat race but all one gets is a smiling barista who happily agrees to make them their favorite “Tuxedo Hot Chocolate” which he would have last prepared on Valentines’ week. The place swarms with people, each with their own things to do, their lives and bucket lists to worry about. One wonders how Starbucks selects its baristas. Do they hire the most beautiful people? Or is it about being warm and friendly? Or do they need a perfect blend of the two, not unlike their famous coffees? However so, one cant thank Starbucks enough for merely being Starbucks. Suddenly, one craves the filter kaapi smell that West Mambalam soaks itself in, one aches for the time when oblivion was at its peak, when there was no chore to do for them the entire weekend and when getting up to eat seemed like the most arduous task at hand. The smell of ghee dosa suddenly wafts in the buzzing coffee shop in the strange foreign land, kicking one in the guts as a reminiscence of good times spent in one’s home. Its amazing how smells serve as a reminder of long-forgotten memories. Time crawls ahead and one wonders what is in store for them. Will one ever go back to simpler times just to get a stern glance from mom, an advice or two from dad that is forgotten soon after, watch movies with one’s sister without a worry in the world. One takes life, people and relationships for granted and the sudden awareness drives that tear to escape through their eyes. Hastily wiping it away, one touches base with reality and prepares to grab another Tuxedo Hot Chocolate.

1

A metaphor I live by

They came. Like a fierce bolt of lightning. With such great intensity they surged ahead and rocked the metaphorical ship that I’d like to pronounce as my life, which was otherwise sailing in calm waters. They were with me, through thick and thin, through storm and shine providing those frequent laughs which I now crave, anchored me whenever I was caught in the midst of turbulence. They taught me a lot, without which I would probably have broken into a million fragments, sunk deep beneath the ocean’s mysterious depths, leaving nothing but a less than interesting story behind. They were themselves, never pretentious; I always felt that I chose well. Still do. Their presence has become less frequent now. Those who say that “All good things come to an end” are not wrong. Except that here, it is not an end. Not yet. It exists. But it is dying a slow death. After all, ubiquity is not a privilege granted to humans. It is either here or there. They are merely there, their presence hardly felt, the intimacy and the bond slowly weaning. The iron grip is slowly rusting away, bringing in traces of brown rust, as memories, lying there, eventually replaced by newer ones. They glide in and out, ushering nostalgia along their wake. My ship sails further and further away from everyone, unmindful of the path or the distance, just moving along with the drift. The shore is not visible, just miles of blue – the ocean’s realm is breath-taking but the journey is hushed, punctuated by the swish-swash of the water. I am surrounded by other ships, boats, paddles, canoes and yachts but there is a never-ending eerie silence inside my head. It makes me wish I was following someone, a stranger, a companion, a kindred spirit, someone who would make this expedition worthwhile. Alas, as John Green most rightly put it, “The world is not a wish-granting factory”. With this in mind, I sail along, with million other faceless strangers, hardly caring for what lies on the other side, moving nevertheless, on and on.

2

In pursuit of the elusive routine

For my entire life, I’ve been a routine-lover. Sure, I do complain a lot. About the monotony that it drags along with it, about the boredom that walks in, hand in hand alongside it. But there is a certain comfort that creeps in as well. Knowing what to do, knowing exactly what’s supposed to happen if we do that. Life was a breezy soundtrack with very few off-key notes. With school being just around the corner and college being a bus ride away, no bump seemed like more than a mere trivial issue.

And then Satan decided to intervene. He made my cozy, comfortable and happy routine to suck it all up and go to hell. And I had to go to Bangalore for work, leaving behind my family, my house, my room, my giant new TV, my mom’s lip-smacking recipes. The transition to the new city was everything but smooth. The crazy weather, the never-ending traffic, the bad food, living off a suitcase, everything about the new situation was nightmarish. Also, the one thing that eluded me was my old friend – Routine. And still I’m riding along the path. It is quite a bumpy ride mind you, but then there is the occasional slick vroom that renders me ecstatic albeit for a little while.

A few months down the line, I was told that I’d be working in shifts. I’ve been a morning person almost my entire life but the option to work from the comfort of our homes, the mere thought of eating mommy’s meals again, watching all my favorite shows in my gigantic TV plus the extra money, everything made the night shift an appealing package. But post two days into the shift, I’m here, with eyes resembling close to a Panda’s, wishing to go back to normalcy – back to simpler times. Becoming nocturnal is definitely not my way of life. And trying to establish a routine here is out of question.

