On Harley and Watching People Sleep

We’re no strangers to abusive relationships. Most of us have had our fair share of them, be it physically or emotionally. Even well educated individuals find themselves falling head-first into the depressing pit such relationships create for us. Now I am no psychologist, and hence I cannot comment on why and how these happen to the best of us. I am, however, an avid reader and so I will limit my commentary to how such bonds are expressed in literature.

Wuthering Heights is Continue reading

The Great Indian (Gender) Divide

I remember a time when it was socially acceptable for me to play with boys. In fact, during my primary classes I had more interests in common with them than my girl friends. Though it took a LOT of prodding to get accepted into the guy circle, it was worth it, as I finally had someone to play BeyBlade with.  My upper primary, high school and higher secondary classes were all female-only so I had limited to no interaction whatsoever with the opposite gender. Thanks to certain rumors (we all know that girls-only schools thrive on them) I became convinced that men were the cliché wolves in sheep’s clothing and that ‘good’ girls never associated with them. Before I knew it, I had begun to regard interaction between the sexes the same way the society did-I, who used to enjoy playing with my guy friends. This change in perception took even me by surprise, and as college began, I took it upon myself to be more open about such matters. It all went well, I met someone I could consider my best friend, and I was starting to get over my irrational fear of men.

Then I began to notice things change around me. Outside the college, people began to throw disapproving glances whenever I talked with my male classmates. This reached its zenith when an old lady actually pinched me hard when I and a friend were having a perfectly innocent conversation in a bus. We weren’t even loud, and it irked me that I was getting ‘punished’ when he was the one doing all the talking. Even among my peers in a different class I attended, some girls decided to make me an object of observation when I so much as smiled at the general direction of males, as if they were willing me to make one wrong move so they could pounce on me. Now I was the victim and I realized how it felt to be judged.

Is friendship defined by gender? Is there some sort of unspoken code that deems that xx can be friends only with xx? In what is considered a ‘progressive’ society, how is interacting with males a crime? From my experience, male friends can be one of the most treasured people in your life. And even if the relationship is of a romantic nature, its hypocritical how we promote movies about young love but are fiercely antagonistic to it in reality. Is love acceptable only between George and Malar? If we can keep ourselves from throwing bricks at the screen when two lovers hold hands and dance around proclaiming their love, surely we can stop ourselves from pinching the girl who dares to speak with a boy. Surely we can keep ourselves from saying “She deserved it, she was out with her boy friend” about a girl who was raped.  Surely we can keep ourselves from judging others.

What we, as a society, need to realize is that it is none of our business. We have no right to interfere with other people, granted that they are strangers. Even if they are related to us by way of ‘my father’s sister’s husband’s mother’s brother’s son’s granddaughter’ (the kind of messy relationship we Indians bring up only during these situations and marriages), we do not have a say on everything they do. I’ve often come to wonder how it was that my parents and grandparents were comfortable with my guy friends while it was a crime according to random people I didn’t even know.  Our opinions, views and judgments are unwanted-though it seems unacceptable, this is the truth. Gone are the days when girls and boys shied away from each other and a simple touch amounted to being a ‘bad girl’. Gone are the days when women were passive. We are equals now, and as equals we DESERVE to stand with men. We DESERVE to not have our virtue questioned by others just because we exercise our equality.  We DESERVE to be human. And (though its sad that we have to voice this so that people could understand) we DESERVE the right to have companions of both genders.


And to the old lady who pinched me all those days back, my grandma is disgusted by you.


“Can you love?”, I am asked

Their eyes cold and mocking

The words reach my inner child

The weak being inside me

Who craves to love and be loved

But fears rejection.


“Yes.” I whisper

“Yes. Too much.”

The Liebster Award!

It’s barely been two weeks since I started this blog, and already this has been one of the BEST decisions of my life!

More than the followers and likes and comments, this blog now offers me a place to exhibit my thoughts and emotions. It gives a pedestal to ideas which would’ve otherwise been long squashed. Since I have a very demanding academic life, I sadly do not often get the time to read my peers’ works, but I have never been left unsatisfied with any piece of writing you guys have displayed on this stage. Rather, I’ve found myself overwhelmed at many occasions.

I’d like to thank Rollingstones2k16 for including a newbie like me in this award-thingy 🙂 If you guys don’t know, they’re a group of four people who have banded together to create this beautiful blog- https://rollingstones2k16.wordpress.com

So lets get right to the questions, shall we?

