A Passing

For 66 years he lived, for 17 years and 10 months he survived and for 2 months, he existed.

Imagine, you decide that you are to embark on a journey to the tip of this particular mountain, you know the roads, you have certain norms and you have two companions beside you. Now the catch of this journey is, the whole navigation should be in darkness. That is, you know the roads but you don't know what those roads contain. In the first leg of your journey, you're confused because of this sudden change in lighting, then you get used to it and you start liking it. And then you realize you're not alone, you have company. The journey goes on for a while then you start seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, you realize you're reaching your destination, suddenly you realize you don't want to go, you start slowing down, your slow moving is causing punctures. Other cars motion you to advance faster, and then you realize, anyway you're heading to your destination, might as well make the best of it. And so you reach your destination, knowing fully, that your journey was the best part.

Life is a wonderful thing, it is synonymous to existence, survival, validity, it's funny how all of this claims to have the same meaning, but it is 4 distinct realities. Carpe Diem and YOLO is applicable only for a short period. In the end, when we say our final goodbyes, it's our deeds that our remembered the most. Our face might not be remembered by posterity, it is our deeds. So while you're at it, do stuff that people might remember you for. It is upto your wisdom to realize if you ought to do it in a good way or other wise. 

Don't take advice or musings from a 15 year old. You ought to already know this by now. I am nothing but expressing my thoughts because I hate bottling it in. 

Artemisia Absinthium Absinthe

Alcohol, we all know what it is. We all know what it does, we all know how it works and we all know how much it can get to us. No one knows how or when this devil was created, presumably the result of an accident that occured very long back. 

Partying is meraki for many, going with friends, getting drunk, going mad and waking up in the morning with the worst hangover. Oh not to mention post a billion photos on Instagram and a status on Facebook saying how much fun the night was although not many parts of it is remembered. 

Alcohol, is taken as a light subject with the young generation. It's a part of exploration, it's how we learn to have fun, and it's what the cool people do. Alcohol, is apparently a passing phase that you are bound to go through when you succumb to peer pressure. Yes, that's what they all say. Until drinking for the "coolness" of it becomes drinking for pleasure then becomes drinking for sanctuary and finally drinking for very survival. 

Alcohol on it's own isn't that much of a troublemaker, not unless addiction comes in unison to form this unbeatable force of evil that ruins jobs, studies, families, friendships and life as a whole. It can come in like the sly fox it is, slowly creepy into your system like a deadly virus and lodge itself with a firm grip. Then you become it's submissive, you yearn for more of it as it's affect releases you from the choke hold of reality. Or so you think, the high gives you courage to do thinks you wouldn't even have thought of for a jiffy. It gives you a state of euphoria that damages everyone and everything else around you. Then, that becomes the only reason why you live. Every single move in your day is an excuse to relish in it's solace. You find reasons, you are desperate for incentives and before you know it, your world is on self - destruct mode. You brought this onto yourself. 

You paid for the bottle that made you drink till you sweat out liqour, you were sober when you started drinking, you forgot about your family, you forgot about their feelings. You crave for their attention with your vivacity and the chaos you're making. But they chose to ignroe you. 

You realize you're slowly dying a slow death. You lost your friends, you lost your family, you lost all hope and you miss love. With nothing other than that bottle that started this wreckage to accompany you, you tread in a slow pace hoping for a last chance to take it all back and start fresh and clean. But no, you're almost there, you've almost reached your final resting place. I guess it's too late now, you shouldn't have turned the deaf ear to concerned advices, you shouldn't have raised your voice against caring actions, you should have listened for your own good after all.

Aryabhatta asks

Dancing Triangles 

What happened to the good old isosceles triangle, scalene and  equilateral triangle? And since when did the sides of a triangle turn into sine and cos? 

I look around and I can see these huge equations dancing around, in a movie that would be how you interpret a genius mind, in real life, for me it's just pointless 3 letter words that is guaranteed to ruin my mood.  I'm just looking right through it all, I don't get how I would need to find out the tangent of the fish I'm going to buy. Yes, it's probably why we have advanced so much. But leave trigonometry to the people who actually want to learn it. 

Every line in every solution of every equation has a different approach,it's either you're some abnormal human being or it's luck. There is no LOGIC in trigonometry. 

This is trigonometry for me:

To get the number of leaves on the tree outside my house, first you have to multiply the number of ribs of all the cats together then multiply it by the number of Overly Attached girlfriend memes on Facebook. Divide the total and now you will know how many people like the Garfield movie. ( cats * memes = grumpy cat = Garfield) Then add the population of Slovakia. Then you get the fraction which should be added to the aquariums in Uganda and finally you get the number of fruits in the stall near my aunts house in Texas, multiply by the distance between the two places and get into her house. Go to her phone, dial my number and ask me to study instead of checking how many leaves I have on my tree. 

Namaste. 

