Love(s) Me Not.

I always laughed at people
who fell in love, and
also broke up some time later.
Like love was a weapon
which could destroy the
intertwining of two hearts,
like it could be the sole reason why
you would feel empty when it left,
like it could fly away from
in between two people.
No way, the love
never goes away.
Little did I know that
the joke was on me, and
I felt like this till
a boy I loved, told me I was
all he ever needed,
told me I was his world, lured me into
his magnificent existence, and that
he would love me forever, but
I didn’t know forever
lasts so soon, and
that I was not enough,
enough to make him swoon,
he crushed my heart
in his hands, leaving me to
bleed, My whole world shook,
I tried to get up on my feet,
tripped
and fell again, everything
felt bizarre and haphazard, as if
someone had hit me in my knees.
I don’t know what
went wrong, I always
believed our love was strong.
“We’ll be best friends”, he said.
How could I tell him that
unlike other things, life
does not come
with an undo button.
And if it did, there would be
no past, present or future.
Just us making the same
mistakes, over
and over. And that this
path to friendship
is now slightly rotten.
That when I chose him, I
forgot the whole world altogether.
That his eyes made me
want to kiss him, and the
touch of his lips on my skin,
made me miss him. When he
is around, the flowers in my
secret garden bloom, and
when he leaves
its feels like the night
without her moon, that
I was ready to dive into
the depths of his heart, or
ready to fall in some void
with a home to call
only ours. I wish
I could make him see, how
happy we could be, if
only he hadn’t been so stubborn,
to let go of his rules.
“We can’t be together”, he said,
pushing me in a puddle of gloom.
I tried to make him see, that
Life itself is a huge maze, and
that falling in this trap wouldn’t
have made him a slave. However
he was being a slave of
his own drama, and now
because of this, my life
is no less than a trauma. Whenever,
His name flashes on my phone, I
can feel my heart shattering
for the millionth time, as I
have got nothing to
say, except just whine.
My mind has drifted into pieces, and
I cannot think as whole.

I told you that
you were the only person
who could get me, whom I
would love to call mine, I told
you I would stay, to
always make you smile. You
had other plans, I
said I don’t mind. But
you’re kind of stepping on my heart, and
your shoes are all sharp,
leaving deep scars, which
is not at all fine.
I wait for you
to say something,
something which will make
me stay, but it’s been
years, and the foundation, now
has been frayed. But I do
have a question in
my mind, I want to stop
myself from asking, But then
I thought in my fragmented
space, What would I
get in life to be
so scared, to fear my
own self in a world
where anybody hardly cares, I can
hear shards of glass rattle in
my broken heart as I go
ahead and ask,

“When two people decide
to leave each other, where
does the love go?”

And that’s when I realised,
it’s not a joke anymore.

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The ‘Type’.

Okay, now this article is not a prerequisite draft for my matrimonial profile. Neither am I desperate to get a life partner right at this moment. Honestly, I’m only writing this for a little clarity from the mundane thoughts formulating in my head regarding, you know, men.
Lately I’ve been fangirling so much, that I get excited every time at the idea of dating a fictional character. Hence, the decluttering.

What is meant by ‘What type of person do you want to date?’ or ‘What type of person would you want to be with?’ I don’t really get these type-casts, and I really don’t understand how one can define the ‘type’ of the person they want to be with. Nothing is constant, right? And neither are we lucky enough to be born in the ‘Krrish’ age where people can predict the future as easily as we switch on the fan.

One can change at any time! What if you get married to the love of your life, who you’ve been going out with for a very long time, and one day you wake up and realize, that they’re gay, or that they eat toothpaste, OR something totally crazy like farting in public places. What would you do then? Eating toothpaste is nobody’s type I guess? Anyone?
But if Shahrukh Khan, Paul Wesley, Robert Pattinson happen to read this? PLEASE believe that all that is written below is utter bullshit and I would make peace with each and every bad habit of yours! (yes, even if its farting in public. *winces*)

Anyhow, coming back to the point. I don’t have a ‘type’. And if I really had to have a type, it’d be the person who just makes this world a whole lot bearable for me. I’m too cynical about love, someone who makes me feel less than that.
Someone who has this charm, and can sweep me off my feet(This never gets old). Someone who is so good at being happy, that he makes me happy too. Someone who is gentle and sweet at times. And intelligent, how could I forget that? In fact this should be on the top of the list. What do they say? Intelligence is the ultimate aphrodisiac. People often mistake intelligence for bookish knowledge. Well those people can fuck themselves.
Someone who has this innate sense of humor, who can make me laugh on his weird jokes(I’m assuming they’ll be weird, because that will be the best part). Strength of course, flamboyance in nature. There should be vitality of thoughts and actions. Sexual enthusiasm, he should have the ability to make my toes curl.

And he should be emotionally expressive! I’m a person of too many words, and I really would appreciate if someone conveyed to me by those, instead of choosing telepathy.
Someone who instead of taking me to a fancy restaurant, would actually take me to a bookstore. Who will just sit there with me, watching me read, or maybe read phrases or lines to me of his favorite books.
Someone whose eyes just light up(like mine) when I start talking about books. Maybe then we’ll also be able to complete each other’s sentences(coz I’m guessing we’d both have had read partly the same books!). To settle with someone who is any less than a reader is like dating a person without any windows to his soul.

I really don’t want to focus on the physical aspects of that person because I read it somewhere and I really want to stick to it, that ‘When we read, we don’t fall in love with the characters’ appearance. We fall in love with their words, their thoughts and their heart. We fall in love with their souls.’

