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Showing posts from 2015

Insomniac or Insomaniac? What’s going on in here?

The fact that I am sitting upright on my bed with the laptop and writing this at 2.58 a.m kinda proves the whole point of this write-up. I can’t come to terms with sleep. I love sleeping though. I can fall asleep for 2 days straight with occasional trips to bathroom and kitchen to pee and chomp respectively. But I can’t seem to come to that point where the eyelashes at both the ends of my eyes meet and I can finally doze off. Thus, comes writings like these to the rescue. I am tired, my body is sending me pain signals down my spinal cord that I should now lie down on my ever cosy bed and fall into the sweet lap of slumber but just that very moment my brain decides to go Sparta on my body and together we start to knit a complicated web of things that I should have done today; things I could have done today but chose not to; things that I probably didn’t do 3 years ago; why is Russia attacking Syria?; are my arms too skinny?; my hair too rough?; melody itni chocolaty kyu hain?.. etc etc

LETTER FROM AN ALMOST GROWN UP DAUGHTER

Hey Ma,  I make even better tea now. The subtle lingering flavour of Adrak in it; just the way you liked. Though you liked me to put lots and lots of sugar, I add just a spoonful for myself. You see I have learned quite a few things now and also got better at things that I already knew. But you know, I wish you were here to witness that. You would have still cringed and chided me for all that I learnt; but I would have still appreciated it.       I have learnt to be independent just as I witnessed you while growing up. I try to grant no favour from others at all. You would have liked to see that. I have calmed down unlike before too. Remember how much we fought and screamed at each other every couple of days leading to not talking to each other. Just not talking, we did everything else as usual. But now I barely fight with anyone. Besides, whom will i fight with? I’m growing up.        I go to the hairdresser to style my hair now. How scared I was to go to the parlour. An

The gesture of love...

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I don’t want chivalry . I don’t want him to open and hold the taxi door for me. I like gestures . I like when after getting on the cab he pulls up my side of the window a bit so that I don’t mess up my already messed up hair. I don’t want him to take the umbrella from my hand and hold it for me while we are walking in the rain; I would rather enjoy the rain a bit more if he holds it with my hands already on it while we try to battle the drops together. I won’t like it if he pays for my coffee or my food; I would be happier if we decided to go dutch on it or if he would let me get the check sometimes. Or better still if he treats me with a surprise ice-cream sundae afterwards. Gestures are important for me. Little things that he would notice. He won’t tell me, but it will show in his actions that he observed me. Maybe when he will offer me a handkerchief because he knows that I never ever carry one myself. Or voluntarily buys me that tub of mixed flavours of popcorn before the movi

That little monsoon saga

He arrived in like the wind that brings in the dark clouds which relieves from all that heat and dust and pours its heart into the world. Knowing him was like that pleasant breeze that touches you and leaves behind its fragrance upon you. Meeting him was like those times when you eagerly wait for those clouds to shower upon you. Talking to him was like the soft thunders which feel like music to your ears. Walking with him was like a stroll in the rain; getting drenched in him, with him. He brought with him, the monsoons.. the favourite season of mine. Really. Liking him was instant and inevitable. He came in with that child like smile and persona which took me back five years from my own existence. He charmed me with his constant chatter, for me, being such a devout listener. Every time the drops rolled down the sky, my heart fluttered, just like it did when it came to seeing him or meeting him. It was so ridiculous of me for setting my heart upon something so fleeting and moment
I don't believe it when people say I have sad eyes.. I smile it away.. a bit of pain in it though.. I go back home, lock myself in my room.. stand in front of the mirror and check its reflection.. I don't see any sadness in them.. not anymore.. But next time I go out, I will just make sure that I don't forget my spectacle at home.. Ankita D.

Leave Me Unbounded..

Fear is arising within me. Not much time is left. The urge to run away and get off the radar amplifies day by day. But I cannot. I have crossed more than quarter of a century of my life and though I am content with it sometimes and saddened at the other end of it; this has become kind of an important work for some to find for me a suitable match soon enough. To fasten me, to tie up my soul.    A girl that I am, without a male companion of my own choice standing or holding my hands beside me or any potential match to find for myself in the near future, the kin decides to take charge and help me out by sieving out guys belonging to a good family, with a good gene pool (not mandatory, as looks can be deceptive), good figured salary et al. Until now I have managed to very casually but carefully laugh them off signalling that I am yet un-ready to entwine myself in that bond.  But it’s about time that I will be loaded with (motivational for them, off putting for me) talks telling about

THAT SMILE FROM THE PAST

I didn’t even remember the first time I had seen that guy. Maybe it was around 12 years ago when I was living in that suburb in Guwahati with my mom. Enormous changes had taken place since then. But I could never forget that guy somehow.   He wasn’t straight out of a Mills and Boon book as I had never liked those books. Maybe like a character from Jane Austen’s classic? Yeah, I was more into classics than those awfully romantic love stories. His eyes had a shine of innocence; his voice had a deep bass that could soothe you to the core. I was maybe standing at the grocery store that day with mother buying the usual products that a family needs every month when he walked into that shop in a hurry. He was friendly with the shopkeeper maybe, as he asked for a packet of krack-jack biscuits he also inquired about the shopkeeper‘s swollen leg.   Damn he was a charming guy! Tall and fair and a smile that could light up a thousand bulbs at once and no I am not exaggerating at all. Tha