via Discover Challenge: One, Two, Three!
One: Love is ablaze,
Emblazoning my heart with
Your name in passion.
Two: Whirlwind of thoughts
What am I doing? Is this
Truly meant to be?
Three: Cracks spread on my
Frozen heart, breaking it fur-
ther, beyond repair.
That’s pretty deep.
Because it’s not the fall that kills you, Sherlock. Of all people, you should know that, it’s not the fall, it’s never the fall. It’s the landing!
– Jim Moriarty from Sherlock
Life.
Cruising.
Bones.
Tingling.
Blood.
Racing.
She thought it was flight,
So she flew with delight.
But she soon lost sight
And fell into the night.
Slowly, the rancid smell
Crept up her nose.
Slowly, the claustrophobia,
Swallowed her soul.
With fear in her eyes
And pain in her voice,
She was too late to realise
That she had landed in her pit of lies.
Life.
Crushed.
Bones.
Broken.
Blood.
Flowing.
Considering that Robert Downey Jr. and Tony Stark (!) were my first crushes, this was a no-brainer for me! #TeamIronMan #TeamStark
(Though Cap looks amazing in this poster…wait, did I make the right choice? YES, I DID!)
So what about you?
Talk to me.
Tell me why you left me.
Flash that grin once again at me
It will last me for an eternity.
Talk to me.
Tell me why you left me.
A whisper in that husky voice
Will silence all my heart’s noise.
Talk to me.
Tell me why you left me.
I’m ready to wait for an infinity
To see that familiar wink at me.
Talk to me.
Tell me why you left me.
I miss your ringing laughter,
But I’ll love you forever after.
Oh, talk to me, please!
So I’ve been binge-watching Sherlock so much that the only word that can define me is insane addict SHERLOCKED!!!
I’ve been so Sherlocked that it is the only thing I’m talking about these days.
Friend – Yo, how did you score on the Science exam?
Me – I got 81.5 on 90.
Friend – That’s good! Then why the long face?
Me – Sherlock would have got more…
Friend – *face palms*
And Benedict Cumberbatch is fabulous as Sherlock Holmes. The same class and elan, sarcasm, and wit cannot be seen elsewhere.
So guys, DO WATCH Sherlock. Life is worthless if you don’t. And for all the boys out there waiting for a glimpse of me:
The Ashes!
I am probably the only cricket fan to be more worried with Michael Clarke retiring than England winning the Ashes.
Michael Clarke!
Face it, Pup is one of the best Test cricketers our generation has ever seen. With a top score of 329* and an overall score of 8,615 in Tests, you just cannot deny that Clarke is THE BEST.
I’ve always had a crush on him and was shattered when he announced his retirement from ODIs. Now that he has retired from Tests, I’m sure I’ll never enjoy Australia playing again.
Maybe I just have to hope that his last match at the Oval turns out great. Goodbye Pup.. 😦
Oh, I almost forgot. Congratulations to England for successfully making Michael Clarke retire winning the Ashes!
I tore my eyes away from the mirror with great difficulty. I had been staring at my reflection: those dark, brooding eyes, with bags under them. The long, black, hair, caked with blood. The thin, gaunt, face, drained of colour, with hollow cheekbones, staring with empty eyes.
Had I really become like this? Was I, Draupadi, the daughter of Drupada, reduced to such a condition? Was I the once lovable princess, who was now mocked as the ‘Dusky Firebrand’?
And it doesn’t seem so long back too…
It was with great difficulty that I could tear my eyes away from the mirror. My lustrous face had a sort of grim beauty in it. My dark, beautiful eyes radiated power. My long, black hair was braided with thin skeins of gold. Glistening diamonds dripped from my neck. Colourful butterflies flew in my stomach.
“Draupadi,” my best friend said, “It’s time now.”
I ran up to Krishna and hugged him. “I’ll miss you,” I gasped, my breaths is short bursts.
“Come now, Draupadi. It’s not like you’re abandoning me. I’m married, I have a family of my own. It’s high time you got married too. And off you go!”
Easy for him to say. He simply eloped with the girl he wanted and had a happily-ever-after. The man I wanted to marry…he was dead. His remains were charred beyond recognition. I was distraught.
“Here enters Her Royal Highness, Prince Draupadi!” the guard announced, while trumpets rented the air. I absolutely hated that sound.
I could feel hundred-and-twenty pairs of eyes on me. All the good-for-nothing princes who wanted my hand in marriage. And to marry me, they had to fulfil the impossible task…
“Gentlemen, I’m deeply honoured by your presence here. I understand that all of you are gathered here to marry my daughter,” Drupada said.
The crowd stirred uneasily. They all had heard that some impossible task had been designed for my swayamvar. The one who succeeded first could marry me. That meant it could be anyone. Ugh.
