Don't Kill The Dream - Execute It !

HFD!

2013-08-03T23:48:00.001-07:00

Happy friendships day to all!! Celebrate the family you chose for yourself :)

A Day In My Life…

2013-07-26T08:34:00.000-07:00

*Warning: may contain violent graphics. Just kidding, my life is too boring for that!*
Yesterday while I was peacefully watching TV, my mother, very rudely, interrupted to tell me that I was wasting my time doing nothing. I know, right?! How mean of her!
So I made this comic-type-post to tell her how busy my life is!

HERE IT GOES:

IN MY ROOM:

RUSHING TO COLLEGE BECAUSE I’M DEAD LATE.

THEN BUMPING INTO A TEACHER AS I RUN TOWARDS MY CLASS.

ON BEING ASKED WHY I’M LATE, MY HEAD COMES UP WITH AN EXCUSE AUTOMATICALLY:

IN THE CLASSROOM:

BACK AT HOME:


Watching TV....Flipping channels to avoid the advertisements!


BORED!

Of Dogs and Cupcakes.

2013-07-20T09:50:00.001-07:00

I am one lazy bitch.

I want everything perfect. Spot on. Not even a little mistake is acceptable.

But but but....

I am too lazy as well.

So I'm stuck at that awkward point in life where I don't even bother to clear up my mess because once I start, I won't be able to stop until it's completely done and that idea alone E. X. H. A. U. S. T. S me.

No kidding.

Oh my God I really need to start worrying about my nearly dark future.

But right now, I'm in no shape to concentrate on unearthly things like these owing to the fact that I'm an emotional as well as a physical wreck.

Yeah. I have hit rock bottom. Like yes it couldn't be any worse for me. There, I even said that without having to 'touch-wood' because I KNOW things can't get worse than this.

All my friends are like preparing for entrances and shit while I'm just in my room wasting my time doing nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. I do occasionally pretend to be rockstar and sing in front of the mirror using my phone/comb as the mike. Or sometimes I pretend to be an actress and giving a very influential speech after winning the Oscar for best acting. All the happy-tears I get during that speech totally proves the huge potential I have of becoming a kickass actress. Not to mention the very famous trait of not-giving-a-fuck that every celebrity has, comes very naturally to me.

Yeah, and you thought your life sucked. Boo hoo. Your nail broke? Big deal. My soul breaks like every single second. You don't see me whining about it, do you? DO YOU!

Okay so what?! I'm human too! I like displaying my real but weird emotions!

Sometimes I genuinely think I'm bipolar. Like not with the eyes, with the brains.

Which reminds me, my health has been acting like a total bitch. So I went to see a doctor last Sunday and he asked me personal stuff as well ... Which is very weird and new for me. Well, I'm sure he regrets it. I jeopardised him with all my issues for like two hours continuously and could've easily gone on, had he not interrupted me to tell me that there are patients outside too. Lol.

So the conclusion: I'm anaemic and hypoglycaemic and have a consistently low BP. I was also asked to get an MRI scan but fuck that. I'm just twenty, I don't need all that shit in my life as of now.

There's something funny about hitting rock bottom anyway. You develop a sense of humor. I mean you can just laugh at yourself because, get real, you have NOTHING to be stuck up about. And you start liking dogs.

Yes because those are the only living beings that won't get repulsed by your sad existence.

Dogs are the best.

Also cupcakes. Cupcakes help a lot too. When you are feeling loser-ish and stuff, you can just pop in some cupcakes and forget about all your troubles. Who cares about all the fat?! You are alone anyway! And I'm hypoglycaemic (low sugar in blood) which means I can eat more cupcakes! This, my dear friends, is the best example of the glass-half-full thingy. So I ordered loads of cupcakes! And ate 'em all!

Here are some pictures:

Yummy!

I finished these four in less than two hours. Thank God my metabolism is awesome or else I would've resembled Big Show by now.

I wish there was a way all the fat could get deposited only in certain unmentionable places of the body.

What's about Kim K naming her kid North?! Are you fucking serious?!

Anyway I'm done. Gotta go immerse myself in the hilarious Ellen Show videos. Gladys is da bomb.

Night xx

Wish you a less miserable life than mine.

Talia Joy Castellano

2013-07-16T23:12:00.001-07:00

Meet Talia, That Bald Chick who touched more lives in a few short years than most people do in a lifetime.

She just passed away after fighting cancer for more than six years. She could've spent her life feeling sorry for herself, but this girl here, fought with every ounce of energy left inside of her. I have been watching her videos since so long now but never once did I see her getting depressed. In fact in the last video she filmed, she said that she was going to film a bunch of tutorials later when she was out of the hospital.

She never left the hospital.

I've been crying since I heard about her demise. Just sitting here and crying. She was so precious. We needed her more than she needed us.

Talia, you will be dearly missed.

You are a hero.

I hope you are in peace.

The Broken Doll.

2013-07-15T05:35:00.001-07:00

-Pooja Lokhande.

Another lost game,

Another downfall,

Left unnoticed on the floor

I'm the broken doll.

Uncombed hair,

Unattached hand,

Uncared for,

Clothes so bland.

I'm stepped on,

And also kicked

Lying here for two decades

Yet never ever picked.

My head hurts,

And eyes sting,

Being left alone:

Pain it brings.

Although hurt so bad,

There's one thing intact;

The smile on my face

Stays true as a fact.

Still, fight I will,

Even though I'm small,

I have nothing to lose,

I'm the Broken Doll.

*Written by me. Please do not copy.*

Dear God,

2013-07-13T12:05:00.001-07:00

-Pooja Lokhande.

Dear God, if You exist,

Do let me know:

Why all this is happening

No place safe enough to go.

Tell me why

Innocent people are killed

While day after day

New temples they build?

And why the children

With hearts so pure,

Are made to live through

Hell, made to endure

The sick hurtful things

This world puts them through,

Who will help them

If not You?

Do You stand there watching

As innocent souls are crushed?

For second by second

More people are hushed.

The devil is rising

So high and above

This place is becoming

Naught of love.

Help me understand

Why You don't say a word,

As people beg and pray

Their prayers left unheard.

Do You not care

About us anymore?

Or have you lost hope

On the planet so sore?

Or are You as sad

As all of us here,

What they call rain-drops

Are those Your tears?

Dear God, do You like it

When people are strangled,

In Your name everyday

Their spirits are mangled.

Do You take responsibility

For every tear that is shed,

For the faith that is lost,

And the probity that is dead?

Dear God, if He exists,

I hope He knows

We are on the edge of destruction

On our death throes.

*please do not copy, this is my original work*

Dear diary,

2013-07-11T00:43:00.001-07:00

And the day I've been fearing about is here. And I think it's here to stay.

