Just A Small Rant

via Daily Prompt: Instinct

I don’t share my grief with people.

Call it instinct. Or call it pride.

Show of sympathy by others when I’m grieving is just that – a show. “I understand what you’ve been through…” No, you don’t. You are just trying to make me feel better, which I appreciate, but the words you speak are as genuine as Donald Trump’s tan.

When I’m grieving, leave me to myself. If you want to help, make a cup of tea.

Don’t give me the “There is a life after death”, “It was meant to be” bullshit. Please.

I may not be an adult, but that doesn’t mean you need to dumb down serious things like death for me. If it hurts, it hurts. No two ways about it.

I like my tablets like I like my words – without sugarcoating.


This goes out to you…



Mind-bogglingly insane

Or so sensible that it kills me

Optimistic and ever ready for a bit of fun

Never seen you angry (thankfully)

Indeed lovely with ivory skin and ebony hair

Sweet, smart and sassy

Always there for a friend, no matter what.

Happy birthday to you!


Wishing you common sense, brains, and an even larger heart on 13th April. Many happy returns to the infernally awesome  M••n¡$@# .  And yeah, this is my birthday gift to you. No more expectations!



P.S. – And thanks for the promotion!


Zayn Malik, Nirbhaya And Other Mega Face-Palm Moments

Disclaimer – The below mentioned incidents are true to the best of my knowledge (which is not much to go by, I know) and *may* contain exaggerations.

Some people know something. Many people know nothing. And when these two types clash, you can expect some fireworks and (mega) face-palms.

You guys have probably met my freaker zombie friend, Sanjana. She is someone who rocks at making other people’s ears bleed with her (non)sense.

So this was back when Ellie Goulding was a rage in the school with Love Me Like You Do. Every self-respecting teenager had atleast heard of Ellie Goulding with all that talk about her. So it came as a surprise when my friend and I were singing that song in an annoying shrill voice and THIS happened…

Friends: So love me like you do, la la love me like you do..

Sanjana: Ugh! I hate this song!!! He’s got such a stupid sing-song voice!

Me: He?

Sanjana: He, you know. Zayn Malik. The guy who sung Love Me Like You Do? He sounds like a girl!





Me: Guess what? The new Juvenile Justice Act  just came into force! I’m really happy that the age has been reduced from 18 to 16!

Moonisah: Really? That’s so cool! Finally, everybody gets justice.

Sanjana: I know, right! Finally, we have the right to vote at the age of 16 itself!

Me (*almost spits out the water that I was drinking*): WHAT?!?!?!

Moonisah (*taking a deep breath*): Sanajana, have you ever heard of Nirbhaya?

Sanajana (*looking genuienely surprised at our reaction*): The name sounds familiar…who is she again?


God save our souls.


Me: Guys, I’m so excited for the Indo-Pak match!!!

Amith: I know! I hope India wins!

Vineet: Yeah, and Rohit Sharma plays so well in Eden Gardens!

Moonisah: I know! But I never understood why he was never included in the national squad…I mean, he plays so well in the IPL!

Me, Amith, Vineeth (*horrified expression*):




Not that I myself wasn’t the cause of such facepalms before…but that is for another day!

In celebration of the Mega-Facepalm Spring Equinox (okay, I just made that up), share your facepalm moments in the comments below!

Cheers, and a Happy Easter!

Peace to the victims of Brussels’ terror attacks.


Meet The YOLOs – #1

So, yeah. Exams are going on, and I have a hell lot of stuff to study. So why don’t I blog for a while?

Today, you’ll be meeting one of the most…let’s say, colourful members of the YOLO group. Ladies and gentleman, please welcome (with slow claps): THE FREAK-OUT QUEEN (AKA Sanjana)!!!

Appearance – This is how she usually looks:



Legend has it that the day Sanjana relaxes before a test, the world will end and everybody will die. In order to let this prophecy remain unfulfilled (and thus, “save” everyone), she freaks out (and freaks other people out) everyday. That’s commitment and dedication for you.

