Single and Sold

You might be a girl reading this, or you might be a boy..

So I shall write this story in both perspectives.

You wake up, the sunlight hits your eye, it's annoying. 

You blink, you check the phone.

You have some GPRS charges messages from Dialog, some Tweet mention messages,

some Facebook wallpost messages.You want to sleep.

He/she calls you. You talk about useless things for fifteen minutes. 

Call ends.

You smile, widely awake. Okay, let's start this day!

You walk around, on the road, with your friends. You are talking, texting, watching the road,

doing the uber-multitasking that youngsters are so inept at these days. 

You have your phone in your hand, you dressed in the usual college life garb;

the jeans, the causal t-shirt, the sneakers and your bag is slung over your shoulders.

There is a boy flirting with you. He notices how your hair shines in the sun, he loves the way you talk.

There is a girl faltering under your gaze. She loves the deep gravelly tone of your voice,

she likes the fact that you can play the guitar. 

Phone beeps.

A message from him, a message from her.

All thoughts of that other person who likes you...

... ah well, they lie flat, like a fallen leaf down a lonely road. 

You are having a bad day. You are frustrated, anger is creeping up on you,

work is piling up, homework is nowhere close to being finished.

You want him to call. You want her to text. 

You stare at the phone.

You are bored, you are not absorbing anything on the white board.

You are far far away from the lecture room as you can be.

Lectures finish. Your day is no better.

You send a random text. 

You come home. You are on Facebook when person from your class comes up on chat.

A boy, a good looking one, flirts with you. A really pretty girl finds you interesting.

You reply like a dead duck.

All the while, staring at your phone, willing it to ring with that name on it. 

Day is winding, you slip into bed. 2200 hours. 

Phone rings, you smile.

You talk on and on for an hour or so, ending the day talking to this person.

This person, who is not yours to have.

This person who makes you feel good,

makes you smile

This person who should clearly sort out their stupid issues

and say "Screw that "

and just be with you. 

Because you and that person, are perfect.

The two of you are so dysfunctional that the ridges fit just right. 

Two broken halves of the same cookie.

You end the call, you end the day.

You stare at the wooden slats of your ceiling,

and think of that boy who flirts with you.

You think of the pretty girl who likes you.

They'd be very happy if you gave them a chance.

Another face comes to your mind.

His spectacled face and toothy smile.

Her soft curly hair and twinkling eyes.

You sigh, knowing that this is how it will be

..for a long time to come. 

Because you are single..

.. and yet your heart is sold. 

Rain and Ramblings

Everytime it rains, it brings back so many memories. I wish I knew why, but I get a deep sense of nostalgia.

I normally sit out side in the verandah and I watch the rain come down.

It's amazing how these little drops of water bring the whole universe to life. The greens of the leaves become greener and the shades of yellow become brighter. It's almost like the rain breathes life into everything that surrounds us.

When I look upto the sky, I wonder where the infinite drops of rain come from. Oh sure, I know the scientific explanation but that's boring. I like to make up my own theory. Maybe there is someone up there, crying? Maybe, just maybe, these crying people are angels? Who knows. A little bit of imagination never goes amiss.

The rain is falling in a steady stream and I love the sound it makes when it splatters the leaves. It's almost like the rain is talking, singing and serenading the world with it's stories. Pools of water form all over the grass and when the wind joins in, the soft chilly breeze that hums around me is so inviting. The world smells so fresh and seems to peaceful.

When it rains, my father likes to sit outside in the verandah and watch the rain, just like I do. I wonder what he thinks of the rain. The dog snoozes on a warm patch of terra cotta and the day passes so, with us watching the rain.

The rain reminds me of my childhood, of my sister whom I miss very much. It reminds me of stories I have read. They say people don't remember things will, but they will always recall how they felt about something. I don't quite remember the stories but I remember how it felt, cuddled in my mother's embrace, making jokes while we watched the rain from the safe harbour of her bed.        

