Miss Congeniality- Part 1

Once upon a time, there was a girl. 

Ambitious, full of dreams and fun-loving. She came to a new city to begin a new chapter in her life and simultaneously also entered my life.

And ever since that day, ladies and gentlemen, my life has never been the same.

C.S Lewis, the creator of the world of Narnia, quotes “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought I was the only one.”

And this insanely mad person fits the description. We are as different as can be but so similar in other things that people mistake us to be “soulmates”.

Small round face, small eyes hidden behind Harry Potter type glasses, a huge smile and wavy hair. She is so pretty but she can be very clueless about it. The way she stretches few words while speaking is hilarious and adorable. Everyone loves pulling her cheeks. She is the nerd of the gang. A typical kind who makes notes, prepares a timetable to study and who revises twice before every exam.

But don’t be mistaken if you think that she is just about studies. Oh definitely not. 

I bet the people close to her can actually tell you silly ridiculous tales starring her in the main lead.

She is a true Bollywood fan and by Bollywood I actually mean SRK. The romance king is the king of her hearts too. And no she isn’t romantically in awe of him. She is just in awe of him. She probably panics more than the producer of the film before his new release. She has such a healthy obsession for the superstar that the whole college knows about it. According to me if there is any dream job made for her, it is that of either being Film Consultant to King Khan or a movie critic.

She is a budding artist. She has a lot of talent which she sometimes hides from the rest of the world. She loves painting. And she is damn good at it. And I am sure of it, because I have her work hanging in my house at this moment. She is also a pretty good dancer and can pick up those Bollywood steps pretty quickly. For someone with two left feet, I am definitely in awe of her because of that.

She scrunches up her nose while laughing, she sneezes loudly in the class and then says “Excuse Me” in a cute kiddish voice, she gets extremely excited sometimes and sometimes her mood dips an all time low and she can be very snappy during that time. She talks like there is no tomorrow. She speaks her mind too bluntly at times. Her best quality is that she is a really easy person to get along with and likeable by all and can be an amazing company. But she has difficulty expressing her feelings sometimes especially to people she cares about a lot. And that is what actually makes her so unique. Because you can see how much she loves you from her actions.

She is one of those few people I thank God for. Wondering why? You’ll know soon enough.

"The 12"- #6

I love holidays. You get so much time to write.

Firstly thank you for liking the post on my mum. For all those who asked me if she liked it, well she was in tears when she read it, atleast that's what she told me.

And secondly, few people also liked the other post which I wrote as an interlude. So thank you for that too.

Finally after posting entirely different things, I am back to "The 12".

This person is well the first person I kind of befriended when I joined my college four years ago. And this friendship has been through these long four years and is still strong.

This is more like a farewell message for her. Hope she likes it.

Happy Reading :)

That Thing We Call Hope

Back in childhood, fairytales were the perfect bedtime stories for all the kids. Atleast for me they were.

And almost all the fairytales had the same storyline with just few tweaks here and there.

There would be a damsel in distress- usually a princess whose beauty and good nature would be the reason for her end, an evil force like an old witch who wants to look young and beautiful forever or a queen who wishes to be ‘the fairest of all’, a curse which could be a midnight curfew hour, a poisoned apple or being pricked by a needle and obviously and most importantly the curse-breaker, the pure and noble-hearted Prince Charming, who would waltz in at the climax and break the curse using the most powerful weapon- True Love’s Kiss.

I’ll admit, when I was young, I used to swoon over these stories and wished to have one too.

But as I grew up, I realized that they were nothing but just stories.

Yes you do get helpless like the main protagonist and end up taking shit from some evil queen again and again till you don’t fall into this pit of sadness and misery that it becomes a curse to live and then you expect some hero, some knight in shining armour to come and save you from drowning.

But does it really happen? Do you really need a hero to save you?

No you don’t. You don’t need a Prince Charming to realize your worth. You don’t need him to break the curse. You are strong enough to rise up from all of this.

Up to some extent we all need support but in the end, this is your life. You can’t expect someone to protect you always and fight your battles for you. Because in the end, you are your own hero. You have the courage and the will to win.

You don’t need a knight. All you need is Hope.

For me, hope is a much stronger weapon than some spun tale of True Love’s Kiss.

There is hope everywhere. Hope to make it through the present, hope to live another day.

This world is actually surviving on hope.

Everyday we wake up hoping the day will go well. We hope to get a good seat when out eating. We hope for a discount while shopping. We hope for the perfect ending while reading a book or watching a movie. We hope the monstrosity in this current scenario will soon end.

