A Nation where Pizza reaches home faster than Ambulance and Police!
                   A nation where you get Car Loan @ 6% but Education Loan @ 12%!
                   A nation where Rice is Rs.4 but Sim card is Rs.10!
A nation where people standing at a tea stall reading an article in a newspaper about child labour can be heard saying “Yaar, bacchho se kaam karwane walo ko to faansi pe chadha dena chaahiye” (People who use child labour should be hanged) and then they shout “Oye, CHHOTU 3 chai la!” (Hey Chhotu, get us three teas – Chhotu being a nickname for a young boy and used as a surrogate for ‘waiter’).

This was a mail, I recieved after the PETROL PRICE HIKE by the great government of INDIA ( PUN INTENDED), which set my brain into the THINKING MODE. 
Another petrol hike seemed as if one more normal day in the country, but this time the limits were crossed. A fricking 7.50 Rs increase is not a joke. In the end it is the Mango people who have to suffer , not the government officials who sit in Air conditioned offices, travel in style and watch INDIA burn under the constantly rising inflation. 
Tempers running high across the whole nation, and the government plans to roll back the prices by 2-3 Rs. Still the overall price does rise by 5Rs. Well played ,Mr. Manmohan Singhji well played.

The so called aam aadmi’s UPA govt is celebrating its 3years rule by crushing the commonman by an abnormal increase in the price of petrol.Already the prices of essential comodites are very high.There will be further abnormal price hike. 

What is happening in this country? Social networking sites are being controlled, websites are being banned, corruption is on an all time high, inflation rising exponentially day by day, the cattle class being made to face the burnt.

 The government probably thinks that after electing them, the people have given them the right to do whatever the hell they want to, not giving a damn about them, and carrying on the way they want to.
 The petrol price hike sure seems an example of such dictatorship.

After the petrol price hike, the youngsters were surely agitated and took to social networking sites to express out their anger.

A few of them:Petrol Pump Attendant : Saab, Kitne ka daaloon? Customer : 2-4 Rupye ka car ke upar spray kar de bhai. Aag lagani hai

The days are not too far, when my take home salary won’t be enough to take me home ! 

UPA to Launch New Dish ► “Fried Common Man” (Fried in pure Petroleum Products)

Incredible India, Amazing India – we have the world’s cheapest car and the worlds costliest petrol..:

Harbhajan to Dhoni: Hum to Jaanboojh ke match haare Pata hai,jeetne waali team ko jo Volkswagen mil rahi hai,woh petrol ki hai

Daughter-Maa, but he is just a friend. Maa -V hav seen da world honey!Some1 who burns 2 litres of petrol to meet u can’t just be a friend.

 Yesterday petroleum minister must have drank thumps up and said Aaj Kuch tufani karte hai .

Some pics 😀

A DETAILED REVIEW –petrol hike

Do post your views 🙂


The cut off score.


Sitting on a chair, gazing at the books ahead on the table, mind getting tensed about the results which are gonna wreak a havoc in my life. My attention seeking book, looking at me desperately, as if asking me to read it, play along with it. My brain not giving a shit busing in constructing the scenarios after the result.
*beep* *beep* *beep*. My idiotic cell-phone rings and displays the notification of me being tagged in a note. *Sigh*
Another note.
Another long post.
*beep*beep**beep*. Friend-Do like and comment on the note. Thanks 🙂

Welcome to the Facebook generation, where people would kill for likes and comments to their posts/nots/status/photos, whatever.

So, taking this as an opportunity to divert my mind from the deadly scenarious my brain coming up with, I decided to give the note a try.
Following was the note.