How our conversations go –

-Before the exam-

Me: Hey, you studied for tomorrow’s exam?

She: No dude, I’m going to fail, I’ll die at the end of this exam, I’ll get very less, I’ll lose some 80 marks in the paper (the paper’s for 90 marks), my mom will kill me, I’ll end up on the roads (some crap that I stop listening to)…

Me – Chillax, It’s going to be…

She – No, no, no! What if everything I DON’T know comes in the exam? What if everyone passes EXCEPT me? What if…(some other waht-ifs that I can’t hear as I have plugged my ears)…

-After the exam-

Me: Hey, how did it go?

She: Horrible! I’m losing three marks! THREE FREAKING MARKS! My life sucks! My mom will kick me out of the house, I’ll end up on the road, I’ll start begging…

Me- *mega facepalm*

Friendship- She is the eternal victiom of our endless practical jokes (*slow evil smile*). Let’s just say that making her watch Pillow Talk (“It’s a song JUST made for you! Do listen, you’ll love it more than you loved The Heart Wants What It Wants!”) did not instill her faith in true friendship…

Other than that, she is a SWEET person, once you get past the fact that she derives immense pleasure from annoying others.

th7I8DOX55She makes you go like this at times, but once in a blue moon, she tells this to you:


And you be like:


And then she be like:


Really. She IS eternally annoying, sweet and (you guessed it) freaking out.

Spirit Animal – Must be a jackass that can transform into a rabbit at will (and yes, those two MUST freak out on a daily basis).

unt2itled                  44untitled

Spirit Song – If Ed Sheeran wrote “Freaking Out Now” instead of Thinkink Out Loud, that would be her spirit song…

So what sort of freak-out friend do you have? Let me know in the comments below!

P.S. – Wanna see her actually freaking out? See the comments here and below!


A Friend Like You

“You stood by me,

When I was suffering…

You consoled me,

When I was crying…

You supported me,

When I was struggling.

What would I do,

Without a friend like you?


You know my darkest secret,

And my worst moments.

Even though you know me completely,

You always discover something new in me.

You have contributed to my success,

And helped me overcome my failures.

What would I do,

Without a friend like you?”

These are the first stanzas of the poem written by Krina, my best friend, and I last year for our school magazine (which never got published). We brainstormed this one, spending only one week for drafting,writing, editing, rewriting, and submitting the poem. I am proud to say that it received much appreciation from our jealous classmates.


Krina and I were more like best frenemies, I guess, We both had incredibly conflicting personalities – she was an extroverted, pretty, social butterfly; and I, an introverted, reclusive bookworm. We were not meant to be an example of perfect friendship.

Every other day, we’d yell at each other (okay, she’d rarely yell, I was the one who did all the yelling). Stuff like hearing “Don’t judge me, okay! Do you know ANYTHING about my life?” and “You…You used me! You used me completely like…like a tissue paper!!!” were common to our classmates. Often, these things sounded so stupid and cliched to ourselves that as soon as we said it, we’d forget our argument and start rolling on the floor with laughter. Such was our friendship.


Despite all our conflicts, we both had a common dream: to grow up, do well in our respective careers (Krina wants to be a vet while I want to be a lawyer, yeah, I love arguing), become rich, and then build a free school for poor kids with a pet shelter attached. Odd as it may seem, the school idea was Krina’s and the pet shelter idea was mine.

We have already designed the uniform, wanting it to be modern and snazzy, unlike our current uniform (which looks like something out of a 1940’s black-and-white TV). Our modern ideas don’t want to trouble kids with books. Solution? Use tabs!!! The school won’t have the same, old, boring model making – it’ll have cool, virtual 3D models. And most importantly, we won’t have the boring, drowsy teacher-student school – we’ll redefine the meaning of school. And we still hope that we will become rich enough to implement all these ideas – for free.