The leaves glisten with the rain water as it washes their faces, dripping off the ends beautifully like little drops of liquid diamond. The dog yawns and I watch the little stones swimming in the pools of water. The gentle pitter patter of the falling water, the smell of fresh soil, the memories, it all overwhelms the senses. It is comforting to retire to bed with a warm mug of coffee but I don't like wasting rain. I love to sit outside on this verandah with my cup of ginger tea and read a good book. Some of the books I enjoyed the most have been read while it was raining. Maybe the continous pound snd thrum of the falling water had something to do with it? Who knows.

When the rain clears up and the world goes back to being it's dry place, I will miss it. I miss the rain, I always do. But maybe it's the ocassional occurrence of the rain that makes it so beautiful in my eyes. Something common would get boring, wouldn't it?

The rain might go away and the world will be dry again, but one will always find the little drops of water clinging to the very tips of leaves, catching the sunllight with proud defiance and throwing their colours to the world; the evidence of a recent rain-fall. I like to think that rain is life. How can it not be when you see the flowers and trees drink up the water so joyfully?

There is not much sunshine during the rain.. but there is always some. And sometimes, even through the rain, the sun shines's brightly, letting the world bask in it's golden, waterly glow. That sight, I think, is the best gift nature can give us.

Rain is beautiful.

To Be Fat, To Be Proud

I hear the line.. "You aren't fat, you're just chubby". You know, in all honesty, I am sick and tired of hearing bullshit like that. I am fat, I know this and I don't want to change. It's harder than you think, living in my body. Certain events that occurred today led me to write these thoughts down and inculcate what I have been feeling into one note. 

Look, telling a fat person they are chubby won't make them feel better. Especially a girl. And you know what? We still live in such a superficial, negative society where size is hated upon. Either you are too skinny or too fat. No one really actually makes a fuss about being skinny. It's harder being large and being a girl. You see, if you are a guy and you are on the heavy side, you can still date a skinny girl. But this frame of mind does not apply to a girl. You are large and you're a girl, you'd probably feel conscious about having a crush on a skinny guy, let alone dating him. And believe me, I am talking from experience here.

I know I am talented and I know I am smart. I know I have a personality encapsulating many of the best traits, but that only goes so far in a world where appearance is everything. Sure, you get the one or two who say "Looks aren't everything" but no one really means it. Get real. Physical attraction is essential and who the HELL would be attracted to someone who's thigh is bigger than a normal person's legs put together?

You get these skinny girls screaming about how they are fat. To them I have to say.. Shut the f*ck up and live your f*cking life. You honestly have no fricking clue on how hard it is to live in a fat body. It's horrible having to see gorgeous girls with perfect bodies all over the place and look at yourself in the mirror and see how plain and ugly you are. Sometimes, you are afraid to like a boy because you are scared that you'll never be pretty enough or skinny enough. I have been feeling this, I have felt this and it's not something that will go away. Once in a while, you meet the nice guy who really adores you for you and it remains, but that's only so often.

I go partying with my friends. Am I asked to dance? No. Am I invited to the dancefloor? No. Not unless I invite myself. I go shopping for clothes. Everything is a size too small. The tops are too tight, the jeans too short. It's frustrating. You can't eat a fricking chocolate without being made to feel guilty. Everyone turns such a critical eye on you. It may sound plain on paper, but I am very sure that everyone of you who's reading this has made a fat joke at some point. Sure, the person might brush it off, but it really does cause a lot of heart ache and depression in a person who is insecure enough as it is. I have my strategy of hiding behind my mask. It's a strong, unbreakable, spirited mask. I call it my personality and it protects me from the negativity people send my way because of my size. But what of the people who are not as strong as I am? What of those girls who go home and cry everyday because some asshole made them feel ugly? And you know what, I shouldn't have to hide behind a mask in the first place!Stop and think. Us fat people, we have feelings too. When you behave so insensitively, we feel it. And it does hurt. More so than you think.