When the clock strikes ten, I begin to fret. The thought of spending the next nine hours in the gloom is like ingesting a bitter pill – one every minute. Armed with a flask filled with black coffee and a mosquito repellant, I ascend up the stairs – the stairway to hell. The dingy room in the second floor of my house which has been my abode for the last two nights seems unwelcome, although the blood sucking tiny morons seem to enjoy my presence. Then of course, work begins with facebooking happening from time to time. Then slowly, my chat list becomes smaller and smaller and at one point the tiny green button beside every name disappears. Going for a small walk is ruled out and after stifling a million yawns, I reach out to my trustworthy coffee. One plus side to this misery would be the many lovely songs I’ve discovered over the past couple of days. Their melody is the only thing next to coffee that has considerably perked up my weakening resolve. At some point of time, I realize that all those stuff I googled about night shifts have proved to be fruitless.

The clock snails up to 7 and having lost all my will power, I shut down everything and descend from hell two steps at a time having no care in the world for my stiff feet. I see no point in brushing my teeth (Do night shift people brush at all?) and climb into bed for a dreamless sleep. So this is my new routine huh? Satan….? Yoohoo…..?

Night Owl
1

And now, my heart goes *Bing*

Don’t you all hate that word “routine”? That seven-lettered bastard that pushes us out of our beds every morning, screaming at us to get things done, reminding us about schedules and deadlines. Ok, if my mother reads this she’s going to snort out laughing. Mainly because of the fact that I am barely follow any regimented schedule these days. Just wake up, eat read and go back to sleep. Just coexist with my laptop, cell phone and TV under my tiny shell, ostracized from the rest of the world. Sick of this, I began to download all ten seasons of F.R.I.E.N.D.S a few days back.

Six days and five hours later, there it was… my source of fun and laughter, enabling an escape from my bummer world and teleports me to the cozy little coffee place Central Perk in Manhattan to watch the iconic F.R.I.E.N.D.S – Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, Monica, Chandler and Joey. Just stepping into the 5th season, I am already aware of what happens to everyone down the line, nevertheless, the teenage girl inside me cannot stop gushing when Chandler and Monica get together, guffaw at Chandler’s one-liners, throw enviable looks at Rachel’s locks, beam at Ross’s goofiness, tap my feet (also strum my guitar) to Phoebe’s Smelly Cat, crack up to Joey’s um.. “Hey, How ya doin?”.  I could just go on and on and on all day.

One person has me in stitches with his witticism and sarcasm EVERY TIME. Could he BE any more funnier? That’s right ladies and gentlemen, Chandler Bing *drum roll* *whistles*. He is the man, funny, funny and extremely FUNNY. My sister and I love his anecdotes, his lines, and everything about him. We bring in Chandler’s lines into our daily conversation. That’s right we’re Friends addicts. Everything about the show seems totally real. I HEART Friends! So, here is this YouTube video of Chandler and his mock British accent which I so enjoyed watching today.

 

The F.R.I.E.N.D.S

P.S. Here’s a fairly accurate impression of me after watching all episodes of a season in one day.

Yeah, that’s pretty much sums up what I look like
Related articles
4

Everyday

After 123 days, I sit in my chair, staring at my blog listening to the mellow tunes of an Indie singer. My blog stares back, accusingly, reminding me of all those good times it gave me during all those sullen afternoons. A pang of guilt waves travel past me. Oh God, I have turned melodramatic. All these days of nothingness, these books, these slow melody numbers have made me lose my senses. So, what was happening during those 123 days? I can give the only cliched answer to this – Life happened.

For a person rotting away at home every single day, after finishing up college and waiting for her call letter to join work, life can hardly be eventful. Yet, I embrace my loneliness, my time with myself, thinking, as life drives by barely giving anyone around a second glance. Life can be a bitch if it wants to be. But we all know that we must endure this one. Hate it, love it, ignore it but you cannot choose to escape it. Even if you want to, the pain that it brings along cannot be swallowed like a bitter pill.