One vivid memory I cherish with my friends is the day I gobbled Krina’s lunch. She had brought this delicious aloo paratha to school. Hindi, the (then) most boring subject had just gotten over, and my friends and I were starving. I had brought a banana (ugh!!!) and my friends had fared no better. So when Krina opened her box of deliciously warm aloo paratha and sauce, it was too much to resist. Provided that her mom was an excellent cook. Suffice to say, I went home with a full stomach and an empty mind, thanking Krina, while Krina went home with an empty stomach and and a full mind – plotting revenge.




Our tastes vastly differed in music too. While I desired melodious pieces by Arijit Singh, Krina preferred Yo Yo Honey Singh’s rap. As a result: conflict. However, we overcame these differences very soon, and started liking the other’s faves. Now, I love Blue Eyes and she loves Milne Hai Mujse AayiIn fact, it is more than that, we both are avid followers of both Arijit Singh and Yo Yo Honey Singh.

All said and done, we both are inter-dependent on each other. We live in a symbiotic relationship. Even now, whenever I am incredibly upset, I call her, have a good cry, get consolation, start smiling, and keep the phone. The same goes for her too.

What would I do without a friend like you, Krina???

For Writing 201, Finding Your Angle and Mystery Ending.

The ‘Sporting’ Spirit: Part 3

(Note this is the third part in The ‘Sporting’ Spirit series. The first and second parts are fun to read too!) 

As I went to sixth, I realized two things. One, I had found that I’m gonna be a miserable failure in sports. Two, I had lost. Just lost. The name ‘Sloth Aunty’ stuck to me permanently, making me (an ardent animal lover) hate sloths.

Last year, I was forced to participate in a long jump competiton. I fretted and protested, pretended I was sick and couldn’t participate, but there was absolutely NO other choice. I had lost my challenge with sports, and I was NOT willing to continue.

No, they said, no other choice for you. I grumbled and went to the long jump ground, thinking many things. I was a sort of unconditional teacher’s pet, so I was incredibly unpopular among students. To put salt on wounds, I was a volunteer too, which made me even more unpopular. I cannot be more unpopular than this, I thought.

I never knew just how much more unpopular this game would make me.

Well. No use crying over split milk. The game started. However much I hate to admit it, the boys were amazing – only at athletics. I enviously glared at the slim, lithe girls (who looked sooo like me, but performances in sports were reversed).

Finally it was my chance. I took a deep breath. As soon as I started running, everybody howled. Cries of ‘Sloth Aunty!’, ‘Madvaanthi (vaanthi means ‘vomit’ in many Dravidian languages)’. I was used to this. I could do this.

As soon as the arena came into focus, I leaped. Without any false allusions. Distance I had jumped? 5 cm. No surprise, I thought, as the crowd booed behind me.

The second run proved to have the same result. As I sat down, thoroughly exhausted, I thought. What is wrong in losing? People will make fun of you? You will have lowered self-esteem? Nobody will respect you? You will become unpopular? So WHAT???

There is nothing wrong in any of these. Why then, should we feel ashamed. Failure is the stepping stone to success. Failure teaches us. Not only do we learn (ahem) from our mistakes, we also discover our strengths. We learn what works for us and what doesn’t through trial-and-error. Though this might take some (actually a very long) time, we eventually discover what we are good at.

I discovered something. Though I had lost (miserably), some day or the other, I’ll finally find SOME sport in which I WILL outshine others. I have lost my adventurous spirit once, but now that I have found it, I’ll never lose it again.

For Writing 101, Day Sixteen



The ‘Sporting’ Spirit: Part 2

(This is a sequel to The ‘Sporting’ Spirit: Part 1).

Well. My misadventures with sports continued as I grew up.

