Miss. Eloquent

Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna

2024-04-20T18:16:00.006+05:30

It's been a long time coming, but-
It's you guys and me, that's my whole blog,
They whisper in the comment section,

"She's a lazy, lazy girl"

Whoosh, "Welcome to The Blog!"

While Taylor was busy in her Era's Tour, I was also busy with my Boards Tour. The difference? Well, she had fans screaming her name and sold-out stadiums, meanwhile I had invigilators glaring at me for daring to turn my head around, and a sold-out stock of erasers, desperately trying to erase my mistakes

See, I have a solid alibi. I wasn't just being lazy. I was literally stu-dying.

The last two years gave me my life's best memories. Best people. And best place to hone my humour (not that I was successful). Moments are more fleeting than a sneeze. But its impression lasts longer than the red nose.

My high school was a blend of all genre. I got friends who made me laugh to death and teachers who resurrected me back with practical's deadline.

Whenever I pass my school gate, I automatically drift to our classroom and the last two benches. The benches tolerated a lot from us. But I bet they miss our daily jamming of Bollywood songs, or playing dumbcharades where I would craft movie names, which Bollywood is too lame to create. But we didn't stop there--- we enacted the funniest version of Draupadi's vastraharan with mufflers!

There are so many memories that it sometimes overwhelms me. I know I don't have a Time Turner, but I do have a Snapchat filled with all our weirdness.

And in today's post I'll share some of the fun things we did during our farewell (now finally she's coming to the point) AND starting with our school's OG parampara- Havan.

"It'll take more than the sacred fire to cleanse our dirty minds"

Next up we went to take the group picture with our class teacher putting on our innocent faces, pretending we hadn't just spent the entire year causing chaos in the back row.

Too many good girls and boys in one frame xD

We all hollered our way back to our classrooms for the last time. The walls, the stairs, the cooler, and every inanimate thing seemed to echo our laughter, silently bidding farewell to the cacophony of our shared memories. The halls were buzzing with our voices or to put it like our teacher's famous saying, "it was a fish market". The place where you found your best friend, the place which was your unpaid therapist, where every accidental brush of elbows felt like a butterfly symphony in your stomach, where you traded lunches like currency and survived the greatest fountain pen theft of the decade - this school was a memory manufacturing factory coming with no expiry date for the memories.

I know life is very fleeting but if we know how to train the winds then we can fly through its storm with the grace of a kite. I don't know what the coming years hold in my life neither can I unravel the knots of past mistakes, but what I can do is stay. Stay in the delicate balance between what was and what will be. The transition from school life to college life will be a hard one. Leaving behind your comfort zone, your loved ones, or the thought of settling to a new place, where the clouds of the same sky would make unfamiliar shapes could scare you. But change is inevitable. Throwing yourself to hardships is so much tougher than is said because our natural tendency is to avoid pain. But loving is also human being's natural tendency. So however tough situation makes you don't let your heart go rock without emotions. It’s the only thing which makes us capable to love. Listen to your brain when it’s necessary but don't ghost your heart.

Okay, enough of philosophy! (I seriously have a split-personality disorder), coming back to my farewell story.

After taking our admit cards, we made our way back to the ground. For the last time I peeked into our Chemistry lab, aka the burial ground for so many innocent test tubes and conical flasks. I will miss the smell of this lab so much! Every room was pulling me with some crumbs of memories like an ant drawn to a bread crumb. I hurried my way back to the ground for scribbling in each other's shirts.

Every time I screamed "Not this slang!" or "Not his name!" my friends ignored all my protests and filled my shirt with those trash. Trash which will later turn into a souvenir, kept neatly folded in my wardrobe. I felt naked walking on the school corridors with THAT shirt, fearing if any teacher saw something they shouldn't and then I realized- well, they have been in our shirts before!

And here's the masterpiece all my Picasso friends created:

Goodbyes were the hardest part. It wasn't as if we won't meet again, yet it was true that when we meet again we may have outgrown our youth. BUT I know my friends and myself well--

we will be always up for some kind of mischief even when wrinkles will adorn us!

Here's the most civilized picture of us:

No, we weren't kicked out for being this civilized:)

After the end of all events, when we stepped out of the gate, something was pulling us back and we lingered sometime outside the gate. That moment of hesitation of not wanting to leave our yellow-green sky, of smiling a last sad smile and waving this beloved abode goodbye. I wish someone would have clicked a photo of that exact moment, of that lingering love.

But then again, maybe that's why we have poetry and blog- to capture the moments, cameras can't.

