There's just too much that time cannot erase.

Sometimes, the wounds we have, and the cuts our souls bleed from, don’t ever get healed. We just become used to having a part of ourselves die every day, with every drop of blood that falls to the floor of our shattered belief in happy endings and victory of good over evil. That pain becomes a part of us, of our existence. It’s our story of what made us who we are, the footprints that will lead a follower to the destination we’re at, even if he doesn’t know he’s treading the same path, because the bright light of love, blinds his sight of conscious thinking and makes him walk a path of thorny rose bushes that cut him so deep that by the time he realizes, his will to even try, has lost itself like the roses he had managed to pick along the way. But that’s what love is. A lover would rather live that pain, than regret walking that path, because among the countless lovers that have found themselves in the same place, he lives with the hope that his love was the strongest, the purest, most worthy of another journey of that pain he will always carry in his heart, because it’s the evidence of his most humane days, when he was ready to forgive even if he couldn’t forget, to hurt even if he couldn’t be healed. He can never forget those times when he would sit alone in the dark, seeing the flame of a candle in the darkest dungeons of hopelessness. He can never forget the feeling of sheer bliss and buoyancy that floated over his smiles. And nothing could overcome the overwhelming joy he couldn’t contain in his chest. He will always want to hold on to the last memories as much as the first, steal a look and see the and see them looking back at him with the same love and affection, which will never die out like the small fire that couldn’t survive the coldest winter night.

Time changes everything. What once seemed like a better world now seems cruel, because, things, people and emotions all lose their value to the same. They say that time heals all wounds, but we lovers only know that there’s just too much that time cannot erase. Because in between the pain I breathe and the tears I cry, I am still a lover.

Wohooooooo! =D

Finally even I have to deal with one of the worst things that could happen to a writer... Actually, calling myself a writer feels weird so I'll stick with blogger for now. Getting back to the problem. I'm having a really bad phase of writer's block. And it's not my fault. I just got over with my finals! See, that's reason enough. And my finals have gone horribly wrong..my attendance at school is just 50%..my teachers hate me.... Do I need another reason to think my promotion is at stake? =|

But but but... now that my finals are over and my report card is a few days away (I can't even begin to tell you how worried I am. Hardly any good schools take admissions in 12th Grade.), I'm going to make the most of my time!

Yesterday, when school got off, I went out with Puneeta and Unnati, sat in Toro for a bit and had free food and drinks because the owner is a friend (HA, I BET YOU'RE JEALOUS!). The place is new. AND GOOD! I was so impressed. The grilled chicken was bloody amazing. And the virgin mojitos were the best I've ever had. For anyone who's bothering to go through this post, go treat yourself. You won't regret it.

I got back home by nine thirty. Because I'd washed my hair after school, I was tired. Now, I know you're wondering what washing my hair has to do with that, so I must tell you, I get exhausted while washing my hair. I don't know why. I usually sleep for four hours straight once I'm done. But since I had to go out, I missed out on my "NAP" . So I slept early.. by eleven that is. For some weird reason I was wide awake by four thirty and was tossing in bed for the next hour. It was then that I decided to call Piyush. The guy's an owl and good company. But then again, he slept early for some reason too. But then my IPOD saved the morning. I started listening to some old lovey-dovey songs until I fell alseep listening to music.

Now, the best part of this rant.

Nilanjana came over this morning. By eleven we were out on the roads of Delhi. My sister and I went with her to this place called Pahadganj, ( I told my mom CP, =P ) and had the best photoshoot ever. I tried my hand at photography and I'd like to believe I wasn't too bad. I clicked some epic profilers for Nil and Shreeya! (Yes, I'm basking in the sun of self appreciation. =D ) We spent hours just taking random pictures of random things. It was something that Nilanjana and I had been planning for a long time. And though it wasn't just the both of us, I had an amazing time =)

The worst part of the day was Sam's cafe in pahadganj. Aye Haye! The thought of that place makes me sick. The food........... is not EDIBLE. And you know what, though the rest of the day was good, I hated wasting 360 BUCKS on that food (that I didn't eat). I ended up getting it packed and giving it to beggars What a waste. You want to know what my spaghetti looked like? Here's a tiny description. It was bland and oily and had home made butter and cheese just THROWN in as toppings. Ew.