Everyone will give you an opinion on how to live your life. No one, no one will give you good advice on how to end it. Worse, they will tell you to continue living, without any respect for individual choice. Yes, hi, I’m Gautam Arora, and after eighteen wonderful years in Delhi, I’ve decided to end my life.
I sat with my best friend Neeraj and his girlfriend Anjali at Costa Coffee, DLF Metropolitan Mall in Saket. The coffee is way overpriced, but considering I had a day to live, I didn’t mind getting ripped off.
“The joke isn’t that funny,” Neeraj said, tearing open the second sachet of brown sugar and mixing it for his girlfriend. If this girl can’t mix sugar in her coffee, I wonder what she will be like after marriage.
“Do I look like I am joking? You are in medical college, and as a friend and someone two years elder to me, I am asking your advice on what is the most painless, graceful way to go. And ideally, it should be available at the friendly neighbourhood chemist,” I said. I ordered a chocolate fudge cake. What are a few extra calories on your last day?
Anjali kept quiet, her iPod plugged in her ears. She had come to the mall to shop with her boyfriend rather than meet me. Neeraj said he only dated Anjali as her father had given her a car and driver, which made it easy to go around. Besides, she looked ok. She was pretty enough to invite a second stare from men, though that’s hardly an achievement in Delhi where men’s standards can be quite modest.
“Dude, you topped your school. How much did you score in your class XII boards again?” Neeraj said.
“Ninety two per cent,” I said.
“Ninety what?” Neeraj said as he ripped out Anjali’s earphones, “Anjali, the dude scored ninety two per cent in commerce! Do you know of anyone who has scored that much?”
Anjali shook her head.
“Wow, you must have studied a lot,” she said.
I nodded. I had done nothing but study in the last two years.
“No time for hobbies?” she said.
I shook my head. My only hobbies were eating three meals and sleeping five hours a day. The rest of the time was with my books.
“With ninety two, you should be fine,” Neeraj said.
“Not according to SRCC, not according to Stephen’s and not according to Hindu, oh what the heck,” I said as I opened my rucksack.
I gave him the special admissions supplement from the newspaper. I had snucked it out early morning so mom and dad wouldn’t see it.
“Wow, check out Lady Sri Ram. B.Com Honours is at 95.5 per cent!” Neeraj said.
“That’s a girl’s college,” Anjali said.
“I know,” I said.
“Don’t worry, he wouldn’t have made it anyway. Anjali, why don’t you go spend some of your father’s money,” Neeraj said and winked at me.
Anjali and I both gave Neeraj a dirty look. Neeraj air-kissed Anjali and gestured to her to leave.
Seriously, don’t kill yourself. To us, you are still the school topper,” Neeraj said after Anjali left.
“So what do I do?” I said, my voice loud, “stay back in school? This topper tag makes things worse. My parents already threw a party for our friends and relatives like I have made it big time in life. I cut a cake with the icing ‘family superstar’.”
“Nice,” Neeraj said.
“Not nice at all. All relatives congratulated my mother. They see me as the next hotshot investment banker on Wall Street. The least they expect me to do is get into a good college in DU.”
“There are still some colleges that you will get,” Neeraj said as I cut him off.
“But none with the same brand value. Thus, you can’t get a decent job after them. You can’t get into the top MBA school.”
Neeraj pushed my coffee cup towards me. I hadn’t touched it. I picked it up and brought it close to my mouth but couldn’t drink it.
“I made one tiny calculation error in my math paper,” I said, “read one stupid unit conversion wrong. That’s it. If only…”
“If only you could chill out. You are going to college, dude! Branded or not, it is always fun.”
“Screw fun,” I said. “What kind of kids are they taking in anyway?” Neeraj said, “you have to be a bean-counter stickler to get ninety seven per cent. Like someone who never takes chances and revises the paper twenty times.”
“I don’t know, I revised it five times. That stupid calculation…”
“Gautam, relax. That paper is done. And sticklers don’t do well in life. Innovative and imaginative people do.”
“That’s not what DU thinks. You don’t understand, my father has proclaimed in his office I will join SRCC. I can’t go to him with a second rung college admission. It’s like his whole life image will alter. Hell, I won’t be able to deal with it myself.”
An SMS from Anjali on Neeraj’s phone interrupted our conversation. At Kimaya, tried fab dress. Come urgently, want your opinion. Neeraj typed the reply back. Honey, it looks great. Buy it.
Neeraj grinned as he showed me his response. “I think you should go,” I said. Rich dads’ daughters can throw pretty nasty tantrums. Neeraj took out the money for coffee. I stopped him. “My treat,” I said. Leave people happy on your last day, I thought. “Of course, I take this as your treat for cracking your boards,” Neeraj said and smiled. He ruffled my hair and left. I came out of the mall and took an auto home.
I met my parents at the dinner table. “So when will the university announce the cut-offs?” my father said.
“In a few days,” I said. I looked up at the dining table fan. No, I couldn’t hang myself. I can’t bear suffocation.
My mother cut mangoes after dinner. The knife made me think of slitting my wrists. Too painful, I thought and dropped the idea.
“So now, my office people are asking me, ‘when is our party?’,” my father said as he took a slice.
“I told you to call them to the party we did for neighbours and relatives,” my mother said.
“How will they fit with your brothers and sisters? My office people are very sophisticated,” my father said.