Xoxo

Adrika

A Candid Interview with Mother India

2023-08-15T11:59:00.002+05:30

"এমন দেশটি কোথাও খুঁজে পাবে নাকো তুমি।"

The air I am breathing today is the same old one. But there is something new too, yes the smell of freedom. The birds on the trees are cooing, there is a sweet silence prevailing amidst the clouds, and our freedom can be heard decibles louder than the heartbeats of the leaders wading through the crowds. Today feels like a Kishore Kumar's song your father sang to you as a kid but now you only remember the faint tunes of it.

Today is India's 77th Independence Day.

So, we have a very special guest accompanying us in this auspicious day---
our beloved Maa aka Mother India.

*throws rose petals*

Adrika: It is my privilege to interview you. Let's start with the questions. But before we dive into the topics, may I ask – how are you feeling today, Maa, seeing your daughter take an interview?

India: Oh, dear Adrika, you've touched a chord there. It's like watching my little girl put on her grown-up shoes for the first time. There's a mix of pride, nostalgia, and a hint of "where did the time go?" I'm here as a proud mother, watching not only you but all my daughters and sons, step onto the stage of curiosity, armed with a patriotic fervor. You know, it's a bit like sending a child off to school on the first day, except she's schooling me today! I can't help but have a proud tear in my eye.

Adrika: *gets all emotional* Thank you so much for your kind words. I am sensing this will be an enlightening interview!
So, starting with the questions! We know that your married life was too brutal. Would you tell us about those injustices and pain you underwent for 200 years?

India: Thank you so much, Adrika. Yes, those years were very agonizing. I was foolish to fall for the flattery of Britain. He ruthlessly bought a bloodbath. I was fortunate enough to have my dear children who fought valiantly. Their sacrifices still bleed my heart with proudness. My journey could have been more deathly if all of my children didn't unite together. It still pains me that one of my children partitioned with us and became Pakistan. Still, I wish that he gets all the success he desires to achieve.
However, I am now quite happy with all my 28 children and 8 of my adorable grandchildren.

Adrika: *chuckles softly* My next question is about your attire. Do you like wearing your dress? If given a chance, would you change it?

India: Well, I am not sure if I completely love my dress; when I see corruption staining my saffron band, gang rapes spoiling my pure white, and pollution spreading its specks of dirt in my green and sometimes when my people get blind with vengeance and hatred, destroying my chakra, I feel like the nation's laundry instructions were ignored! Um...I will never change my dress if given a chance. I still have the feeling, the hope that these stains aren't impossible to remove. I know deep down all of the people still care for their country. Also, don't we provide enough supply of Wheel, Easy, and Ghari? Huh?

Adrika(laughing hard): You have a great sense of humor, Maa. Now, my next question, as we education is vital today, so are you happy with the education of your children?

India: My children are report card full of surprises! Kerala, Delhi, Uttarakhand, and Himachal Pradesh are class toppers while Bihar has to attend remedial classes sometimes. But, hey, its not gonna be for forever, I am still discussing this with Mr. Narendra Modi. He promised to introduce schemes for her betterment.

Adrika: Well, I'm happy about that. Now, We heard many news about social divisions and discrimination. How do you think we can solve these problems?

India: Ah family squabbles! See, however hard we try, my children are too stubborn. But I am like a strict mother at dinner table-- no kaju barfi, until you finish your unity!

I'll say that many of my children have already understood the importance of treating every gender equivalently, and I believe with time, all of them will realize this. I'm still working on ways to provide security to the lives of STs, SCs, and OBCs. I have to mention that they are not helpless entirely because many reservations and schemes are undertaken for their education and prosperity.

Adrika: Indeed! Hope is something which connects all Indian's heart together. Now my final question for you, how will you encourage people to take pride on their freedom?

India: Open your heart. Shoo away the negativity, I know its hard to do that than to say. Embrace yourself as you are. Freedom is when you let go of all your insecurities and start loving yourself. Take a little time to see around the world, explore its riches- poetry, dance forms, arts and history.

We're a cultural salad bowl, so let's dig into our roots and savor the flavors. Remember, eating your way through history is both delicious and patriotic. We've got the recipe for freedom – mix self-love, a sprinkle of positivity, and a dash of change. Tada! Happy Independence Day.

Adrika: I had fun interviewing such a wonderful woman. To all women who think you are an abomination, spread your wings and make your flaws your identity! Thank you for joining!

*all sings national anthem*

_________________________________________________________

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS 🇮🇳 🇮🇳

Ft. my brother.
A picture from 2022 us, hehe

Two Peas in a Pod

2023-08-06T22:35:00.004+05:30

I had this conversation with my bestie.

So I had to write. But yeah, I missed my blog too.

She: You literally have written poem about a chalk to our teachers, but NONE ABOUT ME? And you still dare to use my Victoria Secret?!

Me: *unable to process the magnitude of the sentence* Uho. I'll surely write one. *sprays some more in the bag too*

She: *intense glaring..trynna be the sasta version of my mother* Better hurry up otherwise you can't touch that perfume ever. I "literally" mean it!