But the metro rides were damn fun! Figuring the way out wasn't easy but we managed to come back in one piece. I think I could get used to stuff like this! =)

Anyway, I'm off!

Bye bye! =D

And THIS is a true story.

People come..... And they go. Sometimes, even when you don't want to, you have to kick them out of your life. Some people would say that I'm simply hurt right now. But nobody will even come close to gauging the anger inside me;anger that is deeply rooted in hurt.

I once came across this line while reading a book. "There is no greater crime than theft. When you lie, you're stealing someone's right to know the truth." It was in the same book that I read another line-"For you, a thousand times over."

Dishonesty has always been a tight slap across my face. I've never been able to tell why though. People lie all the time. But when someone lies to me, there's no shove as ruthless, there's no anger so potent, there's no stronger force choking my throat.

This is isn't my story. It's hers. Someone exactly like me. Someone, who's habit of lying to me, has been the cause of so much hurt and anger. Because, if she couldn't trust me, I couldn't trust her.. and we had no other. It was just her.. and me...

He came walking into her life one day, making no promise of being there when the moonless night slowly crashed into the sunny, summer morning, who's light hurt your eyes after a slumber bereft of pleasant dreams. And to think she wouldn't know if he spent half of the night in another woman's bed, after singing her lullabies of soft kisses before she closed her eyes to see if she could feel him beside her for just one night, kicked her self esteem and pride... for he thought she was a fool.

Fate finds its way of telling you the secrets you're destined to know. Evidence finds its way to you even when you're not looking.  And when she found out, it was over.

But what that doesn't change... is the anger. That anger rooted in hurt. Because, his bed was never going to be lonely... and hers would be a reminder of nothing else but betrayal, unspoken words that her mind and heart still longed to hear, and an unwilling self to ever do the same. But more than anything, it was a reminder that... for the sake of the sweet memories that she deluded herself into thinking were pure, symbolic of affection and nothing else.. she would go through that sweet pain, a thousand times over.

This is isn't my story. It's hers. Someone exactly like me. Someone, who's habit of lying to me about her pain, has been the cause of so much hurt and anger. Because, if she couldn't trust me, I couldn't trust her.. and we had no other. It was just her.. and me... It was just my conscience and me...

This is going to be a happy place for a while .

So, it's been a while since I've been thinking about changing the look of my blog. A very, VERY close friend of mine told me that it had become a sad and depressing place. And I couldn't agree more. For a lot of reasons, I had been going through this depressed, morbid phase in my life... and things were just not falling into place. And all I could do was vent it out by writing.. and MOST of those pieces of writing found their way to my blog. And though I'm glad that during that phase I wrote things that were appreciated so whole heartedly by my fellow followers, I don't want them to think that I only write depressing stuff. Because, I'm usually a happy person. And you know what reminded me of the person I'd stopped being for a while? It was this friend's letter to me on my 16th Birthday! She made me realize that my retarded smile and my attitude towards life of finding happiness in the smallest of things, made her smile a lot more everyday even if she didn't have the biggest reasons to. So, Nilanjana, ILoveYou! =*

So, I played around with colors and now my blog looks like a happier place to me! Tell me what you guys think! =D

Oh and btw, I deleted that stupid formspring account of mine. What a worthless forum. Weird stalkers keep asking you the same questions about the SAME people over and OVER again. And it's annoying. Because most of the questions are offensive and come from people who don't have a standard, who can't maintain their dignity and try to make the other person look down. So BYE-BYE STUPID FORMSPRING AND ALL THOSE STUPID PEOPLE WHO KEPT ASKING ME IDIOTIC QUESTIONS! =*

Now for some damn good news! I GOT ANOTHER BLOG AWARD from two very versatile bloggers themselves! Thank You KANIKA and MEHER! =D *Hugs*

So, there are some things that I need to do. Here goes! =D

1. Thank the person who loved you enough to bestow this gift. 

    DONE! =*

2. Share seven things about yourself.

     This is going to be RANDOM!

