They say, "You realize the importance of some things only when they're not there. You miss people when they're not around... "

There's a reason why sometimes I don't leave the faintest of shadows of my presence....

Time Passed Us By...

And I never thought time could pass us by.. Or maybe we just stopped... Stopped ourselves from being the people we wanted to be..

We think it's time to move on.. Move on from forgiving ourselves for the mistakes we never made. But then again, who ever got down to doing what they were supposed to?

Beneath the surface of our changing selves, we see meaningless voids that we never knew we had. But you always have those people, who you can never explain yourselves too. Because they know too well.. Is it why I run away from them? They forbid me to lie to myself...

Pain

"It wasn't anybody's fault. It was fate.. Tragedy. We're holding on to the pain because it's all we have left..."

Sometimes, you can't blame anyone. You just have to live the consequences of things you never did; things you never wanted to do; things that people never wanted to put you through; things that were just meant to happen without rhyme or reason.

Sometimes, I feel like we're all pieces of flesh on a board game and Destiny is like the dice that decides how many steps we move, what path we play through. You may never know how it rolls.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ps: I was quoting Chuck Bass from Gossip Girl Season 4 Episode 6. The dialogue ripped my heart out of my chest.

After All We're Only Human...

He found solace in the blots of ink he managed to splatter across blank pages while he scribbled what his heart and mind held for her. Only because, it was all he could do when memories he ran away from, caught up with him every night, when he tried to sleep off what his crowded mind shouted to him. She was going to come back to him one day. He wasn't going to stop until she did. He was waiting. Time was never an issue for someone who kept no account of it.


I had seen a restlessness in his eyes, a kind of passive aggression is his walk, waiting to be unleashed by a split second of a feeling of vengeance. It was then that he started blaming himself for what he was, and what had made him that way.


Every twilight that I'd seen passion frenzy through him, I saw the depths of his soul, manifest themselves into the notes that played of the instrument he chose to play; like a bolt of lightening unleashing the secrets of a dark sky, mobbed by masses of enraged clouds waiting to wage a war with the earth. Often I'd seen that rage trance into a melancholic, benevolent call for hope with faith hidden in its soft, low keys that tried to keep his belief in happy endings from turning into dust, that would soon settle down with the pitter-patter of a rainfall of tears he wasn't allowed to cry anymore. Morbidity had become a part of his world, and happiness only a visitor that never stepped through the doorway of his mind.


He longed, he craved. He hoped, he prayed.


He was stone for those who would never know. They were right, or so I liked to believe. Seeing him, I knew that stones could be cracked; they could be engraved upon, only to leave scars and words as good as what we liked to believe eternity meant.


After all, we're all human at the end of the day...


After all he's only human...

Bring it!

I love FORMSPRING! It's legal to be mean when you're asked mean, nosy questions! :D

Keep asking Folks, I have a lot to say to you.

Though I'll admit, there were some questions I had to think about before answering!

#3 Belief...

There's a HUGE difference in believing something and wanting to believe another.

FML!

I'm simply pissed off today. No, really! I am.

Why can't people be on time? WHY? (I admit I'm late too. But SOMETIMES! That's excusable, mind you! )

Why can't I be forgiven for making mistakes almost every second teenager makes? Oh come on! Coming home drunk with your parents around.. It happens, okay! (Yes, getting violent and abusive with them and shouting at your gate is another story... BUT I WAS DRUNK FOR GOD'S SAKE! I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT I WAS SAYING OR DOING) And it was only the second time I was drunk in my life. Cut me some slack! I've learned my lesson. I can't handle alcohol.. Who else would get drunk on 4 shots.. and a couple of gulps of beer and vodka mixed together? And who the fuck gave me beer and Vodka? That doesn't even sound tempting!

So, I'm grounded. And for some reason EVERYONE.. I mean EVERYONE knows that I was drunk at Karaoke and I screwed up big time.. and threw lemon juice on the waiter.. and I'm banned entry at Cafe One and there's no way I can ever go there again. Not even for hookah! :| Did I mention I'm not allowed to move out of my house for more than two hours and am not supposed to be more than fifteen minutes from home? Yeah.. which corresponds to me not being able to attend the MOST awaited and happening party in town.. which happens to be tonight. And the fact that ALL my friends are going to be there.. Just PISSES me off!