And weeks passed and passed.

I finally wrote it. Not because of her, obviously for my precious Victoria Secret. Lame me.

So here I present you that piece of poem which have every strings attached.

The sun shines again after the storm
outside the little apartment in Kolkata,
windows wide open, I stand in there,
filling my eyes with first shower of sunrays,
I see that windchime making a soft tune,
“forever” etched lightly in it.
And memories flushed.
Do you remember it?
Two hands clasped together
under the school desk,
playing hand cricket.
Mischievous eyes sparkles-
as they continue the game
and the teacher’s voice
bark in the background.
We giggled just looking at each other,
and executed every trouble with finesse.
****
Yesterday, I found a picture
pressed between the pages of
the heart diagram in 11th biology book-
a mirror selfie of us smiling in our school bathroom.
We were always like this-
Wildflowers growing with roses,
Two peas in a pod, our principal used to say.
Here is the thing,
When you are someone’s sun,
an eclipse becomes long overdue,
like this poem talking about you.
Memories are like strings
not the one with which we tied our answer
sheets-
But strings making melody, like that of a
guitar.
****
When I look up at the clouds
From the balcony of the apartment-
I reminisce that classroom of forty children
and we were the only two prattling,
and someday nothing else mattered to me
but you seating beside me in those desks
talking about how we would
stay together as adults in an apartment
being best friends yet another time.
~Adrika

Here is a bonus for reading the long poem!

Unfiltered Us!

Today you not only bore me but also my insufferable bestie. Congratulations!

Happy Friend🚢 Day, my readers❤

Blooming Among Wildflowers

2023-03-08T21:04:00.003+05:30

This Women's Day, I thought of collaborating with a kindred spirit and a wonderful writer herself, Anurima Bardhan.

Two poets, heart beating with myriads words.

I hope you will love the two contrasting portion of our poems, one showcasing the eternal colors of women and another elucidating how darkness inside a women is a beauty too.

Savor the poem, share it if you like and spread some love.

(Today my brain is all about positivity so expect less of positi-witty from me XD)

*Drum rolls*

I have seen the woman laden in lilac in the fields of lilac

vines cradled by the windy days

Unfurling her airy aura

I have seen the woman decked with the red lacy dress

scaling the lengths of the floor stealthily just as the bouquet of roses,

maneuvered with care and not trampled with

A mystery with the touches of bold sensualness surrounding her

I have seen the woman flaunting her beauty in the hues of monochromatic pinks,

cherished like the dainty petals of the peonies

A delicate beauty tangled in the grasps of lust and love

I have seen the woman softly bedeck her curves with purple and violet,

an enchantress of those who lay eyes on her just like the blooms of iris

A witch in her cavern full of nightshades

I have seen the woman silhouetted with Black

just like the poison bat orchid..as dark as the midnight sky devoid of the stars

The danger with it's vicious sophistication lurking in

the darkness ready to strike if harm claws at her.

I have seen the woman covered with the drapes of

water like the hydrangeas in the depth of the abyssal

A tranquil, her haunts an artistic apparition to behold

I have seen the woman burn with passion

as the fiery flames of desire surround her...like the

falling petals of the flame of the forest

Her passion burns, an unquenched trench

I have seen her wear the pearlescence white...the

innocence of the dew drops on the baby's breath

Her innocence, as shield with the iridescent desires

~Anurima

I have seen her soaking in magenta hues of her dupatta

Which everyone tells her to embrace, covering her breasts.

I have seen her drowning in ambrosial yellows,

getting cheated by the sun who often changes his hues.

And the cyan in her heart buried with dreams

yearning to swim among the candyfloss clouds.

And then one day I have seen her mixing

magenta, yellow and cyan with cheap Crayola,

All the hues blended into one---black.

Black, a darkness, a void created with so many vibrant tints.

Every woman's heart plays a Holi

But in the end just like our faces turning black with thousand tints,

her heart too gives the shade for this color

This doesn't mean she is weak or incapable.

Because what is light if there is no darkness to experience?

She needn't to be the rainbow with all colors,

She needn't hide her tears with a fake smile to satisfy

everyone around,

She needn't be someone with fair skin without pimples,

Because she is like a granite of lively energy embracing imperfections,

Just like how we admire the craters of the silky moon

swarming with twinkling comrades amidst velvety black sky.

Don't make heart play with myriads hue

For she settles only on those hearts which

could take her forest fires as spring garden.

People judge her, but at the same time

compares her with metaphors of Goddess & lightning.

So they must remember if she is the lightning,

They are the ground getting it.