Someone who makes an entry into my life just like a fictional character… But REAL. Okay now I did it. I ruled out every freaking possibility of me ever getting a happily ever after, when I said that!
I might have a left a lot of characteristics while describing my soulmate but that’s only because maybe even I’m not sure yet. There should be some mystery to it !! He shouldn’t be that predictible too. (I know what you’re thinking. ‘What fucking world is she living in?! Trying to find a perfect man?!’)
But that’s what I want to say, I don’t want a perfect man, I want someone perfect for me. Maybe he has these characteristics, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe it will be forever, maybe it won’t be. But the journey will be the best part, that’s guaranteed. The ‘not knowing’ part. And if I ever find a person who’s even remotely close to what I just described? I’ll do every possible thing to keep him around.

And I won’t give up hope. No matter how much shit I go through personally, I will ALWAYS root for love, for a happily ever after, for the perfect ending.

WHY I READ.

I took to reading long before I started writing. After a very long rant about why I write, here’s to why I read.

Although reading children’ magazines since I was little(encouraged by my mother), I never really felt the force of books around me until I was eleven. I started reading Enid Blyton and was in awe every time I read about the adventures of the children in it (roughly my age back then). I instantly wanted to be a part of those adventures. Since it was not possible in real life, I read more of those. Very soon I switched from Enid Blyton to Harry Potter and there is no stopping me ever since.

I started reading like, how to put it delicately, like a maniac. I read all the time. I read in between my classes at school, in the break time (I had an advantage since I had two breaks per day), sometimes between my meals and I read past my bedtime.

It made me a believer. My best friends and I used to discuss books till we were exhausted. Getting books as birthday presents became pretty much obvious.

Now life is a little more complicated than it was in school, but I read nonetheless. My closest friends are still the ones back from school time, and they understand my obsessive reading disorder very well.

Reading is an experience beyond words and I am having a very difficult time in trying to describe it right now. One has to experience it to understand it’s joys.
I believe reading brings out the best in me. Every single moment I have read, it has been totally worth it. It makes me see some people differently, and then it also helps me to shut out from people I do not want to see at all.

I can enter, exit any world, any time. I can be anything. I can be the characters in the book or a mere spectator to the happenings in it.

Books, they liberate me. I don’t need to follow social norms. I just have to read. All they require are my thoughts and emotions. Sometimes there are numerous conversations that I cannot have with people, but I can definitely have them with books.
There are no pretenses. It’s bare.

Sometimes when I’m reading I try to finish the story the way I want it, giving the characters the closure they do/ don’t deserve.

Whenever I’m feeling low, books always save the day. When I am angry, I read.
I am able to channel all my negative thoughts and transform them into positive ones while reading. It makes me realize that I am not alone. Sometimes it also makes me see that being alone isn’t that bad either. Obviously you have to face all the hardships in your life yourself, but reading always make it easier.

Sometimes while I’m reading, I wish that I pass into some kind of sheer oblivion, where there are just books and no one else, and then never come out.

Lastly, for the utter joy, pleasure and excitement of it, I read.

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5 Great Myths About Writing

People write for various reasons. Some take it as a hobby, and it’s a career for some. Some write to sort out their feelings and some write to tell a story.

Each and every person in this world has a story to tell. And all of them also have the freedom to do so. Anybody can write. One of the best things about writing is, it does not require any prerequisite skills or a degree. All it needs is a drive to write. The Passion.

A friend of mine once quoted, ‘Writing is like a child, you have to nurture it.’

It’s true. You cannot write something and expect it to be perfect.
 It’s okay to make mistakes, it’s okay to fall short of words, it’s okay if doesn’t make any sense at first.
The only way to find out if you’re a good writer or a bad one, is to WRITE.

So here are the great myths about writing.

1. You need some sort of inspiration to write.
Writing never just happens! It takes a great amount of time and effort. Nobody becomes a ‘good writer’ overnight. Waiting around for ideas and inspiration won’t help. Just start with a normal day-to-day experience and you’ll be good to go. Atleast, that will give you a headstart.

2. You can only write if you use a ‘sophisticated’ vocabulary.
Using a strong vocabulary is necessarily not a bad thing. But using huge words can make your entire writing complicated and difficult for the reader to even understand it. As long as it tells a good story, and gives you a sense of satisfaction, you have nothing to worry about. The vocabulary only needs to be simple and clear enough to convey the story without getting in the way. So stick to the original form. And Keep it simple, silly!

3. You can only write if you read a lot.
Of course the people who write are avid readers, but that doesn’t mean it is a necessity. It only helps to fuel your imagination more, not create it. Reading only makes you a better READER. Only writing can make you a better writer. You don’t need to read to express yourself. It just provides you with a chain of thoughts.

4. You can only write if you have a degree in literature, otherwise not.
This is true ONLY if you want a job as an editor, or writing for newspapers or magazines. No one else cares about your education when it comes to good writing. All anyone wants, or cares about, is a good story, well told.
Higher education has little history of graduating successful fiction writers.

5. “I’m not a Born Writer”.
Many people believe that great writers are born, not made – a most unfortunate misconception.
Let me tell you something, writers are NOT born. The very fine example I have is of Mr. Chetan Bhagat. I don’t think in his initial stages of life, he would have ever thought that he’d become this successful a writer. But looking at that IIT and IIM Alumni today, it’s hard to believe that he has writing as a career.
The only thing you need to know is what to write, how to write and how to practice it further.

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So start writing my friends. Also while writing on your laptop or computer, disconnect your internet for a while! It surely helps you from getting distracted.
It happens that people tend to write when they’re too happy or way too sad. While that is the case, take advantage of it ! Take the good or the bad in your life, and turn it into a beautiful piece of art.

“Sometimes the story finds the storyteller, not the other way round.”
– Neverwas (movie)