Did I mention NO NIGHT PARTIES! :'(

This is ELEVENTH GRADE!! SHIT HAPPENS! Does anybody else realize that?

Oh.. Yes.. I'm flunking Math for the first time in my life. And that is the biggest blow I've gotten in years. I need to start taking my academics seriously otherwise the only reason my teachers respect me.. is gonna go down the drain. And plus, I like studying (As weird as that sounds.. Yes, I do! )

I feel like writing something deep.. But I can't! Because I feel so hollow sometimes..

The party is going on right now! Shit shit SHIIIIIIIIT! I want to sneak out.. But I'm shit scared!

I haven't gone for the Durga Puja this year. I go every year.

I'm absolutely broke. I have no reason why. Because I haven't gone out in the last fifteen days. Or anywhere I'd need a lot of money! Trust me Barista doesn't take more than 200! Because I don't like coffee.. and I can't have more than one Dark Temptation!

I NEED NEW MUSIC! Preferably Electronic Dance Music and Trance!

My headphones got spoiled and I had to throw them. I can't listen to my ipod anymore! :'( Why now?

Jealousy is an amusing emotion only when you see others getting burnt to black toast! :|

Aisha is playing on TV! Gtg and catch this one, cuz I'm not even allowed to go to Citywalk!

FML!

#2 Hopeless Romantic?

Because you'll always have a piece of me with you.. And there'll always be a part of me that'll hope...


There'll always be a lost cry in the echoes of laughter...


Because your memories will never be an extinguished fire at the hearth of time...


Because sometimes I wish things could be...


(It's funny how I always send out philosophical texts in the middle of the night! )

What do you think?

I've changed the look of my blog! Tell me what you think! =D

#1. Love

"You know, I've realized over a very long period of time that it's not about how strong you are... Love can make the strongest of people weak in the knees. What matters in the end is how you make it your strength. You have to make yourself strong enough to smile at the best memories and let go of the ones that hurt... or try to bury them away, anyway. Because you'll always want to remember what your smiles were worth, and not what your tears weren't. "

The philosophical moron that I am, I came up with this for a friend of mine, who was refusing to let go of a special someone! I can now proudly tell myself that this philosophical moron saved the day with these random words I sent her through the most emotional text ever! What would the world do without me! =P


You're welcome Unnati! :)

And When...

  This isn't my work. My sister's actually. But I'm posting it on my blog because I thought it was worth reading :) Do comment! :)

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When you start to enjoy solitary moments in the absence of light and
remember the sunlit dawns of your past life without the wish of going
back into a world where acceptance is a rare phenomenon you've found yourself a companion- THE DARK.

When, everything around you is forcing you down and making life come to
... a stand still and you smile at the little memories made with the people
you valued or value you've found yourself a savior - HAPPINESS.

When amidst the cheerfulness around you, you find something enough to
create grim surroundings around you and take away the happiness that you
once enjoyed and the hope of it ever coming back, you've found you're
biggest enemy - Despair.

When you come to a point on life where you hardly care , you've found your biggest strength- IGNORANCE.

The Dark

The Dark can be BEAUTIFUL. I've lived pleasant memories in it. Its the unseen face of secrecy, its the rustle of whispers barely heard, its the touch of someone else's emotion, its home to the friend you have in you. I look up to see this beauty crash with its beastly side. I can hear the black hole of the other side trying to suck in all the pleasantness. I am too repelled to be drawn into the mouth of hell and so I walk towards the light. Knowing where to find it again, knowing the treasures it holds, knowing that it will always be, I walk back into the beauty of the dark when I've had a little too much of the light.

My Black Hijab

I had grown up away from my homeland as far as I could remember. The only memories I had of as a kid, were of this place. We had fled our homeland many years ago. I was young, a year old I suppose, maybe younger. I remember my parents telling me I had celebrated my first birthday here .

There were many others like us. A few families lived down the street, but yet no one could say that we had THAT common bond-we were so different. The women never left their homes and we never got to see their faces. Sometimes you could see their eyes when they weren't netted under their burquas. But that was rare.