We hope for the world to get better. We hope for the good.

Hope is a powerful emotion. Because in the end, even the true love’s kiss had hope in it. Hope that the curse will break.

And if you keep living with that glimmer of hope everyday, soon the curse will break. And you will get your Happy Ever After.

Interlude

I hope you guys are as excited about reading my blog as I am when I am about to post something new.

I have realized I love writing. It's the best form of release which relaxes your mind. When you pen down your thoughts, you are actually speaking to yourself. Your thoughts are more coherent and transparent. You see your true self. When you write, you don't lie. You don't keep feeding yourself these false emotions.

I believe everyone should inculcate this amazing habit of writing.

This next post is again not part of "The 12". It is just something I ended up writing while watching this show I like a lot- Once Upon a Time. All about fairytales with modern twist.

You know I was a big fan of fairytales back in childhood. They were full of magic and knights and princesses and stuff. It's only recently I have come to know that many of these tales are very twisted; the actual ones are full of horror and wickedness and what not.

So keeping that in mind, I wrote the upcoming post.

Happy Reading :)

My Rockstar

She is a pillar of strength, an epitome of love and affection, as strict as a teacher when need be but equally soft and warm. She runs the household with dedication and probably more finesse than possible. She can turn into a Japanese warrior when it comes to defending her family. Pampers the son, confidante for the daughter and the support system for the father. She balances the life at the home. She is supposed to be a form of God. Because he couldn’t be everywhere, he created her. He created mother.

Today I am writing this special message to my mother. She turns a year older and I guess finally there is a slight greying of hair now. 

Mumma (which is what I call her) is my Rockstar. There is just no one like her. And yes almost every kid in this world would say the same for his/her own mother, but no I am definitely sure that my mum is just out of this world.

When my grandma shows me childhood pictures of her, I can’t recognize her at all. She seems so different in them. For me,she has always been the same, huge brown eyes, wide smile and dark wavy hair. God what I wouldn’t give to be as pretty as her. She is beautiful. She has such an expressive face that you just can’t take your eyes off her.

Some women are just born mothers. They easily adapt to motherhood when it happens. But according to my mum, she was just a beginner; for her every moment when I was born was like a lesson. She says she would mess up a lot and used to doubt herself from time to time. But I guess she has nothing to be worried about, because I can say confidently that I grew up to be just fine and normal.

Sometimes I wonder how different my life would have been if she was never a part of it.

Who would have woken me up early morning for school, made that delicious tiffin which people used to steal from my school bag at times, encouraged me to sing and take up the various unusual hobbies I have, toughened me up for real world? Who would have wiped away those tears of awkwardness when I became a teenager? Who would have knocked sense into me that success always comes after couple of failures?

It’s scary to think how chaotic life can be without mothers.

She has these few silly adorable habits which are annoying at times. She loves organizing everything in a specific way, keeps a record of every damn household item in her notebook. She is extra cautious about things like preparing my bag and pencil box before exam, double checking it before I leave. She loves cooking and trying out new things. She isn’t shy of experimenting. She believes in God. She believes in luck, destiny and all those Indian traditions but she isn’t narrow-minded. In fact she has an opinion on everything. She just doesn’t like debating. If she can be sweet, she can be equally furious and lash out if we ever disobey her. Now that both her kids are independent, she misses doing all this.

She has always let me make a decision about my life and when I am confused she is there to sort the issue out. I am not able to be in touch with her much given that we live in separate cities, but there is a never a day when I don’t get a call from her. If not a call, then definitely a text message saying a simple “Goodnight” every night sharp at 11.

I miss her a lot. These past few years I have come closer to her, maybe because I am not a kid anymore and because I understand things more clearly.

Running a family is not a joke honestly. Taking care of everyone’s needs, keeping check on the finance of the family, fulfilling everyone’s demands. It is probably tougher than running some huge company.

Every mother has to face problems and struggle everyday.

So does mine. My father being in Army, there have been years when he has been posted someplace where families aren’t allowed. Times like these my mother has single-handedly taken care of two growing kids who are as different as anyone ever can be. And never ever did she give up. She would never let us know if she was facing a problem. She would try and not take out the frustration of handling things in a big city on us. She would take us out for treats on weekends like a movie or a fancy dinner and from time to time let us buy that one toy my brother wished for or the book I wanted to read for a long time. In short she never let us feel that our father was so far away working in some different state altogether.