“My brothers are no less sophisticated. They went to Singapore last year on vacation. At least they are better than your family,” she said.
My father laughed at my mother’s sullen expression. His happiness levels had not receded since the day I received my result.
“My office people want drinks, not food. Don’t worry, I’ll do another one for them when he gets into SRCC or Stephen’s.”
My father worked in the sales division of Tata Tea. We had supplied our entire set of neighbours with free tea for the last five years. As a result, we had more well-wishers than I’d have liked.
“Even my country head called to congratulate me for Gautam. He said – nothing like Stephen’s for your brilliant son,” my father said.
“Gupta aunty came from next door. She wanted to see if you can help her daughter who is in class XI,” my mother said.
Is she pretty, I wanted to ask, but didn’t. It didn’t matter.
I came to my room post dinner. I hadn’t quite zeroed down on the exact method, but thought I should start working on the suicide letter anyway. I didn’t want it to be one of the clichéd ones – I love you all and it is no one’s fault, and I’m sorry mom and dad. Yuck, just like first impressions, last impressions are important too. In fact, I didn’t want to do any silly suicide letter. When it is your last, you’d better make it important. I decided to write it to the education minister. I switched on my computer and went to the Education Department website. Half the site links were broken. There was a link called “What after class XII?” I clicked on it, it took me to a blank page with an under construction sign. I sighed as I closed the site. I opened Microsoft Word to type.
Dear Education Minister,
I hope you are doing fine and the large staff of your massive bungalow is treating you well. I won’t take much of your time.
I’ve passed out of class XII and I’ve decided to end my life. I scored ninety-two per cent in my boards, and I have a one foot high trophy from my school for scoring the highest. However, there are so many trophy holding students in this country and so few college seats, that I didn’t get into a college that will train me to the next level or open up good opportunities.
I know I have screwed up. I should have worked harder to get another three per cent. However, I do want to point out a few things to you. When my parents were young, certain colleges were considered prestigious. Now, forty years later, the same colleges are considered prestigious. What’s interesting is that no new colleges have come up with the same brand or reputation level. Neither have the seats expanded in existing colleges fast enough to accommodate the rising number of students.
I’ll give you an example. Just doing some meaningless surfing, I saw that 3.8 lakh candidates took the CBSE class XII exam in 1999, a number that has grown to 8.9 lakh in 2009. This is just one board, and if you take ICSE and all other state boards, the all India total number is over ten times that of CBSE. We probably had one crore students taking the class XII exam this year.
While not everyone can get a good college seat, I just want to talk about the so-called good students. The top 10 per cent alone of these one crore students is ten lakh children. Yes, these ten lakh students are their class toppers. In a class of fifty, they will have the top-5 ranks.
One could argue that these bright kids deserve a good college to realise their full potential. Come to think of it, it would be good for our country too if we train our bright children well to be part of the new, shining, gleaming, glistening or whatever you like to call the globalised India.
But then, it looks like you have stopped making universities. Are there ten lakh top college seats in the country? Are there even one lakh? Ever wondered what happens to the rest of us, year after year? Do we join a second rung college? A deemed university? A distance learning programme? A degree in an expensive, racist country?
Your government runs a lot of things. You run an airline that never makes money. You run hotels. You want to be involved in making basic stuff like steel and aluminum, which can easily be made by more efficient players. However, in something as important as
shaping the young generation, you have stepped back. You have stopped making new universities. Why?
You have all the land you want, teachers love to get a government job, education funds are never questioned. Still, why? Why don’t we have new, A-grade universities in every state capital for instance?
Oh well, sorry. I am over reacting. If only I had not done that calculation error in my math paper, I’d be fine. In fact, I am one of the lucky ones. In four years, the number of candidates will double. So then we will have a college that only has 99 per cent scorers.
My parents were a bit deluded about my abilities, and I do feel bad for them. I didn’t have a girlfriend or too many friends, as people who want to get into a good college are not supposed to have a life. If only I knew that slogging for twelve years would not amount to much, I’d have had more fun.
Apart from that, do well, and say hello to the PM, who as I understand, used to teach in college.
Yours truly,
(Poor student)
I took a printout of the letter and kept it in my pocket. I decided to do the act the next morning. I woke up as the maid switched off the fan to sweep the room. She came inside and brought a box of sweets. A fifty-year-old woman, she had served us for over ten years. “What?” I said as she gave me the box. It had kaju-barfi, from one of the more expensive shops in the city. The maid had spent a week’s salary distributing sweets to anyone known to her. “My son passed class XII,” she said as she started her work. “How much did he score?” I said, still rubbing my eyes. “Forty two per cent. He passed English too,” she said as her face beamed with pride. “What will he do now?” I said. “I don’t know. Maybe his own business, he can repair mobile phones,” she said.