Sometimes when their families would join us for dinner, the men asked their women to go upstairs. They weren't allowed to eat with the rest of us. They would shoot glances at my father for doing the same and my mother would get up from the table, hesitantly and reluctantly but not wanting to earn disapproval in this part of our social circle. But my father. He would comfortably sit down in his chair and hold my mother's hand at the table and stop her as soon as he felt her rising. He smiled at his friends and would say, " Bhai, there is nothing wrong with having a woman on your right, eating the same food at the same time. Nur will be eating with us at this table." The glances turned into 'few-second stares' at my father, mother, his hand on hers and then each other. That would be the end of the discussion. My mother sensing the awkwardness would smile at my father. She was a lucky woman, I was a lucky daughter, only because he was a different man.

After serving dinner, mother would join the women upstairs, excusing herself for some womanly talks. My mother's head was uncovered, unlike theirs ofcourse and the women smiled enviously at her freedom and luck.

Somehow, as I grew, I insisted on wearing my black hijab. Occasionally I would cover my face, letting only my eyes devour the world, and letting the strangers around feast their eyes to the beauty of mine lined darkly with black Kohl.

" Mashallah!" Many of our kind had exclaimed before. My eyes, the only things on my face I appreciated. Probably the compliments had gotten to me. But I loved them. I loved how they talked for me. Probably that's why I liked letting them speak for me.

My father didn't particularly like it. He was different. He thought I was doing it because I felt out of place among our kind. But that was NOT my reason. I wore it because I somehow felt closer to who I was. I wasn't ashamed of it. I always believed that it was a choice that I had made to be different. I loved being the one with a difference.

I didn't wear my hijab too often. It was something I wore on occasion when I felt like being the one people were intrigued with. There was one particular place in the city-the spice market-where I always covered my face. Thousands of eyes followed. Some stared until I pierced them with a sudden look of mine, right into their eyes. I'd had people look back almost a second later, their head oscillating between what was in their hand or what they were doing and my covered face. There was one particular shop my mother always took me to, where she believed the rarest of the spices were always there. The owner-Mrs. Desai- and my mother were well-acquainted, actually they were friends now. For many years now my mother had been coming to this very store, every month on the same date to buy spices. Our families often had tea together, dinner occasionally.

Today, as I stood behind mother, I noticed a young handsome figure standing beside Mrs. Desai. His back was towards us, his muscular arms bare in his vest, as he talked in a fast British accent on the phone. Mother and Mrs. Desai started with their customary ritual of gossip. Mrs. Desai patted the figure beside her and he turned around to look at her, a distracted stammer now escaping his mouth.

"Put the phone down now will you? You hardly ever visit and now when you're here you don't give me a fair share of time." Mrs. Desai complained.

"Yeah.. Uh.. Uh.. I will talk to you later. In the evening. Yes. Yes. Okay. Take Care." He said into the phone. " What do you mean I haven't given you enough time? I've been here all week and this is my first call in 6 days."

"I'm a mother. That will never be enough."

He sighed and hugged her. It was a rare, unseen, honest gesture and it made me smile. His eyes caught mine looking and he probably could tell I was smiling. He let go off his mother, who was already talking to mine in a fast, chatty voice. Mother opened the small door on the side that led to the other side of the counter and both the ladies went in through the curtained door to have tea inside the house.

" You're mom, she isn't wearing a.. wearing a.. Umm.. " He scrambled about in his head looking for the right word. His voice was nice and deep.

"Hijab " I answered in a quiet voice, slightly intrigued about what he was going to say next.

"Oh. Yes. She isn't wearing that. Why are you?"

"Its a choice."

He looked at me with an expression I couldn't tell apart from confused and bewildered or unbelieving.

" A choice? That's a first."

" I love the air of mystery it creates around me." I laughed.

"I would know." He admitted. He was looking me right in the eye now. I stared back.

"I like being different." I said. " I think its a part of me somewhere. I don't wear it all the time. But for some reason I always wear it when I come to this market, to this store."

"Your eyes." He blinked a couple of times as he said that. "What color are they? Jade green or are they kind of grey?" He was staring intently now. " Excuse my manners. I shouldn't stare. I'm sorry, I didn't catch what you were saying."

I grinned. This was interesting. " I said I don't wear my hijab all the time. But I'm always wearing it when I'm here. "

"Any particular reason?"

"No, not really." I'd never known the reason.

"Is there any chance you might make an exception today?" He teased.

" Is there some reason I should?"

"Yes, I only tend to customers who I can actually see and talk to and whose voices aren't slightly muffled by a piece of cloth." He teased.

"Well, in that case, I'm sorry to disappoint you. My mother is the customer actually. I'm just helping and keeping her company."