Anyway, I hope I am not mistaken for a lunatic. Or worse, a depressed soul.  I am neither of those – at least for now. I am a mere mortal searching for answers. For questions unknown to me. Everyday slips away with me drowned in books, losing myself in an alternate world, not wanting to leave, lingering there drowning myself in its glory, as the clock ticks away, not bothering to even pause to smell the roses around. Oh yeah! Did I mention? Time can be a bitch as well. Meanwhile, I am dragged back from my alternate universe after every book is done with and the characters etched in my mind where it draws a muddled face for every one of them. A terrible case of book-hangover ensues where I am unable to move forward with my life, still dwelling, remaining there, gawking at the characters before me and thinking to myself. Forcing myself to move on, I am, once again stuck in this endless loop with a playlist of indie and french instrumental music enveloping my thoughts along with the the rough sketch of the characters.

But none of this intimidates me. I am in fact, reveling in this routine of living these multiple lives. No one could argue with this saying.

“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. A man who doesn’t read lives only one.”

I don’t think I can get myself to do anything better. This is me and this is what I love doing – everyday, possibly for the rest of my life 🙂 I don’t know if I will write again tomorrow or if I wont write anything for the next 123 days or anything, but lets just live in the moment shall we. Back to books and instrumental music for now.

                                               Yeah, why can’t I?
6

Bullying Tales

I once read somewhere that people (well, most of them) wouldn’t want to write about any painful memory or incident that happened in their life. Because writing about them would mean re-living the whole experience again and you wouldn’t want that. Would you? To me personally, I wouldn’t mind writing about them because that would explain how I was able to drive away the ghosts of my past and remain happy and satisfied.

My childhood days wouldn’t really qualify as what I would call “the happiest days of my life”. Nor would I like to dismiss them off as “the worst days of my life”. I was a rather shy and awkward kid that never had many friends and never spoke much to anyone. And sometimes I feel I continue to remain that way even today (well, not a kid anymore but otherwise, the rest :)) Hence, the bullying was an inevitable part. The primary school days were kind of a nightmare. I can vividly recall those days in first grade when the boys sitting next to me in the school bus would take my pencil box from my bag and then steal all the pencils from it. There was a time in fourth grade when this boy would come and on purpose pull my ponytail so hard. I would do nothing other than stand there and weep. That somehow managed to mysteriously lift his enthusiasm and he would continue to do so until the bus driver would come and tell him off for being rude. I still remember his sly smile afterwards. Soon after, once the last bell would ring, I would run to the bus and hide underneath the last seat to save myself from that psychopath :P. He definitely takes the top spot among the bullies in my life.

Then, there were times when the other kids made fun of my name, laughed and jeer at my rather large front teeth (before I had my braces on). The mocking and the jabs made me feel conscious about everything. But, I don’t remember complaining or confessing about it to anybody. Until now, these memories and the bullies that provided me with those (I have a rather clear recognition of their faces and their names) were tucked away in a far, deep and dark corner of my brain beneath the depths of multiple happy memories and many joyful and ecstatic faces. Many people would have encountered worse bullies and worse stuff that happened to them when compared to mine, but it would just have to be a phase which was waiting to happen. And I’m happy that it did. After all, someone rightly said,

“And this too shall pass.”

-Dedicated to all those pathetic losers who made my primary school days miserable 🙂

Related articles
0

I still remember you

I don’t really remember the first time we met,

Probably twenty summers ago

When you and I could barely walk.

But I do remember those times

When you wagged your bushy tail,

Jumping up and down, craving for our attention

Whenever we came home.

How you sat under the noisy fan,

With your tongue sticking out, panting,

While sweat trickled away on our foreheads

Thanks to the cruel sun.

How your amber eyes shone in the darkness

When you looked my way during those silent nights.

I also get flashes of your hysteria

On hearing the tingling bells of the ice cream truck.

How you licked away the ice cream

That was dripping off my cone

While anxiously awaiting for the next drop to fall.

I still recall those scorching days

When we bathed you with water bursting from the hose pipe

And how you shook yourself so hard,

Splashing us with all the water from your body.

I do remember

The way you would lurk away to a corner,

Sulking and whining and giving us your sad puppy dog face

Whenever the vet visited us.

And how you would embark on a small journey like a gust of wind

Rejoicing the momentary freedom

Given to you by an open gate

Thus having  an army of people coming after you.

I am reminded of your pain and suffering

As you were turning old,

When everyday was a struggle,

When you were locking horns with Life.

Now, you’re a memory

Dwelling in my mind, a fleeting cloud, a bright golden star

Always there in my subconscious mind, refusing to fade.

I would always remember you Lissie.

Dedicated to all those who have loved and lost a pet.

