Life and Death

This post comes after a long hiatus. During this time I wandered over to Wattpad and began writing a story there. A little later, I trailed off and the story stays there unfinished. A new year was born, and a lot of things happened. And I saw Talvar.

A superb movie based on the Noida Double Murder case, made even incredible by Irrfan Khan’s acting. This movie really got me thinking, and I began searching online for details on the case (I had followed it back in 2008, and then gradually lost touch). And I found out about Aarushi.

Aarushi Talwar was an exceptionally smart, brilliant, pretty and popular student of DPS Noida. She loved life, and made the lives of others around her brighter. Her friends say she was an all-rounder, and was guided by a strong sense of right and wrong, even at that age. But fate had to cruel. On May 16, 2008, she was found murdered in her bed. I wouldn’t want to go into the gory details of the crime, but I want you to imagine this. She went to bed feeling happy, having received an early birthday gift from her parents, and she never woke up.

As I was browsing around for information on this case, I found a link to another young girls blog, Tejaswee Rao. Her blog posts were brilliantly crafted, displaying a maturity and sensitivity far beyond her years. But fate had to play his cruel game again. Tejaswee Rao passed away on August 11th 2010 from Dengue Fever.

First off, our hearts go out to all their near and dear ones. May God help you find strength to deal with your loss. And we hope both of your souls rest in peace.

Second, I do not seek to make any comparison for the two cases, except for the fact that two extremely brilliant and thoughtful young girls were taken away by fate. As I read these stories, it dawns on me how very unpredictable our lives are. Truly, any of us could be gone by the time tomorrow dawns. And what did we do in the meantime? Maybe we should invest our time more thoughtfully. Because we never know how much time we have left. We could be nearing our end. And before we leave shouldn’t we leave the world with something? We may not be able to make grand claims, and emancipate everyone, but at least we can make the world around us a better place to live. We can make someone else’s life a bit more brighter. We can make someone smile.

Then, when we leave this world, we will be remembered. Maybe not by erecting statues, or a national day of mourning, but someone will remember us. They will look fondly back on our life, and say, “He/she made my life better”. Isn’t that the greatest legacy we can hope to leave behind ?

This also made me aware of one thing. I will never stop writing. If my blog posts make someone smile, if I can make someone feel a bit stronger, if I can help someone just a little bit, I want to do it.

And I hope you will too.

Portrait of a Loner

He walked the tarred road with his friends. The air was still but a certain pleasant coolness hung around the air. Despite the chill, he was sweating mildly. He wiped the sweat off his lips with his hand as he watched the people around him. Not his friends. Not them. The others. The ones that made him uneasy.

The road was bustling with people. People laughing, enjoying, taking pictures and talking loudly. The kind of people that he hated and dreaded at the same time. The people who were quite unlike him, different from him, and – he realized with a sting- people he desperately wanted to be like. Next to him, his friends laughed. So did he, but you could sense it was a hollow laugh. he hadn’t heard a word of what they had said. But it was convincing, as if he had been giving that sort of a laugh for a long time now. No, he wasn’t listening to them. he was lost in his world, his thoughts, the same thoughts that he found solace in, where he built his beautiful empire, and strangely the same thoughts that sometimes attempted to strangle him.

His eyes scanned the crowd, flitting from person to person, face to face, but he had become so good at it that no one around him realized. He was browsing the entire crowd with no
one noticing. And then the source of the noise came into sight. A small building stood on the side of the road, but they wouldn’t have noticed it if they hadn’t known it was there. The hall was surrounded by people. People wearing smart dresses, neatly brushed up attires. He looked down at his own faded T-shirt and jeans. He felt undressed, he felt out of place. They all stopped near the crowd. None of them wanted to go inside. They just wanted to stand there and watch. Music was playing somewhere near, and a small distance away, people were dancing. He looked around. he didn’t recognize anyone, and he didn’t expect to either. He was hardly popular, he barely knew anyone.

A group of people moved close to them. Girls and boys were holding hands, taking selfies, and girls were pouting. He looked away, as though the sight burned him. But he couldn’t avert his eyes. Everywhere he looked it was the same thing. Girls and boys were talking, laughing and enjoying, even dancing. He was uncomfortable. His friends didn’t seem to notice because visibly he was disinterested. He was merely looking bored, but inside he was burning. He moved his eyes one more time and saw a girl standing alone a few feet from him. She was quite pretty, and stunningly dressed.She was sweating slightly in the warmth, and it turned him on. He kept watching her, and occasi
onally other girls as well, but a little later they all left with boys. The girl he was watching was still there, and he kept looking without anyone knowing. And then she turned. A boy had just joined her and she began talking to him.