~Adrika

______________________________________________________

Thank you my lovely friends for reading this. I know today was a happy read for you because you didn't got sick with my stale humour which I try to microwave and give you to devour🙂🔫
Happy Women's Day! Grow (b)old and age into a superstar grandma👵💪
Let me know how many of you got caught red handed this Holi?🤭
Lob you all<33

Finding Love In A Revolution

2022-01-06T11:17:00.003+05:30

T/W: a not-so-poetic rant ahead.

The shrouded hope flows in our cascade of life. This world has people like heartful poems and hurtful elegies. Together, growing like twins where one occupies more space in the cot and the other fights to gain some space. Ever since your birth, you see this world fight. People consider their life a war but when they lose, they blame their fortune and not their believes.

People ask "How do we fight pain, wound and trauma?"

But how many of the people answers with a "You don't fight them. They become a part of you."?

Maybe its just a handful of people, far lesser than a teen's hair fall.

Hope itself is a big word. Sometimes, it is just like the surname of a girl. You never know if it remains the same. And, when grief replaces hope, it just becomes another of your school notebooks, wrapped in royal brown, but inside, homes your poorly written classwork, for which the world blames you and your parents and never themselves for not understanding what dyslexia is.

Grief grows. Not like the way a disease does, but the way a small hole in your dress does. The more you wear it, the more wider it gets.

When you compare my wound with whimsical metaphors for your poems, I find how nude I feel even with sweaters because the people surrounding me here have already taken all the warmth. What's left is to pretend. Pretend that sweaters are things to keep you warm, even when your heart freezes. Metaphors are sometimes selfish. It rarely cares about poets. It just sits in our poem to make their wound appear beautiful. A lot like this shitty world.

Some people are like the refrigerator. You hope they will never cease lighting up your life, even after you close the door. But what if your hope gets cut like a power cut. Then, even when you keep your refrigerator door open, you'll only get to see darkness. And that is when you blame your fate. Can't their be a time when we glorify darkness's beauty? Can't we just stop fighting for once and appreciate stillness. Someone once said me, this life isn't uncertain, it just runs fast and boy, isn't it a truth?

These fabricated hearts cannot breathe. Their respiratory systems choked with plastic desires. And guess what? Few of them desired to kiss hope. Amidst all fights, they still hope for GOOD. They get inclined towards hope. Nothing is wrong in hoping but it becomes too silly when you make hope your religion. That's when, people stop giving a damn about love in this revolution.

In this life, we'll never talk about how mother tongues are easy to speak and harder to write because that is how the earth is. Even if it is a circle, it has corners and if you find hope in it, be sure grief has been there too. Because what use of life if it's all about happy endings? Then possibly we will all get a chance to become Disney princesses, huh?

See the dark circles, the vendors drinking three days old water, and children with patched skin holding bowls in hope for new air in new year are a few of life's amicy. On rearrangement, you can even find LOVE in REVOLUTION. So don't blame fate for pain. Own pain as if it is just another of your neighbor who listens pop in high volume while you try concentrating on studies, but also offers you chicken on Sundays.

Tragically, hope was never about clinging onto it. It was always about finding a string to connect to it when you fail to cling.

All things that you keep close to you deserve love. And even when you hate pain, its a part of you, pain has purpose just like the empty container of mocha has, you make a DIY for your school projects out of it :)

You ask me why rant and gobble your head which has dawn fresh thoughts in this year? Because their are people who are still stuck on past. Who still, blindly, believes in hope. I just wrote this to remind you not to put a fake smile when you're sad, instead replace the "why's this happening to me" with "okay this happened, how can I make it better?".

You guys are now free to wander. I am done being the philosophical poet. For today!

Happy new year, peeps. Make some resolutions which actually works!🤸‍♀️💖

~Adrika

The Strange Case of Blogger Adrika's Disappearance.

2021-09-06T09:31:00.001+05:30

Of the total population of 7.9 billion, only 1834 people read me(well, the germs around, read me too) and this gives me so much happiness. When I first started blogging, I didn't have any idea how to do that, so I decided to post my poetry. But still, I felt something was missing. I couldn't find myself on those posts. (don't assume that my earlier posts were written by ghost Adrika. It was me only ^__^) And then all of a sudden, my little grey cells stirred up and I asked it, "hey brain, would you collaborate with me to spice up my posts?" Luckily she agreed, and tada I'm here trying to entertain you guys with my rotten humor (lol).

You may wonder, why this girl is making us bore by talking about this. My friends, please don't think that cuz I don't have an answer for it myself. Maybe that is what happens when you forget that your bookmark section has something called "Blogger". You forget how to blog. You start rambling. You start using emojis in your posts. You lose your sanity. Not to mention, your sense of humor goes to a vaccination(or vacation?) and contracts fever.

So making the long story in a haiku form: exams & laziness

forgot the blog's existence

back again to bang.

Enough about me. I hope you all are jumping, laughing, gurgling, sanitizing, and social distancing, peacefully(peace is getting underrated in this world.)