14

Book Quotes that knocked me off – Literally (#2)

OK. I admit. It’s been a while since I wrote something on here. And frankly, I am guilt-ridden. Maybe I am suffering from writers-block. Or I am just too lazy to think or maybe I am just too self-absorbed. Whatever the reason might be, it just made me realize that it’s not yet time to hang up my boots and call it a day. And also the facts that my viewer count keeps dwindling. I mean…come on! I can do better than this. So let me just start afresh with a few more quotes from a few more favorite books of mine without further ado. After all, that’s what a girl suffering from writers-block can do! Plagiarize… I mean, get some Inspiration… with the capital “I”.

OK. First up, a series that kept me on my toes. It’s Slammed by Colleen Hoover. 

Slammed

Here’s another one.

Slammed

Now, for Point of Retreat… The 2nd book of the same series. (I liked this one more) and this one’s the best quote of the series.

Point of Retreat

Now, here are two more.

“Love is the most wonderful thing in the world. Unfortunately, it is also one of the hardest things in the world to hold on to, and one of the easiest to throw away.”

“Life’s hard. It’s even harder when you’re stupid.” –John Wayne

And this last one… Would be understood only by those who would have already read the book. So to make sure that you do, I am leaving no spoilers.

Butterfly You

“Butterfly.
What a beautiful word
What a delicate creature.
Delicate like the cruel words that flow right out of your mouths and the food that flies right out of your hands…
Does it make you feel better?
Does it make you feel good ?
Does picking on a girl make you more of a man?
Well, I’m standing up for myself
Like I should have done before
I’m not putting up with your Butterfly anymore.”
(Kiersten slides the sack off her wrist and opens it, pulling out a handful of hand-made butterflies. She takes the microphone out of the stand and begins walking down the stairs as she continues speaking.)
“I’d like to extend to others what others have extended to me.”
(She walks up to Mrs. Brill first and holds out a butterfly)
“Butterfly you, Mrs. Brill.”
(Mrs. Brill smiles at her and takes the butterfly out of her hands. Lake laughs out loud and I have to nudge her to get her to be quiet. Kiersten walks around the room, passing out butterflies to several of the students, including the three from the lunchroom.)
“Butterfly you, Mark.
Butterfly you, Brendan.
Butterfly you, Colby.”
(When she finishes passing out the butterflies, she walks back onto the stage and places the microphone back into the stand.)
“I have one thing to say to you
And I’m not referring to the bullies
Or the ones they pursue.
I’m referring to those of you that just stand by
The ones who don’t take up for those of us that cry
Those of you who just…turn a blind eye.
After all it’s not you it’s happening to
You aren’t the one being bullied
And you aren’t the one being rude
It isn’t your hand that’s throwing the food
But…it is your mouth not speaking up
It is your feet not taking a stand
It is your arm not lending a hand
It is your heart
Not giving a damn.
So take up for yourself
Take up for your friends
I challenge you to be someone
Who doesn’t give in.
Don’t give in.
Don’t let them win.” 

One more from this book, because I’m unable to stop myself 😀

I got schooled this year
by
a
boy.

A boy that I’m seriously, deeply, madly, incredibly, and undeniably in love with.
And he taught me the most important thing of all…

To put the emphasis
On life.

I am yet to read Hopeless by Colleen Hoover. And if I had, I am sure this post would have been filled with her quotes.

So moving on, I thought of taking quotes from Meg Cabot‘s Princess Diaries – The funniest series I have ever read :D. I could just go on and on about this. These books gave me uncontrollable fits of giggles, long hours of pure entertainment and made me feel all awesome. So ignoring all those comments about Meg Cabot favoring pop culture and everything, here are some of my personal favorite quotes of the series.

“‘A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.’ I really hate this expression. I bet fish would totally want bicycles.”   — Princess on the Brink

“But then I remembered something Grandmere had once assured me of: No one has ever died of embarrassment–never, not once in the whole history of time.”  —Forever Princess

“Faint heart never won fair lady.” —Princess in Love

“Michael has never cried during a Broadway show. Except in that scene where Tarzan’s ape father is brutally murdered.
And that was only because he was laughing so hard.” –Princess Mia
 
Now, for Sarah Dessen‘s story about MUSIC. Just Listen featuring Owen Armstrong and Annabel Greene. This book gave me fresh and a completely different take on music. It is a must-read for all music+book lovers 🙂
 
Just Listen
Silence… Its just too loud

 

Just Listen

And here’s the best one among the lot.