I wish I could turn the time around.

As a child I often watched in movies how specially our Hindi movies how some people had huge cars and some poor guy had one squeaky cycle and how that guy was bullied and picked on by the other rich people.

That was the one person I never wanted to become ever. And I find myself in a very similar situation.

Okay, I don't go on a squeaky cycle to my college (maybe I should though. Will give me awesome legs!) and I'm also not picked on (yeah, go ahead, try it. You'll live to regret it) but I still find myself so left behind.

People my age are graduating. They are going to various places and getting jobs. While I am still stuck here. Just lying on my bed like a fucking patient. I have achieved nothing in my life and it enraged me. I need to do something in my life but I don't even know where to start.

My college is all messed up, zero attendance till now. I just can't bring myself to go there. Already one year behind than my friends I feel like giving up.

While they are preparing for GATE, CAT, GRE I'm stuck here whining about how much my life sucks. My friends who didn't even know the meaning of GRE and I told them about it are preparing for it. Who's gonna help me? Who's gonna steer me in the right direction.

I have become so bitter and selfish staying at home. Such a bitch. And even though I know this I can't do anything about this because I am afraid that if I let go of this attitude, I'm gonna break down. Am I being tested?

I think it's terribly unfair that some people just get everything so easily.

I want to just go somewhere and start a new life. Just 2-3 friends and my mother will know my whereabouts. The other people, I don't want them in my life.

So if The Secret really works and writing what you want in life helps for real, here I go:

In two years of time I'm going to be well-settled in a different city than mine. In a better one living a new life. I'll be happy with myself. Hopefully, I would've accomplished something by then. Something big. And I'll have enough funds for having everything I want as well as for helping people who need help.

Amen.

The Unsung Heroes.

2013-07-09T10:35:00.001-07:00

-Pooja Lokhande.

The girl who dropped out of school,

For a reason only she knows:

An ill mother with a weak heart,

These, my friends, are the unsung heroes.

And whilst you cry about not having a car,

This little guy walks on bare toes,

To buy his sister a birthday present,

These, my friends, are the unsung heroes.

And as you crib about not having enough clothes,

This mother dresses herself up in rags and her sorrows,

For every little penny she earns, is for her kid

These, my friends, are the unsung heroes.

So stop for a beat, look around,

There are people living through all kinds of lows...

And they don't care about the rest of the world,

For they like being the unsung heroes.

Reality Check.

2013-07-04T02:44:00.001-07:00

So many things wrong with the above picture.

So many things right too...

I can guarantee that this picture is edited by a guy-an Indian guy brought up in an orthodox family. Only a guy like that can believe that a girl dresses up, puts makeup, wears heels to impress him. Sorry to burst your bubble but have you seen your face lately?

Some of the guys here, however useless they are, however much they resemble an ape, they have ego the size of Sahara Desert. They think they have all the right to tease a woman if she's wearing anything but a burka. They think it's alright to follow a girl on the roads to her home and then harass her by repeatedly showing up outside their house everyday. They think they can expose their private parts in front of a girl just because that gives them some sick high. They think they can grab, touch any part of a girl's body because, well, they are men. Bloody perverts!

Just yesterday I read a news about two Pakistani girls and their mother being shot because they danced in the rain and uploaded their video. Just simple, twirling in the rain type of dancing not the provocative type. They were shot dead by people hired by their own brother because he thought they dishonoured their family by bloody dancing in the rain. Apparently, dancing in the rain brings more dishonour to a family than killing one's own family members! This is the kind of world we live in.

Have you ever noticed how the countries that don't respect their women are still Third World Countries while the others have developed? I mean, yes, even in the powerful countries women, at some point of their lives, are mistreated but not as much as in countries like ours. Here a woman can't go to a police station alone without any male family member accompanying her at night. If we can't be safe in a police station with police men who's duty is to protect the citizens, then I don't know where else she's safe. Some men are so sick that they are raping the flood victims not even caring about their age. People died, drown, got swept away, massive landslides, starved, thirsty so many things to worry about and all some men can think of is sex?! In that condition?! Are you fucking kidding me?!

There's a difference between man and animal: humanity. Each day it's becoming more and more difficult for me to see that difference. It's sick how a person can do something hurtful towards another person. I bloody cry everytime I take my fishes out of the aquarium and for a short moment they flip wildly outside water. This is how much it hurts me, causing pain to little fishes. How can one do it to a human?

I have seriously started to believe that Earth is the hell of some other planet in a faraway galaxy. Especially, our country and all the other Third World Countries. There's a reason why we are called the Third World Country anyway. There's a reason why tourists are scared to visit countries like ours: they should be. Nobody's safe here. Not even a five year old child.

JAI HO!

Sharing ...

2013-06-26T18:24:00.001-07:00

Something has been bothering me.

I have been an avid reader since the time I could read. I loved reading and had a vivid imagination. It was like I was left starving for a million lifetimes and the only thing that filled my hungry-for-eternity stomach was a book. Any book. Books were my support, my guide, my mentor and I followed everything I learnt.

I read and drank in every bit of information and every bit of advise. I grew up learning things that the people my age that time didn't even think about.

Now I read something in one book that has been till now instilled in my brain. I don't know the exact words neither do I remember the book, but all I know is the basic meaning of those lines. I read that nobody should ever speak about their problems with anybody because then you are just inviting the people in a room where even you don't want to stay. Not only that, when you speak about your problems you are kind off promoting it to a higher level. I didn't really think much about this back then but after reading this I came across several versions of the same message. One such quote you all night know, 'laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone. '

My subconscious mind took this way too seriously.

A few months back I was in a terrible state of mind. Depressed and confused, I felt like leaving everything and going somewhere nobody knew me. I wanted to start anew. And each passing day it became worse and worse for me.

The problem was I wasn't talking to anybody about my problems. I wasn't telling anybody how I felt. Even though I have so many friends, there's not one person I felt like talking to. I changed my number and didn't give it to anybody. I locked myself in my room for days weeks months and the saddest part is not many people realised something was wrong with me all this while. The not-so-sad part is that a couple of people who I didn't really spend much time with saw my erratic behaviour and came to my place to meet me. Though they didn't ask me what exactly was wrong with me, they did spend some time with me and trust me, when you are down and feeling lonely, just the presence of somebody can lift you high.

But there were still people I considered close to me who didn't turn up until much later. Except one or two people nobody called me up or came to my place for more than two months and I was obviously disappointed in them.

Now I know it wasn't their fault that I didn't share my feeling with them but I was still very upset. All I wanted was a gesture, a small gesture from them that said they were still there with me ...

Why was I so upset? Family matters. Let's just leave it at that.

