Monthly Archives: August 2012

A post from my sister’s blog. This was too awesome not too share.

NEMESIS

Early men: we don’t need to define the them, everyone knows who they were. . Its like “DUH!”

But something unfamiliar. . Ever heard of urban Cave Girls ?? They are famous here man!

Well most probably you haven’t because that’s something we invented ( so origi-naals we are!) . You will fall in that category if you ever had to go through these circumstances:-
1) Had to stay more than a  week without Internet. The ever informative, the ever entertaining, greatest of the greatest- Internet! Then you get it for like one day. . and it kind of goes away again -_-”
2) Had to put up with just five texts a day!!
3) Your movie stock was depleting…like three movies a day.

4) You had exams, so hellhounds your parents are guarding the door , so that you can’t go anywhere. You get the stink eye even…

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Last Words

Photo Credit: Leanne Cole (Photography Blog)

Nib on paper, frozen hand and blank mind.

Tilted head, mouth agape and desperate eyes.

Searching, searching, in the blank pages she had bind,

Tired of waiting still, for promising lies.

she sits, she stands, walks round about,

Pen in hand, nib on paper, paper between pages.

Her legs give away; knees bleed, yet none a shout.

Rosy ,lips mutter phrases–those candid phrases.

And then she writes and the ink quietly spreads.

She stops, she sits, and starts again.

For days together she writes; to stop again she dreads,

Little food or water she takes, since her vigour she did gain.

But alas she stopped; her lips turned blue,

And was returned to dust, before she grew.

I Have Unnecessary Things to Worry About, So I Share it With You! This is a Big Honour, So Gasp!

I recently reached the ninth standard and the school divides us according to our second language (whether we take Hindi, Assamese, French or Sanskrit). I ended up in J*. Of course, as you can imagine, I got some new classmates–some friends, some enemies.Two of of my friends were besties. Let’s take them as Pea and Tea. I have been observing them from Day I.

And oh the horror! As a significantly quiet girl in school (or so people thinks), I have been wondering at the amount of conversation they have. The thoughts in my head range from confusion to annoyance, intrigue to confusion again.

How can they talk so much? That is impossible.

Maybe I should give up my future Nobel prize to them. (thinking about the ceremony) Pea and Tea gets Nobel Prize for incessantly talking!

That is just awesome. I wish I could get so many topics to talk about.

Oh my gods! How much will they talk! Freaking . . . (then I got distracted and started talking about chocolate cake and it’s heavenly taste)

Anyways, I found out that not only me, but others around me have the same questions. I put all of our sentiments in one line:

“Couples’or logot jenekoi kabab-me-haddi type feeling eta  aahe, xehotor logot goi kotha patibo aarombho korileu ekei feeling eta aahe.” (The feeling of being a bone in a kebab when talking with a couple, is  the same with Pea and Tea.).

I am genius, ya all!

I digress.

Some friends and I were discussing about it today and I finally asked Pea about it in the dispersal assembly. I called it Mission Know What They Talk About**. The conversation went like this:

Pea: Hi Ankita!

Me: Hola. What do you guys talk about? You and Tea?

Pea: (I could tell she was surprised, but I think she got accustomed to the fact that I bring up things out of the blue earlier than other people) Well . . . a lot of things–

Me: (was expecting the answer) So you keep jumping from topic to topic.

Another classmate gets interested. Let’s call her Peas.

Peas: Yeah, what do you talk about? So fast, and all.

Pea: Yeah, we jump from one topic to another., you know. Sometimes, we sing songs . . .

Me: (slightly disappointed) Okay sure. (Peas loses interest. Pea thinks the conversation is over and starts to look somewhere else.)

Me: Hey Pea.

Pea: (turns) Yeah?

Me: This is an advanced warning (she bobbles*** her head, expecting something . . . I don’t know . . . expecting something, I guess). I am going to download spyware and somehow send it to your cell phone. That way I can listen to what you guys talk about.

Pea: I don’t have a cell phone.

Me: (stumped) Well . . . I don’t know how to download spyware. When I do learn, pigs will fly, and you will have a cell phone.

Now that was a quick recovery. Should have seen this genius at work. Damn!

Anyways, my mission failed. I still don’t know what they talk about. Or sing.

*sigh*

*We have ten sections in our class with thirty-six students max. Our school has classes I to XII plus the Play Ground classes. The math is terrifying.

**Ye-e-e-a-a-h. I really suck at naming things. I even consult like . . . twenty people before I make a decision about the name of a new character in my novel.

