Wednesday, 15 February 2012

The tables have turned.

Timid, tactful, yet always unsure of his own actions, he was reticence personified.
Loud, righteous, indignant, yet self absorbed in every way, you were in complete contrast.
Like a dark cloud, you hovered over his life.Watching over his decisions, never letting him escape from your iron grip. You ensured that he never tasted emancipation.Never caught a glimpse of liberation.
Being the hypocrite that you are, you buried your own follies under layers of lies and senseless justifications.
Yet he never questioned your authority, doubted your advice. He accepted your harsh criticism, without further argument. You took "taking for granted" to another level,but to maintain peace,he never contradicted your judgement.
But now, the tables have turned, the roles have reversed. And as you stand here, wondering what could have brought about the sudden outburst, you must know for a fact that your definition of "sudden" is horribly distorted. Or maybe you're way too vain to admit that this timid, tactful, reticent person you thought you loved, but actually controlled, has indeed decided to give you a dose of your own medicine. 
So instead of standing here, with your jaw reaching out for the floor, why don't you push your vanity aside for a while and finally ACCEPT. He's the volcano you thought would never erupt, babe, and he's on his way to wash away every trace of your existence from his life. 


I know  A LOT of people who are involved in relationships like this one, both guys and girls. Here's hoping that if your "better" half is reading this, he or she realizes that it's high time his/her equally wonderful half received their share of admiration and appreciation :)

Fantabulous February, Day 15 :)

Tuesday, 14 February 2012

Now that the love is gone.


She came in like the bright summer sun and left before I could fully bask in the warmth of her presence. I was a blank sheet of paper before she painted my life with the vibrant colors of her personality. I was an empty goblet before she filled my heart with the timeless wine of her love. My soul was like a barren piece of land which bore fruit after her constant efforts at mending the broken person that I was. And then, before I could fully grasp the fact that this magical being was indeed mine, she was gone. Gone. Moved on to a world where she could be better appreciated by the souls as divine as her. And I was left to cope up with my loss.
But I can't. My world is colorless, tasteless, meaningless, just as it was before she touched it and turned it into gold. There is nothing left of her, even her ashes were sprinkled on to the Ganges, making it more pristine and pure than it already was.There is nothing that bears testimony  of her existence, there is no proof of the fact that she ever did make my dead heart beat again. All that is left of her is that worn out white pullover that protected her fragile body from the chill, but could not protect her from the car crash that eventually ripped the life out of her.



I won't wish you a Happy Valentine's Day, readers, for I don't believe in this ritual which brings disappointment for some, heartbreak for others, and a sense of loss for the lonely.

PS. Sorry for such an emo post. You see, grief is infectious too.   

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 :)

Thursday, 9 February 2012

Have you ever wondered?

Have you ever wondered HOW the US has the third largest population in the world, even though people are literally dying as we speak? According to the TV shows that you and I watch everyday, the place is swarming with all sorts of homicidal freaks!  So hey people. If there's someone out there you absolutely can't stand, who makes you feel like concentrated sulphuric acid over a bunsen burner, who is more annoying than Rakhi Sawant on her best day, then just reach out to them and gift them a ticket to America! Cause if the criminals from Castle, Lie to me etcetra etcetra don't manage to rip the life out of them, then the serial killers and mental patients and psychopaths from Criminal minds definitely will. And even if the freaks are incapable of incapacitating them, then the wide variety of creatures/spirits/demons from Supernatural will make sure that they never bother you again! Happys the endings, no? =D



PS. Got my board exams in another 15 days [ :( ] so you won't be seeing much of me around here machas! But I am going to be posting a single picture, giving you an insight into my life, every single day. The picture for today is :-

FORTY FOUR MONTHS, BICHAAAAIS! =D
Feels SO bloody good! This post is dedicated to you baby[minus the entire psycho rambling, of course =P ]
May there be many MANY more :) I love you :)
Will keep you updated, so stay with me, folks! Ciao! :)

Monday, 6 February 2012

Denial.