I met those people yesterday and told them that this was why I was upset with them. They asked me what was bothering me. I couldn't say anything. I now know why.

Because I have it tattooed in my head that I should never talk about my problems with anybody. And that's why I write poems and also blog posts because there's no other way I can share my problems with anybody. I can't speak about those things no matter what. It is so crazy that even if I'm left alone with a doll, I still won't be able to speak about my personal matters. I just can't say it out loud. What's worse, if I do speak about those things, I get even more depressed than before. I feel nervous and uncomfortable. Not because I'm afraid of people judging me but because I think I'm doing something wrong by just talking about the sad things in my life. It's beyond my control. Does this happens to anybody else?

So anyway, when they confronted me about my problems yesterday I told them that I can't talk about it. They told me that I was betraying them; that they told me about their problems and so i should tell them mine too. But I can listen to others, it is not a problem for me. Talking is. Just talking to one single person is like some stunt for me and there were four of them. They argued and asked me to talk about my feelings, which is not really their fault, they were asking because they cared, but I really couldn't answer. Just couldn't. At one point I also started crying. Not full-on crying but Kristen Stewart like silent crying. Because it just brought back all the stuff that took me months and months to bury. I know they did that out of the goodness of their hearts but why scratch the surface after I'd had it handled on my own? I mean if they would have asked me a few months back, while I was still going through all that, it really would've helped a bit at least. But now they were just making it more difficult for me.

I just think they should've stopped asking me when I started crying because that was how much it was hurting me to just think about that... I can't even imagine how I would've reacted if I talked about it. And I don't even cry much (In real life. Here, all I do is whine)

I'm also shocked by my own behaviour. Aren't people supposed to feel better after sharing their feelings with their friends? Then why do I feel worse? Why can't I verbalise my feelings? Why is it so difficult? The only conclusion I can think of is maybe I've programmed my own mind to react this way. As children we learn that stealing/lying/murdering somebody is wrong and even the smallest lie we tell makes us feel bad. Just like that, my mind has been programmed in such a way that according to it, talking about ones feelings is wrong.

Has anything like this ever happened with you? Can you openly talk about your feelings with people?

I'm sure there are many others like me. How do you deal with all your emotions and if somebody asks you about it, what do you say?

Because I Feel Like Blogging But Have Nothing to Say!

2013-06-26T12:51:00.000-07:00

So I FINALLY went to college today which, BTW, reopened on the seventh of June. It took all my inner strength and will power to just get into my boring, ugly, uniform and drive. Every turn I made, every signal I stopped on, weakened my strength but the following lyrics of one of my favorite songs replenished it:

Carry on my wayward son There'll be peace when you are done Lay your weary head to rest Don't you cry (don't you cry no more)

This song is one of the many reason of why watching Supernatural is never a waste...another huge reason is:

THIS! EYE CANDY, I TELL YOU!!

So I went to college, attended the first three classes, got bored and hungry and returned home. Geez.

I HATE THAT PLACE, OKAY?!
kthanksbye.

To make this post a little more lame, let me add a few useless photos....

I took this with a PHONE CAMERA can you believe it?!

Yes, I have to take a school-bag to my college :/ But I managed to find a pretty one at least!

And one Instagram Video (YES INSTAGRAM HAS VIDEO SHARING NOW AS WELL, IN CASE YOU DIDN'T KNOW. VIDEOS TOO HAVE FILTERS!!!)

Look at them sashaying with style :D

Once Upon A Time

2013-06-24T05:55:00.000-07:00

Time is such a bitch. When we are having fun, enjoying things, it seems to move at the speed of light and when we are stuck in a boring lecture, it takes hours for a single minute to pass. Bitch, I tell you.

A few days back, it was my cousins birthday. He turned twelve. As he merrily cut his cake and plastered the cream all over his friends' face it made me realize how old I've become. I remembered how much I used to enjoy the little cake-holi on birthdays. But the last time somebody messed up my face on my birthday with cake, I literally started crying because it completely screwed the insane amount of time I'd put in my makeup. These days I can't even eat a piece of cake without worrying about the calories! So of course, stealing a little, a very little piece of cake for myself, I ran away in my temple of weird thoughts: My Room.

Then I rummaged into the old photo-albums to find photos of my twelfth birthday. I couldn't even remember anything about the time when I was twelve. Except my school times. Strange. I remember most of the times I spent in my school as clear as day but there are next to zero memories I have of spending time at home. The only thing I remember is that I had a bob cut (?) which is like really short hair and a weird nose, until later that year I fell down and broke it. Then it grew back in a proper acceptable shape.

It is so weird right? It's like it takes almost no time for us to cross the child-to-teenager/early twenty bridge. How much we change in such a short span of time. It's like we choose what we want to be like in the first quarter of our lives and then later we are just living in our own shadow.

When I was in school, I was the happiest. I found the people I could love with all my heart without fearing they would break them. Because as a child, you are the best you ever can be. Accept it or not, after you grow up you leave your innocence behind (obviously) and something about this world corrupts you. You learn that things that are shiny are not always nice and the people who seem nice at first may turn out to be complete assholes later. We have to change if we want to survive. The most protected you are is at school. I wish I knew that as a child.
The teachers used to warn us that once we are out in 'The Real World', we'll miss the safety of our school the most. We laughed at it because we wanted to grow up soon so we could enjoy life to the fullest. We had wings that we were desperate to use. We wanted to fly, to leave the safe confines of our school. The Real World seemed more inviting than scary.

And we grew up so fast, class after class, year after year. All we had to worry about was passing in the exams. Times were so different back then. Back then, all we needed was ability to have fun to make friends. Nowadays I see small children making friends with only those people that they consider 'of their standard'. They have iPhone, Play Station, xbox, at the age of what, ten? They choose their friends on the basis of what they wear, what phone they own, what car their parents drive. So sad, right? I'm so thankful that one of the best things that my school taught me was never to judge a person by the things he owns but by the way he thinks. Modesty and humbleness was crafted into us. Didn't seem like a big deal back then but now that I see other people boasting about the littlest things like how they attend such an expensive school, I feel like a bigger person. The one thing I remember so well said by a teacher:

Your father's money is not your money.

Now someone else's birthday reminded me how old I have become. It's already been five years since I left school. But somewhere inside I still crave to go back. My beautiful school. I remember how full of life I was back then. I liked that person more than I like myself these days. I remember how the only birthday parents I asked from my parents was a nice book. Mostly Harry Potter. I remember how I used to compare my teachers with the Professors of Harry Potter. The teacher who hated me automatically became Snape. The teacher who was supportive and kind but also stern at appropriate times was McGonagall. Life was so much simpler and better. I can't believe I ever wanted to grow up. Silly, silly me.

