It is strange that we humans, can find freedom in almost anything. Some of us find freedom in art and expression. Some find it in travel and anonymity. For some people, freedom is free verse or just a song. Some people can just let go in front of an audience pretending to be someone they’re not. A person I know is free in terms of life itself.

The irony is that some people are liberated when they are shackled while some find freedom in the ultimate absolution.

Even so, liberty is something all of us crave. The want for Liberty has started revolutions. It has been the cause of numerous wars.

But are our liberated souls actually free?

I feel bloody violated!

Today was my bestie Adi’s party. It was at this hip place called Candies and there was 2 kilograms of chocolate cake to be eaten. I reconnected with some old friends, was introduced to some awesome new people and had some really amazing chicken and some totally fabulous cabbage salad (who does that? Eat salad when there’s chicken).

Oh did I tell you about my outfit?

I wore a knee length formal black skirt with a sea-green peplum top. My skin was pimple free for once and my eye liner actually stayed on.

So overall it was a pretty fabulous day. I looked good, I felt good and I had a good time.

Except, it wasn’t. The ending at least.

I was with Adi and Sailee at Bandra station waiting for a train to go back home. We were standing near the ladies compartment so it was mostly females around. Except for this guy who could only be described as cheap. Disgusting.

He was totally checking me out and not in a good way. More like a super sleazy way.

So what if I wore a skirt? If other men aren’t staring, why can’t you keep your goddamn eyes to yourself?

Such men piss me of. Like really piss me off.

Why can’t I wear a skirt without feeling insecure? Why can’t I wear any damn thing I want to?

Yep, I’m a woman (girl). Why do I have to deal with such disturbing sort of humans?

It just makes me mad.

I glared at him but that asshole just smirked.

So he ogles at me like I’m some kind of sweet platter, fearlessly.

Sometimes I really don’t want to live in a society where I’ll be blamed for his wandering eyes. And I will be.

Why did you wear a skirt will be the question asked.

I’m sick of such sleazes.

Typos and The Host

Something is really bothering me today. I’m reading ‘The Host’ by Stephenie Meyer.


See something so wrong with my copy?

Who is STAPHENIE MEYER? I don’t know her.

That basically means I have a pirated copy. It’s not my fault.

Last month, I had gone to a Flea Market sale where there was a bookcase. Also known as The Book Exchange. I had carried a bagful of books which I kept in the case and picked up loads of books against the ones I kept.

That’s how I got The Host.

With Stephenie spelled as Staphenie 😦

That is really bugging me.

But well, reading the book is what matters, right?

Week 5: Self-crossed

I have decided that I’ll do The 52 Project story wise. Since I can’t write a story per week, I’ll just write 52 stories over a period of two years or so.

So here’s story 5.