1- Why did you decide to start a blog?

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, actually. I’d always wanted to publish my works online, but I’ve always been scared of doing so as well. The night I started this blog, I was procrastinating on studying for my finals. I knew I wasn’t going to get any studying done anyway, so I figured why not?


2- How do you rate yourself as a writer?

This is hard. As a writer my feelings towards my works change dramatically over time. A poem I’d written when I was thirteen and which at that time I’d considered my masterpiece would now make me want to burrow underground to hide away in shame. So I’m content with what I am now, but at the same time I know that I have miles to go before I sleep.


3- Have you found anybody sharing your same likes and dislikes in this space?

I’ve barely just begun my journey, so I can’t attempt to answer this question 🙂 But I would love to find comrades here. So let me see where time takes me!


4- What do you think are the boys or the girls here..more supportive?

I’ve never paid any attention to the genders of my supporters :/ To me, the very fact that they are living breathing entities that have somehow managed to stumble into my blog is a wonder. It seems a little rude to reduce them to their genders, don’t you think? 😛


5- Do you have some hidden passion that you have set aside thinking that it’s not practical to be turned into a profession?

Oh yes. I’m a very shy person normally, but I’ve always had a passion for the stage. I debuted as angel Gabriel in a play during kindergarten and I remember the adults fawning over me and my ‘skills’. But as I grew up, I found myself growing into exactly the opposite of the ideal acting woman. I am short, rather weirdly proportioned (but not enough to be ‘unique’) and lack the conventional beauty movie studios demand. I gave up on my acting dream, but if I were to be quite honest, the pain and disappointment has already vanished!


6- What do you prefer? To be alone or to be with friends?

Right now, I’ve been blessed with some of the most unique and wonderful people around me that I am proud to call my friends. And yes, of course I find it fun to be with them. But I also love being alone with my thoughts. My alone time recharges me when social life tires me out.


7- What do you do when you feel down?

The problem with me is that when I feel down, I’m very very down.(Alternately, when I’m happy I’m often seen flying over the moon farting rainbows and sparkles) Most of the time I just feel so tired that I lie on my bed and pretend to be dead. Other times, I listen to my ‘happy’ playlist or paint.


8- Tell five things you have learnt from your life till now

*No one is coming to save you or wipe your tears away. You should be your own hero.

*If someone hurts you, don’t let them continue, thinking they’d eventually stop. They won’t. 

*Believe a person’s actions. Not their words.

*The ‘forever’ you say when you’re in love will only last a few months in reality.

*You’re NEVER too young to watch cartoons.


9- Can you live without reading for 1 week?

Can I survive? yes, unless I mistake a vial of poison for medicine because I can’t read the label.

But can I live? No. No. No.


10-  Is reading what you love most among your hobbies? If not then what is it?

It depends on my mood. Sometimes I’m a ‘paint-away-my-pain’ person. Sometimes I’m a ‘read-and-escape-reality-cause-it-sucks’ person. And sometimes I’m a ‘eat-away-your-sorrow’ person.


11- Do you mind if you die tomorrow or do you think there are many things you have there to complete before your death?

If the grim reaper comes to collect me tomorrow, I’d probably sulk in a corner and refuse to go with him. I have so many things I want to see and experience. So many places I want to set foot on. So much FOOD I wanna try.


Eleven facts about me! 

# I HATE lending people my books and my food. Crash my car or steal my man, I’d probably forgive you in a few years. Dent my books, and you’re dead.

# I’d love to go to Japan, but I don’t really want to settle there because I’m too lazy to fit into that hard-working society.

# I didn’t have my first crush until I was almost nineteen. I’d always thought there was something wrong with me because all my friends were talking about boys but I was just sitting there going “chocolaaaattteee”

# Wuthering Heights is my favourite classic, but I find Cathy’s and Heathcliff’s ‘immortal’ love to be a highly toxic relationship.

# I’m very insecure. I’ve scolded most of the guys who’d approached me because at that time I’d thought they were playing practical jokes on me.

# I have a very very dirty sense of humour. If my mother knew, she’d faint.

# I write my published stories as politely as possible, but my personal diary is crude enough to make a nun blush.

# When my parents bought me a barbie instead of the roller blades I’d wanted for my birthday, I stripped her naked and left her outside in protest whenever a guest came to visit.