I went to the bathroom for a shower. I realised the newspaper would have come outside. I ran out of the bathroom. I picked up the newspaper from the entrance floor. I took out the admissions supplement, crumpled it and threw it in the dustbin kept outside the house. I came back inside the house and went back into the shower.
I left the house mid-day. I took the metro to Chandni Chowk and asked my way to the industrial chemicals market. Even though I had left science after class X, I knew that certain chemicals like Copper Sulphate or Ammonium Nitrate could kill you. I bought a pack of both compounds. As I passed through the lanes of Chandni Chowk, I passed a tiny hundred square feet jalebi shop. It did brisk business. I thought my last meal had to be delicious. I went to the counter and took a quarter kilo of jalebis.
I took my plate and sat on one of the two rickety benches placed outside the shop.
A Muslim couple with a four-year-old boy came and sat on the next bench. The mother fed the boy jalebi and kissed him after each bite. It reminded me of my childhood and my parents, when they used to love me unconditionally and marks didn’t exist. I saw the box of Ammonium Nitrate and tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t eat the jalebis. I came back home. I wondered if I should use my chemicals before or after dinner. Maybe it is better after everyone has slept, I thought.
We sat at the dinner table. Dad had told mom not to cook as he’d brought Chinese takeaway for us. Mom brought the soya sauce, chilli oil and the vinegar with cut green chillies in little katoris. We ate American chopsuey on stainless steel plates. I looked at my watch, it was 8 pm. Three more hours, I thought as I let out a sigh.
“One thing Kalpana,” my father said to my mother, “job candidates aren’t what they used to be these days. I interviewed for new trainees today, disappointing.”
“Why, what happened?” my mother said.
“Like this boy from Stephen’s, very bright kid. But only when it came to his subjects.”
“Really?” my mother said.
“Yeah, but I asked him a different question. I said how would you go about having a tea-shop chain like the coffee shop chains, and he went blank,” my father said, an inch of noodle hanging outside his mouth. My mother removed it from his face.
“And then some kid from SRCC. He topped his college. But you should have seen his arrogance. Even before the interview starts, he says ‘I hope at the end of our meeting, you will be able to tell me why I should join Tata Tea and not another company’. Can you imagine? I am twice his age.”
I could tell my father was upset from his serious tone.
“If you ask me,” my father continued, “the best candidate was a boy from Bhopal. Sure, he didn’t get into a top college. But he was an eighty per cent student. And he said ‘I want to learn. And I want to show that you don’t need a branded college to do well in life. Good people do well anywhere.’ What a kid. Thank God we shortlisted him in the first place.”
“Did he get the job?” I said.
“Yes, companies need good workers, not posh certificates. And we are having a meeting to discuss our short listing criteria again. The top colleges are so hard to get in, only tunnel vision people are being selected.” “Then why are you asking him to join Stephen’s or SRCC?” my mother said.
My father kept quiet. He spoke after a pause. “Actually, after today, I’d say don’t just go by the name. Study the college, figure out their dedication, and make sure they don’t create arrogant nerds. Then whatever the brand, you will be fine. The world needs good people.”
I looked at my parents as they continued to talk. Excuse me, but I have a plan to execute here. And now you are confusing me, I thought. “So should I study some more colleges and make a decision after that?” I said. “Yes, of course. No need for herd-mentality. Kalpana you should have seen this boy from Bhopal.”
Post-dinner, my parents watched TV in the living room while eating fruits. I retracted to my room. I sat on my desk wondering what to do next. The landline phone rang in my parent’s room. I went inside and picked it up.
“Hello Gautam?” the voice on the other side said.
It was my father’s colleague from work. “Hello, Yash uncle,” I said. “Hi,” he said, “congratulations on your boards.” “Thanks uncle,” I said, “dad is in the living room finishing dinner, should I call him?” “Dinner? Oh, don’t disturb him. Just tell him his mobile is with me. It is safe. We were on a field trip today. He left it in my car.” “Field trip? For interviews?” I said. “What interviews? No, we just went to the Chandigarh office,” he said.
I wished him good night and hung up the phone. I switched on the bedside lamp in my parents’ room. Confused, I sat down on my father’s bed, wondering what to do next. To make space, I moved his pillow. Under the pillow lay a crumpled newspaper. I picked it up. It was the same admissions supplement I had tossed in the bin this morning. My father had circled the cut-offs table.
I left the newspaper there and came to the living room. My father was arguing with my mother over the choice of channels. I looked at my father. He smiled at me and offered me watermelon. I declined.
I came back to my room. I picked up the chemical boxes and took them to the toilet. I opened both boxes and poured the contents in the toilet commode. One press, and everything, everything flushed out.
“Gautam,” my mother knocked on the door, “I forgot to tell you. Gupta aunty came again. Can you teach her daughter?”
“Maybe,” I said as I came out of the toilet, “by the way, is she pretty?”
via Hindustan Times