Finally, to the guys who read this, I have this to say: If you see a fat girl smiling at you, smile back. So what, her butt is twice the size of yours? If she likes you, love her back. She might have the capacity to make you happier than you might know. She might have an amazing personality. Share an ice cream with her and get to know her. Notice her shiny eyes and bouncy curly hair.

To the girls who read this: Stay beautiful. Just because you are fat, you shouldn't be made to feel ugly. Because you aren't. 

My Bubble. MINE.

I dwell in my little bubble.

It's a bubble of Green, cheese, chocolate and books. Of poetry, Johnny Depp and plain tea.

It is also a bubble of misery. 

It is a bubble of intense depression and hate.

Hate for the world and the humans and what they are. 

It's a bubble of varying emotions and thoughts.

It consists of a myriad of smiles, frowns

Oh yes, laughter and tears too.

I am happy in this bubble I dwell in. 

Is it because I am shunned from reality in my bubble?

Or is it because reality is in high definition

in my bubble?

High definition like a Sony Bravia screen.

Oh I don't know. Something about my bubble... it just amazes me.

My bubble is awesome and it's cool.

I advise you to get a bubble like mine.

That way, you can live in happy ignorance and care about things ONLY worth caring about

Like abortion, child labour and when you will become famous. 

And in your bubble, you are free to run naked for all you want.

Because it is YOUR bubble. You want to be a naked chimpanzee? Go for it. 

Your bubble will be your best friend.

A pretty pretty best friend. 

Get yourself a bubble and let me know.

We'll go bubble dancing together.

And while we're at it, don't burst my bubble.

I won't take it lightly.

Because when you break my bubble, you break me.

And no one breaks me.

No one. 

The Golden Balloon

She dragged her feet as she walked

She left skid marks on the ground

She slumped her shoulders, away she went

She walked with hardly a sound

The street was full of colourful balloons

It made her black and white

Her monochrome countenance swayed

Dull and out of sight

And then a golden balloon said " Hello Miss

How may I make you smile?" 

She raised her head and said very softly

"I haven't shed a smile in a while"

The golden balloon, his round face shining

Bobbed against the summer air

"Well then, just hold tightly to my string

I promise thee, it shant tear" 

She closed her eyes, she held the string

And then she thought no more

The golden balloon began to rise

Until she began to soar

Up and away they rose from the Earth

The balloon and the girl were gone

Fading forever to the vast blue expanse

Into the summer sunshine's song

:)

A/N: Sal o thys shael tia kylael shalyl :)

Of Seduction and Death

Blessed I be, by thy dark shadow

Blessed I be by your blackened light

O Divine Lady in thy voice falsetto

Stealing through the wrappings of night

Thee standeth before me, full figure

Black hair riding the winds of fate

Best friend, enemy, the brave grave digger

Lift thy hand and wipe life's slate

Red lips blackened, seductive glow

Glittering onyx, thyn eyes doth burn

Skin white bare, thy dress pool floor

Thy whisper in my ear, it is my turn

Make sweet moan, thy voice grows cold

Thy glistening skin, it turns so grey

My body grows numb, time is old

Earthly no more at the break of day

Thy smile is wide, thy grip too tight

Leadeath me slowly in deathly warble

Sing thy song, see no white light

O Lady Death, enchant this mortal

A/N: Inspired by Dissection, one of the best black metal bands in history. RIP Jon.

Oh My God, It's The Devil

Religion. Ah, it is such a prick.

And no, think what you want of me, but honestly religion is a whole load of crap. 

Do I believe in God? Interesting question.

The thing is, I don't. Half of the good things that have happened to me, I say they happened due to random chance, coincidence, luck and timing. Believable. I have a scientific mind.. And unless I have proof of something, my mind rejects it as being false by default.

Which is ironic you know? I'm a writer. I am supposed to believe in things beyond the conventional realm of things but my mind refuses to grapple with the concept that God exists. My mother preaches to me that He does. Sometimes it honestly gets on my nerves, but it's my mother and she has her beliefs and I have mine.