"By the looks of it, she already has some right now." He motioned to the door they'd gone through. "If you're helping, you might just buy whatever it is that she needs to. She'll be back by then."

I rolled my eyes and turned around. I heard him chuckle. I walked around the first counter on my right, picked up a small basket and walked around the store collecting packets of spices that flavored our food. I placed the basket on the counter.

"How much will that be?"

It took a while for him to finally pay attention to what I was saying. He smiled. I had a feeling it wasn't for me but for himself. I watched him bill everything and place it in a brown paper bag.

" $13.50"

As he handed the change to me, I picked up my paper bag and mother walked out followed my Mrs. Desai.

"Yes. Yes. No excuses. Dinner at my place tomorrow night." Mother's invitation was more familial than anything else. " Oh, you have the stuff already. I hope Kunal kept you company." A teasing grin spread across the faces of both the old women.

"Mrs. Desai and you ammi! " I sighed. " Namaste Aunty." And we walked out the entrance of the shop, the bell on the door ringing as we opened it.

Later that evening my mother swore she saw Kunal staring.. no GAPING at me. I ignored her teasing. But inside, I felt an eagerness to see him the following night.

************

Dinners at our place were never a quiet event. Mom loved cooking and all day she cooked and cleaned and washed with willingness. When father got home from work, he quickly dressed for it was almost time for the guests to arrive. I had helped mother set the table right after I got back from a party with my mates at university. I didn't really feel like changing but went upstairs for I was overdressed for the occasion. The black piece of cloth was still hanging over the nail on the frame of my dressing table. I had half a smiling thought to wear it again tonight. But instead took out a light blue and white one for the night. It matched the fawn colored jeans and blue shirt that I was wearing. As I pinned the cloth across my face, covering everything below my eyes, I heard a faint knock on my door.

"Come in." I answered the knock quickly. I was in a hurry to attend on to the guests despite my lazy self. I soon realized that I wouldn't be going down for a while now.

"They told me you were in your room. I would have waited but who wants to sit and talk to oldies." His deep voice was quieter today. These are the moments I hate, when my eyes give away emotions I want to keep to myself. I stared at him. His collared shirt, sleeves rolled up, fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His hair-light brown- weren't properly combed, just brushed with his fingers I suppose. The shirt wasn't completely buttoned up and I could see a hint of his chiseled chest.

"I thought you don't wear your.. um.. hijab all the time. Why now? You're not in store anymore." He tried to make conversation again.

This time I answered. "Yes, but I like having people intrigued by me."

"I would say you like attention. Mind if I make myself at home?" He teased.

"Please do. And maybe you're right. I haven't really thought about it." I sat on my dressing table chair, and looking into the mirror I put the last pin in place.

It was quiet for a while. And I took a little more time to settle my hijab. It wasn't long. I didn't like the ones that covered half of my upper torso.

I saw his reflection staring at me in the mirror. I turned around to face him, hoping he would start some conversation but knowing it was my turn.

"So is it difficult, wearing it?" He asked.

"Not really. You have to be careful while putting the pins in place." I was weirdly relieved.

"Do you have matching ones for every dress you own. Like girls collect bags and scarfs?" He laughed.

"I have my share of the bags and scarfs.. and shoes. But these, I have four. The black one's my favorite." I said lightly. I motioned to the light green and cream colored ones folded on my table.

"Mine too." There was something about the way he looked at me then. I couldn't make out what it was because I'd never had someone look at me that way.

"Uhmm.. okay!?" I wasn't sure about what to say.

For a while, we sat quietly. I tried not to meet his gaze.

"We should join the others for dinner." I managed to say without stuttering.

I stood up and he followed. But before we reached the door, he caught hold of my elbow and with the slightest strength pushed me against the wall next to the table. My heart pounded as his eyes bore into mine.

"Now, just hold on one second." He unpinned the hijab and as the cloth fell across my face, this time revealing what I was hiding behind it, a low gasp escaped his lips. I felt his hand brush against my cheek with the slightest touch.

You're beautiful was all he managed to say. I could feel my cheeks burn and I was sure they were the color of blood by now. His hand felt cold. For a while, his eyes lingered on my lips. I was biting them nervously. A few moments later, he pinned back the piece of cloth.