A smile flashed across my face. My first reaction-“The daughter should be pretty. 😉
My brain eased for the first time in few weeks.

And thus my brain got new meat to chew upon and think about. Some of which were

The story managed to catch the nerve. The “BRANDED PRESTIGIOUS COLLEGE” tag hangs like a sword on their heads. The burden of expectations , and the failure to reach up to the expectations gets to their head, and then they start to think themselves as “GOOD FOR NOTHING”, and then start thinking about the stupid ideas.  Isn’t the main idea behind schools/colleges to educate the students, and not to make them slog? So that they help the country to advance quickly.  Why the students are being told every now and then that they will succeed in their lived “ONLY IF” they SCORE 90% or above. What is up with the 90%  scores that makes every person around so excited about?   Can one only succeed only if they mug up for two continous years so that they can get into “THE BRAND OF COLLEGE” they wished for(read:everyone around them expected for)?

I also liked the way The FATHER of was portrayed in the story. If all the parents become such broad-minded and actually care and respect the abilities of their children, then there is an assurity that the student will surely excel in the field they are interested in, and not the ones they are expected in.

*HArshalll* I heard my mom screaming at me from downstairs. I better leave.:D

Don’t forget to leave your views, comments. Thank for dropping by. 🙂




Being one of the lucky few, me and my friends including Ritvik Gautam and Ashmita srivastava got the free VIP passes to the SUNBURN festival in Goa.Having finished with our exams,we decided to make the best out of this amazing opportunity and the next day we were on our way to GOA- THE BEACH CAPITAL OF INDIA. We went in our car, and the way the roads paved around the mountains, with trees on each side, it felt like a journey to heaven. The journey was fun, and the anticipation of the festival made it more enriching.
Soon having reached Goa, we decided not to waste time, and checking quickly into a Hotel, raced off to the the nearest beach.
Blue sky, scorching sun, blistering heat, people walking barefooted enjoying the feel of the wet sand in their feet, some lazying around on the beach chairs, under the palms enjoying the children making sandcastles, young ups playing water sports, taking dives to cool themselves off. This was just a regular day on the Anjuna Beach in Goa in the middle of summer. 
After fooling around for a bit, taking dives, playing beach volleyball, snapping them up to upload them on Facebook and envy others of the amazing time we were having while others were sitting in their air conditioned rooms gazing at their laptops. After exhausting ourselves to the limit, we finally got back to our respective rooms. After resting for a bit, Asmita came to realize of the grave mistake she made. She challenged the sun of it’s powers, and it burned her. What an IRONY!! She had SUNBURNS when she came to enjoy the festival of SUNBURN! As soon as we came to know of this, me and ritvik started laughing out loudly. That is us, Asmita does anything stupid, and we always make fun of her. And all she does is stand there, listening to us teasing her. then when we got over our laughing phase, we saw her hands where the agonizing sun burns now adorned her and she could not even move. Her mother had advised her to use the precautions, but being too lazy, she ignored it, and was now facing the consequences. After resting for a bit, we took to the resort at night to enjoy the beauty of Goa during night. Beautiful lighting around the Palm trees, cool breeze all around carrying the mouth-watering smell of the delicious Goan delicacies. So trying to walk normally, we accidentally ran into Kyra-The sunshine girl. At first we could not believe our eyes, that she was the Lakme expert. So to confirm it, we went upto her, and introduced ourselves.