How your august went away? Do you know about my august? Well, let me tell you:

1. My August ended like the disinfecting sprays. Most of them, used like perfumes or room fresheners.

2. My August ended like the way September came. Both unexpected.

3. My August ended like reading a book, where I forget to keep the bookmark.

4. My August ended like the sibling fights. Most of them ceasing with kisses and hugs.

5. My August ended like my father's political "gyan" session. Sometimes it feels addictive and on other days it chokes my mind. (hope that father doesn't read it. *finger's crossed*)

6. My August ended like a conversation, ending with "hmm". [truthfully that word sucks!🙄]

7. My August ended like eating a rossogulla, without its syrup. [who among you guys does that crime?!]

8. My August ended like a Monday who wished to sleep like Sundays(c'mon, c'mon, turn the lights on, it's not Sunday yet, so study on!.....Sia, don't kill me🙏)

9. My August ended like my weird OCD, wishing to end it with an even number but couldn't do so. (Let's make it odd, darlin'.)

To be honest, I could write 100 of these similes. But as I mentioned earlier, full stop claims a share of the sentence.

And then, August ended with solving the Strange Case of Blogger Adrika's disappearance.

How far will you go for words?

2021-02-14T13:36:00.001+05:30

NOTE: This post is inspired by Cadbury and from it's tagline.[I said inspired, not sponsered]

CONTENT WARNING: If you suffer from the jolts of CHS(Cold- Heart Syndrome), consult your doctor before reading this post. It has an overuse of love fuel! (don't worry, it won't pollute our environment) which can vex your jolts to the extreme.

In this post I'll talk about all the things I'm blessed for. All the things I love.

“Dear old world, you are very lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you.”

Ah! you see, Anne Shirley just expressed my thoughts in these beautiful words. (Um...okay! I used her quote to express myself.)

We all are blissful to be a part of this world, to be humans who can express their thoughts, imagine and submerge themselves in the blanket of togetherness. Happiness creates stories and we share our happiness through stories. We live upon stories and breath the words. I love my eyes twinkling over the empty screen, yet to be filled with words. Those words which hold the capacity to unite or... destroy.

I love to dream on the moon-dip sky, where the wistful smoke mingles with my thoughts and thousands of dreamy fancies knock on my door.

Aren't you glad for something? Don't you love to laugh, spreading your lips wide and letting those pearls form beneath your eyes? Love to laugh and hate to regret.

Do you believe your life to be a fairytale, where your lost shoe will change your fortune? It's more harder than that. Your life need company, smiles which can captivate, a heart which is mellow with the rays of sun.

Gloom is just an excuse to keep happiness at bay. Everyday has something to tell. A story. You live with stories. The words which we weave forms strands of sentences and laying them over the sky of imagination creates stories. How vivid!

This world offers so much. So many uncountable beloved ones. They all craft a frame of beauty, designed with intimacy. Won't you share your love with everyone?

Do I've to remind you that this post is still incomplete? It's time for desserts!

WORD-BURY

The ink ignites with the crisp paper,
leaving a tint of desire, to subdue inside
Words it creates, passion hidden deep beneath.
Strands of the sentences herken the dreamy whispers,
hands drift to bring the world close with words.
Endeavours never fails; burns inside for fulfilment.

Thanks for reading!

This is for you guys! Thanks for making my abode sweet.

Pensive with Premises

2021-02-07T13:22:00.001+05:30

Have you heard of a writer who writes premises just for fun?

If not here you'll get to see one: Adrika. (*showers ~~confetti and chocolate~~ tomatoes and eggs*)

My knack for writing premise grew more serious after reading some articles in Masterclass and Write Practice websites. Check these articles out! (not sponsored)

So, today I'll share with you some of my "just-for-fun" premises. I'm not yet a master in this. But I've tried some. I may use these premises later to structure novel or short stories. But that is something I'll think about later, they are for now only premises

So ladies and gentlemen, INHALE, EXHALE & BEHOLD.

1. Genre: Science Fiction and Fantasy

Divided by planets, united by minds. When the scientists of earth discover life on an unknown planet, a revolutionary discovery lies between the two planets. Will they journey towards victory together or will conflict befriend them?

2. Genre: Adventure Mystery

This is the premise of Enid Blyton's The Island of Adventure. I wrote it for practice.

Four children, Philiph, Dinah, Lucy-Ann and their parrot Kiki are embarked in an adventure, unexpectedly. Instead of enjoying their holidays, the four children are set off in unraveling the secrets of Isle Gloom and return home safely.