In all honesty, I don't have issues with people who believe in God. I don't have a problem with religion as long as religion doesn't apply to me. I mean a person I am close to could be one of those Bible quoting, Rosary counting people and it wouldn't bother me in the least because it's their life to believe whatever and do whatever. So here is my stand in things... I don't believe in God.

Ah, now comes the rub.

I believe in the Devil. Yes, yes I do.

Now let's back track and forget everything for a moment.

The universe is made of opposites. This is stuff we learnt for basic Physics/Science. Light has darkness, fat has thin, Voldemort has Harry Potter and Batman has the Joker. Opposites are needed to strike a balance. The world would never be a utopia because utopia would not flourish on its own, not without the dystopic element in it. Dystopia is crucial for the survival of utopia and vice versa. Just imagine lions stopped hunting deer... We'd be over run with deer and we'd have no fucking trees! See my point? Nature knows best, and knowing best is striking a balance. So there, we have our basic theory of opposites.

Now going back to the Devil. I said I believe the Devil exists right? Yeah. You know what bothers me? I don't believe that God exists but I believe the Devil does. Oxymoronic? Yes. That's like saying that I know light is present but darkness doesn't. I mean, no light = no darkness right. So... It's looks like my beliefs have been questioned! OH NO! I HAVE TO BELIEVE IN GOD!  THE HORROR!

Also, you know what's funny? We get all these self proclaimed Atheists, metal heads mostly. They speak exclusively of their strong disbelief in God and yet pay homage to Satan. To them, I say this: You are all a bunch of fucking hypocrites. Seriously. If you're going to disbelieve in God, you need to not believe in the Devil too. If you're going to hero worship Satan, you might as well accept the fact that God exists. And no, you cannot fault me on this because I am talking directly based on the theory of opposites. One end of an opposite can never survive without the other. Simple fact. I'd rather be a metal head who believes in both God and Satan than a hypocrite who believes just one side of it; to be evil is SO COOL NOH!

So now comes my take on things. 

Do I believe in God along with my belief in Satan?

Or do I believe that neither exists?

I won't consider either of them. I don't believe in God, I don't believe in Satan. Rather, I believe in something more powerful, something inevitable, universal and something far easier to grasp because we see proof of it everyday, we see it affecting everything from a virus particle to a blue whale; a flower to a tree.

Death.

I believe in Death.

I hate love.

I know I know, such an oxymoron eh? Yeah, it is a highly ironic thing to say, but I am not talking of platonic love. So, in my view, non-platonic love is one of the most disgusting things. It makes one a fool. 

So, you build walls right? You have your armour, your guard and they are all ready for battle. No one is going to break those walls, no one will go past them and reach out to that soul deep inside you and the best part is that you won't let them. Of course not! That, is highly ridicilous! Horse-feathers! You will never entertain such a notion. All this undying, unconditional and un-whatever love crap is good for the pigeons. And no pigeon, chicken or ostrich will crack YOUR defense! You are super awesome and you like to keep it that way. You go on with life being the cool, nonchalant, super deatched, uber cool person you always were and you feel great. You feel awesome. You ARE awesome. 

And then some idiot/fucker/asshole comes along and fucks you up effortlessly. 

Maybe it's the way he grinned or the way she tossed her hair. Maybe it was a hug, a kiss, a dance, a bite or even a random slap on the wrist. Maybe it's their stupid adorable curls, their buck teeth, puppy eyes or beard stubble. Maybe it's the way they fell on their ass or the way they tripped over their own laces. Whatever it is, one thing is evident: You Are Buttfucked. All your defenses fall down like crumbled Marie biscuit crumbs. You want to sing corny, crappy love songs, you want to be all cutesy and possesive. 

And then comes the second snag: You Are Butffucked AGAIN. Why? Because the intial source of Buttfucking, you know the one that made you listen to love songs? It goes away. That person moves away and your are Buttfucked beyond your wildest imaginations.  And really, it's not pleasant. Hardly. 

