He Walked On...

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                     He walked on...

Being alone in a street is not easy. And he was alone in a country. It was a country full of quaint people, men who had nothing to do with others. People who solely knew how to live their own monotonous lives. It was not easy for him to merge in. He was not ready for a change that drastic. He wanted to talk. To express his own self. But the blase was on their blank faces. 

Credit: Pinterest

He looked to his left and saw the bill board that told him to do something he didn't understand. Frustration is not the word, my friends. The little colourless umbrella didn't seem to be friendly enough. His face turned to his right, and he saw nothing but bare walls which spoke even less than the bill boards. The black tail coat with an exorbitant price purchased from a very dear shop and the top hat accompanied by a small briefcase didn't help him much in blending, going unnoticed.

You know you are a stranger when people turn toward you and also when they don't. In either way, you don't belong to that country of men. And when that happens, the only option left with you is to walk on, and leave them behind.

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~~The Girl.

Some simple things..

Some simple things in life give you tremendous amount of happiness.

For you it could be cuddling with your pet, dancing to the track you love the most, singing out loud knowing you sound pathetic and not caring, suddenly hugging your mom from behind, playfully punching your dad, reading that favorite book again and again, splashing in shower pretending that its raining, sitting and listening quietly to your grand parents' tales, eating something you know is forbidden, wrestling with your brother, cat fighting with your sister, talking utter rubbish with your friends, watching the moon and stars and so on....

For me? Its every aforementioned thing.

Keep 23 hours of your day for everyone and everything. But always give yourself at least an hour of peace where you sit and think, where you do what you like the most. There is no harm in giving yourself pep talks once in a while. They say talking to yourself is weird and is a sign of madness. But I feel talking to yourself helps in clearing your mind up. You get to know about your two sides, the good one and the bad one. And also which comes out to be stronger in the end. With that you can judge your character.

You yourself are the only person with whom you don't have to pretend.

Before saying tata, a question for you--
Which is that one track you can listen to all the time and yet not get tired of?

~~The Girl

A wrecked room...and a MOO point.

Little sisters/cousins are pests, right? I beg to differ. They are pure evil, sent on mother earth to destroy good people. Oh they look cute and act sweet in front of old people because they have the power to turn the evil 'kids' into good ones. No, these children show their true colours (and horns) to their older sisters/brothers, who were once evil too but changed due to their hidden goodness.
So for 7-10 years the younger evils make the older siblings/cousins' lives miserable to influence them on joining their Bad-Ass land.
I know one such devil, my 7 year old cousin called...Devilina (thats just a fictitious name I am going to use).
So Devilina decides to visit her smart, intelligent, average-looking cousin...Angelina (Read: Me. Fictitious name again) with her parents.
Angelina is sitting in her room, playing her keyboard, unknown to the horrible catastrophic situation that is about to befall her.

"Didiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii"
"Oh. My. God", Angelina says under breath.
"Didiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Piano piano piano piano!", Devilina gracefully snatches away the keyboard and jabs at the black and white keys.
"Um...Devilina, its run by batteries, they will run out soon and I really needed to practice", Angelina carefully tries to pry away the little nail bitten fingers from her instrument.
"Nooooooo! I want to play! I want to play! MUMMA!"
"Shhh! Ok, how about this, I play it for you? Anything you like"
Devilina gives her this very confused look and then smiles her evilish smile.
"You can't play! Liar liar, pants on fire!"
"I can too!" Angelina says in this very mature manner.
"Liar liar liar liar..."
"Stop it! Look, I will prove it to you. Just let me have that god forsaken piano! I will teach you. What would you like to learn?"
"Twinkle Twinkle!", Devilina says, still not letting go of the keyboard.
"Ok. Twinkle Twinkle it is then! Just let me have the piano, please!"
As soon as Devilina relaxes her hold on the object, something vibrates.
"Holy crap! Earthquake!" Angelina shouts.
Suddenly her attention is caught by the blinking cell phone.
"Hahaha! Scaredy cat!" Devilina sings.
"Shut up! I knew it was the mobile. Now hush! I am on phone"
Devilina obediently shuts up and goes around the big desk which has a gazillion drawers, always a good thing to distract the evil people.
"Hello? Hey! What's up?"
"YOU PROMISED!", Devilina shrieks out of nowhere.
"Huh? Wha--?"
"YOU PROMISED YOU WILL TEACH ME!"
"Um..yes, but Didi is now on phone. Give me 5 minutes and I promise I will teach you Twinkle Twinkle AND abcd" (To those who dont know, Twinkle Twinkle and abcd have the same tune, thus work done easier)
"So where were we...? DEVILINA! STOP TAKING MY THINGS OUT FROM THE DRAWERS!"
"Won't won't won't!"
"Oh God. I am so sorry, Ananya! Its my cousin and---WHAT? You and Amay broke up?! But how?! Why?"
"Tell her it will be ok", Devilina buzzes near Angelina's ear.
"Huh? Devilina! Stop eavesdropping! I mean, listening! And what do YOU know about break ups? You are just a 7 year old...thing"
"I know. I broke up with Tushar today", Devilina declares proudly.
"You WHAT? You didn't have a boyfriend in the first place! Stop making up stuff"
"Did too!"
"Get lost! Sorry again, Ananya! So yes, why did you break up?"
"Because he wouldn't share his orange crayon with me!", Devilina pipes in.
"I am not talking to you, Devilina! This call is important, OK? Please excuse me" Angelina makes shooing motion with her free hand.
"I DO NOT LIKE YOU!", and to somehow prove her point, Devilina presses the "song" button on the keyboard and then rushes off to the cupboard, throwing every piece of cloth that Angelina owned on the floor.
"STOP IT! Ananya, I will have to get back to you later! Stop crying, please!"
"CRY BABY CRY BABY!", Devilina says in this sing song voice, while Angelina quickly hangs up before her friend could hear that.
"Devilina, STOP MAKING A MESS! I will have to call your mother!"
"No care no care no care!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH", Angelina stops the annoying music.
"Hahahaha! You are funny! You are funny LOOKING!"
"Shut up! It took me ages to arrange everything in that cupboard! Please leave it alone! OK, I will teach you Twinkle Twinkle, abcd AND Baba Black Sheep" (All three same. Check it)
"Promise?"
"Yes! Promise!"
"God promise?"
"God promise!"
"Pinky swear?"
"Yep! Pinky swear!"
"No crosses?
"See? No crosses!"
"What about toes?
"OK look", Angelina takes off her shoes. "No crosses here, either. Now will you please--"
"Cross your heart?"
"Yes! Cross my heart and hope to die"
"DON'T DIE!"
"No no! I meant---Oh what would you know! Just know that I am not going to break the promise. Promise!"
"You know, Banana should not cry"
"Huh? Who?"
"Banana! Your friend!"
"Its Ananya, Devilina!"
"Anya? Anyway, she should not cry. Break ups keep happening. Tell her not to give her crayons to the boy anymore. Simple"
"If only it were that simple, Devilina"
"It is! IT IS!"
"OK OK! Calm down. You make such MOO points!"
"What points?"
"MOO. You will understand when you are old enough to watch Friends"
"You are weird. I watch my friends everyday!"
"Yeah, I pity them. Anyway, so are you ready to learn your songs?"
"Nope"
"What? I thought you wanted---"
"Nope nope nope!"
"But---"
"Devilina! Time to go home!", my Aunt calls.
"Tata, MOO!"
"I am not MOO!"
"You are too!"

And she goes away.

Guess who had to spend the whole night cleaning up everything? You got it.


~~The Girl

The month of June

June greetings, fellow earthlings!

I haven't been updating my blog much. Been too busy these days and with so much going round, one can hardly find time to breathe, let alone write, right?

Last night I came up with a very short essay type writing 'Blank Pages'. Its for Blog-a-Ton--bloggers marathon.
Honestly speaking, I wouldn't call it one of my best works. In fact, I was actually disappointed in myself. But oh well, just as long as I participate. Though the topic was one hell of a challenge.

Anyhoo, if you want to participate, you always have 'next month'!

I need to make an exit now.

But before taking my leave, one sentence for you to finish--
"I used to be......but I am not anymore"

Think about it and drop your reply below =)

~~The Girl.

