Saturday, 11 February 2012

You. Are. The Only Exception.

When I was younger

I saw my daddy cry

And curse at the wind

He broke his own heart

And i watched

As he tried to re-assemble it

Friday, January 10, 2003
6:16 pm.
Dear Diary,
He's stormed out of the house again. Third time in this week. I didn't see it happen, ofcourse. I could hear them screaming accusations, followed by the sound of smashing glass[She's not going to be happy about this, it was the last vase from her collection of antiques.]. I began counting, and on exactly the tenth, the door was banged, and in another 20, the car had left the driveway. I am getting better at this with each passing altercation. 

10 pm.
 He's back. And he's drinking again. What can POSSIBLY make him SO unhappy? How can they POSSIBLY find reasons to fight EVERY single day of their lives? His hugs which smelt of his strong cologne, smell of stale beer now. Jumping onto his lap only means inhaling the residues of the twenty something cigarettes he's already smoked, and the smile that accompanies "Here comes my princess" doesn't reach his eyes anymore. He looks ten years older, the charm his words were always dripping with has worn off. Why do people have to get married in the first place if all that comes with it is the smell of stale alcohol and a fortune spent on smokes? 

                                                                   And my momma swore 

that she would never let herself forget

And that was the day that I promised

I'd never sing of love

If it does not exist

Friday, August 17, 2007
Dear Diary,
Fri-Daddy-Day didn't turn out to be so bad this time. For a change, he wasn't constantly texting that bitch from the Finance department. I think I am going to send him an anonymous mail pointing out how "Miss. Rita" is SO fucking similar to the typical vamp from Indian TV soaps. I mean caam aan. The blood red sarees, those cat-like green eyes, the fake laughter, the excessive flirting. And how  can he POSSIBLY not notice how her eyelids are always drooping due to the weight of the dark eye shadow which she probably doesn't even wipe off before bed. Has he ever wondered? Or maybe he knows what she looks like in bed...
*Heebie jeebies*. Must. Throw. Thought. Out of. Head.
Anyhoo, the scene at home isn't very different. Mr. Roy has decided to "help a friend meet deadlines" yet again. My ass. Mum hasn't missed a deadline her entire life. I shoved a hot dog into his mouth to stop all the saliva  from ruining my cushions. The constant drooling is going to be the reason I kill him one fine day.Well  atleast the scenario here is satisfactory. Mum doesn't give a rat's ass about him or the helping hand that he always has to offer. I think I am going to send an anonymous mail to him too and it'll be something on the lines of "QUIT TRYING YOU MORON. SHE'D RATHER DATE A BEAVER THAN DATE YOU". Even though it'll be technically incorrect. Dating for mum is higher up the list than boiling five live puppies. *swells with pride*. Atleast someone around here has a clear perspective on love. *pukes internally*

Maybe i know, somewhere

Deep in my soul

That love never lasts

And we've got to find other ways

To make it alone

Or keep a straight face

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Dear Diary,
So I was going through mum dad's wedding pictures the other night. And it compelled me to think, what on Earth were they thinking? That at 22, they'd found their soul mates? That just because they were happy at that moment, they'd live happily ever after? Didn't they realize that "Bullcrap! We're like chalk and cheese, we're diametrically opposite! HOW can we possibly live Happy-Ever-After?". Whatever happened to good old common sense? To the Head-Before-Heart theory? Love marriage. That's almost like a bloody oxymoron! 

And i've always lived like this

Keeping a comfortable, 

distance, and up until now

I'd sworn to myself that I'm content

With loneliness

Because none of it 

was ever worth the risk, but...

Tuesday, March 27, 2011

Dear Diary,
Okay so this is what it looks like.
1. He appears out of the blue and makes small talk. Annoying? Check.
2. Helps me out with Prof. Richard's project after that bastard screwed me infront of entire damn class. Still annoying? Check.
3. He takes me to this GOD AWESOME library near his place. Like the kind I used to dream  about when I was a kid, and had to make do with that awful version of a library near my place. [They didn't even have Dickens. WHAT MADE THEM CALL IT A LIBRARY?] Still annoying? Uhm not so much.
4. He cheesily asks me whether I'd like to be his "plus one" for the Tribute to Beatles. Can't blame a girl for agreeing to that sheepishly , can we now? Annoying wasn't even one of the options anymore.

STOP BEING NICE TO ME ALREADY. Makes me so darn uncomfortable :-/

But darlin'
You are the only exception.
You are the only exception...

Thursday, February 10, 2012

Dear Diary,

Got a bunch of prints for the scrapbook I decided to put together for his birthday. Couldn't fit this one anywhere, so here it is :) 
Okay I admit, I stared at this picture for good three minutes, smiling like a lunatic, before I began writing again. Who would have thought somebody like me would ever have someone I could call my own. Someone I could share my entire life with over a cup of coffee. Wiping off the froth from his upper lip after the first sip has sort of become a ritual. Though I make it a point to stare at him for exactly 0.8 seconds before I make a joke about it and trace his lip with the tip of my finger. What were the chances of ACTUALLY finding another person  who listened to Rafi and Floyd back to back every Sunday  morning. And even though that is the only thing we have in common[He likes his eggs sunny side up, chooses red over black, Lord of the Rings over Harry Potter], it seems as if there is something similar about every different habit of ours. 
Who could have thought I'd fall in love with chinese food. Or long drives. Or the rain. OR stupid mushy romantic flicks[geez]. Who could have thought I'd choose a kurta^ over a smart pair of denim jeans. 
I guess it's true then, all you need is love :)

And I'm on my way to believing,
Oh and I'm on my way to believing...

Again, a part of the Fantabulous February exercise. I picked up this format from a  fellow blogger's blogpost :)
Song- Only Exception: Paramore :)


  1. Chub, I've no clue why, and how exactly having the guts to confess something like this, but I was weeping through the last part.
    This one's amazing Chub. Kudos!

  2. Akaaa! That is a HUGE compliment. Glad you liked it so much! :)

  3. I like it. Really. You're really good baby. Seriously :')

  4. @Anonymous. Thank you so much babe :) :*
    @Jojo. Why so upset? :O

  5. That is a very well written piece. Could'nt take my eyes off it till it was over.
    Keep writing always! :)

  6. Again, very well written. The story kept me gripped! And I love that song so much! :')

  7. It is so well written. I especially love these 2 lines, Who would have thought somebody like me would ever have someone I could call my own. and it seems as if there is something similar about every different habit of ours.

    In tears yet smiling :')

  8. @Banta. Thank you very much :) Yeh I know, it's great! =D
    @Diwi. Yay! =D Thank you so much Diwi.
    Awww :*

  9. Wow.
    It's sad and at the same time wonderful how people evolve. Reminded me of the basic theme of 500 days of Summer.
    It's wonderful to see how the child grew up and realised her own life. Really well written. :)

    1. Yes, I am sort of proud of this piece of mine. I know it's nothing GREAT, but it sort of came from the heart. Thanks :)

  10. very does change things!!

  11. I was almost gonna shed tears, till the comments here made me feel stupid. This is fiction??? You're THAT good. :)

    1. Haha yes it's fiction! :)
      Thank you SO much!
      Great! Welcome to my blog, my 80th follower! =D


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