My mother taught me way more than I give her credit for. She taught me to not give up on life when it gets worse, that there will be times when no one will be around to guide you; you need to figure out things for yourself. That sometimes it is okay to break down and cry. Crying is not a sign of weakness. It is just a means of letting out your feelings.

She encouraged me to start writing in the first place. She is the reason for the origin of this bibliophile actually. I sometimes crib about lack of friends I can share my secrets with. But in reality, I don’t need anyone when my mum is the best “deep-dark-secret keeper”.

So mumma, I thank you. I thank you for making me the person I am. I owe you my life literally. And I know I do things which upset you a lot. But trust me when I say this, one day you will be proud of me. I promise you. Because I am your 'Jhansi Ki Rani' (as you call me) and you are my Rockstar!

The Special Thirteenth

Okay this next post is a huge one. (that's why warning you beforehand)

This post again is not a part of "The 12". It is about a person though, who i refer to as 'the special 13th' !!

Hope you guys like it. Again i will say, suggestions are always welcomed.

Happy Reading! :)

Time To Let Go

They say you never forget your firsts. The first time you rode a bicycle, the first time you saw a movie in the theater, your first video game, the first book you ever picked up to read, the first friend you opened up to, the first crush, that first kiss, the first time you blushed on being complimented, the first relationship, the first betrayal, the first heartbreak, the first time you felt alive, your first trip alone. 

True we don't forget them. But we hold onto them. What we never realize is that these are just memories. They aren't supposed to hold us back. 

So what if you fell off from the bike, doesn't mean you stop riding it. That first kiss was amazing but it never worked out, so you stop living?

The betrayal was brutal and it probably was the worst when it happened but you can't stop trusting people.

Why do we always use these things as excuses and refuse to move on?

Life doesn't end because someone you blindly loved broke your heart. These things should not be a burden, they should be lessons.

There will be more falls to come when you ride that bicycle at full speed. You fall only to get up and move ahead. The only difference- you know where to be careful this time, where to slow down, which curve or bend to avoid. 

The first trip you take only motivates you to take further more. With each such incident in life, you actually come to know yourself better.

Life is supposed to be lived every minute, staying in past is only giving you less time to enjoy the present and even lesser time to anticipate the future.

Don't hold back. Let yourself loose.
Pick up that bike you abandoned in the garage and get out.
There is a world full of curves and bends but every curve has a straight wide road ahead too. Look forward to that. 

And don't be afraid if you fall. Ever.

Interlude

Although writing about people is what I like doing now, but this is something I have only recently started doing.

Sometimes random musings your brain churns out can be amazing writing stuff too. 

I was going through my previous diaries and journals (yes I write a diary, trust me that's the perfect way of letting out your feelings or ranting especially for people who take time to open up)

So yes, browsing through my old diaries made me realize few things and I ended up writing the next post which is strictly not at all part of "The 12".

Happy Reading :)

Golden Heart Hero- Part 2

I consider myself pretty good at remembering how I met someone. And I also pride myself on having this stupid quality. But when it comes to this person, I am baffled; because all the memories surrounding ‘how we came to know each other’ are hazy. He just was always there.

He was there when I needed a friend. He was there even when I wanted to be left alone. He is always there and he claims that he will always be around.

As impatient I am, he is equally calm and at peace. He rarely shows anger or loses his temper. He handles things with composure. 

He can read my mind and knows when I need to be comforted and when I want to be aloof. It freaks me out a bit that sometimes he knows me better than myself.  And the way he looks straight into your eyes, you can’t lie to him. Atleast I can’t.

He is the protective brother I never had. He has no issues scolding if I am doing something wrong but he doesn’t even hesitate to praise me from time to time.

We rarely talk. Ours is the kind of friendship which doesn’t require staying in touch through messages or phone calls. We don't even meet pretty often. But we still pretty much know what is up with each other’s life.

He is my support system. He knows just the right things to say to pacify this reckless human that I have become. 

Teenage is perhaps the toughest stage of life. You are struggling with yourself, trying to identify who you are- physically as well as mentally. And many a times you fall, you fall into this deep dark hole. I went through the same issues. And I won’t say I had no friends to hold onto. But the one person who had maximum faith in me after my parents was him.

He never gave up on me, even when I lost all hope and almost abandoned myself. He knew that I am strong to not let these bother me so much that I stop enjoying what life was offering me. Even now when I am in despair and if he somehow comes to know about it, he knocks sense into my brain.

He taught me to be brave. He taught me that courage isn’t just being loud, it is also believing in yourself and telling yourself that you will try again tomorrow.

He has a heart of gold and for me he is a hero.