The teachers were right, as always. The Real World is a horrible place. And I've become a part of it. The kid who couldn't lie even if her life depended on it is now spinning new lies everyday. We all want to be part of it but we want to get away from everything as well. Going with flow, living an average life...was this the life you chose for yourselves as kids? I wanted to get published by the age of eighteen, if not before. I haven't even written anything worth publishing yet.

Our wings were ripped apart by the crushing weight of reality. They broke us, pushed us and when we got up, they pushed us deeper. And we tried as long as we could. They we gave up, instead of going against the force we simply let it direct us. We were too tired to resist so we became what others wanted us to become. Buried our dreams somewhere deep where no one could reach them, not even us.

And now my heart asks me if I'm happy now that I've grown up, like I always wanted to as a child; that I finally know what The Real World is like?

I say, it's okay. I say, things will get better with time. When the right answer is something else however much I try to avoid it:

I want to be anywhere but here...

Floods and more

2013-06-22T01:02:00.001-07:00

"It will take us at least five years to recover from the extensive damages caused to the entire infrastructure network in the Kedarnath area which is the worst affected."

-Harak Singh Rawat (agriculture minister)

Yes because when more than fifty thousand people are stranded and more than six hundred people have died, the infrastructure and network is of utmost importance. Obviously.

We have been blessed with one of the most diverse country. We have favourable conditions for agriculture. We have desert, we have coasts. And we take everything for granted.

There are other countries that have not been as lucky as ours. Japan-for example. Who would've thought that the country that had been once bombed upon would turn out so advanced? If somebody has a reason to whine about unfairness and bad-luck, they have. Us? No I don't think so.

I have just come to the conclusion that the people who manage disasters, here in our country, just want people to die.

Tsunami, earthquake, flood, we aren't prepared for any damn thing. Are you telling me that in a world where you can look up the weather condition in a thousand rupee phone, you can't get warned about an upcoming flood? We don't have a technology for that? Couldn't they have stopped the people from visiting that area for at least a week just to be safe? Or was that too bad for their business? Shouldn't they have evacuated the worst hit areas?

I find it extremely hard to believe that nobody saw it coming. What is the weather department for?!

Okay, so it took everybody by surprise and there was nothing that could be done before the floods hit the city but what about afterwards? Did the government do its best to save people?

I have heard from people that the rescue helicopters are charging people to rescue them. And if they don't have money, they are asking for their jewellery. Yes. This is how sick it can get.

Who is to blame for the poor disaster management?

It's sad really, how unprepared everyone is when we have been hit by natural disasters again and again.

When I visited Shirdi some years back, I was shocked to number of people there. The queue ran so long that for somebody who started out early, it would take at least three-four hours to take a glimpse of the main temple for less than ten seconds. Having the hyper-imaginative mind, I wondered what would happen if everybody in the line panicked. Stampede. Death. I laughed it off thinking that wasn't possible but now, well, I'm never visiting Shirdi again. Or any other crowded tourist place. Because I don't trust the government with my life.

We live in a country where we can't even trust the doctors. What can be worse than that?!

I think it's about time they changed our history books. We don't need to know about how helpless and poor we have become because of the Britishers. We've had enough time to repair whatever damage they had done to us more than sixty years back. Now we should have books telling us how our own government is exploiting us which is even worse. Because the government is to be blamed for the deaths of so many people.

Our country has potential to grow; to become powerful but it never will. So much corruption.

Definition of democracy.

Diamond in the Rough

2013-06-20T20:00:00.001-07:00

One of those rare occasions when I manage to write a non-dark poem :)

Hope you like it <3

Xxxx

The Tombstone.

2013-06-19T08:22:00.000-07:00

-Pooja Lokhande

*Wrote this for a competition. Hope you like it. My second attempt at writing a short story.*

She lay there, on her bed, her eyes wide open. How could she have broken her own rules? Why did she not stop when the time was in her favour? She, of all people, knew not to take the leap. Then why did she let that happen? Why did she let her world be shattered into a thousand million pieces by an insignificant man? Once, just once, she let her guards down and got trampled by a man’s shrewdness. She felt helpless.

Nothing but the thick mane of lustrous black hair covered her dusky body. Even in the darkness, one could see her massive black eyes. Her lips were slightly parted and looked inviting even though her face was full of sorrow. Her twenty three years old voluminous body was a porn-star’s dream. One of her hands lay at the side of the bed, limp. Tiny droplets of blood trickled down her wrists and made themselves comfortable on her bed covers. There were several cuts on her wrists. The cuts were fresh and the blood oozing out of them, real. The droplets of blood looked like scattered rubies, giving her a God-like appearance: The Goddess of Beauty.

The other hand lay on her flat belly, a blade enclosed within her fingers. You could see the blade glistening with blood as it rose up and down with the breaths she took. Every now and then her hand twitched, as if unsure about doing something and then it remained still.

Her mutilated soul wailed obscenities at her. ‘You are the culprit’, it says, ‘you deserve nothing better!’ She wants it to stop. She wants the voices to drown and so the hand holding the blade moves with a blinding speed across the wrist of the other hand. A slight pain works its way up to her elbow. Her heart beats faster. She did something that she wasn’t supposed to do and it thrills her. She looks at her wound and smiles. It makes her feel alive. It stops the voices inside her head, at least for a while. However, she knows the voices will be back. She knows that there’s no getting rid of it.

Maybe this is what was written in her destiny. Maybe she was supposed to live her life this way forever. For some people, it wasn’t that bad either. A successful model, now the owner of one of the most prominent business establishment, at this age made her life seem a dream for others. Her public breakdowns were considered as publicity stunts, the latest being in one of her co-workers wedding party where she was seen holding a man’s collar and shaking him. The man was supposedly her boyfriend but no one was too sure about it. They called her a drama queen; an attention-seeking whore. But nobody knew the inside story; nobody knew her dark past.

Her past; her childhood. Was it even legitimate to call that her childhood? Her mother died while giving birth to her. Born in a middle class family (or what was left of her family, that is), Veronica had simple dreams as a child. She wanted to become a teacher. She grew up with the help of her grandfather. Her father had lost his mind after his wife died. He drank throughout the day and night. He squandered all the money he had in gambling. He used to come home late at night and hit Veronica. He used to accuse her of killing her mother. Her grandfather would try and stop him but an old man could only do so much. Her grandfather was the only fragile thread that was holding her family together. Being the child she was, she still loved her father and would kill to get loved by him in return. She never got the love that a child needed from her parents.

Veronica was just eleven when her grandfather passed away. Her father’s condition worsened even more. No one to stop him now, he became wild and extremely violent. Veronica dreaded him.

