Through the winter.

Some say he's never there, some curse.
His back is spiralled with all the arrows;
Arrows, once shot gathering rust.
Some say, he strikes twice;
And twice as hard the second time.
Despise, his closest friend and dearest foe;
Brought along Time, his concience that always stood.
For he had been lost and lying,
Since the days of the storm;
Never once unbecoming, never again the same warm.

Some called him a myth, a creature never understood.
Some distanced themselves, never again to be fooled.

He never meant any harm.
Had he listened to the wails of women and the curses of men, he would have abandoned himself.
Some called him a liar, a pathetic wishbone.
He never meant any harm.

Through the winters of dreary human self, he found himself again.
They understood him then, when they saw him for real.
It took the Time, ofcourse to notice the changes;
For Time, his concience would never let go.
When finally they saw through all the darkness, they laughed in their pain.
He was there, all the while;
Hiding in his shame.

Some called him unreal, many still curse.
But those of them who saw him, know he isn't a poet's imagination, nor is he any slave.
He may have betrayed many and is no stranger to the strange.
He's right there behind you;
And you know not until you fade.
They call him Love;
You'll see him again, someday.

Kodesia.

I figured out how I can prove my theory of parallel universes. If I can derive the equation to a point where it gives me a constant (pie), which is true for everything in the world, then I will be proved right.
:)
And I wont be so broke then.

A longer and a more descriptive post shall come up soon.

If there is one, he is pretty darn politically correct.

I distinctly remember that day. It was a few months after my boards were done with and I had done NOTHING of what I had planned to do during the holidays. Ofcourse it took me more than three years after that point of time to realise that plans were never and never will be my thing.
So again, where where we?
Oh yeah, THAT day.
So I was quite, quite tired of not achieving anything big in a while and you know, school had started again. The routine had begun again.
Now I really maintain that till that day, I'd never really asked for anything.
Not from my parents (Except maybe the 3rd Harry Potter book for my 13th birthday, which I got eventually.)
Not from friends (Except for one emo phase where I asked for some unwanted attention.)
And definately not from God.
Infact, each time my Mom made me pray, I daydreamed about something or the other. I wasn't an atheist, no.
Just indifferent to God's existence.

But that day was different. For the first time, lying on my bed with all the lights switched off and the sound of TV blasting from the living room, I prayed.

No, scratch that.
I didn't pray.
I, er, spoke?
I just gently cried and asked for a few things. I think I even mentioned the F-word once but yeah, corrected it right after.
Amongst these few things were : a lot of happiness, even if it were unreal, a black dress that fit me, despite my height and yes, a taste of love.
The next few months were the happiest months of my entire life and I thought I had found a nice, decent guy who I just assumed would love me.

I was wrong about both.
Just before my 12th boards, the entire thing fell apart. I realised how foolish I was, to base my affection on something so, intangible. Or rather, a facebook romance.
I drowned myself in those mindless formulae, pages of logariths, integrating numbers, constants and everything that had an answer.
I worked my ass off to take my mind off the fact that he hadn't replied to my text message.
I kept checking every two hours and nothing showed up.
I drowned myself into blogging and even deleted this blog once.

It was then that I spoke again. Apart from the fact that I was sleepless most nights with the fat physics textbook on my right and my mobile on my left, I was okay with it.
Nothing mattered.
But I asked for some strength. I asked for everything to get over soon. I asked for change.

And yeah, I got that. I didn't cry at all when they told me for sure it wasn't just my imagination. I didn't break down. And then halfway through the 12th boards, Bee came along.

He brought along some charm, some happiness, some randomness, some confidence, some opinions and a lot of text messages.
He might be a twisted person when you come to think about it, but he got change.
I don't think my Mom ever understood this, but he wasn't just another friend I was addicted to texting.
He made me happy.
And I kept telling him not to tell me he loved me because he didn't and I didn't want it to come crashing down again. He did, despite all that and even today, I can say this, Bee, you aren't too much of a person but to me you meant an amazing lot at the time.

A few days back I asked for love again.
Except this time, I was more blatant.
I said, I don't want everything perfect. I just want warmth. Some affection. Even if it was lopsided.

And I think I've got exactly that.
(He has big arms too.)
But I've never had feelings for him and right now, I have no idea about what I should do. I got what I wanted.


Anyway, moral of the story is : There is a God. And more often than not, he gives you what you want. He is just extremely( at the verge of being annoying) politically correct.