Ritvik– Excuse me, are you Kyra?
Kyra-Yes I am. Do  I know you?
Asmita- No, actually, we spotted you, and could not believe that we ran into you. It’s a pleasure meeting a beautiful lady as you.
Kyra- Ohh! Thank you. It’s been a pleasure too Running into fans.
Me- So weren’t you in Delhi? Last I heard you were modelling for Lakme at the Lakme Fashion Week.
Kyra- Yes I was. But now I am here for the Sunburn festival.
Harshal-Oh! Nice!
Kyra-I am here alone. Why don’t you guys join me up for dinner. Maybe we can get to know each other.
Ritvik-Sure sure. It would be our pleasure to have dinner with such a beautiful lady. (Such a flirt he is)
Kyra- Great! Meet you at the Riverside at 9.
Harshal- Sure ma’am. Thank you for inviting.
Asmita, me and Ritvik just could not believe that Kyra-the beautiful Supermodel, the LAKME expert had invited us to have dinner with her. We were awestruck by her beauty, and her down-to-Earth nature just made us her huge fans.Bang at 9, we reached the spot she had asked us to. She being the Sunshine girl, was right on time.
So we sat down, chit-chatted a bit. Got to know her some more. And while we were enjoying the time, she noticed the sunburns on Asmita, and asked her about them. So we told her about her carelessness, and asked her for some help. So she could enjoy the Sunburn festivals minus the sunburns, while trying to suppress our laugh.
Kyra-What happened to you???
Asmita-I got sunburned. Did not take precautions. And now I am facing the consequences

Ritvik- You should have taken the precautions. Didn’t aunty tell you to? Such a lazy girl.
Kyra(laughing)- What are you gonna do now???
Asmita-I was hoping, you being the Lakme expert, could advice me on how to take care from now on.
Kyra-Well I would be obliged to.
Asmita-Thanks a ton Kyra. 
Kyra(smiles warmly)- First of all tell me, what do you do for your skin?
Asmita- I bath daily……
RITVIK AND ME laugh very hardly and almost fall of the chairs
Asmita-… and apply the Lakme lotion. and harshal and ritvik, SHUT UP!!! 😡
Kyra-Nothing else :O. You have to take better care of your skin dear. just applying the lotion, wont help you.
Asmita-So what should I do to take care of my skin, so that i can enjoy the summer freely.
Kyra-Okay. relax. First of all, try drinking as much water as possible-it wil not get you dehdrate, then wear those cowboy type hats- they will protect your face from the blistering heat, wear those big sunglasses to protect the eyes.
Asmita-Aye aye captain(Big Pirates of carribean fan she is)
Kyra(laughing)- Good. Now for the sunburn you have right now, apply loads of cold water along with bags of earl grey tea. It will remove the sunburns in an instant and you will be able to enjoy the festival without any hindrance.
Asmita-Thanks a lot Kyra. i noticed you have such beautiful skin. What do you do to maintain it?
Kyra-Thanks asmita…..
Me-Asmita, she listens to her mom.
A laughter riot followed, and Asmita looked helpless 😀
Kyra-I pity you asmita.
Asmita- Kyra, you have no idea what i have to endure. This is nothing.
Ritvik-Asmita, tum hamari itni khoobsurat ladki ke saamne bezatti kr rhe ho. Dekhli tumhari dosti(Asmita, You insulting us in front of this beautiful girl. This is your friendship)
Me-Very bad asmita very bad.
Another laughter riot
Kyra-Stop harassing her boys. Asmita, you should use The LAKME SKIN EXPERT. It will protect your skin, and stop it from getting harme.
Asmita-Thanks a ton Kyra. It was great meeting you, and getting the nuggets about how to take care of the skin.
Harshal-Asmita, now will you listen to your mom?? 😛
Asmita-YES HARSHAL I WILL. (frowning)
Meanwhile, Ritvik brought a rose, got down in his knees, and said-Kyra, you are so beautiful, lovely, charming, person. So I brought a Rose for a Rose.
Kyra- aww, thank you Ritvik. But you need to improve on your cheeky lines.
Ritvik- :P, i am trying to.