" You know, I wouldn't blame you if you wore that all the time. It makes it easier to resist you." He looked away and went back to sit on the bed. " By the way, black looks better."

**************

I've been married to Kunal for six years now. For six years, I've been wearing my hijab whenever I've wanted to. I've been walking beside a man, who is more than happy to accept how I feel about my identity, who is proud to walk aside someone who believes being different is her right. There's something else that hasn't changed though. Something that I hope never will. Something that reassures me that its not necessary for the magic to die after being together for so long. Everytime he unpins my black hijab, a low gasp escapes his lips and I can hear how much he means it when he says he thinks I'm beautiful. When he stays up long nights with me, making me coffee so I don't fall asleep, I know he knows how much my priorities and freedom mean to me. I can feel the pride in his voice when he says, She's the one, always will be.

There's no point to this post

I'm a philosophical moron.
But I have to admit, when I'm in one of "those" moods, ranting all the bloody bullshit I've figured about life, I give pretty good advice.
Maybe I should become a counselor! (Shit man, I have no idea what to do with life. But on the other hand, I'm better off than a lot of people I know.)


I don't know what the point to this post was! 


In Love With Life
<3

Some things are just never meant to be

 Note: I haven't written fiction in a while. And I happened to come across this on my old blog. So I'm posting it here! :) Enjoy! And do let me know what you think.

I watched her as the golden light streamed through the only window in her small room through the space between her old, cream colored curtains. The peace on her face as she slept, after the long tiring nights that she spent working, trying to earn a living for herself, was almost touching. Her face was becoming pale (she generally forgot to eat) and the dark circles around her eyes were becoming more prominent with every passing day. She had always been such a delicate darling, given everything that she wanted without even having to ask for it. Yet, she chose to earn the life she wanted and not ask for it. I knew it was hell for her. The short hours of sleep, the small room without an air-conditioner to beat the summer heat, with the tiny fridge beside the bed that had room only for a couple of water bottles, was not something she was used to. But she never complained. To be honest, she never really talked about having to work and study at the same time. Yes, Devika was a college student, majoring in 3 languages-Spanish, Arabic and French. I figured she was learning Chinese too, seeing the cover of the open book that was kept against her chest. I bent down to kiss her cheek, took the book, closed it and kept it on her study table.

My best friend, her room-mate, sighed at me. I looked at her, saw her shaking her head, as if trying not to say something that she told me every single day.

"You still love her don't you? " Aashima asked in a low matter-of-factly manner.

I opened my mouth to say something, my always 'full of thought' mind not telling me what I should.

"It was rhetorical. You don't really have to answer."

Aashima knew. And there was no point in trying to deny it. She was one of the few people who knew me better than I knew myself.

"How does it even matter now. She... isn't mine anymore." There was a hint of nostalgic regret in my voice.

"Can you blame her?" It was the first time in the past year that Aashima looked at me with a disappointed, frustrated expression.

"Was that rhetorical too?"

She didn't answer. She grabbed her book bag and we walked to the canteen, right in the centre of the huge college campus.

"There's nothing I can do about it now. She deserves a lot more, a lot better, someone who appreciates her more than I ever did."

"Right. She deserves someone who doesn't believe in letting go off her like that, someone who is not as oblivious. You're stupid to not have seen it before. Everyone could. She... LOVED you. "

"Its funny how you have to use the past tense for that word now."

"Yeah especially because its her last month in college."

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't you know? After the college exams next month she's going to Turkey to work for some company as a translator. The pay isn't bad. Plus, the only thing she's looking for right now is the work experience."

That was the end of our discussion. From my side atleast.

***************

Everything after that day had been a blur. I don't know why but I went to see Aashima earlier every morning, just to be able too see Devika sleeping. Everyday that I did, I could feel dread making its way through my heart and mind, as I tried to prevent the hatred I felt towards myself, from turning into rage so emotionally conquering that I would have to punch a wall more than once till my knuckles hurt to calm down again. The only thing that ever stopped me was the tranquility on her face and the love that I still felt for her, probably stronger than I had felt when she was actually with me. Its funny how I felt closer, more attached to her now, how much more of a difference she made. I wanted her to be able to read my mind and hear the things that it was screaming out to me. Was it too late? I would never know. I would never try to find out. And for once I knew something for sure.