#I’ve been bullied and back stabbed by ‘friends’ so many times that its really difficult for me to really open up and trust someone.

# I’ve always found celebrities aesthetically pleasing, but I honestly don’t understand how people can develop crushes on them. I feel like that’s the most shallow kind of ‘love’ a person can ever have.

#I had my teenage rebellious stage when I was nine. Mom is yet to let me live it down.


nominate the following lovelies 🙂

TrainOfThought  (I know you’ve done a lot of these, but hey :3 )

Austin L Wiggins

blamestorming 101



And here are your Questions!

1- Who inspired you to write?

2- Is there any talent you would trade your writing skills for?

3- Which fictional world would you like to live in?

4- Have you ever been attracted to a fictional character?

5- Is there a character you like in a book, but you’d run away screaming from in real life?

6- Do you want to publish a book? if yes, why?

7- Has there been anyone who made fun of your writing? 

8- Are your parents and peers supportive of your writing?

9- Would there have been any noticeable difference in your demeanor if you hadn’t been a writer?

10- When life throws you lemons you…?

11- Your favourite book and the song you associate with it! 


Remember to follow these rules:-


All the best! 😀






Sensible Cinderella

When Cinderella turned eighteen, she became her step mother’s slave.

Her father had followed her real mother to death just a few days before she had reached adulthood. Her step mother was a lazy old broad who had Cinderella wait upon her head and toe. Her step sisters were less bossy, but they weren’t the sort she’d willingly spend time with. They found merriment in obsessing over celebrities and parading around in new clothes.

The kingdom they resided in was a peaceful land ruled over by a king who was a staunch believer in the ideology that he was always in the right. In fact, he had taken it upon himself to find a suitable bride for his son. The boy, on the other hand, was indifferent about the whole affair. He was at the age where he would be happy with anything pretty and female.

The king decided that the most logical manner of securing a wife for his son was to host a ball ,force all eligible ladies to attend it and hand pick the prettiest one.

The whole kingdom dressed up for the event. Cinderella, who had never been to a ball, was interested as well. She longed for a day when she wouldn’t have to cook her own food and be pampered by others instead.

But the evil stepmother locked her in while she and the rest of her ugly family waddled to the carriage.

All Cinderella could do was sit on her stool and pray for a meteorite to fall on their vehicle in particular.

But lo and behold! There appeared before her, her fairy Godmother. The obese old lady promised Cinderella the makeover of her life.

But Cinderella didn’t care much for makeup or carriages (nor was she sure about the strange lady’s ‘magic’), so all she sought from her Godmother was a decent dress, a pretty little chain, some eyeliner and a container, in case she found some food she’d want to bring back. She also chose some sensible shoes. As soon as her Godmother had finished warning her about the longevity of the magic, she set out to the palace by foot as it was quite near.

The guards were suspicious but inebriated, so they let her in anyway.

She stood out in the mass of girls with putty on their faces. The prince was immediately drawn to her, and managed to egg her into a dance.

She struggled to not let her disgust at his hand positions show. The prince pulled her closer than it was necessary and whispered “You’re beautiful. Imagine how amazing you’d look with a bit more makeup!”

When the dance ended, Cinderella ran away from him as fast as she could. She found her solace at the buffet table. As her hands shifted over to a basket of bon bons, another hand adorned with a silk cuff met her halfway.

“I’m sorry, dear prince.” She said irritatedly, without looking up. “I’ve already had my dance with you.”

“I’m no prince”

Cinderella looked up to see the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, gazing at her with what seemed like amusement. “The royal princess!” She breathed.

The rest of the night she spent at the balcony with the princess, sharing the food they had smuggled from the tables and exchanging stories and interests.

When the clock struck midnight, Cinderella rushed outside in a mad hurry and left a single sensible shoe behind. The prince and the princess could only look at her retreating back helplessly.

“Sister, let us search every house in the kingdom for the maiden who fits this shoe!” The prince exclaimed, “That is sure to be the lady who has run away with my heart!”

“You keep the shoe. I remember her image very well, and I doubt I’d need her foot measurements to be sure.” The princess replied.

And so the princess was the first to spot Cinderella in a crowded marketplace. They dated sensibly for three years before finalizing the engagement, and then Cinderella and the princess lived happily ever after.