He tore his eyes from the sight as he felt his heart sink a little. Everyone here had a boyfriend, and even if they didn’t they wouldn’t be interested in him. Definitely not someone like him. He had learned this years ago, but it still hurt. Moments like these hurt. He looked around and saw his friends still looking around, enjoying. None of them had any girlfriends, but they did, at some point. They were not like him. They didn’t feel the pain, only he did.

He turned around and walked back. But this time, he kept his eyes down. He didn’t want to see any more. He didn’t want to see anything. Because he knew it would burn him. And he didn’t want to get burned again. Because he had been getting burned for a long time now. Quite a long time. It had begun nearly a decade ago. And it still continued to this day.


Remember Chetan Bhagat’s novel Two States? Or atleast the movie? IF you don’t, then don’t try to. Because there is a new kid on the block, and he is well on his way to being the sheriff.

Just to jog your memory, Two States chronicled (that seems incredibly formal…given that the book was way more informal) the love story of a Punjabi boy with a Tamil Brahmin girl (I won’t say South Indian, because frankly, I am South Indian and I know we are too diverse to be categorized under one heading…). It goes through the troubles they have of convincing their orthodox parents and making them get along. But that was set way back in the ’90s, when even cell phones were just coming up. Ever thought what would it be like if it took place now? In the ultra modern world? Well, I know how it will be and I have three words for you…

Bang. Baaja. Baaraat.                                                                                  

Bang Baaja Baaraat is a web series launched last week by Y films, the youth wing of the famed Yash Raj films. It tells the story of a traditional Brahmin boy “Punnu” (Ali Fazal) and a modern Punjabi girl Shahana (Angira Dhar…cuite!!!), who meet at a… well…you guess it…( Clue: There is a BANG in the title…) and fall in love. They keep their relationship super-secretive and and inform their parents only when they actually decide to get married. What follows is a culture clash that is too funny to behold.

I am not saying much, I will let you see it and be the judge. I will say this, this web series is incredibly funny, modern, has quite some… bang…shall I say…and can give romantic comedies a run for their money. So please do go and watch it and be entertained…

(Oh… and Angira Dhar…she is so cute!!! I can’t stop looking at her…I mean huge fan…huge fan!!!)


Episode 1

Episode 2

Y films channel

How does it feel to be NORMAL??

I have been wondering this for quite a long time, and I feel now the thoughts shall burst forth onto the canvas and possibly create a melee of colours which someone may mistake for art. Because I am about to rant about my life and quite possibly yours as well. I am about to call into question everything that we believe in. Because, quite simply I am about to question what being normal is…

I am not normal. I will say that out loud. I will vouch for that statement anywhere. Because I have been exploring the deepest darkest corners of my mind for so long, I know what I am. I know who I am. But today of all the days, as I sat lazing around in my room, staring blankly at the piles of work that I haven’t made a dent in, I realized something is inherently wrong with me.  A gene perhaps, misplaced or missed. That would certainly explain quite a lot. As I sat scrolling up and down my list of whatsapp contacts, wondering who to message, it hit me like a bolt of lightning, I am different. I am an anomaly. I am the odd one out.

My thoughts go back a couple of days, then back to a couple of years. I messaged my friends, I messaged my crushes, I messaged my cousins. Those conversations lasted a couple of minutes. Some even lasted days, and then, inevitably there was silence. And in between those silent streaks, I’d take the initiative, not once but many many times to send a simple hi or how are you. I am met with silence, or those stoic one word replies which mean just one thing – they are itching to stop and walk away. It just began the avalanche of questions which eventually culminated in this post: Do I put people off?

NO!!! My automatic defense took over. I am fine. But evidence suggests otherwise. I was a textbook nerd. But then a couple of years ago, I changed. I began to loosen up. I began to have a sense of humor. I stopped being an asshole. But things never brightened. I was still the oddball. I was still the out-of-place dude. Because you can’t change who you are. You can try, but you can’t. I never feel good in a group. I just don’t belong there. I can manage in a small group of intimate people, but otherwise I just stand in the fringes and smile like a stupid idiot. I am not the guy who enjoys long drawn out trips and adventures. I don’t like driving, and fast cars or bikes. I prefer spending my time reading or writing or thinking or watching TV. I don’t need to have high spots in my life to feel worthwhile. I prefer the serenity of routine, I prefer the enjoyment of a good cup of coffee, the savoury feel of chicken on the tongue, the smell of fresh parchment. I don’t care much about my body. I don’t want six pack abs. I don’t want to go to the gym. I don’t care about how I look (well, I do recommend basic cleanliness, but you get my meaning!!). I don’t care about expensive brands. I am comfortable in a cheap jeans and t-shirt. Maybe because of all that, I don’t fit in. Everyone else like all these. I don’t. I don’t fit a certain mold. And people don’t get that.