Look at this! I mean just  LOOK AT THIS! Yay moment much? I most definitely think so =D
It's been a good week. I said Hello to my long lost friend, my dear old blog. It was just there, with it's arms wide open, waiting for me patiently, instantaneously forgiving me for having neglected it unintentionally. I wish people around me were like that too. The world would have been a much better place to live in :)
Soooo, yet again, as a part of Kanika's Fantabulous February exercise, I present to you, Denial :)
Yes, go on, look at me again. It'll be the perfect last ingredient in this cauldron of extreme awkwardness. Pour it in, nice and slow. Yes, I've caught you looking at me. Yet again. So don't try to make it seem as if you were suddenly exceptionally interested in that junk piece of art that Liz calls her masterpiece. Cause you and I both know how much we've bitched about it behind her back, sitting on that red couch, which you are single handedly occupying right now. But there was absolutely  no need to choose the spot farthest from where I was sitting sweetie cause let's face it, you might be across the room, but someone could cut the sexual tension between us with a knife. YOU, however, like always, would have a different explanation as to why our "friendship", if you could call it that anymore, at present is in complete contrast to that which we had two weeks back. "I just have a lot of work load at present". Seriously? That is the best you could come up with? You might as well have gone with "It's not you, it's me". It would have at least given me the opportunity to pretend that you really were the biggest moron in the history of the world, and that I had better things to do in life than to sit and watch and wait for you to finally put two and two together and accept the fact that you really were in love with me. Those furtive glances you've been shooting in my direction, yes that was number twenty three, how would you explain those then? Or those moments we spent at your place the other day? Or that walk in the rain? What we had between us then wasn't JUST "friendly" you know. The sparks that flew that night at Jo's party could have set the canopy he'd designed for the occasion on fire. And I am sure that stating that the kiss that happened later that night was just "something crazy and reckless that could happen with any two drunk people"  set your pants on fire, but even if it did, you'd find a way to look the other way anyway, right? Even if your ass looked like somebody's death pyre?
The truth is, you can't get yourself to believe that you cheated on her. Just like you refuse to believe that the love that you both so openly boasted about is gone, and that you're with her only because you don't know where else to go. Ignorance isn't always bliss,love. So I am going  to remain seated here, in this spot across the room, and wait for you to wake up from your reverie and realize, what I realized two weeks back. The signs have been gathering. Still not convinced?

Sooooo, what do you think about it? =D Batao batao, flood me with your suggestions and comments!
PS. The label should be "Fantabulous February", but I just don't know how to change the label now! Bleh! :(

Saturday, 4 February 2012

Rewind?

TWO posts in a single night? I'm on a roll, yo! =D Okay I'm going to make this short and quick, lest my mother[who sleeps with one ear aimed at my door, just by the way] should hear the chuck-chucks emitting from my keyboard. So this lady whose blog I like to follow[you should check it out sometime, really] has started this exercise. Which I may not have the time to elaborate on at present, but which I assure you, is downright amazing. In a nutshell, I'll be using a picture she posted as a stimulus to write something. So here it is.


Do you remember the time when all you did in life was to sit and fill blank sheets of white paper with whatever came to your mind? The blurry dream you had the other night, your house, your favorite swing in the park, your mother when she was all dressed to go out, your father when he picked up his car keys and left the apartment in the morning, and every single event that garnished the short span of time that you'd been alive? All you needed was a box full of paints and blank sheets of paper that waited for you to accept them as your closest confidante. And at times, you'd make a swift movement, reaching out for your mother perhaps, and unintentionally toss the little glass bottle of paint onto the sheet, smudging your master piece, and at times ruining a brand new sparking piece of paper. You'd be upset for a while, cry over it a bit,then come to terms with reality and start afresh. I, I was never that kid. I was the kid who looked at the wreckage for a while, and eventually found a way to paint my masterpiece either on it, or around it. Where are those days? Oh what I won't give to be able to cover those poured paint like mishaps of my life with a fresh coat of bright color, to be able to bury them under my masterpiece. What won't I give to be able to conceal the scars under layers of  sunshine yellow and sky  blue, and pretend as if they never existed, while people stand appreciating the ingenuity off my strokes. If you don't mind, can I please rewind?