And the best of them all!

OK. Guess this is becoming habitual. More to come as long as I read books. I’m definitely not hanging up those boots! 🙂

2

Of Biryanis and Birthday Cakes

Yesterday began as predictably as any other Saturday but with a slight exception of it being my dad’s birthday. We’re not big birthday celebrators who throw lavish parties on their birthdays. Forget lavish parties, we don’t even cut a cake for crying out loud :P. For us birthdays begin and end with one simple wish and a handshake. No big deal. So it came as a surprise to me when I got a call from dad during my guitar class (Oh yeah, so I’ve begun taking guitar lessons… so what else is new? :D) saying that the restaurant, which is a hop skip and a jump away from our place, is offering us a discount for his birthday. I wasn’t particularly thrilled by that because I’ve never been a big fan of that place and kept wondering why of all the places, my dad had to get a discount HERE? So with my guitar lessons cut short by fifteen minutes, we (my sister, dad and I) headed to this place. There were a very sparse crowd there. Apparently, people thought of spending their Saturday nights in more swanky restaurants around. After ordering our customary Sweet Corn Chicken Soup, with Chicken Biryani and Chicken 65 as the main course, we proceeded with our dinner silently as usual without much fuss as we were already pretty stuffed with the pakoras which mom made us that evening.

But that silent night was not to last as very soon, after our dinner, one of the waiters walked up to us, carrying a round vanilla cake with a purple flower with a single tiny candle lit on top of it. Beside me, my sister let out a groan murmuring about this being the worst day of her life as people from the nearby tables began to cast their glances towards us. As the waiter laid out the cake proudly in front of us, my dad’s face glowered much brighter than the tiny candle; the happiness he felt was palpable. The old song which was playing in the background suddenly changed to “Happy Birthday to you… Happy Birthday to you…” I made a grab of my dad’s mobile and snapped some pictures as the waiters surrounded our small table and clapped and sang as he cut the cake – that would probably be his first ever birthday cake, I don’t know. All in all, it turned out to be quite out of the ordinary and my father too ended up tipping more than usual 😉 clearly pleased with his “small birthday celebration” :). We certainly ought to celebrate more, after all, a difference IS good 🙂

Dad with his cake :)
Dad with his cake 🙂
3

Book Quotes that Knocked Me Off – Literally

OK. I don’t know. I haven’t gotten over my obsession with books. When I joined college I read very few books. Most of the books from the library went back to its own shelves after a week or so unread. But now, since I have been spending quite a lot of time at home, I am hooked to my old habit. After all, they say – “Old habits die hard.” So, after my tryst with yet another series, The Summer Series by Jenny Han, I am still hungover from the pure awesomeness that these books manage to provide me with.

 

This made me think, why do we like love or hate a book so much. For me its about the moments. The words. The characters. They talk to me more than anything else. Which brought me here. So I wondered.. why not I put up selected quotes from my favorite books in my blog. And here goes. Indulge in this pure awesomeness 🙂

 

Starting with Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins 🙂

 

“Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place?”

 

 

 

Now, a kinda continuation for the first, Lola and the Boy Next Door by the same author. I must admit, I love this book more than Anna and the French Kiss, for reasons unknown to me 🙂

 

“Perfect is overrated. Perfect is boring.”
I smile. “You don’t think I’m perfect?”
“No. You’re delightfully screwy, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

 

“And if I’m the stars, Cricket Bell is entire galaxies.”

  

 

“It’s just that…I just think that some things are meant to be broken. Imperfect. Chaotic. It’s the universe’s way of providing contrast, you know? There have to be a few holes in the road. It’s how life is.”

 

 

 

“An unrequited love is so much better than a real one. I mean, it’s perfect.” “Nothing is perfect.” “Nothing real, but as long as something is never even started, you never have to worry about it ending. It has endless potential.”

 

Time now for yet another favorite 🙂 The Summer I turned pretty by Jenny Han

 

 

 

 

The 2nd book of the series … Its Not Summer Without You

 

 

And the final and most favorite one of the series.. We’ll Always Have Summer 🙂

 

“Maybe that was how it was with all first loves. They own a little piece of you heart, always.”

 

 

 

 

The Fault in our Stars by John Green

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

OK I’d better stop 🙂 :P. That’s enough mush for a day. Maybe the rest in another entry! 🙂

 

Related articles
6

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started