Thursday, February 14, 2013

A Step Back In Time

DAY-1
Blue
sky
beckons
brush of dreams;
But in my palette
smudged with past
regrets-
no 
hues.

Poetry Form: Mirrored Fibonacci 

Thanks to Leo for another poetry challenge. Here is the first one.






Monday, February 11, 2013

When truth pricks like shards...

Shadows I guard in graves of dark,
broken things I hide in places I wont find,
peep like disaster seeking scraps of debris;
like sun seeking cracks of light.

Flowers that wilt but wont fall,
like the dry paper skin on my heart.
Quickly becoming a shroud on my soul,
turning thoughts into a lifeless gore.

Strikes on paper like barbed wires at the border,
sucking away the current of my words,
stare at me with mocking wonder-
What I was and what I have become.

An excited heart I cant control,
Spinning yarns of delightful nothings.
Imagination- That kite would soar,
Other's rain becomes my cloudless sky.

A lonely hand scribbling away,
doesn't stop except to wipe the tears.
People who have everything give away nothing
A bitter truth I realize today

Friday, February 8, 2013

College Rants#2: All about a 'Rose Day'


I need to put in a disclaimer before I start this. If from the title anyone is expecting a mushy mushy story of how a tall, hot guy with a husky voice(like Jason wade’s) gave me a bunch of  roses and I blushed a color deeper than the flowers in my hand, then they might better stop reading here already :D
There is nothing but disappointment ahead then. A love life can’t be expected from me anyways :P

So though I wasn’t the one fitting into the above description, a few girls from my hostel did. One of them was Joyeeta’s friend and she got a whole bunch of 55 red roses wrapped up prettily in pink ribbons. I would be denying my hopelessly romantic side a turn if I say I wasn’t jealous over it :D but I did wonder what would happen to those poor flowers once they dry up. Won’t they be a sorry sight to see?

No offence but I agree with Antara’s words over it. 55 red roses would freak me out as well. Roses look so pretty on plants. More real. The smell of the earth when you go near them makes them more alive. And don’t fallen petals look more beautiful on the ground than between the pages of a diary?
I mean, they even get decomposed and enrich the humus :D

Ok enough of showing off ‘gyan’.

So snubbing down this very practical, smart, roses-look-more-beautiful-on-the-plant-instead-of-being-enwrapped-with-showy-pink-ribbons side of me, I couldn’t help but whining to Joyeeta that we didn’t get any of this (its fun, this whining. It has become a routine these days :D)

So in order to console ourselves, we promised to get each other a rose. Just like that. And a casually spoken thing became our heart and soul for yesterday’s evening.
We decided to get roses for our other friends as well others who were vase-less and rose-less like us.
And so we did, sharing the money between us (cuz we were both going bankrupt) and in the spur of the moment, I suggested to tag little notes on them as well.

It was fun, sneaking in the paper covered roses into the room with the questioning eyes of rose-identification expert love-gurus following us :D

It was doubly fun to write tiny notes on my yellow post-it stamps as well, grinning as we imagined their reactions.

It was fun to trot along the corridors of the hostel delivering the roses, smiling to the squeals of excited thanks-you’s and enjoying the glances of envy from the people we didn’t consider ‘important enough to include in our list :D(the actual thing was we weren’t rich or selfless enough to spend hundreds on roses that would wilt in a few days anyways).

We saved our favourite people to the very end, entering the mush beloved Room 216 with the roses hidden behind our backs.

The 3 were sitting on adjacent beds, Rimli (Sulagna) on hers and Huttu (Sanchita) and Ruku (Rukmini) on Huttu’s bed.

The mood seemed somber, you wouldn’t expect anything less than high pitched squeals and shouts from their room. I didn’t give it much thought, eager to see the smiles of surprise as we handed the roses. But I got nothing in return and my heart was already hurt when I saw the thing that brought a swooping sensation in my gut. Huttu’s eyes were rimmed in red, her cheeks and nose pink as she gave a weak smile in response to my ‘kichu to bol’.