Blank Pages

Blank Pages

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 28; the 28th Edition of the online marathon of bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic of this month is 'BLANK PAGES'.
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Blank pages are intimidating. You sit down with a pen in between your fingers, hoping to grasp one of those ideas floating around you. 9 out of 10 times you fail. The level of the ink in your pen has not dropped, and the blank pages are as empty as the look in your eyes. You turn that page only to find another blank one staring right at you. What did you expect to find? A story written there all ready? You laugh. You laugh because you are desperate. There has to be something! One story, just one! But whenever something flashes behind your closed eyelids, it sounds...or looks familiar. And you want something new.

You glance at your pen. You know its ridiculous, but its as if the pen has been silently begging you to splash its colour all over those pages. And you know the pen is now disappointed in you.
And so are the white sheets. They don't want to be left unwritten on. You run your fingers over the whiteness, as if consoling them. The smoothness surprises you. Oh the joy of writing on them! Only if you had something to write about.

The time is running out. You pick that pen up, grip it tightly, close your bloodshot eyes shut and write. You don't know the words. You don't want to know. You just want to fill those blank pages up....and you do.
After a while, it could be a second or an hour, you lift those tired heavy eyelids up and witness the most beautiful story one could ever imagine.

You smile. Those blank pages are not blank anymore.
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The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

~~The Girl

It has got to End

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It has got to End

"You wannit?"
"No"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes"
"Maybe if you wannit, I can give it to you for half the price"
"Why?"
"Because I like you. And you wannit, innit?"
"No"
"You keep sayin' that"
"Yes"
"Keep it"
"No"
"Ok. I will take leave"
"Ok"
"Damnit woman! Take it!"
"No"
"Fine. Suits you. I am goin'"
"Good bye"
"Good bye, missus"

And now he is gone. And gone are those days when I needed him. When I wanted him to give me what he always carried somewhere hidden in his person. It required an immense amount of fixity to say that one syllable--'No'

What music is to a musician, beats to a dancer, words to a writer, prayer to a dying man, urgency to a doctor, hands to a worker, child to a mother and god to a human; drug is to me.
It makes me high. It makes me want to do things I know I wouldn't if it were not for the ecstatic feeling. The feeling of soaring, the feeling of life, the adamant nature to let go that I annex.

They told me to drop it.
Did i?
No.
They told me it would kill me.
Did it?
No.
They told me they would leave me if I don't leave it.
Did they?
No.
Did I?
No.

So then what made me give it up?
Nothing. Yesterday I needed the euphoria to chase away the insomnia.
Today, I understand that happiness and euphoria are two different words with two different meanings. Oh yes, you will find them to be synonyms of each other in the dictionary. But those people who have penned down these words together in the same line, and have uttered them in the same breath, have not tasted what I have.
I have tasted death. I have tasted death in the form of life, in the form of ebullience.

They say its not healthy.
I say it is, as long as you want to come across your succubus.
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DISCLAIMER: The aforementioned dialogue writing is a work of pure fiction.

~~The Girl.

Oneness

Just a little something, an attempt.
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                                                                                Oneness


When she spoke, her words flowed and mingled with those of his. They shared one laughter and that outlived all the smiles they showered on the banal beings. In the mirror he saw his face, in her eyes he caught his self.  When her fingers entwined with those of his, they became whole. When they clashed, it thundered but also rained, flooding them with relief such that knew no bounds. When they walked, their marks left behind on the desert sand of squalor overlapped. When they hugged, they merged in a single umbra. When they closed their eyes, however different their dreams might be, they always witnessed each other in them, thus ending the reveries with the same conclusion. Her tears found place in his eyes. his pain housed in her heart. When they kissed, the meeting of the lips went unheeded and the whispering of the eyelashes consumed them. Her head rested on his shoulder and his laid on her lap. They loved others and hence deified each other. They lived, for they were alive in the true sense of the meaning.
______________________________________

~~The Girl

The Fall from the Sky.

