Dear Diary, Featured Posts, List Posts, Uncategorized

50 Things I Don’t Care About

 

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  1. What my stars have to say about my love life.
  2. How you keep your clothes neat and tidy and I do not.
  3. Game of Thrones.
  4. If or not you think I am rude just because I didn’t give you a nod at the wedding.
  5. Kejriwal v/s Modi Debate.
  6. Coke Studio.
  7. The Eye Liner.
  8. Your love and cravings for beer.You are so cool and happening.
  9. How Batman is the greatest Superhero .
  10. The shower with your boyfriend. Eh, really? 
  11. Nail-Art.
  12. Yo Yo Honey Singh. (Yeah but that phenomenon is dead already)
  13. The Pout.
  14. The IIT Tag.(Sour Grapes)
  15. How much of a romantic you are all because you “read” Erotica.
  16. If I am a dog person or a cat person.
  17. The Agony Aunt-sy question answers on Quora. Here. And some more.
  18. How your husband, your family, your children, the sky ,the earth , the sun and the moon ..failed you.
  19. Paulo Coelho. And how the Alchemist changed your life.
  20. Your Instagram feed telling  for the umpteenth time that you are in a relationship.Yawn.
  21. The Internet Lingo.
  22. Football.
  23. Your “religion” status for the week. Agnostic. Gnostic. Atheist. Pantheist. Pagan. Nauseating.
  24. Stand up Comedy.
  25. Why you can’t talk to women because you studied in an all boys’ school .and NDA. and IMA.
  26. Crop tops.
  27. Arnab Goswami.
  28. How classy, the colour black ,is.
  29. Your reason for breaking up. Looking for nirvana ,you said?
  30. Roadies.
  31. WhatsApp. Viber. SnapChat. Hike. Line. WeChat.
  32. Coffee Mugs.
  33. Your amateur photography.
  34. Organic Chemistry.
  35. Your opinion on women.
  36. Your “no-filter” look.
  37. Tinder.
  38. Your yoga and meditation routine.
  39. Maggi.
  40. Your healthy breakfast of Pakodas fried in olive oil.
  41. Anything Subramaniam Swamy has to say.
  42. Student Politics.
  43. Momos.
  44. Your oh-not-so-hidden jibes at your ex in your whatsapp status.
  45. Birthdays.
  46. Splitsvilla. 
  47. The reasons for your crush on EVERY OTHER GIRL you see.
  48. That Che Guevara t-shirt.
  49. The #Long Hashtag.  #iAmLameAndLazyToUseSpacebar
  50. The rule to blog regularly. OBVIOUSLY.

Inspiration for the list you ask?  This which led to this. Happy reading!

 

 

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Dear Diary, Letters to the Lover

My head’s under water, but I am breathing fine.

 

 

Source: Internet

 

Dear…..  ,

I spoke your name while writing it. And as usual I had a shy smile on my face where I scratch my forehead looking down, so that nobody notices it. Now only you know this secret.

Twenty three years of your life will soon be completed. And I should congratulate you for your phenomenal achievements so far. But as they say “Rest if you must, but don’t you Quit“. Never quit on life. More milestones are waiting to be achieved. May you become the Chief of Indian Army one day. And when you do, re-read this letter because someone someday prayed for it.

24 June 2014.

The date still hangs around , weighing me down in your love.

I get up with it every morning, I sleep on it every night. It has stayed . It has stayed in the rose kept in my diary. It has stayed in the soiled ticket of Regal. Follows me everywhere.  And when I shut my eyes to it, it transforms into a million colors bursting in front of me.

The Smile, Yellow, Sunshine. The Rose, Red, Love. The Tiger, White, Happiness.The Coffee, Brown, Hunger. The Movie, Green, Delight. The Lift, Grey, Passion. The Metro, Black, Sorrow.

The date still hangs around , weighing me down in your love. The date you returned to your first love, the Army. Time has killed it but it stays alive in me, in the dried rose, in the soiled ticket. I will wait.

                           My head’s under water, but I am breathing fine.

I miss you in a simple, desperate, human way.

Happy Birthday.

Love Always,

S

 

And did I say – I love you.

 

 

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Dear Diary, Letters to the Lover

Grow old with me. The best is yet to be.

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The soldier obliged with a photograph of the letters. He keeps them neatly stacked in a file called “Rendezvous”

 

Dear Soldier,

 

It is a quiet June night , way past midnight.It is all darkness under a thin glowing veil cast by twinkling stars in a clear, dense sky. I am sitting near a window overlooking the park. The curtain can barely cover the yellow light straining through the huge sodium light on the road, shedding a pale luminous dust on the things in the room.It feels as if its neither day nor night, just the intermingling .  And here I am , smiling while writing this curious anecdote to you. Is this what we will become years later- your ending and my beginning  fused into one another.  As if there is no I or you.So intimate that my hand on your chest is your hand. So intimate that when I fall asleep , it is your eyes that close. Continue reading

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Dear Diary, Letters to the Lover, Stories

At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet

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Source: Internet

 

Dear Soldier,

                           

                               “Kiss me with rain on your eyelashes,

                                    come on, let us sway together,

                             under the trees, and to hell with thunder.” 