In simple wrestling analogy ( another area where I differ, pro-wrestling is my life), I am not you typical prototypical poster boy John Cena. I am more of the anti-hero C M Punk. And by your standards, that isn’t normal. Well, by my standards, all of you are insane as well.

The reason I wrote this is because I want anybody else out there like me to know they are not alone. We are all perfect in our own ways. Don’t EVER let others define your life.

Be who you are and kick ass all the way. It’s as simple as that.

Three Day Three Quote Challenge (Final Part)

Okay then, here I am with the third and final installment of my favourite quotes. I thought and thought about what this should be, but somehow I couldn’t reach a conclusion. I have tons of quotes which I use as inspiration and which I recite on a daily basis but I didn’t know what to put here. But in the end, I decided on a sort of a biblical quote. This quote is something I recite to myself on many occasions, particularly when I am required to perform but the outcome is not in my hands(like interviews and exams). This one line quote simply goes:

Thy will, not mine, be done.

More of a prayer than a quote, but this one really eases my body and mind. By speaking these six words, I am surrendering myself to my creator God. I am doing a trust fall knowing that the Lord will catch me. Besides, I am asking my Lord to decide what is right for me and guide me accordingly. Because I am a child. I do not know what is good for me. But the Lord knows it very well. I am simply asking him to guide me along the path that I need to be on, not the path that I want to be on. And make no mistake, the Lord always answers!!!



That was the only thing I could feel. Even though it had been hours since the accident I could still feel the pain. I tried to look at my left hand, but I couldn’t. I tore my gaze away as if the sight could kill me. I couldn’t look. I didn’t want to see what had happened. I didn’t want to see an incomplete hand.

“Its fine”, people told me. “It happens…you will get over it…”, they said.

I nodded silently, not really believing at all. Easy for them to say. They didn’t lose a part of their self, I did. I feel the pain, not them.

I wanted to sleep. But I couldn’t. Every time I close my eyes, that same scene plays in front of my eyes. I am walking to the bus stop. I am a bit late, so I am in a hurry. My friend is close by, and as we approach the bus stop, a bus arrives. It prepares to leave, so we rush. We rush to board the bus. The bus slows down for us to get in. My friend gets in. I jump into the bus but my left hand hits the side…….

I jerk awake as if I am struck by lightning. Sweat runs down my face as I struggle to regain my breath. After a few deep breaths, I feel alright. I wipe the sweat off with both my hands, and as I do so, I catch sight of my left arm. The sight I had been dreading. My arm, my fingers, everything was there. But something was different. Something was missing. Something that was part of my life, my arm, my soul.

My watch.

I am walking to the bus stop. I am a bit late, so I am in a hurry. My friend is close by, and as we approach the bus stop, a bus arrives. It prepares to leave, so we rush. We rush to board the bus. The bus slows down for us to get in. My friend gets in. I jump into the bus but my left hand hits the side. I turn to my left to see what has happened. Meanwhile the bus starts moving. I watch in slow motion as my watch gets ripped off my hand and falls down on the concrete road. Shocked and frozen, I don’t know what to do. A part of me said it was fine. The other part of me wanted to jump out of the bus and get my watch. I didn’t. I let it go. I was out of my senses for far too long to make a decision. Now I sat in the bus with an empty hand, an empty wrist. It felt odd. I kept glancing at my wrist hoping my watch would magically reappear.

It was five years ago that I got my watch. It was a gift from my relatives. My watch was with me 24 X 7 for 5 whole years. It had been there for me in my moments of glory, and my deepest heartbreaks. My watch probably knew more about me than anyone else. Because it was with me always. Because it was part of me.

And now back home, I sit in my bed replaying the dreadful scene. And every time my watch falls off, I have to fight back tears. Knowing that it fell on unforgiving concrete, knowing that vehicles run through that very road, and knowing that I will never ever see my watch ever again. It just hurts.

Tears well up in my eyes as I stare at my incomplete left hand.

“I’m sorry…I love you”…