tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65243998424171835162024-03-14T02:18:14.098+05:30Speak OutMy take on things that happen around me and within me.This blog is my identity. It reflects who I am and what I am. It's a mirror to my mood. Personal details combined with third person narrative, I write about things that have touched my life. Read on!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-2348972428940419362016-11-30T18:14:00.002+05:302016-11-30T19:18:50.811+05:30A goodbye I never wanted; a goodbye I never got..A goodbye I never wanted; a goodbye I never got..
“Hey, you left without saying goodbye,” she would complain as soon as I would return from school. She would make this fake angry face and I would run behind her, without getting changed. “Please na, sorry na,” I would coax her. She would suppress her giggles, eventually bursting into a smile. It would be priceless.
Did I tell you that she’d Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-1039113212439078042016-05-30T16:29:00.000+05:302016-05-30T16:29:41.610+05:30The Second InningsThey looked at the scorecard and it didn’t look very encouraging. With two wickets left, the they were not even close enough. The last two wickets tumbled and the men trudged towards the pavilion with their heads hanging low. The opposition came in to bat again and posted a close to impossible total on the scoreboard. It was almost over.
“It’s a one-sided affair, boring,” quipped one of the Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-14369038386727337382016-05-19T15:32:00.000+05:302016-05-19T15:32:18.701+05:30The first loveThere she was, looking for the outfit that would make her look drop dead gorgeous; afterall, it was her big day. Casting her eyes on every piece that could have fit the bill, she was looking for that ONE piece that would win her heart. But then, nothing did.
She walked on, her legs beginning to protest. But nothing seemed to be good enough. On the verge of giving up, she spotted the one dress Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-33365160374253137032015-11-03T17:33:00.001+05:302015-11-03T17:44:56.501+05:30Oh Ma!Language. It gives us many words. Words, we use to pour our souls out. Words that become windows to our thoughts. Words that name, words that specify, words that describe. But when the test of emotions is tough, words fail.
Intense fear. Ecstasy. Excruciating pain. A surprise. Shivers down the spine. A winch. Tired to the marrow. A much needed relief. Wonder. Beauty. Joy. Sarcasm. Disgust. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-5398703100333232312015-08-17T09:51:00.000+05:302016-02-12T16:12:06.370+05:30An open letter to my parentsDear Ammai and Appa,
Remember those times when I was little, hopping between you, my hands, secure, one each in your hands, tightly held, protecting me from stumbling? I remember. I want to hold your hands too, to protect you.
Remember those times, appa, when Saturdays would mean half days, and you would get back home with an assortment of ‘bakery’ biscuit goodies tucked in three-four brown Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-23851137094442217072015-05-21T16:50:00.002+05:302015-05-21T16:50:42.712+05:30A ‘Dosa’ of gyanShe wiped her brow, looking at the crumpled mess of half-cooked dosa batter, sitting adamantly on the tawa. The greasy spatula in her hands had murdered the could-have-been-golden-brown-crispy dosa. Ten minutes of labour promptly dumped into the dustbin.
She started over again. She dipped her ladle into the thick, white batter, tapped a bit to get rid of the excess and poured it on to the tawa Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-25359351689974290652015-05-11T19:15:00.001+05:302015-05-11T19:15:16.205+05:30A cakewalk? She was upset. They'd read her completely wrong. The walls seemed to be closing in. Finally, she couldn't take it any more. She pressed the button with her index finger and the monitor went to sleep.
She stepped out of the glass building, soaking in the breeze that seemed to soothe her broken soul.
The park looked inviting. A slow walk, she thought, would heal her.
So, she took the path curvedUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-291748883061493302015-05-04T11:29:00.000+05:302015-05-04T11:54:35.228+05:30All the glitters..."On your mark, get set, go!"
The shrill whistle and the loud instructions meant that it was time for them to race towards the finishing line, blurred because of the distance threatening to consume them. She sprang up to life, dashing for the ultimate line that got to decide who walked away with the cake and who trailed back, head hung in shame.