So now, you feel naked and vulnerable. You let down your guard for this person. Or, in all honesty, that person wormed their way through your best defenses and rendered said defenses utterly useless, incapacitating them. You are left feeling vulnerable and exposed, like going commando on a cold day. 

Then you realise you are alone. You have no one but yourself to help you to dust off and pick yourself up. All the silly clichés kick. "Time will heal all wounds" or "It's better to have loved and lost". I mean, what the hell? Some smartarse comes along and quotes the Greatest Quotes They Think Helps You When You Are Heartbroken. You then feeling like throwing something heavy at the head of the idiot who tries to comfort you but instead you smile and say nothing while your insides seethe away in raw anger and annoyance.

You.are.alone. 

You have no one but yourself to hate, blame and hurt so you numb yourself emotionally and forget everything, distracting yourself with work and stressing yourself out on a daily basis just to avoid spending time alone with your own goddamned thoughts. 

Fuck that. Fuck all of it. Go tell your parents, sibling[s] or best friend that you love them. The above three parties are the least likely to dump you, butffuck your mind and break your heart. Out of the three parties, your parents would never really do any of the above highly offensive things. So seriously, kiss your mum goodnight and tell her she's fly. Because in all honesty, she really is. 

One last thing before I end this: Always keep in mind that when someone sweeps you off your feet... they are in a perfect position to dump you on your ass. :)

Pretty Little Monsters

The monsters that lie dormant in my head

Sleeping peacefully in their beasty beds

Lacklustre expressions, foul little smiles

Looking at thee, from eyes beguile

Pretty little monsters, they call to woo

Shades of jealousy, mockery and rue

Seductive monsters sing out thy name

Dance pretty monsters, seduce and maim

Colourful monsters, so beautiful, dance

Clearing thy head of expression askance

Drawing thee in with pretty wit, smart

Malvolent laughs at thy burning of heart

Pretty little monsters that lie in my head

Pretty no more, but deadly instead

Reveal themselves at the break of day

The pretty little monsters drove thee away

Gravity's Story

Prologue

Gravity, My Dear, what is your deal?

Why do I trip over my own heel?

Why do I stumble on surfaces flat?

Why can't I land stable like a cat?

Gravity, Dear Gravity, why so cruel?

Walking against you, a constant duel

Where is balance? Please give it back

What say you? Shall we make a pact?

Epilogue

So Gravity and I, we made a pact

And for a while everything remained intact

And then things started going downhill

I wondered why I could not stand still

I fell down, I spiralled to the depth

And on that note, the pact hit death

I screamed at Gravity for letting me fall

For I did no wrong, it was all his fault

But Gravity smiled and said to me

"Dear Child, you are failing to see

Things were meant to go this way

When you fall out of love, I have no say"

The Scar

I stand in front the mirror and smile

I stare at my self and wait for a while

Willing myself to change, to change

And I'm still me, it is so strange

I raise my shirt and study my skin

Soft and smooth, curving in

I look at the scar which marks my side

I study the scar that spreads wide

I go back to that horrible scar

Like a lightining bolt, my skin its marrs 

A part of me which I cannot hide

Acceptance raises the fallen pride

I look at the scar, and there it stays

A patch of skin that's dark and raised

I smile and the scar, I trace it's shape

I see no reason to find an escape

The heart in me with good pride swells

Thank you scar, you taught me well. 

A/N: Always nice to have a moment to accept one's self. ;)

Death, and The Man

The deep cerulean shadows of the night

Fades over yonder in the line of sight

A stranded tree, blackened with dead

A dead pale moon hangs in the sky overhead

A lonely figure,with his rust locked gait

Lonesome not for the syndicate

Of death and despair, it shrouds The Man

Blood and lust, of evil planned

Intoxication it steals his brain, oh slow

The ghostly night with the waves at shore

Crashing and breaking like a child's dream

O'er the horizon, a stone cold scream

Lightning branches on the  blackened tree

Death greets The Man to set him free

And Death and The Man find a common loath

And walk together, travelling forth

A/N: Thank you Amrish. :)