A week after her grandfather’s demise, something happened that changed Veronica’s life entirely. That night her father came home staggering. He was too drunk to watch his steps. He called her several times before she woke up. She sat up, shocked. This was the first time her father had addressed her by her name. Excited, she ran down to see him. Maybe he has forgiven me, she thought. Maybe he’s going to hug me!

That night, an eleven year old girl was raped by her own father.

Now that she looks back at it, she can’t believe how she put up with him for all those years. She was living with the devil himself without uttering a single word of complaint; simply because she had no one to talk about this to. She was constantly abused by her father. He would not give her food, even water, for days. She was helpless. She became aware that if she wanted to survive, she would’ve to fare for herself. So she took up the job of a waitress in a nearby fastfood joint. It didnt pay her much but was enough for her. She dropped out of school as it was becoming difficult for her to juggle study and work together. Moreover, she lacked motivation to study which resulted in her failing most of the subjects. She had too much on her plate already.

One evening, when she returned from work, she saw her father lying on the floor. She looked at him for a long time before finally checking his pulse. While reaching for his hand, she felt a sudden, unexplained rush of excitement and joy. Is he dead? She thought to herself. Her excitement faded away though when she felt a faint pulse. He was still alive and that irritated her. She decided to let him lie there for some more time and walked out of the house. She left him to die there.

***

“He could have been saved if he was brought here a couple of minutes ago. That was an unfortunate incident. He had a minor heart attack that magnified.” The doctor told a sobbing Veronica.

“I ju-just found him li-like th-that” Veronica uttered through tears.

***

As Veronica was eighteen by then, she could continue living in her own house. Not that she had any relatives to go to. Her father’s funeral was a quiet affair. Nobody attended his funeral except her. For the first time in her life, she felt something besides anger for him; she felt sorry for that man.

***

They say pain is beautiful. As Veronica started to blossom, she noticed men looking at her in ways a dog would look at bones. She found herself being grabbed and pushed. She couldn’t walk ten-steps without being molested. Veronica exhibited an unavoidable aura of pain that made her even more attractive for the people around her. She was a mystery for them, and they wanted to know her. They wanted to make her happy; they wanted to see how her face would look with a smile. Veronica used this to her advantage. She started using people for her benefit; mostly men. They did everything in their powers to help this damsel in distress whenever she called for help without even realizing that they were being used. But all their efforts didn’t go in vain; Veronica knew how to thank them very well.

Now the story of her climb is nothing new. She was a very attractive woman with a cold heart. Women like these know how to make their dreams come true; they have nothing to lose in their lives, or to be more precise, no one to lose.

She started with dating rich married men- the kind who’d readily shell out money for fooling themselves in believing that they were young enough to attract girls half their age. In reality, the girls just wanted their money. Two men played a huge role in bringing her where she was today.

She met Arvind Awasthi, a very famous designer, in the restaurant she worked in as a waitress. Even though she was just eighteen then, with her million-dollar smile and her gift of gab, it was easy for her to make that man fall in love with her. He gave her instant fame and success by making her the showstopper in his fashion show. They were together for not more than two years until Veronica found another ladder to step on. Their breakup made her an even more controversial public figure.

This time, the scapegoat was Suyash Chopra. Owner of one the best business establishments, he was married and had two children but no time for his family. Veronica and Suyash dated in the dark for a year after which Suyash decided to come clean about them. He filed for divorce with his wife and proposed Veronica to be his better half by legally making her the new owner of his establishment. Poor man, he was sure that Veronica wouldn’t turn down his proposal, not when he made it so grand and public. He was sadly mistaken. She walked away from him, now richer.

It had been a more than a year now since she started dating another business tycoon, Aditya Kashyap. For a change, he was not double her age. This time, things were different for Veronica. She had all she needed and she wanted to actually feel what being in a relationship was like. The love between them was hot and passionate. Veronica started opening all her emotions, which she had locked deep down inside, for him. For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to love somebody. Everything seemed perfect to her. She should have known that it was the calm before the storm.

A few days back she woke up in the middle of the night feeling nauseous. Assuming it to be something minor, she ignored it. But it started happening frequently. Veronica became stressed. She had never fallen sick; it was like she was immune to diseases. So she decided to see a doctor. The doctor took some tests and told her he would call her the next morning if there was any serious issue.

The next day the doctor asked her to visit him.

“Is it anything serious?” she asked him over the phone.

“No, it is not, don’t worry. It’s just something I’d like to tell you in person.” The doctor said in his usual deep, calm voice.

Veronica had immediately called Aditya and asked him to join her. He obliged.

She remembers the horror that had stuck her when the doctor told them that she was pregnant. She remembers how, instinctively, her hands had automatically moved onto her belly. She remembers being frozen on the spot, not able to hear anything that was going around her. She couldn’t decide what she was feeling inside: happiness or just plain fear. But one thing she knew for sure was that a little part inside her was smiling; a little part inside her was ecstatic

She snapped out of this weird trance when she heard Aditya shout at the doctor.

“-YOU GET THAT? YOU CANNOT DECIDE WHAT WE CHOOSE FOR OURSELVES! NOBODY’S ASKING YOU! WE ARE GONNA ABORT IT. WE BOTH-”

“I don’t remember agreeing on abortion, Aditya.” Veronica said to him in a cold voice.

His gaze shifted from the doctor to her. His face was contorted in anger. He was not the Aditya she knew.

“But you will, Veronica, you bloody will!” He said, trying hard to control himself from shouting.

“Why?” she asked.

“BECAUSE I SAY SO!” Unable to control his anger, he shouted. Quickly recovering, he added, “I don’t want this responsibility. Not now.”

“But what if I want to keep the baby?” she asked, her voice still cold and soft.

“See, Veronica, this is not a child’s play. You are too young to have a baby. We have time for all that.” Aditya said through gritted teeth, in a tone meant to ward off a stubborn child.

“I don’t know. I want to think about this.”

“THERE’S NOTHING TO THINK! YOU WILL ABORT WHATEVER’S INSIDE YOU AND YOU WILL DO IT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!”

“Why don’t you even want to think about it, Aditya? It’s okay for two people who love each other to have kids. Just consider-”

“Love? You say love? Ha! This is not love! This is nothing near love. We all know what kind of girl you are. You are a slut. I DON’T WANT TO BE THE FATHER OF A WHORE’S CHILD!” Saying this, he strutted out of there, slamming the door behind him. Veronica and the doctor remained quiet for some time. They both didn’t know how to react. Veronica got up after what seemed like an eternity to her, muttered a small ‘thank you’ to the doctor and left the clinic.