Also, he is most definately, a Grammar Nazi.
So the next time you speak to , er, it, do choose your words correctly. Like I always say about most things that I say; Been there, done that.





P.S: I really am sorry for the previous hate post. I usually hate reading rant posts, not considering them true writing and I outdid my hypocrisy by being there and doing JUST that. Sorry yaar.

Postcards from the Hampi Trip.

Check in baggage.

Sure you read this blog ( HAHA.) but will you know who I am, if incase you spot me at the Airport ?
No, right?
(Just nod.)


I'm the girl who takes time to push the heavy luggage trolly and you'll see me stuggling with my camera bag and that bottle of water and messaging my Mom all at the same time.
The girl who flips through the books at the book store and never buys one.
The one who snorts while laughing, unintentionally.
If incase you are seated next to me during the flight, I'm the one who ALWAYS( unintentionally) sits down in someone else's seat, leaving a hassled passenger and a doubting airhostess.
I'm the girl who stares at the airhostess's lip liner.
I'll be the girl who prays for turbulence during the flight before it takes off.
I'm the girl who'll say 'Wohohohhooooo' when the plane starts taking off.
I'm the one you'll look at and start imagining my life as that of a latch-key 14 year old who goes home to her divorced mother during her summer holidays and takes the flight from Bangalore all alone. Poor little independant kid.
UNTIL, I tell you that I am, infact 18 with extremely happy parents shattering the author in you.
I am the girl who smiles creepily at all the female foreigners.
I am the one with the yellow patch of paint on her shorts.
The one who burps after drinking the coffee they serve, albeit not very loudly.
I am the girl who uses a mobile cover as a wallet because they are way cheaper.
I am the girl you think you'll remember but my face fades away the moment you get off the plane.
I am the girl who'll always order the Non-veg burger at the Airport cafeteria and then regret buying it after the very first bite.

But most of all, the most sureshot way of finding/identifying me in an airport would be to find that one tiny kid who always looks out of place, out of context with a face that bears no sign of being even remotely happy/sad/tired/angry/frustrated at being there.
I am and always will be, forever lost in an airport.
And if you look closely at my hands, you'll realize how much I try to just belong.

Let's push back the Sun.

Place it right where it belongs, next to the sky.
And then, when you have a day;
You can smile another time and still get past.


Where is that line that divides being too distant and too close; if at all it exists?
And how can they say you've crossed it;
when all they say is in their minds?
When that moment of hesitation strikes, what do you wonder?
Too soon or too late?
If everyone came by on their own intention;
Tell me then, who is fate?

Sometimes my anger is over-rated;
Like a mistaken child's cigarette crate.
Sometimes, it's like the Sun;
And I have to push it back, right where it belongs.

Next to the sky.





P.S- Suddenly random poetry is making its way out of my system, which I am quite neutral to, right now. I feel like I'm the only one who is ever going to read this. I'm beginning to fear that I never really wrote for myself. I wrote because people liked it. And now that they don't, ah that's a story for another time yeah? Wow. I'm such a hypocrite. I don't even have a story.

When my Pa told me to go home, I did.

I went back to the hellhole it had become. The rats ran around jumping from one bowl of china to another.
The beds?
Oh they were hanging from the trees.

"Honey, they're out for drying.",Ma said.
She forgot to add the smile though. Nevermind, I thought.
I wrote a letter to Carrie that night.
Poor little cat that she was, must've cried all night.

Dear Carrie,

How are you? I hope this letter finds you in good health. Is Mrs.Bunberry feeding you enough Salmon? The wind is more chilly here back home. And the curtains make a strange sound at night, like a million sea horses singing.
The toilet has a strange blue colour to it but Pa doesn't take any notice. He's always calculating on his electronic calculator.

I'm having a lot of fun, Carrie. I would say I miss you, but then again, you are just a cat and all you do is cry.

Love,
Arte.


The next morning the maid who was always smiling was lying dead in the kitchen. I think she took a lot of Salmon. Pa said nothing. He kept calculating on his electronic calculator.
Ma wiped off the vomit and Carrie licked up the rest and Mrs.Bunberry picked up the body to use for her wax museum.


When my Pa finished calculating, he told me :

"All the results say the same thing."

"What do they say Pa?"



"You must go back home."

When my Pa told me to go back home, I did.
Except I didn't know which part of the world I might find beds hanging from trees and blue toilets and rats flying.



When I asked Carrie to lead me there, she just cried.
She's only just a cat.