I don’t have words to explain what I felt then, I still feel sad as that image of her swims before my eyes. I wouldn’t have reacted this way had I seen any other girl cry; I somehow felt this overpowering sense of fear as I saw Huttu that way.

Huttu who was so cheerful and smiling all the time. Huttu who handled her feelings so well, was so strong without being insensitive, was so controlled without being cold.

I know everyone has their own limit of endurance and that threatens to break sometime but seeing her like that shocked me to the core. It was like seeing someone so strong like my brother cry for that is what Sanchita is to me here- a person so sensible that I borrow sense from time to time, a girl I look up to in many ways, a person I would rely on for good advice- my first friend in this unknown place.

So though she wouldn’t tell me what the matter was, I hoped with all my heart she would smile soon again.
I couldn’t stop my tears as I escaped into our bathroom under the pretext of washing clothes, I just kept thinking about her face and that brought a round of tears again.

Padfoot was in pain. How could Prongs be happy?

When Joyeeta and Rimli came to exclaim over my silliness, I let them call me ‘Pagol’ and ‘Ki public’; my feelings were in a mess to be explained.
Huttu was back to her normal self after that I got called ‘ki public aachis re’ a lot more times but if any amount of my silliness could bring a smile on my friend’s face, I was ready to be called a ‘public’ all my life.

So my small attempt to bring a smile on my friend’s face somewhat went in vain and my heart ached to see someone so close to me in pain but apart from that, at least I tried.

I knew how lonely it got sometimes, living so far away from the people you truly love, people who don’t need roses for love to be expressed(I talk about my family here. Don’t misinterpret :P) and it felt nice to see smile on someone’s face because of you, even if your own smile was lost somewhere J

Love is in the air now. I am hearing about ‘days’ I didn’t have a hint of before in theses seventeen ‘day’-less years of my life :D

I probably have a lot more mushiness to see around me I guess but whatever the ‘days’ might come, I have ink on my hands to gloat over and a shy rose standing in the glass I drink horlicks in (with lots of sugar and milk powder and good-day cashew to go with :D) given to me by Joyeeta, with a Huttu who tries her best to smile again, keeps my heart beating without troubling me (No, I am not a heart patient :P)

And that is more than enough.

A-girl-who-wont-wish-any-‘day’-to-her-readers
Kirti

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

College Rants#1: A very confused girl

I couldn't sleep last night. And that is very unusual for a person like me. I can sleep in any kind of surrounding possible; I just need a pillow over my eyes, one under my head and one to hold on to :D
But despite the fulfillment of my sleeping criteria, I couldn't sleep last night. 

It has something to do with the extreme turmoil in my head I think. And this gives me a sense of deja vu. Well not deja vu really because something very similar to this has happened before, the night before my Electronics and Electrical Engineering practical exam to be very precise.

I feel awkward to go into details over it; silly of me to be shy in writing something on my own blog but it somehow feels this way. I know I am talking in circles and no one can make out head or tail of what I am saying, I cant myself :P

This turmoil I am talking about has mostly to do with peer pressure(well this is the conclusion I have reached to after extreme thinking last night. I mean, I have to blame it something other than my sanity :P) I try my best to not let it get to me but in my sleep deprivation state yesterday, I couldn't just shut out the murmured conversations of my roommates late into the night.

The turmoil I talk about is the effect of something that happened before this but this just added to the utter confusion. Again, I found myself wanting something I don't know and when Joyeeta asked me what I really wanted, I couldn't reply.

I couldn't help but feeling lonely and the book I was reading(A handmaid's tale) just added to the already overflowing feelings. And when my mother didn't call me in the morning like she usually did, I felt like bursting into tears.
I don't kid when I say that I have no one in my life except my parents and my brother. I dont kid when I complain that they have forgotten me when they call me a bit late. And though I pretend to be indifferent, almost everyone around me talking endlessly on phones(you can guess with who) gets to me sometimes.

But the so-called 'turmoil' doesnt have this as the sole reason. It has something to do with... how do I say this, I feel so awkward :D
Something to do with likingapersonIdontreallyknowbutwanttoknow??? :P
There you are- you have a very typical teenage girl ranting about her silly, superficial problems.