I LOVE CARTOONS! JOHNNY BRAVO IS MY FAVORITE!

I can be a little superstitious sometimes. :S

I am obsessed with this guy's name. It's so Frickin' LONG! (Piyush Yudhveer Vikramaditya Bhardwaj.. Isn't it amazing?)

I LOVE STATIONARY! I collect it actually! =P

I love talking. I always have so much to say. Sometimes I think I should become a TV anchor or Counselor! (For the record, I give good advise.)

I am a SCIENCE STUDENT. And though I love my subjects, I haven't scored too well this year.

I had braces for almost two years. And I never grinned in ANY picture until they actually came off. =P

There. All done! =D

3. Bestow this honor onto 10 newly discovered or followed bloggers– in no particular order– who are fantastic in some way.

I'm only giving out four.

NILOY GHOSH DASTIDAR

NIL

THE VOICE IN MY HEAD

IRONIC, ISN'T IT?

4. Drop by and let your ten new friends know you admire them.

On it! =D

Light a match, I'm burning my memories.

What did life want now? It was all she could think of. She wanted to shake alive every dormant incident that she had hidden in the corners of the darkest rooms of her mind and think about what was left with that life could take away forever.. any other thing that she could stack away in those dark rooms, whose doors when opened made her wince with embarrassment at her juvenile stupidity, at those mistakes she wished she'd never made. She was always regarded as the one who grew up way too fast. Wisdom dawned her aura, and yet it seemed as if the child deep within her surfaced too often, trying to live a life it never could, making that worldly knowledge of people curtain itself, as if almost unwilling to disturb the child in her at its best. But like I said, wisdom dawned her aura. When she was looked at, it was not her stunningly beautiful face framed by waves of long black hair that people noticed first. It was that intimidating feeling that washed through them, an unwillingness to know what lay behind those eyes. She had heard men talking about how much they loved a woman who had an untouched innocence about her. Little did she know that it was exactly the opposite of THAT, some daring men found most appealing about her. It was the confidence with she walked, the few second glances at people by which she could easily tell who they were on the inside, the way she completed everybody's sentences, knowing exactly what they wanted to say (better than they did) because she had gone through it all. Life as she knew it had been unkind to her often, but like the millions of lessons she had learned, she knew that it was because of that unkindness that she was not just any other woman in any man's life. She was who she wanted to be, always holding the upper hand, the one who passively controlled and molded things around her. That was the strength of her aura, something no one had ever been able to take from her.

But today, she sat down quietly wondering why the past was trying to become her present now. She wondered why the people she had let go off an eternity ago wanted to be a part of her life now. Didn't they know that things would never be the same? Or did they think she was weak because she had chosen to let go and run away. Devyangani had always known that she was never the weak one. Over the years, she had learned that neither running away or letting go were signs of weakness and cowardice because, she was one of the few who knew  the courage and strength it took to let go and move on and try and forget something she'd held on to so strongly. And every time those things knocked at her door, she knew how much strength it took to shove them out, to tell herself that there was no room for second thoughts to cross her mind. She knew how much strength it took to remind herself time and again that there were some things she never did. Going back on a word she had promised herself was one of them. So yes, there was no turning back! There never would be, even if she sometimes wished she could.

But today was different. It wasn't any other past that had turned up at her door. No, it wasn't that friend who had once betrayed. No, it wasn't that sister who didn't care. And no, it wasn't that family that once turned their back. She winced at the thought of who it was. As she wrecked journals of memories, she remembered an old friend who'd been with her through it all. She remembered the words that had once slipped her tongue. . Its never going to leave you alone. It will tag along one day and you'll find yourself right where you were in the first place.. She had been right about the first part. That past had never left her. It always came back every few years for reasons she did not know. For reasons, she didn't want to know for her sake. But that friend had been wrong about the second part. It didn't leave her where she had started. She was miles away from the beginning because the void had been filled up by experience and wisdom. Every time that past knocked on the door, she found herself beckoning the strength everyone knew she had. The power to never look back, to swear on her blood to keep the promises others couldn't keep. And so she walked away every time. And she didn't care who thought she was weak. Because she always knew that walking away had always been an option, but she was never the reason she had made it her choice.