3. Genre: Adventure Mystery, Middle Grade.

This is the premise of a novel which I wrote about two years ago. During that time I haven't written a premise. I would now share it in this post. (SPOILER: Some snips of that novel are going to come soon! Tune up)

Four children, one adventure and a terrible secret. Sharon and Nick never wanted to visit India. But when their uncle bought a huge mansion in Delhi, their family decided to travel India. Down in the dumps, they went to India, to find their annoying cousins. Shavron and Astha, played many tricks to vex them. But when a mystery curled upon their journey and their dear grandma died all of a sudden, the four children must come together to find the culprit, all behind this.

Now,

A premise must contain:

⦿ Main character: Like I mentioned in all the above premises.( scientists; Philiph, Dinah, Lucy-Ann and Kiki; Sharon, Nick, Astha, Sharvan)

⦿ Protagonist(s) goal: Refer the above premises. (unravelling the mysteries)

⦿ The situation or obstacle: In my first premise the obstacle is conflict between the two groups of scientists.

Things to ponder while writing a premise:

➣ What can be circumstances of an obstruction?

➣ How my characters will fight against it?

➣ What are the inciting incident and pinch points?

➣ How to build the climax?

This list of questions flows like the ocean!

You, yourself need to understand the story, then map the structure to write a pitching premise.

The structure of a premise should be strong. As we practice more our quality for writing premises will improve. Guaranteed!

Premises are something which are the key element, it'll be the base of the story. It is also required in effective query letters to agents or publishers. When the premise is properly conceived it expresses the whole story in just a few lines and here we come to see the truth of the saying, "Even the small can be more powerful than the gigantic".

Storytelling isn't that easy. You need to ask questions, get answers. Only theories won't help. Storytelling is a science of practicing, structuring and showing. It needs time to evolve. Whenever I craft my characters into flesh and blood, time slips to craft the world. But I always remind myself, that I still have time to write and carve later. I've my whole life. Breaks are indispensable for creativity. As Lucy Maud Montgomery said,

"The point of good writing is knowing when to stop."

This (.) isn't just for using while writing, but you need it in your life as well. So, mon ami remember, fretting while writing isn't a way of comforting, or flowing the creativity in your veins. Breaks are what you require. (NOTE: I said breaks. I know we'll've flown our wings further, making it procrastination. Training our brain is another tiresome chore! Woofh...)

I hope in today's post I was able to enrich you with new thoughts, basically sharing my knowledge. I love doing that.

*breaths in contentment*

Till later

Goodbye and take care,

~Adrika

Strange story snippets+ My reactions

2021-01-22T21:53:00.003+05:30

Yesterday, I stumbled across a huge pile of notebooks. (Seriously, that hoard of notebooks was capturing my space for keeping a few newly arrived books).

I couldn't make head or tail of most of the writings. But at the time those were written, my heart pumped with pride. When, the girl got back her sixth sense pride collapsed like a pricked balloon.

After a lot of "I-want-to-keep-them", I picked each of those and stacked them in my storage room. (My mind fluctuates a lot!)

Later that afternoon, when an image of those beautiful notebooks flooded my thoughts I decided to have a sneak peek inside them. After all, they once accompanied my gloomy hours.

So, my dear viewers, INHALE. EXHALE AND BEHOLD.

Blood spurred out from the flesh. The effortless fluid covered my palms and patches of blood drenched her drapery. The eyes stared into mine in silence. Relief curled around her face, driving out pain.

Well, this is the aftermath of reading Christie's novels. (Specifically And Then There Were None!). You don't know how she plays with my patience.

In the grey evening of the young spring, sunlight drowned the glassy water. Atop the jagged peaks a music floated the ambience.
"What do you contemplate, Dove?"
"Ha! dear Ann, it is the water which brought you to me."

*blinks*...This small piece must've been inspired by the moral story of dove and the ant. How ridiculous my imaginations were!

MORAL: Never try reading snippets of your previous works. They are a nightmare.

Days passes, with a chill over her shoulder,

Night freezes with shaking reality
A girl’s dream shatters into pieces
And crystal forms around her neck.
They think she is “rebellious”!
A winter nightmare, she is.
Her heart is made with icicles, which are never to ruin.
Captured in their thoughts, she sat inside an ice cage.

Quite dark!

I can't express my feelings in a prosaic way, I tend to express them in the form of verses. They are more friendly.

"You are a traitor!" roared Algan
"You call the Dark Magician, a traitor!" cried Volan.
The evening enigma sat on Algan's palm. The light ejected from Volan's wand and hit the brave lion's chest.
"Forever for Vasitha! Hail." the lion roared.
The twinkling star glimmered as a ray of hope for the forthcoming war.

Merlin's beard!!! Is it a hybrid of Harry Potter and Narnia?

The trees whispered to me. "I saw your fate".
"You've to take the leap for the green" they said.
The night crept slowly. Tenderly. In the forest archway, I waited. Stared at them. To take a leap.
My family won't love it. They are selfish. They want green. Greedy.
I tilted my head. "I love green. They want me. I want them. My family wants them as well. In a different way.
A veil of leaves fell around me. Protecting me. A leap, indeed.