“Look yonder. The princes vying for Draupadi’s hand has to string this bow made of metal,” many disappointed sighs could be heard, “and shoot only one arrow at the eye of a revolving fish, while looking only at its reflection in a bowl of water.”
As soon as these words were said, half of the princes present got up, and with arrogant sneers on their face, left the palace. I sighed in relief. Atleast most of the ugly ones had gone.
I glanced at Krishna. He was sitting motionless. I blinked out some tears. This whole, elaborate, set-up was designed in such a way that only Arjuna, the greatest archer in the world, could shoot the fish. And he was dead.
It was with great difficulty that I had managed to get over Arjuna’s death. Krishna was Arjuna’s best friend. He had never shown any sign of grief, so I guessed that he was still in shock.
The next few hours went in a blur for me. None of the princes couldn’t even lift the bow. They had no chance of marrying me. What losers.
Suddenly, I sat up.
He was tall and handsome, dressed in a golden armour, and wearing earrings as bright as the sun. His jet black fell elegantly on his face as he fixed his determined opal black eyes on me.
In short, he was GORGEOUS.
He picked up the bow with surprising ease. I stared at him, mesmerized. He lifted the bow, ready to shoot, when…
“Draupadi, Draupadi!” Krishna hissed from his throne.
“Isn’t he gorgeous?” I sighed.
“Silly girl, do you know who he is?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care.”
“He is Karna.”
(to be continued)
All the names have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals, much as I wish otherwise. Oops, I must be forgiving! Also for Blogging 201.
It all began when Mohan asked me, ‘Why don’t you show us the right answers during exams?’
‘Because I’m very sincere and honest,’ I replied curtly. Priyanka, who was sitting next to me, giggled. Being the class topper meant that I had to hear the same rubbish every day.
‘Is it why you have not yet told him that you love him?’ Mohan asked, a slow, lecherous grinning spreading across his pimpled face. I froze.
There was NO WAY anybody could know about my feelings for him. NO WAY meant NO WAY. The only soul (apart from my cousins, scattered across the country) who knew this secret was my best friend, Sweetie. And there was absolutely NO WAY she would have told that to anyone. Especially Mohan.
‘I don’t believe it,’ I replied. I could feel Priyanka’s dark eyes boring through me, curious about my secret crush.
‘Don’t you? Well then, for all your grades, you are a fool. The biggest fool I’ve ever seen. While we were playing hide and seek in Sweetie’s house, she told me, Asha, Cathy, and him. How you cried and cried over him. Ask her if you want,’ Mohan challenged.
Things that had seemed very silly and random before made perfect sense now. The memory was clear as day. The day I visited Sweetie’s house with her pals. Heaven was on Earth that day.
The unanimous decision to play hide and seek (ultimately kiddish at that time); everyone’s vote to make me the seeker; malicious looks from everyone when I talked with him; his vain attempts to defend me from Mohan’s spiteful remarks; Sweetie’s superior behaviour after the game; oh, it all made sense now. How blind I had been!
Various emotions coursed through me: misery, despair, anger, and rage. But two only two emotions could be felt distinctly – the burning hot feeling of self-preservation, and freezing cold fury. Both of them mixed with the adrenaline, running through my veins, eating me from within.
‘You can tell your darling Sweetie that I do not have a crush on him anymore.’
I couldn’t believe I had just said that. I had doodled his name in my personal diary for a year. I had admired the way his dark brown hair stood out regally from the rest for two years. I had written wild adventure stories with him for three years. And I had known him for four years.
‘Liar,’ Mohan said, and laughed.
All sounds had been drained out. I was not able to think coherently. I vaguely realized that I was cracking, cracking beyond repair. I was cracking right in front of the girl, whom I had consoled after her first breakup. What will she even think of me now? I had no answer.
I bent my head on the hard wooden desk. Priyanka put her hand around me.
‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ she asked.
I nodded mutely.
‘Let the tears flow, Mads. They will cleanse you, they will heal your soul.’
‘I’ve cried for over three months now, Priyanka. I don’t have any tears left,’ I said, my voice rough with concealed emotions.
‘Just let it go, Mads.’
My mind had this annoying habit of playing BGM whenever I experienced any strong emotion.
Let it go, let it go! / Can’t hold it back any more.
Let it go, let it go! / Turn away and slam the door.
I don’t care what they’re going to say / Let the storm rage on / The cold never bothered me anyway.
This was the song that played when the first, salty, tear slid down my cheek.
Just lost a wonderful relationship abruptly? Try In The End. Rift in your relationship? What about New Divide? Identity crisis? Let Numb free you. Struck in the same trouble that I was in? Let It Go. Let the Iridescent prism brighten your life.
Share your troubles, and I’ll share the lessons. Share the love.
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