BLOG AWARD!

I am SO happy right now, it's not even funny! Really! =D

So, I've received my SECOND blog award! And it's for being a STYLISH BLOGGER (Ooooo yeah! =P)

I love it when people love my work. I feel like there's a little bit of talent hiding in me, and it's going to bloom someday. And when those people go out of the way to appreciate it, I feel even better! And I am so glad that MEHER awarded me as one of the most stylish bloggers (I still can't get over it.)

(And yes, I'd like to thank that person who first introduced me to blogging and taught me how to MAKE a blog. Okay, I admit. I didn't know how to make a blog. I have issues with the internet.. and technology in general.)

So, I have to follow a couple of steps! Here goes! =D

1. Thank and link back to the person who awarded you this award  :: [DONE]

2. Share 7 things about yourself.

Here goes,
1. I LOVE chocolate. I think it's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I have it everyday. And when I'm stressed, I love walking down to Baskin N Robins and getting myself chocolate ice-cream.

2. I may look like I have my life sorted. I take it very easy mostly. But inside, I'm as confused as any other confused kid. I may give good, practical advice, but.. I'm still trying to follow it on my own.

3. I have HUGE EGO ISSUES. And I can be a STUBBORN bitch. I may look like I can take critique very well, but if it isn't said in a nice way, I will not accept it and I might just strangle you.

4. I naturally have a VERY loud voice. Even when I'm normally talking to someone, they have to ask me to lower down the volume. And it's ANNOYING. Because I AM NOT SHOUTING!

5. I haven't exercised since Summer 2008. I've been trying to ever since. =P

6. If I LOVE you, I LOVE you. If I HATE you, then you'll find me being very intolerant to the sound of your voice.

7. What else? =S
     OH YEAH! My brother thinks I sound like a receptionist on the phone. Because this is how I go when he gives me a missed call from another number. "Hello, good evening. I just got a missed call from this number. May I know who's on the line?" I wonder why? =P

3. Award 15 recently discovered great bloggers ::

The Voice In My Head

Niloy Ghosh Dastidar Photography

The Virgin Blog

 Classic Marijuana  

I'm sorry. I'm only handing out four. =)

4. Contact these bloggers and tell them about the award!

On my way in a bit.

Because my wounds are open, they're bleeding life.

I had never been drunk before. NEVER. I had never forced the bitter taste down my throat just for the heck of it. NEVER. I had never wanted to be reckless and uncontrollable. NEVER. Some thought that it was an act, others thought that I was immature. I'd rather be the latter, I'd never wanted to grow up so fast. But today, I sat quietly at the bar, drowning myself in the overpowering strength of the bitterness that rotted the taste on my tongue, burning my insides as I tried to gulp it down faster every time. I didn't like the taste, though I marveled the way it played with my head. Thoughts were a blur, exactly how I wished they were all the time. The irony. Today, I wanted to sleep. Tomorrow I wanted to get up, not remembering what I did, not remembering tonight before it happened, not remembering the person I was just now. Why? Because I wanted to forget tonight.

I was alone. I stared at the cardboard box in front of me. Memories. That's what it was full off. Memories of her. Her... He couldn't forget her. And it killed me because I could never hold her place. It killed me because he held THAT place in me. Today, she came back. And the memories he stored away in that box, it seemed, took a long deep breath that blew my way in strong gusts of winds, the black blinding smoke of a crowded past I could never make him forget. I played with his favorite lighter. He always kept it on the bar in a small custom made box. I made a small game of the sparks I saw, every second one bursting into a sudden tiny flame.

