I Express

Lately, Mayuri is the most convenient conveyance from the Metro Station to where I stay as a paying guest. They are Eco-friendly, battery autos which can be comfortably shared by four people. But you rarely get to see less than 6. So today, lazy as ever, I came out of the station. Welcomed, as always, by the Rickshaw riders who are pretty inquisitive to know if I wish to go to Srcc or Stephens! *Sigh* Well, I ignored and looked for a Mayuri . There were three, all empty. I sat in one, behind the driver seat and waited for it to fill up. I was patient and this is shocking. Maybe, because I was drowsy. A girl walked towards the Mayuri . She was pretty, wore a red shirt, neat eyeliner. Overall, she was attractive. And yes, I love observing girls. She sat in front of me. Then came a guy who sat next to the driver. Then a man with his son, probably, who seemed about four years old. The man sat next to the girl and his son sat next to me. I hope it's clear because it should be. ...

And this line I wrote once, describes me the best, anyday. 'I betray the ones I betray others for.' The trait of selfishness sticks to me unlike the pink enamel paint on my nails. The day when I resolve to hurt no one, is the day I hurt maximum, include me. This phase, I guess, is now my lifestyle's habit. It is cumbersome to stand up everytime. But, isn't that what life is all about?

My heart weeps. Someone who has scored 70 in English is getting English Honors. I scored a 95 and I'm dying to study more of English. But I ain't getting it. Justified? JUSTIFIED??? For the system that prevails, it is. I remember that innocent, chirpy girl of class eight with two neat plaits. Whenever questioned- 'What will you do when you grow up?' Her answer - 'Study English!' Bitter truth, she never knew her dream would shatter in front of her eyes in the next four years. Ask her grandparents, how she went around like nothing is possible without knowing English or going into the depths of poetry or knowing what Shakespeare wrote. She, who compared realities with the stories she read. Narrated those she loved, to everybody she met. And today they call her immature. They say she hasn't seen much of the world and still lives in the world of her fantasies and dreams. Tell them, I surrounded myself with what I read. Because what I read was beautiful. I...

It was 3:37 a.m. She re-checked her phone. Her message was still unseen. A tear rolled down her cheek. It was raining heavily. She could hear the harsh wind and the rain-drops hitting the roof. She went out and let the water prick her skin. It pained. But this pain was overlapping the prior. She lost the count of her tears. She missed the ones she had left behind. She missed the care she used to receive. The pampering. She missed how her carelessness was ignored and she was reciprocated with love. It was that evening that he told her   'We will Skype soon.'   She jumped with excitement. Helped her grandmother with all her work. But time just didn't pass! She went for bath. She bathed for long, sang along. Wore her best. Wore makeup.  She did not take her dinner. She was too excited to eat.  Then, she grabbed her phone. She had a message. ' Lol.   It takes u that long' She replies 'My Wifi is not working. I badly wanna Skype.' Of course! Y...

A part of this is inspired by 'A Thousand Splendid Suns' by Khaled Hosseini. He sat on his couch, sipping his coffee, his gaze fixed on the screen. She had to sweep the floor in that arctic biting cold and prepare him one more cappuccino thereafter. Why? She wasn't a Man. She went out with him and stood behind as he shook hands with men and hugged their wives. Through that mesh screen of her burqa , she could smell smoke coming out of the cigarettes, the women with long, black painted nails, held. She could not even dare to think of imitating them. Why? She wasn't a Man. He forced himself upon her to pleasure himself. She resisted but to no avail. Helpless, she went for justice just to discover_Rape is the only crime where the victim becomes the accused. She faced rejection by her society. Why? She wasn't a Man. He bunked his school everyday and gradually became a chain smoker. She was told to discontinue her education and do the household chor...

I have a calendar of quotes. One of the quote says, 'The Hardest thing in a task is to begin it!' This is not the case with me though. The thing which is hard for me is to continue with my work. I have around seven drafts here in my blog. Why? Because I want to listen to some songs first! Have some more sleep. Play badminton. Watch Discovery. Order Pizza. Have late night calls with my best of friends, including mom. Open 34712329 tabs at the same time and still do nothing. Check my Facebook every 5 minutes though I know there is nothing in it. Change my Whatsapp pic and status after every 12 hours. Click myself. Play with my hair. Sing songs. Play Guitar. Play Harmonium. And, yes, Dance! After all this I get so tired that I go off to sleep again! WOW. Before sleeping I always tell myself _ 'You are definitely goin to write a post tomorrow. You'll get up early. Do some meditation. Plan things and execute them accordingly.' And how things actually happen_As if it i...

I seek... Pleasure in Pain. That undone tie, appears as a rope. I want this Earth to crack from where I stand and let the reason be unexplained. I enjoy blithesome bunch of folks around but I don't wish be one of them. At times, I want to sit in dark.  And cry hard. HARD. It gives me immense satisfaction. Strange? I know this is strange. Count me in that bunch of sick people. I know I would hate what I'm writing when I escape from this phase of despondency. As for now, I want my heart to be broken. I want to be disrespected. I want to be abused. I want an agonized cry. I know I've hurt my own people__I am woebegone. I betray the one's I'm betraying other's for. I pretend to be oblivion towards how much I hurt. I'm audacious while expressing fury, fully aware that my words pierce the heart of the listener. I am Shameless. Am I doing any good? __Not even to My-Own-Self. I know it is not the end of the w...