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                                                             The Fall from the Sky

"There, Dad! Look! There!"
The little girl took her father's large hand in her soft, pudgy one and tugged at him. The father, though tired from the late night work turned toward her little darling and smiled. She was innocent and knew nothing save one thing...her mother was alive among the stars.
"Yes, honey. I saw her"
"Didn't she look pretty, Dad? Didn't she look pretty?"
Yes. Her mother had always looked beautiful. Sadly enough, the little offspring of his inherited his rough features. She was petite, yes. But had a crooked nose and bushy eyebrows. All this suited on him, but they didn't compliment the girl's face.
"Dad? Dad!"
The sudden sweet voice jolted him back to the reality. He looked at her once again and loved her for all she was.
"Yes, sugar?"
"Dad, someone told me that those stars are shooting stars and not Mum"
"Who? Who said that?"
"A friend. She was lying, wasn't she, Dad?"
There was a long pause. By the time he could think of an answer, the girl's blue eyes were filled with droplets of tears, as if collected from a vast ocean.
"I am sorry, sweetheart. But its true. Those stars are just shooting stars. When they get tired and old, they fall. The young and bright ones stay up holding on to the sky"
"So where is my Mum?", she asked in a small voice.
"She is with us. She is here somewhere and she doesn't like those bad tears in your eyes. So be quick and wipe them off your lovely face!"
The girl, knowing her father was not exactly telling the truth nevertheless dried her tears. She smiled her smile she kept only for those moments when they discussed her mother's memories.
"But those stars will keep falling, Dad? Will I get to see them every night? But I don't want them to grow old, Dad! I don't like it"
"There is nothing you can do, my love. They are born and they shine. But slowly they lose their brightness and need to fall. Because if they don't, there won't be any space left for the new stars to come. Do you get what I mean, munchkin?"
The girl nodded in solemnness. She had never witnessed death and was scared of the notion. Her father clearly remembered that night when he had felt the life seeping into the girl's limp body and slipping out of his wife's bloodied one.
"I love you, Dad. Please don't grow old and fall", the girl's voice shook
"I love you too, Vida. Lets go inside"
He pocketed his cancer medicines and they both headed for the front door, hand in hand.
________________________

~~The Girl.

Crushes and Break Ups.

I have friends who crib about break ups. But aren't break ups a part of life? The normal teenage hood consists of first crush, first kiss, the first time you actually blush around someone you like, and so on. Thats the beauty in the innocence of the whole thing. Everything you did, gave you such simple happiness.

I remember the first guy I 'fell for'. I gave him my best eraser, just like that. And errr...no, he didn't give me anything in return. And yes, the next day I took my eraser back...without telling him! I recall being angry then, and promising myself never to like any other guy ever. But did I keep that promise? Hell, no! And now, I laugh at that old, or rather the young girl who so easily gave up on "love".

I understand now that these silly crushes are important, they teach you how to fall and then get up, cry a bit and then move on. Thats how it is and will remain until you come across that one person you know you'd want to "spend the rest of your life with" (Then again, even that doesn't mean "happily ever after")

But there are some people of my age as well as older at times who need to understand this. The moment you get in a relationship, you need to remember that at some point this would end, but you don't have to dwell on that faraway day every second. Enjoy it while the relationship lasts. When it does end, cry, be depressed and then smile and accept it. The decision to be in the relationship was not wrong, just the person you chose to be in it with was for you. And, hey! Who cares, just as long as you had fun? You got your fair share of smiles as well as your fair share of pain. It is as simple as that.

After all---
If it were meant to be easy, they wouldn't have called it "crush" ;)

~~The Girl.

A dancer that she was.

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A dancer that she was
She was restless. Her feet wanted to move and toes wanted to wriggle around on beats. Her hands and fingers took forms of their own and her gestures automatically turned elegant. She didn't have to worry about her posture. It was perfect. But then again, everything about her was. The curve of her waist was that of a flower vase, carefully designed.                                                                                   

Her supple calves were rounded with the strength that of a woman. Her neck was long and shoulders straight. Her long dark hair rolled and draped with a simple white cloth. Her dress flowed with her. When she swirled, the earth paused. When she lifted her leg, her body turned into that of a swan. When she raised her hands high above, she resembled an opulent statue, carefully taking birth under the hands of a sculptor. 

The joyful steps came to her. Her body moved at its own will. Her mind surrendered and she became a slave to the unheard music.