My aim usually sucked. I could almost never catch a ball before it hit my head, or throw it to someone before it hit theirs. Today, as I threw the lighter into the box, I couldn't help but think how wrong I had been about my aim. I saw the box burn to ashes. The fire dying as soon as every page of every journal, every picture of every moment he cherished, every souvenir of a long lost love, was lost in the tides of hatred and revenge. I knew she was never going to stay. I knew she was going to kill the remnants of every little hope he had had for them. I knew and he did too, but I wasn't going to wait for anything to sink in.

I knew I had killed a part of him just there. Every little thing he had held on to, every little thing he thought he would hold on to for an eternity that would end only with him, had been brutally stabbed until they bled in flames of hurt. I had killed a part of him right there. And as I walked out the door, I left that part of him on the floor, only to be discovered by someone who wouldn't be able to kill himself, or live with the nothingness I had created by burning away his years.

Because I wanted to forget tonight...

I'm Coming Clean...

I find it hard to believe, how people can simply forget how it feels to be put through some of the worst experiences of their lives and then have the heart to put someone else in their shoes and treat them like they're inhuman. Those who were taken for granted, take others for granted. Those who were cheated on, cheat on others. Those who lost their hope and faith, crash and murder the tiny fragments of hope that's left in others. I was cheated on by someone who got cheated on by his ex-girlfriend 6 times. And to think that someone who understood what it felt like to have something like that happen to him, would never do anything of hat sort to me... How wrong I was. And right now. I don't know what to feel. I was taken for granted once before. I was treated like shit. My ego and pride were burned to ashes. All this, was done by someone who went through the exact same with the only girl he had ever loved. Her memories lurked around in his mind, and despite knowing what he was doing to me, he went ahead with it. And though I have forgiven him. I can never forget. Because, despite having moved on. Despite having let go off him, because of what he did, I can never make myself vulnerable to anyone. Never let anyone know what I am behind the smile I always have on my face.

After reading this post, I'll probably get a million questions on formspring. Offensive questions that would probably make me want to slap the one who's asking me. And I only have one thing to say to those people.

"FUCK YOU. I hope you die and burn in hell. I hope you go through worse and never build up the strength to get over it. And I hope you NEVER get you reasons for closure. I hope karma bites you in the ass and you never understand why it's happening to you.
Lots of HATE.
Sincerely,
Shivangi"

Thank You.

Dusk.

I loved cigars on late afternoons like these. Those days when I would laugh at that priest who once lectured us on how promiscuity was a sin. It was on afternoons like these that I found creativity flowing out of me like the smoke I exhaled or rather choked my lungs with. Life was too short to live on others' terms. And I chose to have it my way. Even if that made me the perfect bastard.

I stretched in my chair and stared at the screen for a minute. I was trying to recall a certain phrase that hit my mind before I... allowed myself to be relaxed by those slender, long arms that led to her voluptuous bosom, hidden in the light black net of her bra that I could see through. The flamboyance and comfort she radiated in that naked skin made me all the more impatient. Like every other thing I really wanted, I needed to my hands on her....

Lucy walked into the study in her skimpy night gown. She still hadn't bothered to put her lingerie back on and I could see how the satin perfectly outlined her nipples. If I weren't the bastard I was, I would have waited another month or so, gotten to know her a little better, but I genuinely couldn't care less. If I couldn't charm my way through, I wasn't short of money. But that was the last of my problems. And what made me a bigger ass hole was the self awareness. I 'd been told I had a way and I made it a point to use it to make it through. What the heck anyway? I was 27. A writer. A successful one at that. And I did get the attention I wanted. Could you blame me?

But I had to give it to her. It was the best sex I'd had in a while. I guess it was because I was initially attracted to her presence and the persona she was. She was the lady in red, and eyes followed her all evening. I would have to admit I was lucky this time. But like every other woman I'd ever come across, I didn't feel the need to bid a proper farewell to her. It was almost like every night and this was just another afternoon. And it was my favorite cigar and my favorite time to write.