  I looked at the girl in the mirror. She wore a pouffy white dress. She had her hair done specially for this occasion. She wore Cinderella slippers (the glass kind, not the wool kind). She was glowing.
  She was me.
  I could almost imagine it. I would walk out of this room. My dad would be waiting outside wearing a sharp penguin suit. For once, he wouldn’t be making any jokes. He might even be a little teary eyed. Dad would clasp my hand tightly in his and lead me into the church. My sister, Gabrielle, would be walking in front of me wearing lilac. Lilac looks absolutely revolting on her. For once, I won’t be in the danger of being upstaged. It will be my day and no one will be able to steal my thunder.
  I would enter the church and ancient Mrs. Geller will be playing the bridal march on her equally ancient piano.  Everyone will turn and look at me, eyes ablaze with amazement. But my eyes will be fixated on one person. His eyes would be telling me that we’d made it. Our love for each other will become tangible in the air…
  The excited knock at the door snapped me out of my reverie.  Amy swooped in wearing the actual wedding dress. She was lit up like the New York skyline.
  Amy was the one with the bridal spark in her eye. Not me. My eyes could only be described as melancholic.
  I never would have imagined my eyes as melancholic. Yeah, they had been described as mischievous and they were said to have the wild look on more than one occasion.  But not melancholic, never melancholic.
  And my dress? It was just a color pretending to be white but not quite succeeding.
  Logically, I was supposed to hate Amy.
  She was the one who was going to make a decent man out of Ollie. She was the one who was going to marry him, have his kids and grow old with him.  She was going to be his wife, his other better half.
  But I didn’t.
  Her bridesmaids wore dresses that actually looked good on them.  There’s nothing more that I can say about her. She is actually that nice.
  And she made Ollie happy. I could already feel myself disappearing from his life. My existence was already less connected to his.
  That felt different. Ollie and I had been inseparable for a greater part of the 27 years of our lives.
  Ollie. Oliver. For me, he was still the laughing boy who had pushed me into Sally Malone’s pool when I first moved to Haven. We had been together through it all- childhood, puberty, first kisses, college, a bit of adulthood. Ollie had been my best friend for as long as I can remember. He had always been there for me and I had always been there for him.
  And now, he was getting married. We had talked about it. He had assured me that nothing would change. That we would always be best friends, no matter what.
  That would have even been possible if I wasn’t so hopelessly in love with him.
  Don’t we take people for granted?
  Don’t we cling to the belief that they are going to be there forever?
  The worst part?
  Amy was too darn awesome. Hating her or even disliking her had been impossible. And despite my best efforts, we had become good friends. Good enough that I was her maid-of-honor.
  Not that she hadn’t had enough candidates. She knew how important it was for Ollie that I would be a part of their wedding.  Ollie had actually wanted me as his best man.  The problem was-
a) I wasn’t a dude.
b) I looked way better in a dress than in a suit.
c) Female strippers did nothing for me.
  So I became Amy’s bridesmaid, soon promoted to chief bridesmaid. All the thanks go to her sister getting knocked up.
  As brides go, Amy was fun. She definitely wasn’t a bridezilla. Also, she actually ate the cake at her tasting. I trust people who refuse to refuse cake.
   She hadn’t freaked out. Not once. But she was totally freaking out now. Amy was afraid of screwing up. She was afraid that she was going to forget her wedding vows.  Or that an ex-girlfriend of Ollie would do a ‘speak now’ and Amy would be left with blood on her dress and handcuffs around her wrists.
  I tried my level best to carry out the bridesmaid duty. She didn’t calm down. What if Ollie didn’t show up?
  I assured her that he would. He was absolutely nuts about her. He looked at her in that special intense way that made her flush. Every time.
  I had always wondered, how would it be to be on the receiving end of one of those looks.
  Her hurried flow of words was interrupted by another knock at the door. Ollie peeped in. Amy shrieked and tried hiding under the bed. I held her and prevented the disaster called wedding dress and dirt.
“I am not looking! I am not looking!” yelled Ollie but by then Amy had gone on the offensive. She grabbed the huge pillows off the bed and hurled them at his head.  She was yelling something that sounded like a battle-cry.
  “I’ve just come to claim back my best-friend. Do you want me to have a black eye?”
  “C’mon Ollie! They’re just pillows! Your penguin suit made you a sissy?” I said, putting myself between them. I had a very risky and difficult job indeed.
  “Oh, it’s on.” He grabbed me and pulled me out of the room. I followed him to a deserted staircase with an open window.  He spent a few moments inhaling and exhaling. I gazed at him as his breath escaped his lips as white tufts of air. It was snowing already and Ollie was bracing himself.
  Finally, he spoke.
  “I can’t believe it! I’m actually doing this…”
  Don’t get your hopes up, Chloe. Just don’t.
  “I am actually getting married! When  we were kids, I always thought we’d end up together. And then I found Amy…”
  “You are a lucky guy. Amy is awesome. I’m leaving you in good hands.”
  “What? You’re leaving?”
  “No! Just that she can take over the job of babysitting you.”
  “It’s not like that Chlo. You’ll always be an important part of my life. You’re my best friend.”
  “Yeah. But you will have a wife in some hours. Wife trumps best friend.”
  “Nothing’s going to change. You’ll always be my girl.”
  “Aww Ollie. Aren’t you super sappy today?”
  “C’mon Chloe! I am getting married today! You’ve always been my rock. And, today, I need you more than ever. Emotions aren’t your enemy, you know.”
  “I am here, aren’t I? Ollie, you’ve always been my rock too. But now, you’ve got a new rock. Anyway, it’s time. Let’s go.”
    I could see it. Amy walked out of the room. Her dad was waiting outside wearing a sharp penguin suit. For once, he wasn’t making any jokes. He was actually a bit teary eyed. Amy’s dad clasped her hand tightly in his and lead her into the church. I was walking in front of her wearing my pretty dress. I didn’t look horrendous but no one in the room held a matchstick to Amy. She  definitely wasn’t  in the danger of being upstaged. It was to be her day and no one dared to steal her thunder.
  The ceremony went exceedingly well. The rings were remembered and procured on time. No one forgot their vows.
  And I didn’t start singing ‘Speak Now’. God bless Taylor Swift. She had a song for every damn occasion.
  It was so difficult to believe. Ollie was someone’s husband. He just felt so grown up now, a man.
  Well, when he was not trying to taste the icing off the wedding cake.
  Amy found him. Then those sneaky conspirators planned to creep into the kitchen and eat a piece of the wedding cake. I found out and averted the disaster.
  If I was the one getting married, there wouldn’t be any cake left. No matter who tried to stop me. Ollie and I would have been successful.
  But I wasn’t the bride so disaster averted.
  Amy went to change before the first dance. The dress was too pouffy for her moves. Ollie went to loosen his bow tie. They always made him feel terribly constricted.
  I walked to the door.