Stage Fright

photo (2)

(Oh the things I do to upload an image when I can’t afford a scanner :3 )

So word on the net is that stage fright is one of the most common fears, and I completely understand why.

A person is kind and thoughtful. Put a bunch of people together, and they revert back to their pre-historic predatory selves. A single mistake could ruin your night if you’re ‘blessed’ to have the opportunity to address a huge crowd.

The internet gave me some crappy advice- namely, to imagine my audience naked so that they’ll seem unimposing. Instead, that ended up making me even more nervous (and rather distracted, ifyouknowwhatimean)

This is for every person who suffers from bone=less knees at close proximity to a raised platform. Like me.

A Modern Day Fable

“When the mighty dragon stole the sweet prince away, the kingdom was thrust into an era of gloom. The artists who had once derived inspiration from the prince’s smile now made alcohol their muse. The merchants sold fruit as hollowed out as their hearts. And the king? He numbed his pain by increasing the taxes and in turn, the misery of his subjects.

The prince had been a very lively sort of a lad, who burst into songs (which were always in perfect rhyme scheme) at every opportunity. Sometimes, lowly woodcutters would be treated to the sight of him serenading confused woodland creatures. His attire was always simple and elegant, and every morning he’d find a pretty flower to ornament his luscious locks.

Some say the prince had been singing to the dragon when the vile creature decided that it was in dire need of a radio and kidnapped the poor boy.

The king had issued a ransom for the dragon’s head, but though the prince was well liked, he wasn’t indispensible to the common folk. They continued to grumble and work. Word on the street is that they had wanted the dragon to take the king instead.

The nobles, on the other hand, thought themselves too important to risk their life for the feeble prince. Neither could they spare their knights. What if the dragon comes for them next?

And so the story went that it was a little forest girl who found the prince. She heard his cheerful voice as she was picking up firewood, and mistaking it as a deer’s cry for help, went to investigate.

The dragon and the prince welcomed her whole-heartedly and fed her fruit. The prince, with a delicate blush, explained that the dragon was blind and had mistaken him for a baby dragon by his voice. At first he had wanted to escape, but slowly and surely he had come to love the poor beast like his own mother.

The girl bit back her comments on Stockholm syndrome and tried to be genuinely happy for the prince.

She left the dragon’s cave with a basket of rare fruits and promises of secrecy.

The prince’s story soon faded into an urban legend. As such, it grew more and more fantastical until the prince morphed into a dragon tamer who had left the country in search of new additions to his collection. The king’s numbed pain resurfaced in full force when the peasants finally revolted and the kingdom now became an equally depressing democracy.  The artists disappeared into other professions while the merchants flourished in the era of capitalism.

And the little forest girl? Her fate was never recorded, as it often happens in history with those who own no gold. But one can assume that she had led a very ‘fruitful’ life.”

He saw his son’s eyes narrow at his last words. “Dad” the child sighed, “Please don’t tell me that the entire reason you cooked up this story was just to deliver that pun at the end.”

“I don’t understand why you’re complaining. It was a very good pun.”


Some nights I sleep with a smile on my face

Others I spend in an unfeeling daze

Yet others set the stage for my tears

Which wet my pillow with my dread and my fears


Some nights I dream vivid, pretty dreams

Castles and cupcakes and joyous screams

But at times I dream that the ‘bad man’ has come

And I hug myself tighter, cold and numb


Sometimes it’s my classmates, pretending I’m dead

Sometimes it’s the monster drooling under my bead

Sometimes it’s the boy I love, calling me a slut

And then I awaken with a knotted gut


Sometimes I fear my dreams are parallel worlds

And there exists one where I’m without my curls

And one where my parents sell me to another

One where my friends change like the weather


Other times, they’re scenes from a long time ago

The doubt in her eyes that hurt me so

The lies from the one who hates me sans reason

The words from his mouth, bitter acts of treason


But sometimes I dream of all that’s good

Some people around love me all they could

They say that my broken self is just fine

At least for this moment, their hearts are all mine


The dreams are yet to be subdued

At times, it feels like a timeless feud

But change has come- now I long to be free

I’ve found my kindred, and they’ve found me


Finally my wings have begun to sprout

Before long, I believe I can try them out,

Conquer the world I had feared for so long

And set right all that it had done me wrong.



For all those who are at war with their own minds 🙂 Keep fighting.

(Sorry for the mostly forced rhymes :/ I’m not very good at poetry yet.)