She gave it her all, people from across the ropes Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-44979017191731733462015-04-13T08:38:00.000+05:302015-04-13T08:38:02.245+05:30An early morning struggleI hurriedly crossed the roads, taking one step forward and stepping two steps back, all in the flash of a second after my husband dropped me on the main road. I ran, curling my nimble toes inside my pink shoes whenever a vehicle came threateningly close. My lips curved into an elongated 'O', my palms patting and subsiding the yawn that spread to the eyes, my early morning sleep oozing out of my Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-33307480373136971802015-02-25T21:05:00.001+05:302015-02-26T11:35:57.968+05:30A fall, a lesson
She was tapping away on her computer, the intense honking on the roads indicating it was the home-going rush. She tapped away a little more, waiting for him, thinking of all that had happened, a blunt pain pricking her insides.
The soft voice of the lady crooning away into her ears made her eyes warm, the tears, threatening to break the dams they were being held captive within. She was tappingUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-49609028374263953332015-01-17T18:31:00.000+05:302015-01-17T18:31:18.260+05:30Guns and Roses“Let’s do some duck-faced selfies,” she requested. “It’s trending,” she added, making the best of her know-it-all faces. He continued watching TV like it was nobody’s business. She walked away. I knew I had to intervene. “Hey, it’s okie,” I cooed, playing a harp inside my head. “I want to show my friends that I’m in love, but he doesn’t understand…” her voice trailed off.
What is being in love?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-36067314830661191822014-09-09T12:33:00.001+05:302014-09-09T12:33:33.417+05:30Story of her lifeShe was nervous. Her friend stood by her side, looking at her face, that had, by now, broken into pearls of sweat. She wiped her brow, looked intently at the cars, bikes and buses whirring past her, taking one step forward, and retracing her way back. “You ok,” the friend asked, but she didn’t bother replying. She squeezed her hands and trudged along nervously, rushing to the safer side of the Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-17154524277309114582014-08-27T16:39:00.000+05:302014-08-27T16:39:22.705+05:30Growing Up...She was walking around, looking at the world through her pink shades. Everything seemed rosy. She had Dido crooning White Flag, a song about change into her eardrums. She trudged on, without glancing at anything, walking straight, gazing at the dusty horizon.
Suddenly, she tripped, fell off balance and landed with a thud. Her knees were bruised and bleeding, her palms were scraped. She got up, Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-41402562811327425012014-08-18T16:48:00.000+05:302014-08-18T18:16:01.212+05:30A house then, home nowThe house was nice. The tiles, they were neat. The furniture wasn’t over-the-top, but was compactly adequate. The bedsheets were decent, not too well-picked. She walked in, not looking at swishing her magic wand and turning everything around. The barren kitchen was being taken care of, little by little. Plastic jars, a kitchen queen, dinner sets of all forms -- melamine, plastic, china. BeautifulUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-69436719875178553482014-07-02T16:23:00.001+05:302014-07-02T16:23:33.401+05:30No kid-ding!His bum rested on the soft, grey carpet that was spread out royally, covering every inch of the room. The TV was blaring away with some obnoxious-looking woman gyrating to a stolen tune. His big, green, inquisitive eyes were glued to the colourful plastic blocks that his mother had scattered over the carpet.
One by one, the 10-month-old meticulously picked up block after block, and began Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-50098317034308216402014-06-30T12:45:00.002+05:302014-06-30T12:45:22.128+05:30The Dolls’ HouseIt’s surprising how life comes a full circle.