"Would you like me to call you a cab?" It was the same line I used for the last one who walked into this study and definitely the one I was going to use the next day.

"No. Thank You. I've made my arrangements. I should be leaving in about an hour."

That was easy, I thought to myself. I was expecting something more elaborate from her. I nodded and smiled at her. She returned one, which meant that she wasn't going to curse me later on. Well that made one of the sort that wouldn't hate me.

My evenings were busy. Meetings, conferences and  my daily newspaper column. And by the end of it, it was time for another late night event where I found my next prey. And my day would start itself in the same way. A different woman, a different cab, different thoughts, a new story and the same cigar.

It was the same old circle of life, until I met her one day. It was the smallest, most casual meeting that I had ever had. People said, I had changed. But four years later I was still the same old person. The promiscuous son of a bitch, the heart breaker women usually referred to as the one you could fuck but couldn't fall for. Because it was just a matter of time before you found yourself being pushed away like the many others, into taxis he called every morning before he started working on his latest novel. The only thing that had changed was my style of writing. Over time I noticed how abstract I had become and how noticeably broken I was to my readers.  I thought of her everyday and every time I was with another woman. Now, the others had become mere comparisons that could never match up.

She just left. I couldn't think of what went wrong. Or what I had done. But one day I woke up to find that she was gone. All she had left was a note saying that she was sorry that consisted of only two sentences.

I had never thought over anything about my personal life until then. I tried to think about the time I had hurt someone so bad to deserve something that tore my insides into bits I couldn't even feed to my once diabolic  conscience. It was then that I realized, that sometimes, life doesn't want you to change. All it wants is to bite your ass so hard that you think twice before sitting down. I was nothing less than the whores I slept with and I learned how to be a lover until one fine day, I found myself where I had started in the first place.

It was perfect... Maybe too perfect. But then she left. And I could never find it in me to hate her. Because I never could.  For the sake of redemption, I tried to remember the last time I had hurt someone that bad. Was it that pretty girl back in high school when I was 18? Or was it the girl  I was with in New York when I was 22? Guilt only seeped in because I was finally the broken mess those women were.

Her name was Noor.  Over time she became a writer's untold story, whose silence screamed out to anxious hearts that longed to hear the words that could never be verbalized. She was my hidden strength, a reminder of the courage I had to still be in one piece on the outside, to be able to hide from anyone, except my reader.

I remembered the first day I saw her.

*To be Continued*

Winter

Your footsteps dwindled into the sound of heartbeats that I heard on silent nights when I cried myself to sleep. Your love faded into the last of the resounding echoes of the pain that screamed out of my soul. The look in your eyes reminded me of the wind-less stillness before the earth breathed a storm over a tiny island's shore, and engulfed its white sands in enraged, black waves. Your hurt was like the rub of sandpaper against open wounds, exposed to the torturing heat of a naked fire. Your distance was a ruthless shove, and your voice will always be the splinter inside me.

It's a new year. And like everybody else, I too, am looking for my new beginning. Because, no matter how many times we said we were going to start afresh, we only tangled ourselves in the same old stories that had no end, the ones we couldn't record in books that we could keep in the top shelves of a forbidden library.

The autumn leaves had fallen and left their trees bare, to shiver away in a long, cold winter. The white fluffy snowflakes against the darkest shades of brown, are the sole beauty of this barren season. Spring, is a long way from here. But this is the season of love for me. Staggering confessions bite harder than the spine chilling cold that we can never get used to. And the thick fog is only a safe hiding place for those on the run, those infinite secrets we live in, for those who refuse to see reality because it's more painful than the bubble they've created for themselves and those countless lovers trying to steal a moment away from the world, to make it theirs forever, something that they will own even when the most materialistic things are lost to human greed, betrayal and the fruits of karma.

People say the same things, do the same mistakes, over and over again. And it's about time I realized, old conversations become new only because the people we talk to change. We're still part of the same old stories... Somehow, the conversations I had with you, will never have the chance to renew themselves in my present.