Kanika at Sensitive Chaos has taken the initiative to inspire writers to write some more. Join us, ya fellas! It's fun, believe me =D

When I was a lad(or lass?) just 3 feet 3.[Part I]

School is over. CAN YOU BLOODY BELIEVE IT? I know I can't :| I am basically supposed to be sitting down and studying for my Chemistry Board Practical, but damn I just read a friend's account of her school life, and the nostalgia pushed itself into my teeny weeny head.
School's over? But I just bloody came out of mommy dearest's womb! :O How did I grow up so fast? I mean, though it sounds horribly cliche, but yeah, wasn't it just YESTERDAY(I warned you about it beforehand, don't you give me the look, nuh uh)when I entered that huge black gate, and then refused to come out? Yes ladies and gentlemen,your mother told you that you cried your ass off. She told you tears, mixed with phlegm, poured down your face in excess and it broke her heart to let go of your little fingers and watch you being pulled by a friendly looking Nursery teacher, while you reached out for her with your free hand. She might have even told you that though you were a good kid when she left you, during dispersal she was met by a child whose eyes accused her of betrayal. My mother's story, my friends, is downright hilarious. She INSISTS that I got in through the admission process in my school after I had already been rejected once. And I, I must emphasize, am an egoistic, self loving bitch. And I refused to believe that a toddler as awe inspiring as me could POSSIBLY be rejected by a bunch of bespectacled ladies with identical Know-It-All looks on their faces. And that is when I was told that the reason for the thumbs down was that after the examination, I firmly declined the benign offer of being reunited with my mother. And the tears mixed with phlegm poured down my face ONLY because I didn't want to part with the colorful toy bricks, the huge bowl of battered crayons or the pretty flowers outside the reception which the scary looking Mucchad Uncle forbade me from plucking. The bespectacled ladies were anxious about the safety of their staff,whose eyes I was trying to scratch out when they dragged me towards my mother. And hence Ruhani Chopra, for the first time in her life was REJECTED. Whatte pity. But soon, they realized what a colossal mistake they had committed by turning down such a will-bring-a-change-in-the-big-bad-world-type child prodigy[ B) ] and TOOK ME BACK =D And that's what made all the difference :)
Kids don't usually remember their first year in school, but there are a few snippets from Nursery that have forever been etched in my head. Like my first friend in school(I turned my back on him because he befriended a bully. I was always a righteous kid \m/), my favourite table(there were only low, round tables sans chairs. We sat on the floor)which was bright cherry red(RedLoveForever), my hiding place which was occupied by yours truly when she wanted to take some time off the tiring and draining routine of the play ground and talk to herself instead. The swings, the pool parties in the pool-cum-waterfall at the edge of the Jhoola Park, the school bus where I beat the shit out of a lot of annoying kids[I was the Don, yo!], the school assemblies where they made us sing all kinds of songs about the anatomy, poems about fruits and so on and so forth. Oh and assemblies were also cool for another reason altogether, for come 30th December[31st was always a chhutti. It broke my heart every year.] or 4th of Jan, I was presented on stage and I felt like thee keeng of thee worldd. You see, birthday kids were always given a certain kind of preference[wearing casuals on one day every year was sort of cool] and that was the foundation of my firm belief in half birthdays that was to develop in the years to come. I often recycled the attire I wore or would wear on my Birthday Bash, and bugged my mum about getting a whole lot of extra candy for my classmates[my evil plan being that I would eat every single bit of left over candy later on, simply by stating innocently that not many kids had turned up to school that day]. It was another experience altogether!
I have SO MUCH to write about, but I can hear my mother's suspicious rapid breathing from the other room, and I believe it is time I finally climbed into bed before she takes matters into her own hands and switches off the mains. So Imma go now, and Imma be back with the rest of my reminiscence tomorrow. Or day after.  Or whenever I think I'll be able to make mommy dearest believe that I am indeed looking for answers for my Chemistry Practical on the internet. S'long! :)
DANCING <3

Little Miss Grumpy. Second from right.

Haha this is from the scrapbook I maintained in 7th grade. Hence the "Slang" =P