Devika's last day in college wasn't a quiet event. The social person that she was, she had many friends who all made promises to keep in touch with her. She took a few very close friends out for dinner, including Aashima. While all our common friends were out celebrating the start of a new journey for her, I was sitting in my room with a bottle of vodka and a packet of cigarettes, celebrating the end of a journey I wouldn't have wanted to end in the first place,trying to kill the memories that once made me smile. My mind was heavy with the weight of a million thoughts that I wish I could burn, for I always knew that it was because of these thoughts, crammed into my head, that I was usually oblivious to my own emotions, let alone others. iTsearched for reasons and answers to questions I myself was unaware of. No matter how hard I tried I could never figure out things for myself too soon. I could find solutions but I never knew the problems. These were some of Devika's last words to me. We had never exchanged as much as a "hello" after that.

The next morning, while I watched Devika sleeping, I could feel a sense of loss seeping in. I could tell that this was the last time I would be seeing her for a very long time if not forever. I made a silent promise to myself to see her, make a genuine effort to find her wherever she would be when I decided to see her again. It wouldn't be for a very long time but that day would definitely come. I was sure. Devika stirred in her sleep as her alarm clock went off. She opened her eyes, shocked to see me standing right beside her bed. She got up in a hurry and leaned against the back of her bed.

"Aashima must be taking a bath." Her voice was uneven.

"I know." I was probably making her uneasy with the way I was looking at her. "I wasn't here to see her anyway. Not today atleast."

She looked at me, blankly.

" I just wanted to say good-bye... and wish you all the very best. I really do hope you get what you set out to achieve. That makes atleast one of us who's worthy of what they've asked for.. or in your case, worked for."

"Thank You." She took a couple of seconds to smile, but she did.

"Well, I'll be going then. Tell Aashima that I'm taking the day off. I'll see her in the evening." I looked at her, hoping she would have something to say. She just nodded.

I knew it was my fault. Day in and day out, I hoped that one day she would forgive me, just like I'd asked her too. Was it fair on my part to even ask for forgiveness.. for that matter expect it too? I didn't know. But was I forgiven?

*****************

I spent the day all alone in my room. AGAIN. It was that one place I spent most of bad days. Or the worst of the lot, I would say. I didn't know what it was, but I could never be truly happy for too long. Some kind of negativity always lurked in the corners of my mind. Why could I see black in the deep blue of the sky? Why could I see a storm on a quiet, pleasant day? Why could I sense selfish reasons in selfless actions? Why did I doubt emotions? Why didn't I believe in letting anyone in, letting anyone know the depths of the person I didn't know I was? I was beginning to hate my mind more every single day, to the limits I didn't think were possible. Sometimes I wished I could drill a hole into it, drain my mind of its thoughts and feel the ecstasy of a normal mind that could emote what it felt, what it thought, what it was afraid of thinking about.

But there was something even this invisible, heavy weight of brimming thoughts of meaningfully meaningless things knew in its obliviousness. Devika had loved me. She, out of everyone that I had kept on the other side of the wall I had unintentionally built around myself, made her way through it. She could see me and I felt it every time she looked at me. I didn't think I would ever forget her. I didn't want to.

*****************

(Seven Years Later)

"Amishka and Aakash, you guys are going to cover Turkey this month. Beautiful place, beautiful people. Tickets are for the 11th. See me in my cabin in 10." My boss' deep, chirpy voice boomed from the phone's speaker, and before either of us responded Chetan cut the line.

"That was quick." Amishka giggled. "How can anyone call my job 'work' ? Traveling, seeing new places every month and writing about the food, the history, architecture, the best hotels.. nada nada nada. This is the LIFE."

I had to agree. Travel journalism was probably one of the best things that had happened to me. It was completely my thing. Seeing new places and writing about what I saw in them. Of course I had to keep some of my opinions to myself. People weren't really interested in knowing how the silence in the thick grasslands of Mfuwe, getting in touch with forces of nature and its beauty helped me find a better person within me, or how getting away from life in the city helped me throw open the doors of my mind. Understanding and respecting someone's history, their culture and beliefs was an important part of my job and it was what I loved about it the most and hence I stuck to that when I wrote about my experiences. And not to mention, we had out own popular TV show and the pay package was great. All in all, I had the perfect job.

"I hate to burst your bubble but that's not what you say when you have to give in the article. You're such an annoying pussy when you start complaining about "work", as you put it. " I laughed remembering her frowns and scrunched face when she would have to work late, imitating them as she looked at me with an expression that threatened me to shut up. 