This time, though, I was in fourth grade. It was the semis of a inter-class friendly shuttle relay competition(I had been selected solely due to the hard work of my team and no credit goes to me). The sun burnt our backs as we stood waiting, surveying the opponent.  We had just drunk barrels of glucose and were ready to steamroll the opponent.

I am sure all of you must have heard of shuttle relay. There will be two teams, consisting of eight or ten members each. four will be on one side and the remaining four on the other. The shuttle has to be passed from one person to another. The team in which all the players have reached the opposite side first will be the winner. Such a simple game. A piece of cake for me, I thought.

I was standing at the front, ready to roll. The referee blew the whistle. I moved like lightening, defeating even Usain Bolt (or so I felt). While I was busy day-dreaming, the girl who was supposed to receive the shuttle was hitting her head. As soon as she got the shuttle, she wasted a precious second and spat at me. Must be crazy, I thought. She moved fast, but not fast enough, I thought.

The next five minutes was a blur of sand and sun. As the dust storm cleared up, I looked up, eagerly awaiting the results. I entered into another day dream, people lifting me on their shoulders and carrying me, triumphant, back to our class. What a bitter disappointment.

Our team had an epic defeat. Seems that I had moved even slower than a sloth (leading to one of my nicknames, ‘Sloth Aunty’). Though all the others tried to make up my speed by running like the mind, my slowness cost them all. “Thin doesn’t always mean fast,” they remarked spitefully. Well, I still take consolation from the fact that our opponent lost in the finals.

Like they say in America, ‘you can’t win ’em all’.

I have just found out one thing.


For Writing 101, Day Thirteen

School’s Out!

When the final bell rings, there is a silent whoop of joy in the class. The clear ringing of the bell signifies the end of a day long of torture. The students plead with their eyes for the teacher to get out quick, instead of going around the class. As soon as she jaunts out, the students laugh and talk. They take their time getting their things and strut around the corridor with leisure. Alas for them, as the school volunteers yell at them to keep in the line. So again, time slows down and the line seems to move down the stairs slower then ever.

But this scene changes drastically downstairs.Boys yell and scream, the girls stroll the grounds, gossiping with leisure. But time flies, and soon, it is time to go home. Students are angry at being stopped in mid-conversation, but they sigh and resign to their fates as teachers drive them outside with pleasure.

But the conversation continues outside, especially ones about terrible teachers discussed with vigor. Well, well, students will be students, no matter what. All this chatter continues until they reach their destinations – bus stops, car pool, home, whatever.

Looking at this scene from my mind’s eye has proved to be enjoyable, indeed.

For Writing 101, Day Eight

The ‘Sporting’ Spirit: Part 1

Note: This is a series of misadventures in my attempts to be noticed in the sporting world of my school. These are intended to be of humorous nature (though they’re real, of course) and are not to be taken seriously.

When I was a child, I was always made to think that I rock at everything. Well, parents tend to do that a bit. But what happened was that I grew a bit overconfident.

See, till now, I’ve always rocked at academics. Never have I gone below the grade of A2 in my class. Yeah, people call me nerd, bookworm, and all that, but they know who’s the boss when they need help in studies.

But I always wanted to prove my mettle in sports. I had huge dreams of being on TV channels, with the anchor saying, ‘This young lady here is not only the school topper, she’s also the best sportsperson in her district!!!’ and that sort of stuff.

My dreams started failing from kindergarten itself. We had an obstacle race. Three people competed, I and two of my best friends. The race was pretty simple, actually. Large chairs were placed in a garden. You had to run from the starting point to the ending, and back to the starting again, either by jumping over, or ducking under the obstacles.

The race begin. I envisioned myself as swift as the wind. I jumped over the chairs and reached the end point first. Confident of winning on the way back, I decided to try something different. Instead of jumping over, I tried ducking. That proved fatal. I got stuck.

Needless to say, by the time I was out, my friends were given the gold and silver medal. Sorry, no bronze medal for you, they said.

Till this day, I hate obstacle races.

For Writing 101, Day Four