She didn’t hear from Aditya for almost a week. He didn’t try contacting her, neither did she. She knew he was going to be present in her co-workers wedding. So she went through all the efforts of dressing herself up and going out. She wished later, she hadn’t.

Aditya was there at the wedding. But he was not alone. He was there with a woman. That was the limit for her; the breaking point. She couldn’t believe that he had moved on so fast when she was still struggling each day. She completely lost her temper and hurled herself on him. She grabbed him by his collar and cried like never before.

“WHY?! WHY ADITYA? I LO-LOVED YOU!”

She was rushed out by the bouncers and sent back home where she simply sat on the floor for hours. She would get up, call on Aditya’s phone (which he never picked up) then go back and sit on the same spot again. She couldn’t decide what she wanted to do with the life growing inside her.

***

She lay there, cutting herself, hoping to die. Would anyone care if she died? Would they even know? Not until the neighbours complained of my house stinking up the entire neighbourhood, she thought. She found herself on the same place as her father. She was going to die alone, like him, and she could do nothing about it.

Or maybe you can, a small voice inside Veronica said. You don’t have to be alone, you can have someone to love, someone who’ll love you back .It’s growing inside you every second. You can change everything Veronica.

But I don’t have anything to give to it, Veronica argued.

You have everything Veronica. You can give it everything that you didn’t get. You have the most important and powerful thing to give to him: love.

But what about the father?

It doesn’t need a father. All it needs is love.

Veronica moved the hand she had on her belly. She thought for a moment about how her life would be with a child. She thought of all the things she could do for it. She could love it without the fear of getting hurt. She could go to parks without feeling left out. Ah, all the memories she could make!

But it would change her life entirely. It would ruin her career and would also give media a chance to put dirt on her image. She would be tortured by everybody for being a single mother. She would make the headlines for all the wrong reasons yet again. Was all this worth it? A ruined career? An even more destroyed reputation? This would change her life forever. Was she ready for it?

And without a second’s delay, her heart answered: yes. She didn’t need a man to take care of the child. She had a father, didn’t help much, did he?

She smiled to herself. She had made the decision. She threw the blade, got up and walked towards the mirror. She had never felt lighter. She looked in her reflection and found herself staring at the part of Veronica she never knew existed: contented. Her broken life fell back into pieces.

Her hands still on her belly, she looked into the mirror and said:

‘You are going to be the best decision of my life. The only decision I’ll never regret. Make me proud.’

***

Forty three years from then, a man was seen walking in a graveyard with flowers in his hands.

“I see him here every Sunday. Who is he Father?” a curious onlooker asked.

“That, my lady, is a fine example of an ideal child. It has been six years since his mother joined the angels. He still brings flowers for her. He even sits and talks to her. Tells her stories about his life like she’s right in front on him.” The Father said with a smile.

“That lucky lady, they don’t make children like him these days.” The woman said.

“She loved him back equally. She even got her own headstone designed months before she died. Said she wanted her son to look at it and remember what he meant to her.” the Father added.

“Bless them. Love like this is rare.” She said with a sigh.

He nodded in agreement. Then they both looked at the middle-aged man stop near a grave, take off his hat in respect and wipe the dust that had settled on it. He looked at the words written on the tombstone and smiled. It said:

Veronica Gray

(1949-2009)

I knew you’d make me proud.

Win Win Win!!

2013-06-18T04:13:00.000-07:00

How wonderful does it feel, winning something?

PRETTY FREAKING AWESOME, I MUST SAY!

And I'm not even talking about the prizes...I talking about the feeling you get when you win, that Mojo Jojo like feeling that makes you think you can take over the world and you ignore the fact that there are Powerpuff Girls out to stop whatever you are planning to do because YOU SIMPLY DON'T CARE!

I guess, this is one of those feelings you can never get used to.

The prize is the the Cherry on ToP.

So why am I writing all this? BECAUSE I PRETTY FREAKING WON THE SUNSILK CONTEST (Oh, that's my Sceptre cuz I'm The Queen)

Don't believe it?
See for yourself:

*And a huge round of applause for me please*

Haha, in such a fun mood today that I might just go out of my room today to see how much the world has changed over the years ever since I've locked myself in my room. And I actually mean YEARS.

Oh, wait there's Google Earth for that. Nevermind.

Anyway, I also took a screenshot of the page where they announced me the winner. What? I don't know when else will I get the chance to see something like that!

The second one is for TRESemme :D I'm a Runner Up!!!

Buhbye, I'll go step out in the Real World now. Have become so pale that I'm starting to get compared to the Twilight characters now *shivers. Ew*

WeChat- The Five People I'd Like to Connect to.

2013-06-15T11:20:00.002-07:00

I have been racking my brains for more than two weeks now. Every time I sat down to write my list of five people I'd like to connect to, something felt wrong. Fifty three rejected people, seven tries and three fully-formed blog posts later, I realized that celebrities and famous fictional-characters were not the people I'd like to talk to if given a chance. I already know everything about the people I religiously follow (Yeah, I can get a bit stalker-ish, but hey! At least I can say it out loud! Can you? CAN YOU?!) so what's the point in talking to them? Like, I know the exact page number in which Harry kissed Ginny for the first time and broke my poor, fragile heart! (Page 499 of the Indian First Edition of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince)

Less than three hours to go and the idea struck me like the bolt of lightening that had struck Benjamin Franklin (You know, The Kite Experiment?) and here I am, typing so fast I can almost hear the speed! Talk about Fast and the Genius ...

I was going to write about a couple of guys I badly crush on and without surprise, most of the people in my list were Super-hot, eye candies. Jensen Ackles, Tom Felton, Misha Collins, Johnny Depp are just a few example. And I also realized that the questions I was going to ask them were a little *ahem* personal. That's when the Feminist inside me kicked in. 'How would you like being objectified like this,' she said, 'You truly disappoint me, the kind of girl you have become! Why not write something about the rape victims? The girls who are molested and hurt? Hell, write about Sati-'

And I stopped listening to that voice inside my head for I had found my holy grail.

If I were given a chance to connect with five or more people in a wechat group I would add a Sati victim, her children, a member of a women NGO, Damini, and Abhijit Mukherjee (Pranab Mukherjee's son)

The reason I included them in my list is not simply because I want to talk to them, but because I want them to talk to each other.

A Sati Victim.

Because I'd like to hear her side of the story. Whether it was entirely her choice to kill herself when her husband died. I can't really fathom why a woman or anybody, for that matter, would choose such a painful death for themselves. Being burned alive?!

This is one of the most sexist form of rites that one can ever come across. What, you cease to exist when your husband dies? Your life holds no meaning without him? What happens if you die first though? Why doesn't your husband jump in the fire in the grief of losing his wife?

Are you really okay with this?