Then the dinner ended, we thanked Kyra for accompanying us for the wonderful dinner, trotted back to our room, and bid her goodnight.
P.S. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
and written for 

The Lakmé Diva Blogger Contest (101)

at Indiblogger




A large drop of sun lingered on the horizon and then dripped over and was gone, and the sky was brilliant over the spot where it had gone, and a torn cloud, like a bloody rag, hung over the spot of its going. And dusk crept over the sky from the eastern horizon, and darkness crept over the land from the east

Closed eyes, cool breeze, evening time, sunset as a view, millions of thought racing past. This was the scene I experienced a few days ago. Feet playing with the wet sand, breeze messing with the hair, and all kind of imaginations getting worked up inside the mind. Complete peace bestowed upon me. All the worries inside me started to fade away along with the sun, it was as if the SUN was going down taking all my worries, insecurities  regarding what lay ahead in my life, and all the weights that kept my mind occupied and made me feel heavy for the past few weeks were finally going down and leaving me calm and at peace. I felt in a world far far away from the real place. A place where people wouldn’t be judged on how they look, which color they are, how much marks they score. A place where everyone is happy, helping, caring and nurturing. But sadly there is no such place. Sometime just sitting there makes you feel like no one can ever break you from inside, play with your emotions, and you shall remain strong as ever.

Watching a sunset, compels you to dream about all the wonderful things you have in life. Hell!! Everybody wants their life to be perfect, who doesn’t? But sadly, LIFE is not perfect. Nothing is perfect in this world. But the scene of the sun settling down makes you dream of the life you have ever wanted. It brings out the unexplained emotions in you. You just lay sitting there with a light heart and soul, wanting this to never end.

But unfortunately things do come to an end, and especially the good things.


P.S.-I’d highly recommend you guys to have a moment of silence with eyes seeing the sun going down. I bet it would be the most peaceful you would ever feel.


A moment to remember


“We’ll be Friends Forever, won’t we, Pooh?’ asked Piglet.Even longer,’ Pooh answered.” 

This was the promise being made by everyone around as they were getting ready to meet each other for the last time. Some with tears, choked throat, wet eyes, constantly reminiscing the old moments, the time they had spent together, the fun they had, the classes they bunked, the punishments they survived together, the lectures they attended, the mid-night talks they had, the constant fights and patch-ups, the joyful rides, the sharing of food, asking for money, the memories that flooded through their minds kept their lips sealed from saying the ultimate word “BYE“. Yes this was the scene of the ending moments of the farewell of my 12th grade. The year slipped by quickly, and we were left gasping and wondering about the notion’TIME FLIES WHILE HAVING FUN”

The realization that this was the last time any of us would be attending school was finally sinking in. What a momentous year it had been. Bang on from the first day we knew that fun had no limits this year, we were the kings and the school became our kingdom. Students gave two hoots about what teachers scolded for, they were just busy in making THE FINAL YEAR worth it.

And then the bell went off, students were handed out their admit cards, were wished luck by the teachers, and then in the hall students were given 5 minutes of themselves. Bear hugs all around, promises ranging from ‘FRIENDS FOREVER” to “ATLEAST MEETING ONCE A YEAR” to “ALWAYS BEING IN CONTACT” were being made. The school uniforms were being signed by each student, tears flowing uncontrollably, the sadness engulfed everyone around and this amount of silence was never to be seen in the 2011-2012 batch of CLASS XII.

This was day that will always be embedded deep inside my heart, for these were the days that i am really gonna miss when i will be grown up.


“There are no good-byes, where ever you’ll be, you’ll be in my heart.”