I actually loved the voice of this one.

I don't know why, but recently I'm falling in love with chlorophyll. Strange, I know.

This brings the end of my strange story snippets. Do you guys have a collection of unfinished story snippets? If YES, do share them with me.

Also would you people enjoy a part II of my story snippets? (I know these snippets have probably fried your mind, I apologise...you know curiosity?)

Goodbye. Stay alive.

Twinkle with Reflection

2021-01-04T09:07:00.295+05:30

My 2020 Album: Twinkle with Reflection

Side by Side, Hand in Hand, we reached to the end of another year, infact another decade. Living with dream, unlocking the road to tomorrow, striving for bright future we arrived to a new chapter.

This year was brimmed with uncertainities. We all were cocooned inside the four walls. But reflecting back to this wild year, I find a lots of thing which came to me as a boon. As we are human beings, so our life must go forth every moment with a positive loom.This situation has surely brought a new aura with unexpected changes in lifestyle. Stepping out, we have found that earth has regained its lost treasure.

I am not very dissatisfied with this year. I found a new way to enjoy amidst gloom. I call it: "365 Goodness". Whether you killed a fly or accomplished something, put it down in your journal. Few of which I wrote were:

1 I atlast found my post-it notes inside the gum boots, hence discovered a brilliant place to hide my money from my brother- the boot.

2. My Duo was again crying. So I made a come- back on my spanish lessons.

3.I killed three cockroaches! YA a hat-trick

The list continues with silly stuffs like that. When I now read them, these small circumstances brightens me up. It is a nice thing. Try it out.

- So, let's dive inside The Pensieve!( I am an insufferable Potter-Head)

- CATEGORIES:
- • Reading record
- • New favourite authors
- • Favourite movies
- • Favourite online sites

MY FAVOURITES
My Reading Record : I read 54 books with some new favourite author and characters.
My TOP 3 books:
1. The Death on Nile by Agatha Christie
2. The Daughterof Burning City by Amanda Foody
3. Heidi by Johanna Spyri

My New Favourite Authors: This year I found a new realm of fantastic authors!

My TOP 3 authors:

1. Amanda Foody

2. LM Montgomery

3. Suzanne Collins

My Favourite Movies: This year I discovered some very interesting and great movies.
Lights, Camera and Action!

1. Enola Holmes in Netflix

2. Benji in Netflix

3. The Mystery of the Hidden Staircase: Nancy Drew in Prime Video

My Favourite Online Sites: These sites are helpful for young writers. They are free and easily accessible.

1. The Write Practise- I joined this community is 2018 but became an active member from 2020. Joe Bunting is the establisher of this site which provides free suggetions, prompts and lots more! Link to the site https://thewritepractice.com/blog/

2. NaNoWrimo Young Writer's Program: This writing resource is a fantastic abode where you can connect other young writers. Fly to the site: https://ywp.nanowrimo.org/

3.Reedsy: This will remain my all time favourite site. It has countless prompts of various genres. I higly suggest taking advice from the members of this community.They are very supportive. Here to go: https://reedsy.com/

Fresh Strokes

Let's traverse forward and create something likable, different from this year. May the 12 months of the New Year, 2021 be full of new achievements for everyone. It is known that obstruction are a part of life, uprooting them is what we need to learn.(Now, don't try uprooting pimples from your face)

Viva la Vida !

Hail! thee twenty twenty one,

Hail thee New Year

Let your veil of comfort wrap us and enfold us forever and ever!

HAPPY NEW YEAR MY DEAR VIEWERS

A Crisp Through Words: My Wattpad poetry collection

2020-10-26T22:13:00.008+05:30

Recently, I created a poetry collection in Wattpad, which I titled as A Crisp Through Words. The book beholds my immense love for writing and showcases eight poems. I would request my readers to visit my book through the link provided down. Few of the poems in the collection are already posted on my blog but the rest are fresh. Hope you all enjoy! Feel free to tell me about improvements required. Have a joyful day😘

This is the cover page of my book. Let me know your thoughts regarding it!

LINK: https://www.wattpad.com/story/231527032-a-crisp-through-words

Festivity with Mask

2020-10-26T20:15:00.005+05:30

Festivity with Mask

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

~ Charles Dickens, A Tale of two Cities

This line from the classic novel, A Tale of two City is felicitous to describe the 2020 Durga Puja. On one hand, the pomp and glory of Maa Durga's arrival and on the other the catastrophic outbreak of Covid 19. How can the people even retain the colors of this auspicious day?