These are the questions I would like to ask her if she willingly embraces death. But there are accounts where a woman was forced into the fire even though she wanted to live. By her own children. How sick in the head can people be? This sick.

Click to Enlarge

Her Children.

If the woman didn't willingly submit to Sati, why was she still burned alive in front of spectators? Where were her kids when she was screaming? History has records of children pushing their mothers forcibly into fire to keep the sick tradition alive. Hell, I have read stories where the woman begged her children to let her live, some even ran away but they weren't spared. The people hunted them down and brought them to the funeral to get them killed.

I would like to ask these children how they lived with the guilt of murdering their mother? How they saw themselves in the mirror without feeling nauseous? How they slept at night knowing that they killed the person who gave birth to them?

Were they so tied to these customs?

I would like these people to face their mother after the unforgivable sin they had committed and give an explanation to her-any explanation-behind their horrible deed.

This is why I would like to connect these two people in a group.

Damini.

It is painful to even talk about this case.

My heart goes out for this girl. What happened with her was so wrong and so horrible that it shook up our entire country. Everybody kept talking about her, posting her pictures, conducting candle marches...even the politicians gave a lot of sexist and pathetic comments on this matter which, basically, showed us the ugly side of the society we are living in.

And even though we all fought for her, even though that incident aroused more than half our population, it is very depressing to say that nothing has changed. Like all that happened for nothing. Even today girls in our country are harassed and objectified to no limits.

So I would like to connect to her via WeChat, a couple of minutes before she climbed on that ill-fated bus and ask her not to take it.

If we can't learn from our mistakes, it's better to stop that mistake from happening.

Abhijit Mukherjee.

I was completely petrified by his comment on the Damini Case:

"I would term the protests in Delhi as what is popularly known as Pink Revolution. It is becoming fashionable to land up on the streets with candle in hand. Such people are completely disconnected from reality. They go to discotheques. I am very well versed with student activism and I can bet on it that most of the protesters are not students. They are dented and painted women chasing two minutes on fame, giving interviews on TV. The protesters do not fall in the age group of students,"

There are so many things wrong with the above statement.

I would like to ask him whether he would call the politicians taking part in elections as dented and painted too because, well, it's no secret that they are chasing nothing but fame and money?

Or is that term only reserved for common people?

A Member of the Women NGO.

Because I would need somebody to explain why all this is wrong and who better than a modern, opinionated woman who, unlike some people, is capable of feeling empathy towards the sufferings of our fellow humans.

I would like her to explain to the Sati-Victim that her life is not just dependent on her husband's. I would like her to show the same woman's children why what they did was unquestionably wrong. Would love to see Abhijit Mukherjee answer her face to face (oh yeah, phone to phone).

I would also love to know what she has to say about the Damini Case and how women should protect themselves if, God forbid, they have to face a similar situation.

Geez, for a country with so many Gods, our's is shamefully unsafe.

These are the five people I'd like to connect to and I do realize that compared to the other entries, mine is a bit negative and half as fun as them but how can I write cheerful articles when all I see is injustice and darkness around me? Besides, if given a chance, I really would like to hold this discussion some day in real life.

Hope you liked reading this.

Thank you and keep visiting!

*This article is written for the WeChat contest held by indiblogger. For more information about the WeChat Application, visit the WeChat Youtube Channel.*

Things Nobody Told me About College.

2013-06-12T17:46:00.002-07:00

Our education system sucks. I don't know about yours, but mine is a bitch.
RTMNU, the university that so easily turned our perspective towards education into a depressing blackhole of zombieness. The university that taught us for real that anything is possible.

What do most students do after their SSC board exams?
Simple. They start preparing for either Engineering entrance exams, Medical entrance exams or Chartered Accountancy. And these three are only in the list because going into Medicines is way too expensive and difficult. Or else everybody around us would be a Doctor. Or, a medical student.

Unfortunately, the same can't be said about engineering. These days it has become less of an education system and more of a business. A corrupt business playing with the students' career and life. So before you take the plunge and take admission in any engineering college, let me clear your head a bit.

First of all, ask yourself: Do you really want to do engineering?

Before going all 'Are you stupid?! Of course we want to do it! Why else would we study our asses off for the entrances?!' THINK! Do you want it for yourself or are you just doing it because you don't know what else to do? Or maybe because your parents want you to? They want the best for us, I know, but they aren't the ones who are going to spend a good part of the next four years of their lives rubbing their noses on their Professors' shoes. You are.

Now lets say, you do want to do it. For yourself and not anybody else. But unfortunately, you don't clear your IITJEE entrance exams or didn't score well in any other entrance exam. Your parents are pissed because they put in so much financially in tutoring you that they at the least expected you to get on the Extended Merit List. What they are forgetting is that there are millions of other parents like them but just a few seats. Geez. No coaching class ever warned you about that, did they?

You are feeling pressured and time is running out. You haven't scored good but you haven't done too bad either. So you say to yourself that it's okay. You can still continue with your dream of Engineering in some other, less-hyped-about college and manage a nice job too if you score well. You take advice from the former coaching 'institute' about what you should do and suddenly they don't seem so interested in you anymore. They are more interested in advertising the names of the luck few who got in some reputed university. Don't you get it? It's a Topper's world. No matter how many movies they make like 'Taare Zameen Par', nobody really gives a shit about average people. You feel hurt and betrayed because you/your parents spent like a fortune on some coaching institute that can't help you, guide you when you need them the most. So you say to yourself 'Fuck it I don't need them! I can do it on my own. Hello, Internet!'

So your quest for finding the best institute for yourself starts and you realize how shockingly little you know about colleges when you spent two years studying for the same course. You never looked beyond IITs and NITs and you practically laughed at the idea of going to a college without any rank. Now? Well, beggars can't be choosers.

After knocking on what seems like a billion doors and waiting in long queues of the local colleges, you finally decide to take admission in a new 'upcoming' college because they are the only ones who seem pleased to have you. The others? Well they had pretty high standards.Now the question is:

SHOULD YOU REALLY TAKE ADMISSION IN ONE SUCH COLLEGE?

I did. And there's nothing more I have regretted.

Let me tell you my experience.

I was a good student. Above average. Sharp. Was in the good books of most of my teachers. Even in my coaching institute, I was doing fine. In short life was all nice for me. But then college happened.

I got into SBJITMR, Nagpur university. Through CAPS (the term every engineer is familiar with) I got into DY Patil, Pune (computer science) but I met with an accident and couldn't go there because I was bedridden for more than a month. So, since I couldn't travel, I wanted to spare my mother anymore trouble so I took admission in the first college of Nagpur I got into. They were all sweet and seemed so nice. The people there. I thought maybe it wasn't that bad a place after all.