She was deaf. She was a dancer.
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~~The Girl.
                                                                                                                                       

Finally it goes up!

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He woke up in search of something he knew he wouldn't find. The sun's rays peeked through his tiny window as slyly as he usually tip toed to his little sister's bedroom. He rubbed the sleep from his tired eyes and carefully searched for his slippers with his toes. Sighing, he had to get up and lean to find them with the help of his dim witted eyes. The general clatter of a few utensils that they owned told him that the food was ready. No prize for guessing what laid there on the second-hand wooden table his father had purchased. He took a look in the mirror before opening the quivering door. The mirror, albeit cracked, was squeaky clean. Sighing once again as his hair refused to obey him, he strolled toward a small room they proudly called the dining space.

The sister was smiling like a little angel but it'd take more than a smile to make them laugh that day. However usual the day sounded, it was the day when his sister had to suffer an operation. Being a 2 year old, she had no idea what laid ahead of her. But for that matter, none of them knew that either. Because isn't life all about surprises? That is exactly what he had written on his wall in his ragged handwriting decorated with broken spellings-- "Lif is al abot supprisses"

                     ***

He gently laid his sister down. Carefully arranging the sheet, he adjusted the pillow on which her round head rested. He brushed back the soft brown curls from her chalk white forehead. For the first time he noticed how long her dark eyelashes were, just like their mother. This amazed him as he believed he knew her by heart. He could close his eyes and draw her beautiful face without thinking twice. The curve of her forehead, the roundness of her cheeks with a little hint of blush in them, the small button like nose which was as straight as the new ruler he had bought her, just so that she could play with it. Her lips soft and unnaturally pink. The milk teeth white and perfect. She had inherited three dimples from their parents, one on each cheek and the last on the curved chin. Her light eyebrows were perfect arches above her big dark round eyes which were the most striking features of her.

"Its time you let her go", his father whispered.

He nodded and choked back a cry. A cry of frustration, of anger and of grief. Grief of never seeing that smile again, those dimples which took a quick glance at the world when the smile brightened.
He will never see that laughter in her eyes again. Those eyes have hugged the darkness for ever, leaving his with nothing but tears which will wet his face and dry his soul up.

"May the soul rest in peace"

They turned and walked away, crying. And for the first time in 13 months of complete dryness, the sky cried with them.
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~~The Girl.

A quick post, yes sir.

A quick post to inform you all that I finished writing two short stories in a row today.

One is of merely 10 lines talking about how two people are in love in the true sense of the meaning. Its not your usual mushy stuff, so don't worry. It goes a little deeper than that and has been summed up in just a paragraph.

The other one is longer than the aforementioned and is about a father-daughter relationship. This is something I am planning to make my daddy read. But I am a little apprehensive in showing the story to him.

If you want to read these stories or the previous ones, please drop in a comment. I'd be more than happy to share them with you =)

Till then,

~~The Girl.

Two and a half done!

¡Hola

True that I haven't received a single comment on any of my posts, but nevertheless I refuse to get disheartened.

So now I have a story under progress, a finished poem AND a short story which just witnessed its last full stop ; )

I don't know if they will ever end up being published on my blog since that depends entirely on my readers but I am proud of them even if I say so myself! = P

With so many smileys at the end of every paragraph you must have guessed that I am in a cheerful mood and you are right! I am, reason being...nothing. And thats the best part about my happiness. I am happy because I want to be happy, I feel like being happy = )

But I guess thats not entirely true. I came to check my stats on this blog and guess what? SEVEN page-views in ONE day! Isn't that fantastic?!?!

So if you have been viewing my blog, thank you!

Despedida!

~~The Girl.

Tried something new

Hello!

So I have tried my hand at poetry and would like to share it only if you, my reader would like to read.

Its a poem solely based on questions a girl is asking her friend about why exactly did their friendship change. I wouldn't lie and say that its not at all related to my life. In fact, the opposite is true. Something that happened to me 2 years back has inspired me to convert it into a poem.

Anyhoo. So please let me know if you'd like to read it. Because if I don't get a response, I won't publish it.
Its my humble request, kindly don't ignore.

Just drop a word = )

~~ The Girl.