This different Puja episode with masks and maintaining social distancing was somewhat unexpected, but at the same point a new experience. I didn't expected to have such a lovely Puja with my parents and brother. We watched movies, had indoor photoshoots, played games, read plenty of books, did wierd food experiments and so much more.

The ten days of puja went in the blink of an eye with heartful fun and amusement. From eating sweets to praying Maa Durga, nothing was missed but done in a cautious way. I had video calls with my intimate friends and relatives, ate my favourite rasagullas, lyangcha and sondesh, beheld the enigmatic beauty of Maa Durga and welcomed unanticipated visitors. Altogether, this Puja will remain fresh on my memory.

Now, I will share a poetry I wrote during Puja:

A Different Puja

The streets didn’t bustled with footsteps

The sweet shops weren’t jam packed

The pandals looked vacant

And the atmosphere---

All the people wore masks,

Stared strangely at each other,

And walked maintaining distance.

How queer? They carried sanitizers in pockets!

Everything changed just in a flick,

People locked themselves, away from the world.

Puja arrived and ebbed noiselessly.

The people celebrated Puja, but… in a different way.

Festivity waved in the air,

But in a different way.

People ate sweets, prayed Maa Durga, chatted with other flocks,

But with an odd air.

Amidst all these, the mysterious splendor of Maa Durga

Didn’t failed to bring about charm and love.

An experience climbed in people’s recollection,

One brimmed with cautiousness, masks and sanitizers.

Estrella

2020-10-26T13:46:00.013+05:30

ESTRELLA

“What is that, Papa?” the child asked, pointing towards the sky. It was the illuminating beauty submerged under heavy dark clouds, it was the one who protected the child; it was one which always smiled when the child was happy and sheds “crystals of despair” when the child was upset.

The child repeated his question. But the latter remained silent, and placed the child below his arms. Tears forming beneath his strong eyelashes. His gaze fixed towards that molten gold shine hidden beneath gloom. He stared towards that divine smile, which once filled his heart.

The man, who once full of pride with his strong heart, now casted off those “crystals of despair”. The child now, pulling his father’s shirt, demanding for the answer. Tiny knot formed on his mouth and struggling, the words rushed out, “Stars, my dear”.

And the leaves came tumbling down

2020-10-06T20:45:00.006+05:30

And The Leaves Came Tumbling Down

And the leaves came tumbling down into my lap.

The brunet earth covered with myriads of memories,

Colouring up my heart with tint of departing recollections.

Departs the leaves, departs the joy, and departs the room which holds aromas.

In my lap sat the leaf, reminisces of the intimate folks.

And the leaves came tumbling down, I framed them inside my withered heart.

O! gale

2020-06-25T10:15:00.027+05:30

In this poem, I elucidated gale(wind) being a symbol of difficulties and hardship. As you progress, reading my poem you will percieve that malicious gale can't gain victory all the time, our intent can blossom us with colors and euphoria. I crave to know your thoughts about my poetry. Sprinkling love and cheer! ENJOY

O! Gale

Lo! He wrecked the houses with his tantrums,

Fading the charisma of rosy evening.

Ceaseless blusters, forbidding my ray of euphoria!

My restive chi went down in flames.

A translucent shine, seized gloominess

Hither arrives seven prettiness…

The hue evening, erased mischievous Gale!

And bought, warm bouquet of bliss.

Dead Rose

2020-06-08T11:24:00.007+05:30

Nature is not just a mere beauty, it is the most beautiful teacher. If we can get aquainted with nature, there preachings will shower us with luxory and victory. Trough my this poem, you will unravel nature in its powerful phase, an instructor. My poem also depicts a moral about time, and using it efficiently. Hope you will be inspired by this free verse poetry. Spreading love and happiness, Enjoy!

Dead Rose

Myriads of beauties, bloomed upon the green blanket.

They laughed, after receiving the mellow rays.

The blossoms made the ambience gaiety & their ageless vibrancy remained in my heart,

Their vivacious colors contrasted the eyes,

The sweet aroma penetrated my nostrils, how luxurious it all seems!

An unexpected smell erased the beatitude,

The beauty turned into beast! Haunting my vanity,

This unconscious spirit bought me to wretchedness.

The futile efforts pierced my soul leaving me in the bed of dead roses.

The Garden of Emerald

2020-06-05T17:46:00.010+05:30

THE GARDEN OF EMERALD

In the summer of sunlit green
The brown woods, drenched with light.
Afar, little bugs hovers upon youthful grace
And those innocent eyes shines with mischief.

As the playful legs traverse, far to the shining green,

The juvenile trees baths in profuse delight
As the wind makes his way, far afield
Serenity twirls, making the spry leaves descent.

Long gloom knocks the doorstep

Withering ages welcomes the yellow heaven
Upon lie all the spirits, once fresh
The Garden of Emerald, so named, feast our eyes on bliss.