How wrong I was.

Once I was in the college, their behavior towards the students changed massively. First of all, they allotted us A, B and C sections on basis of how much the student had scored in the HSC boards. I have issues, lots and lots of issues with this. Firstly, students should never be divided on the basis of their scores unless of course you want to give the students with less marks, good teachers to improve their grades. And secondly, are you kidding me?! Do you really expect somebody who has spent the last two years of their life preparing for JEE to score a good percentage in the HSC exams?! There's a reason why they have 50% as the eligibility criteria for engineering!

As luck would have it, I ended up in 'C' section and we had different teachers as compared to the A and B sections. They shared the same teachers.

I cannot even start to explain how rude everybody was to us. We were called the underdogs, useless, good-for-nothing students by most of our teachers. Now maybe they were saying this so that we took offence and studied harder but it didn't work. We started slacking and I'm not just talking about me but my class as a whole. In the end, more people from our section failed compared to the other sections. And I'd like to ask:
Why were we always reminded that we were losers? Why were we treated differently? We paid the same amount of money that others did. Why didn't you provide us with the best? Because we were weak? If that's the case then why did you even take students like us in your genius college?!

I was depressed because negativity really gets to me. I can't bear it if somebody's horrible to me. Correction, if somebody's horrible to me and I can't even do anything about it. But I was told that it's the first year and things get better in the years ahead. Things get better, my ass. They only went downhill for me.

Now I'm in third year (should've been in the fourth but I failed. Back by one year.) and I still hate that place. Except a few teachers, most of them treat us like we owe them a billion dollars. I don't even want to start on how horrible even the clerks are. And how unsophisticated and unpolished the college-people are. They are nothing similar to the sweet, smiling, helpful people they pretended to be when they lured us into taking admission there.

And the problem doesn't end here. Not only is the college a horrible place, so is the University. They are so careless and uncaring about the paper correction that it makes you wanna scream. I have innumerable, live experiences where they failed way too many students only to pass them after the revaluation process. For example, I had a friend who passed in every subject except one in the first year. That one subject being Social Studies. Now Social Studies is a theoretical subject. It is impossible to score zero in it. So she out it for revaluation and when she got the copy of her paper, boy wasn't she shocked! She had in fact scored 66 marks out of 80 but the person who entered her marks, apparently saw it as 00. Can you believe it? You want the student to follow rules, have impeccable attendance, you don't want them to cheat in exams...Is it too much for us to even trust you with our papers?! Where do we go if you mess up? What are we supposed to do?! And this is only one example I have told you. There are many, many more.
Now tell me, would you want to study in such an environment?

I'm not discouraging anybody from pursuing their dreams. You should totally follow your heart. But be prepared. Nobody warned me about all this and I wanted to share my experience with others. Not everybody has a problem but I do. I don't like being told again and again how weak I'm at studies. I don't want to be compared to my other friends by my teachers. I don't want to be screamed at all the time. No student is perfect. Not everybody is a topper. Hell, do you see me complaining about how terrible the English is of most the teachers? I respect them and I want to be respected too. They have an anti-ragging and anti-bullying system for the students but what if your teachers are acting like bullies?

So think carefully before you take any step. If you aren't clear about what you want to do, take a break for a year. Think about it. It is no joke. Basically, you are going to throw in a huge amount of money for being treated like crap, so at least go to some college where it's worth it. Or you'll end up regretting it.

And remember, never get lured into a college just by their sweet talks. If you really want to know how that place is, don't ask the toppers, ask the low-scorers. A college that can't be good to it's student isn't really a place you can trust with your career.

Think wisely, not hastily.
Take care and all the best!

Count Your Blessings.

2013-06-10T14:06:00.001-07:00

Have you heard about Paulo Ceolho? What do you know about him besides that he's the writer of one of the top ten books all over the world? Did you know he was a rebellious teenager and always wanted to be a writer even though his parents were against it? They thought it wasn't a good career choice for him. He was even put into a mental asylum by them three times because of his rebellious nature. He went to jail three times for his political activism...was subjected to torture while he was there ... Yes that's how our favourite writer spent his early life. But did he give up in his dreams?

I try to encourage people a lot, to follow their heart and forget the world but I get so busy sorting out things for others that I don't implement those things in my life. Some people think it's stupid: believing in 'how being positive can change your life'. But even if it's just a hoax or a lie what's wrong with staying positive?

I can almost hear people shouting at me "You don't know anything! You didn't go through the situations I have been through! It is easy for you to sit there and say things and expect everything will turn out right!"

While yes I do agree it's easier said than done, I also believe that if you have a firm determination and a clear view of where you want to be, nothing can stop you from reaching there. Of course it is difficult to achieve your inner most desires but that is exactly what makes it special. If you got everything you want too easily, you wouldn't value it much. It's just human nature.

If given a choice, what would you choose? A Maruti 800 or a Ferrari Italia? Obviously, Ferrari! Why? Both are cars, both solve the purpose of transportation then why Ferrari? Because it is more difficult to obtain. Things that are difficult to obtain have a higher value for us.

If you were given all the things you wanted without struggle you'd never be able to respect it enough. Right now most of us whine about what we don't have but there are so many people who'd swap their lives with us any given day.

I realised that I spend too much time crying about 'what could've been' when I should be busy creating 'what could be'.

We tend to fall into the pit of self loathing and low self esteem because we only look at the bad things coming in our lives. How many of you have woken up feeling lucky that you could see, feel, hear, smell, speak and walk? How many of you feel thankful about having a mother who runs to you with food everytime you come back home from college? How many of you are grateful for having a father to play with and share jokes with? Tu have a family? A house to live in? Food to eat? Your computer? Internet connection? Your smartphones?

Now think about all the times you've went into depression thinking about the bad stuff happening in your life like failing in some exam or having a fight with your parents? Hell I have seen people die over their lovers. Seriously?! You forget all the love given to you by your parents, your friends and go kill yourself for somebody who doesn't even deserve it? Ingenious!

Everybody is suffering. Nobody is wholly satisfied with their lives. If somebody gets something they have wanted, they find something else to replace their fulfilled desires. We are greedy and we can't help it. We need a sense of purpose for ourselves without which we are practically nothing. But do we let this be the sole reason for driving us into action? Should we forget to live?

Dreams do come true. But once the high of achieving that passes we find ourselves at the bottom of the ladder again. Happiness comes to those who know when to stop climbing and rest.

Enjoy your climb, count your blessings and move on.

Life will get better.

Brings Pleasure, This Little Sin...

2013-06-06T18:15:00.002-07:00

-Pooja Lokhande

The blade, it moves with a blinding speed
Across her pale white skin
Like a fountain, the blood gushes out