 

 

At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.

 

Its time for my evening walk but turns out it has started to rain heavily . Monsoon has finally arrived in Delhi with all  its pomp and show( read lightning and thunder  ). I wish it stays for some time because maybe it reminds me of you. Continue reading

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Dear Diary

Romance as I do It

 

 

Friends and Me

Friend no 1: “Really! Romantic? Twenty days ago you were writing suicidal posts.”

Me: “Such a buzz kill you are man. I am fine. Not Bipolar…Okay…yeah…..maybe. What the hell!!”

Friend no 2: “So, why this sudden overflow of romance inside you?”

Me: “What do you mean, sudden? I had my first crush in Class 1, mind you!”

Friend no 1 :“Even with his overflowing nose which he kept picking and pasting the treasures on his  desk, mind you.”

Me: “Touche. You proved me right.”

Friend no 3: “Chal issi baat pe Lays khila de green vale.”
Continue reading

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Dear Diary, Featured Posts, List Posts

Wish List

There is a Chinese proverb which goes by- ” Be careful what you wish for” . I was reading a blog and suddenly got this idea as why should not I create my own wish list . New Year is coming soon. Its always good to know what you want to do ,otherwise life will keep giving you surprises of its own(which is actually fun for the time being). But alas in the long run this strategy fails. When you are on the death bed this attitude leaves you with regrets.

This is the dilemma : ‘To Plan’ or ‘To Go with the Flow’. As always I’ll quote Buddha here” The Middle Path is always right. ” Whenever you choose the extreme of anything, its bound to take you in the wrong direction. Not Studying for 20 hours is bad, studying for 20 hours is even badder. To sit around and wait for things to happen is bad , to plan for every minute thing of life is badder. Toh bhola bachcha kare toh kya kare? Continue reading

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Dear Diary

The Death

Dear diary,

12 Dec. 12

It has been two days since my grandfather passed away on 9 December. To witness a dead body and that too of someone close was a really dreadful experience for me such that I almost laughed, I felt too sad to cry, seeing my near and dear ones surrender to grief.  Though being true to you reader, not a single droplet fell down my eye. Later when I tried to reflect on the reason why I was unable to cry even though I was very close to him, I came upon this conclusion that I had accepted the fact that he had to go one day.  According to me he had seen enough of life and its colours and now wanted peace.  The lines “the soul is immortal “echoed through my head when I reproached myself for not crying over his death.

When everyone in the house was sobbing over him (which I felt strange because most of them were hardly close to him as I was), I contemplated on his life, his achievements and his failures. My grandfather or my Dadaji, as I called him, was my first tutor of English. In summer holidays when whole of my clan got together at Baraut he used to take our English lessons. He was a dedicated Arya Samaji and had vowed to perform havans every Sunday which he kept till his death. Though he was a little eccentric sometimes, he was a very affectionate man in his heart. He had sacrificed whole of his life teaching maniacally to raise his extended family. And now when he would see his children happy and successful his regrets from life suddenly disappeared and his chest infused with pride.

Being his granddaughter I too have inherited some of his habits.  I, like him, have a fascination for the morning newspaper. Dadiji told us that even on the day of his death he insisted upon hearing the news (his eyes were too weak to read thanks to glaucoma) in the morning.  Interest in politics is one another example. I remember the times when we would debate over who would be the chief minister or which party would win. I would pretend to be a news reporter and ask him questions as if he was some politics expert and then we would record our voices.  Those moments still bring a smile on my face.

I remember the day clearly. It was the usual Sunday. As usual after the Sunday brunch comprising of the absolute combination of newspaper and Allo Paranthas ,I had finally taken the bath and was combing my hair when i heard mom manically screaming for me. I ran in the other room only to hear about his demise. It was a unexpected news for me as I, Lakshya and Pitaji had visited him yesterday and though he felt weak we couldn’t have imagined in our wildest dreams that it would be our last tryst with him.  Panic ran down the house. As Pitaji had already left for Baraut after hearing about his deteriorating health the very morning, I was summoned to ask our neighbour Khatri uncle for help.  Soon our clothes were packed and we were on our way to Baraut with Mr and Mrs Khatri in their big black SUV. The journey felt short to me as I was eager to reach the destination.  As the trees whizzed past me images of my childhood started clouding my head. When I reached Baraut I automatically tuned to the somber ambience of the house.  Relatives and known people had started pouring in and Dadiji was moaning ceaselessly. I was totally unprepared to deal with such a situation as it was the first time I had seen a death so I crouched in a corner among the ladies. Off late my cousins too arrived. We, instead of crying, reflected on his life.

Next two days were spent in Baraut where known and unknown relatives kept showing up expressing their condolences.

From this incident I realised one thing- the effect of loosing someone close is significant in our lives.  What remains afterwards is just profound emptiness. We should realise that the end is bound to come and should accept it gracefully. The challenge for each of us is to live each day with the end in mind, attending to what matter most – family, faith and love.

Saumya

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