  Wow. I was actually married.  I felt like the luckiest SoB in the world except mum was a perfectly lovely lady.
  But at the same time, I felt …sad. Yes, it was weird. I had fooled a gorgeous, smart, kind woman into becoming my wife and here I was, moping around.
  That was because I knew.
  Today was the day…today was when Chloe would leave. She never even hinted. But I knew.
  Chloe was the person in question. My Chloe. How could I not know?
  Yeah, she was my best friend.  But she was more than just a best friend.
  She was Chloe.
   Mischievous, wild Chloe who was the definition of trouble. It wasn’t that she broke the law or something.
  It was just that she seeked an adventure everywhere. My basement, her attic, the supermarket, nightclubs, here, there, everywhere.
  She did the craziest things but always landed on her feet.  Literally.
  Like the time when we were learning skateboarding and Jimmy Kendall dared her to try one of those dangerous, professional skateboarder slopes. Any of us mortals would have at least broken an arm upon taking up this dare.
  Not Chlo. She didn’t even get a scratch.
  Jimmy Kendall was impressed and saved her a seat on the bus for over a week. A seat which she never took. We had been a team, Chloe and Ollie.
  From the day Chloe hit puberty, I had guys asking me whether Chloe and I were, you know, together. We never were.
  Chloe was a light that attracted many moths. All of them were burned.
  I had gotten a really great deal. God, Amy was amazing. I love her so much.
  But what I felt for Chloe was different. She was Chloe. What else can I say? She was Chloe. Amy understood.
  I knew though, that this day would come. One day, Chloe was going to get bored of seeking adventures here, there and in this limited everywhere. I knew Chloe would want the world. So I decided not to want her.
  She was destined for great things. Who am I to challenge destiny?
  It was snowing again. The white tufts made this day truly magical. I leaned on the balcony railing, watching the winter wonderland.
  I saw a human shaped whiteness rush stumble towards the gate. She hesisted just before walking out but she never looked back. I didn’t ask for a goodbye. It would  have killed both of us.
  Instead I watched her leave, dragging her suitcase behind her.

A rant about menstruation

A couple of months ago, someone really let me down.

There’s a Whatsapp group I’m a part of (I’m the admin actually 😀 ), it has just two male members. Most of us are chicks.

That month many of us girls had their periods at the same time. So, naturally, we were bitching about cramps and the general PMS. Then we discussed ways to get over those pesky cramps and aches.

At this point, neither of the guys was online.  After some time, the less active one came online and started complaining about our discussion. He said that the group was a public forum and that it wasn’t right of us to make the guys uncomfortable that way.

There was a huge argument. I didn’t say all that much but this issue has been festering inside of me ever since this happened.

Now, I am going to rant about it.

I’m a girl. I have four to five excruciating days a month wherein blood flows out of my vagina. I have to wear a sanitary napkin (or a tampon) this time of the month. It’s painful and it makes me a bitch.

It happens to every woman.

Why does something as general as this make guys uncomfortable? I honestly don’t get it. It is something that just is. What’s the point of making it a taboo?

Especially in India. I love my country and it’s culture and traditions. But if I have my chumps, why can’t I go to temples? Why is it wrong? Why am I considered impure?