***Bobbing is neither nodding nor shaking the head. It is somewhere between the two.

Walk of Shame

It was terrifying: the walk. Each nerve and muscle and sinew inside him was shaking with dread. But he didn’t show it. Of course not. Instead he gathered every last remaining dignity he had after being stripped of his reputation. ‘Stormbringer’, he was called. ‘The Hurricane’. ‘Pandemonium King’. He was invincible, so fearless, and so powerful. And yet all of it was lost in a single announcement. Now he had a new name: ‘The Little Genius’. Students of his age snickered at him and at his perfect marks. Others termed him as a ‘Crammer’, not a very appreciative term in his school. Now as he walked on the ‘red carpet’, parents clapped, the principal gloated, the chief guest smiled, the chairman rubbed his belly. But the worst was his team: the Guns (Crime Masters). After the results were out, he was disowned of his post as the team leader. There was no debate: he was not fit to be a leader. He should be kicked out. That was it. He gulped. He was getting closer to the stage. His life lived until this moment flashed before his eyes. The stage was getting closer and closer. He heard some snorts. And then . . . well, he fainted—to the amazement of all the people present.

The slight threads of consciousness wove into his brain the moment he heard ‘Pandemonium King’. His eyes fluttered and a moan escaped his lips. All human sounds ceased. And then he heard a voice whisper, “Hey leader. Maybe you should try sleeping for a year or so to recover from your heart-breaking collapse near the stage.” He heard the sound of a kick and a small ‘Ow’. He opened his eyes using every bit of his willpower and stared up with a bewildered look. He recognized all of them but couldn’t really process why half of the people were there. There was his sister present, of course, his friends, peers, his former team-mates and one beloved teacher—though he would never admit it. They were   all smiling. One of classmates spoke up, “They got the name wrong leader. It wasn’t you who got perfect marks. It was one of the permanent crammers. You barely passed, except in handwriting where you got perfect marks. And we don’t blame you for that really. Good handwriting is needed to pass as a solid citizen of the society outside the underworld, even if that is not the case. So I guess you are the most suitable candidate to become our leader.” Everybody looked cheerful. But their leader groaned, saying, “I suffered ‘the walk’ to see THIS? I’ll die like this . . .”

NOTE: Written some years ago, this story may contain the glimmers of the innocence of the younger me. What was that? I was as evil a human being then as I am now? Why you . . .

When she was talking about Peace, why did I have an image of flamingoes down by the lake?

Yay! Look at all the PINK! <<< This is being sarcastic. My head hurts.

This article may contain a few exaggerations. Not much. Just a couple of them.

As my only follower doesn’t know my humble readers have not yet gleaned the fact from me, I dare to reveal that I am pretty good at sketching. And maybe even painting. but that’s not my point.

I joined an art competition today.

TOPIC: Peace

Now when I say that, everyone thinks about World Peace. Well, most people. So what is associated with World peace? the globe. The dove. An olive branch. Maybe some people praying. And then there are the peace signs.

Today . . . I saw so much of them, I wanted to *censored*

Anyways, after I was done with my painting (didn’t draw any of the aforementioned stuff), I stood up and surveyed the others’.

My reactions . . .

(in a detached kind of way) Hey, that’s a dove.The girl in the painting just let it out of the cage.

ooo, a super-vivid drawing. Awesome awesome. She’s better than me. Is that poster colour or water?

A scenery? How is that related with peace? Oh fine . . . he’s just a kid (assuming he was seven or eight) Wait a second. (saw the class) Sixth standard! SIXTH standard! (lost my cool) Why are the younger generations getting so short and scrawny!!????

Five minutes after:

Whoa! That iz a loooot of doves.

(something else caught my eye) What is that? My eyes are not as they used to be. What is that? (went closer. Saw a dove trying to kill a crow) eh? (utterly confused)

And then I completely forgot about my surveying.

Exit Question: So what do you think about peace?

Hello world!

Hola, people. I am suffering through mood swings so I have been getting urges to kill losing track of what I start to say. Um  . . . what was it? Oh yes, I am Ankita D. TADA!

*le me forgot what I wanted to say*

Moving on:

I have a biiiiig headache. Creating a Gravatar and a blog and a separate e-mail and then forgetting all of the passwords can do that to you. Thankfully, all well’s right now. I mean, aside from the fact I want to slam my face on the computer screen, which I kinda figure will be messy. Truly messy.

Anyways, since I am too lazy right now my brain has gone into an unresponsive mode, I feel that I’ll update my blog later.

Love on August 26th,

AD.