"Uhh.. Boss' cabin. See you in 5." Something told me dinner was on me tonight.

I had been working with Discovery for over two years now and it was back then, that I had met Amishka. Her stunning beauty was inviting- The perfectly sized curves of her body, that complimented her long legs with muscular caffs that she carried on high heeled shoes, that weren't really necessary considering how all eyes followed her as she towered over the many handsome men she had to look down to talk to. There was a sex appeal about her that didn't go unnoticed. Her long hair, curled their way down to her waist and she usually kept them open, and they bounced with the slightest movement of her head. Her sharp features never failed to notice the smallest of things. Her voice depicted intellect. It usually intimidated many as she was a woman of her OWN point of view, which was difficult to change. She was self aware, maybe arrogant of her beauty, that she knew was the centre of attention wherever she went. I could see it in the confidence of her stance and her walk. Whatever it was, she was definitely one the most attractive women I had ever come across and I was one lucky dog to have been able to experience the sensuality of her beauty.

I pushed open the door to my boss' cabin.

"Great. You're here. Where's Amishka? Never mind actually. The tickets. The itinerary. You're stay is for 5 days exactly. You're at the Radisson Blu Bosphorus. Don't forget you have to give the hotel atleast a fifteen minute cover on the show. You know what to do."

"No worries, Mr. Chetan." I backed out of the door, my eyes studying the tickets.

It was then that it hit me- The sudden wave of a familiar past, that for a minute washed my mind off the present. I didn't know whether SHE was still there-probably not- but I was nervously excited. It had been years. I remembered the last time I saw her like it were yesterday. For some reason, it felt like it was destiny's silent promise to mine, that she was there to help me find my past in the future. I felt guilty about wanting to see Devika again. I didn't know why. But I just did. I just wanted to share one drink with her and just know that she was where she had always wanted to be. She was probably much ahead of that. But I needed to know anyway.

"You know, you can imitate me well." Amishka laughed. "I hate to admit it, but as soon as you left, I went hysterical laughing."

"Since when do you have a good sense of humor?" I teased.

"Oh please! You reckon, you need to come up with better jokes?" She teased back, imitating a Kenyan accent.

I chuckled. "Well, looks like you're used to my bad ones anyway."

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. Anyway I have to run. I'll see tomorrow. I have to meet up with the girls today." She pecked me on my lips and walked out of the cabin.

I sat at my desk. For a while all I thought about was Devika's last day in college, how she had changed my life and why I had never let her know how grateful I was for that. Today, if I were in a good relationship with a girl who knew how much she mattered to me, was because Devika had made me realize how wrong and oblivious I was to emotions and gestures that mattered so much, but the same ones I failed to appreciate.

I couldn't think of any way to contact her. No numbers, no addresses.. NOTHING. The only person I knew who could possibly be in touch with her was Aashima. 

But Aashima had stopped talking about Devika a very long time ago. I guess she realized it was for the best. I stopped asking after a while.

*To be Continued...

Goodnight?

I don't know if I'm a good kisser.


I have absolutely NO IDEA whether good looking guys think I'm appealing or not.

I'm sick of not being able to find a good-looking guy who can speak grammatically correct English.


Blah Blah Blah.. Bleh Bleh Bleh!


The year's almost coming to an end! :O
Wow... It's been such a sucky year. I know I'm going to end up bitching about it. Sigh!!! I'm going to be in 12th grade soon. And then school's going to be over and life as it is will change.


And then... Friends might stay. They might go their own ways.

I've lost my best friend... Nevermind. People come and people go. Can't really tie them down or anything.


I've been hearing things about myself. They aren't true.


Some people are just disappointments. Because there's a difference in the things they say and the things they do.


Some people never leave... No matter how much you want them to.


Some people aren't really a part of your life... But their presence in the world makes a difference to you.

Some people can never be forgotten. Fortunately or Unfortunately.


Sometimes I get the weirdest feeling. A feeling that tells me I'm going to meet some people some day... A day very, very, very far from today... I don't think it'll happen.. but I just get the feeling!


I want pleasant dreams tonight.


Goodnight!

Some say..

Some people say, "Life isn't long enough."


I say, "Youth isn't long enough."


Think about it. If I were young at 60, I'd be happier when I'm on my death bed!