She plonked herself on the couch, that sunk under her weight, with a doll in her hands. She ran her wrinkled, trembling fingers through its tangled, plastic golden hair, her eyes lost in the depths of time. She saw a young girl, squealing, the giggles echoing in her ears. The dimples on her chin welcomed the wide grin. The wind caressed the curly Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-48504811052314327062014-04-03T13:32:00.002+05:302014-04-03T16:14:50.472+05:30En-light-enment! She lay on her bed, the mattress sinking under her weight. She lay, gazing at the ceiling. The fan looked like a white disk, slicing the thin air around it. The bedsheet was moist and warm. She tossed and turned, wiping the sweat with the back of her palm. She gazed at the ceiling again, fixing her gaze on the white disk, creaking with every slice it accomplished. She was fascinated by it, exceptUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-79164080602608337692014-03-28T13:33:00.001+05:302014-03-28T14:10:52.475+05:30Nail-ed it!She stepped on the escalator, scanning her grocery list in her mind, trying to figure out if she’d missed listing anything important. Lost in a wave of thoughts, her eyes fell on the woman behind her. She was dressed in a crisp blue suit, her hair prepped and beautifully set, her curls falling softly on her shoulders. She looked at her slender hand, holding the sides artistically. Her nails Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-26474481746140994612014-03-21T13:20:00.002+05:302014-03-21T13:20:58.274+05:30It’s a scary world out there...It’s funny how people change in a split second. It’s like, they’re all sweet and stuff and whoa! Gone. It’s like a magic trick, where the magician puts a rabbit on display, in front of the packed auditorium. And suddenly, pooof! It vanishes into thin air. Sweetness and goodness vanish these days too. People snub you, keep stern faces and look perpetually irritated. It’s shocking, you know, Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-842950156179548742014-03-08T12:46:00.000+05:302014-03-08T16:24:55.502+05:30Holy Cow!***The street is abuzz, with thousand glimmering lights dotting the skyline. Incessant honking, curses flying freely and tempers soaring mark the night. Amidst this chaos, I notice a cow, trying it’s best to carry a sack full of stuff on its back, dragging its legs as fast as it can. The honking intensifies, with people rolling down their car windows and yelling at the poor animal. Its owner Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-62417583889018996282014-02-27T18:46:00.000+05:302014-02-27T18:46:28.484+05:30Bye 'Bai'!***I hear something buzzing. I slap my ears thinking it’s a fly. The buzzing continues, in an irritating pattern. I flutter my eyes open, revolting against the harsh sunlight piercing through the cotton curtains. I hear the buzzing again and look around for the damned fly...I can’t find it, because there’s no fly in the room...it is my alarm that’s going off. A glance at the time and I spring up Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-40360478967077539302014-02-21T17:09:00.002+05:302014-02-21T17:24:36.992+05:30Friends in need...friends indeed!***My phone rings. I tuck a lock of loose hair behind my ears, and take the call. His voice is broken… “Call me from the landline, please,” he says, sounding meek. I do as I am told. As I hear his phone ringing, I experience some sort of a forewarning. “Hey,” he says, disillusioned. “Hey, all ok?” I ask him instinctively. “Accident…” he says, his voice trailing away. “Rakesh car...I...bike...big Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-15122155948970126622014-02-15T20:06:00.000+05:302014-02-15T20:06:09.321+05:30Celebrating Silliness.There we were, sharing a cozy little table, with heart balloons fluttering all around. There we were looking deep into each other’s eyes, lost in a soulful flute rendition of ‘Tu Hi Re’. There we were, absorbing the candle-lit bliss, the flame flickering and illuminating our faces. There we were, among other love-struck couples, on a date. There we were, celebrating Valentines Day…
But what Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-87999297556673116902014-02-08T19:39:00.000+05:302014-02-08T19:39:04.575+05:30A very happy birthday, indeed!The kitchen lights were on. The sick feeling in my gut returned, sending my mind into a daze. I clearly remembered having checked everything before I left… “Paro, you forgot about the lights again, didn’t you,” Harish asked me, raising an eyebrow accusingly. I tried recollecting things that I did before leaving for work. Balcony door was closed, the gas was switched off, the switches were all offUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6524399842417183516.post-35916226768335249122014-01-29T18:57:00.000+05:302014-01-29T18:57:29.561+05:30My Beauty and Our Beast!My IELTS batch was taking lessons on essay writing. I walked in and said, “Go to page number 64, question number three -- how do you define happiness?" The air was pregnant with unasked questions. I understood, cleared my throat and said, “Happiness lies in doing what you like. Just think about what you like, frame an essay and bring it back tomorrow, ok?” The class was dismissed. I took a long Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0