Sigh.

This is so downright silly isnt it? I know that I would be guffawing when I read this post like after two three years but at the moment I would rather dwell in the misery of the situation :P
It seems harmless enough to like someone isnt it? But then my friends here bring in heavy words like 'commitment' and 'future' and 'what next' and it scares the hell out of me.

I have nothing in my past to compare with this, so I think I should probably go and ask for advice from my highly qualified friends but I am too proud to admit my feelings, too proud to let people know that beneath all the I-just-dont-give-a-damn-about-this-shit I am that hopeless romantic scribbling love stories in the back of her chemistry rough copy :P

Hence, this rant on my blog. I am doomed if someone from my college reads this :P but I dont really care(well I do a bit :P) I love my readers, however anonymous, whoever it might be.

I wish I could go back home this weekend. Arpita would SURELY beat this hopeless crap out of me and bring me back on the path of sanity and coolness. I miss you Unni :D

But I cant and it is depressing me to no end. I mean its been hardly THREE days since I came here and it feels as if I have been rotting here for nothing less than 3 months :(
I miss my mother. I miss her warmth. I miss her touch. I miss the free way in which I can talk to her. I miss her so much that thinking about her brings a lump to my throat.
But I have to endure more than a week before I can see her again and till then I will deal with my turmoil somehow. :P

I did no big crime. My hopeless heart just liked a person. Then I wonder why it aches so much.

Sorry for being silly :P
A very confused girl,
Kirti




Tuesday, February 5, 2013

RIP- A book review

About the book:
Name of the book- RIP
Author- Mukul Deva
Publisher- Westland Ltd.
Price- INR 200
ISBN- 978-93-82618-19-5

About the author- Mukul Deva, an alumnus of La Martiniere College, NDA and the Indian Military Academy is considered to be India's literary storm trooper. He is the author of many military thrillers and several best sellers like Lakshar.

About the cover- RIP is a book with an interesting cover. Painted in bright colors it encases the figure of a soldier  staring at the horizon of the country he is saving. The title is interesting as well because it makes you wonder what RIP customarily used for 'Rest in Peace' could possibly mean as the title of a story.

About the back cover- The back cover gives a bit more insight into the mystery exuded from the title. RIP standing for the Resurgent Indian Patriots are self appointed guardians of the nation seething with anger at the never ending scams that were shaking the very foundation of the country. Colonel Krishna Athawale and his special team of Para Commandos have taken the responsibility to stop the corrupt politicians and colluding civil servants even if it means killing them.

My views on the story- The back cover promises a pulse pounding, cracker jack of a thriller and Mukul Deva delivers nothing less than that. RIP is a pageturner, a proper pageturner that would keep you on the edge of your seat and make you turn pages into the night as I did, lying in my hostel bed and reading in a torch light.
The protagonist Colonel Krishna despite his dark motives of killing the people who are looting the nation, is a good man. So are his team of 5 who have enrolled their lives in this dangerous mission with him. The story starts of with rapid murders of corrupt civil servants and a warning ensued to the Government about three similar execution they meant to carry out within the next three days. 
The country is in a turmoil with this sudden attack firing up the waves of anti-corruption rallies and so is the Government; everyone is busy hiding their backs.
The RIP has to be stopped, no matter what because submission to their demands meant digging up past graves of money laundering and corruption. 
Enter Raghav Bhagat, rogue para commando, hired by the corrupt party to stop RIP from its deadly mission.
And then begins a rat race in which everything is at stake- lives, families, love. Racing through different cities of India, RIP is a great thriller.

The best thing I liked about RIP was its brilliant narration that made the story flow effortlessly. Different events taking place with different people in different parts of the country were connected in a seamless way; Kudos to the author for such a good narrative style.
The personal lives of the characters intermingled with the main story was equally effortless and it added a emotive touch to the story, bringing out the characters in a more realistic way.

I loved RIP, I loved the story, Mukul Deva's writing style and the subtle emotions that were written in such a fantastic way. For such a good thriller I have read in ages, I give RIP a wholehearted 9/10.
Grab it people, it is a book worth reading :D


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