It’s just blood and mucus.

If you have a cold and I punch you, the stuff that will come out of your nose will be a mixture of the two. Does that make you impure or something?

The answer is no.

See, the thing is everybody poops and everybody pees. All women have those days of the month. Nothing to be ashamed about.

What are periods exactly?

Menstruation is the monthly discharge of blood and mucus along with an unfertilized egg cell.

That’s it.

If babies are considered cute, then why is something related to 50% of what makes a baby considered taboo?

We consider ourselves as modern and generally unorthodox. So isn’t it high time that we get over the taboos over menstruation?

I can understand why women were made to sit in a place and not enter the kitchen back in the olden days. Basically, I think, it was so that they could get some well-deserved rest. But it should be by choice and not compulsion.

Periods are just something that happens every month. It’s painful and uncomfortable. We girls get super hormonal and moody during these days. So be nice to us instead of yelling about how indecent it is to bitch about something so argh.

And if discussing menstruation makes you uncomfortable, well, have a frank talk with a lady close to you. It need not be awkward. Just accept it. And get over how uncomfortable it makes you.

She is definitely facing more discomfort going through it than you are discussing it.



The sun has fled down the mountain
Leaving the sky ablaze
Oranges, reds and yellows
Fight off the blues
On the other side,
In creeps the darkness
Accentuating the warm-colored hues
It is a battle, fought again and again
Ying versus Yang, darkness versus light
Shadows, disguised by light
No one shall be the victor
No one can be vanquished
The day is beautiful
But so is the night


Fullmetal Alchemist

My friend Dee recommended that I start reading manga. Finally, after loads of procrastination, I started reading  Fullmetal Alchemist.

Fullmetal Alchemist was something that made me question things.




Now, that question has just one answer.

I was too wrapped up in books. Now I realize that I need to diversify from YA. I love YA. I will probably be reading YA while clicking my fake teeth and squinting through my old lady glasses.

( No, I don’t have old lady glasses. Yet. Currently I wear and awesome pair of nerdy, green colored glasses. Go Nerds! )

So my point is, I love YA but I need to diversify. Read other genres, read books in Marathi, read books in french. Read different genres.

In 2014, I really started reading paranormal. I had read some books earlier but didn’t quite end up a fan of the genre. This year, I read the Lux series, started with The Mortal Instruments (Hope to finish it before we enter 2015) and maybe others that I forgot.

I also managed to read two classics so far. Which is pretty okay, I guess. I should definitely read more of classics but that’s a goal for next year.

And I started reading manga.

Fullmetal Alchemist was just so awesome. I loved all the characters including the homunculi. I think my favorite homunculus was Pride. Kids being creepy? Me likey.

Basically, ghost based horror films bore me. I like psycho killers. They actually scare me. I mean, The Orphan. Whoa. It was jarring.

So creepy Selim gave me the same feeling that Dexter’s breakfast routine does. How creepy is that? It’s like these tingles down my spine.

I believe all of us have that side. The creepy side.

Anyway aother thing I really loved about FMA was that the female characters were so freaking strong! And badass! Winry was an automail mechanic, so was grandma Pinako. Maria Ross was cool too.

And don’t even get me started on Hawkeye or Izumi or Olivia Armstrong. I worship them. Really.

Oh, I have to mention Mei! She had a miniature panda and she could hold her own. Plus she was tiny and cute! How awesome is that?

Also, I have a confession to make. I might have a new OTP. Mustang and Hawkeye. They are unstoppable. That scene where Hawkeye convinces Colonel Mustang not to go the revenge way, it was so feels ridden!

I liked Van Hohenheim too. Yeah, he wasn’t there for Ed and Al but he had his reasons. Basically, a good man to the end. And what an end! Oh my feels :’)

And the final battle? EPIC.

But what truly made the series (?) awesome was the relationship between Edward and Alphonse Elric. I have a very rocky, frenemy type relationship with my sister but now, I want one like Ed and Al.

Maybe we will. Once she stops borrowing and losing my earrings. I am so proud of my collection. I like to think that I have a delightfully quirky taste in them.

Here’s to Ed and Al (and everyone else)

Oh yes! And Scar ❤  Complicated characters are so delightful.

Ounar Highschool Host Club is the next manga I plan to read. Hopefully soon!


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