Rainy Days

The south west monsoon is here, and this time it is much awaited. After the smoldering heat that nearly killed us all, here comes the showers of blessings! Or at least it was a blessing till the clouds thought it was too cool, started showing off and thus becoming a big issue for those at Uttarkhand. (As you read this, please pray for those whose lives have been brutally destroyed thanks to these showers)

The monsoons this year have really come by force, we had a week off at school thanks to the damage it caused all around. Almost everyday we sit in front of the news as though it is some extremely interesting show with a really good suspense and everyone is looking forward into knowing who actually stole the ring. But nope, it's just the same old NDTV, and we look at the really fast moving news that they show at the bottom hoping to see Cochin in the group of jurisdictions which have a day off. That was how it is for us, we make bets and gamble on the next day, we predict the rain forecast and pretend like we are real meteorologists. At the end, I think we all shall make really good weather people. The rain battered down on the roofs and window panes drumming a violent yet soothing rhythm. Some people curled up in a ball with a book and a cup of something hot, some played games of football drenched and dirty, some cursed the rain for their fevers and diseases and some hoped that the sun would somehow show it's face because all this water is just too overwhelming. And I'm somehow all of it.

I am lying down on the bed because I have got fever (thanks to the rain) because I played in the mucky slushy place (thanks to the rain), which is why I'm cozy and comfortably cold (thanks to the rain) and I somehow wish that I would stop being so lazy (thanks to the rain).

Nothing would suffice the feeling of having nice hot Maggi noodles and listening to the heavy downpour. Along with the continuous battering of the raindrops, there are some distinct ones which are heard because some hipster raindrops decide to feel up the trees then splash to the ground. That's rain for you. The perfect time to go for an adrenaline pumping fast drive with some close friends or maybe lightning photography. Surpringly, I haven't seen any thunderstorms. It's just rain, rain and more rain, none of it's scary counterparts this time

Two months back, I would do anything to live the moment I'm at. And now, I am desperate to see sweat drip down my forehead and complain about the scorching heat. I guess that's how I am, or how everyone is, never happy with what we have. If there was complete satisfaction, then I guess we would have been content with life and that means we wouldn't be yearning for more. If no more striving happens, then no more development. Well well well, what do you know, turns out even this hole in our heart that can never be filled also known as greed and desire has its good sides.

Udagamandalam-ness

I'm en-route to Ooty, in my uncle's tempo traveller. Continuous chatter overpowers the song playing in my ears. Little kids cry, laugh and have a jolly good time towards the back. Little laser dots are dancing without music in and around the van. The engine's slow and monotonous hum just stays. People talk about food, which makes my stomach rumble reminding me that its time for another refill of yummy goodness.  It's a family holiday we stayed our night at Wayanad, played countless rounds of UNO and almost every time my 8 year old cousin beat me. I've got a week before I go back to textbooks, hostel, hag wardens and fun with my friends. This summer, was the least eventful. I stayed at home and did what I do best, use the laptop. 10th grade starts and I'm least bit excited. I know how the teachers are gonna tell us we're big kids and la la la. But hey, if you considered us kids last year we're still the same. One year doesn't move mountains. My mum is beside me and she's reading this, which is why I should tell her that I love her. My little cousin cries, music is on and there's murmurs all around. But I'm just enjoying Keith Urban and the scenery outside. 
The Ooty Aroma

You enter Ooty after all those dizzying hairpin bends and the first thing that hits you is the horse dung aroma. Well, obviously if there are more horses than humans, it's sure to overpower the Tamil-ness smell of this place. After that, rows rows and rows of a gazillion eucalyptus trees come in view. And that's pretty much all you see for a long time. That's the best part about Ooty. It refreshes you, clears off that stuffy nose, wakes up the senses and you just tend to INHAAAAAAAALLEEEE, the eucalyptus trees. I love them, they've been around to welcome me every time I've ever visited this popular hill station. 

They must have witnessed many accidents, many serendipitous moments and they're used to bikes and cars zooming past them. They too must have heard ghost tales, they too would have had people etching in their initials, they too were a part of some love story. And yet they remain, so quite and still, watching the world revolve, evolve and change. They don't complain, they don't crib. They are trees and they are the real children of Mother Nature, intact they're Mother Nature herself. 

A beautiful art we call blogging.

Blogging has always been a passion, it's probably not something that cool kids do or whatever. Its not some author's work nor is it a benefactor's work. You can be a philanthropist if you donate. But you're just a person of more words than the action can handle if you blog. But there's not even a single reason why you should give an iota of botheration to these kind of people. 

Aboveboard, all you bloggers out there will understand. It brings in a sense of heartsease, specially when you're stressed and you just need to let it go.

For many, blogging is a hobby. And for me, the Word Document open in front of me just waiting to be etched and decorated with many words that come in together to form sentences of meaning. I don't stop to think or use the backspace key to delete a sentence that I typed in. Because I just let it all flow, all I think about is the next word to put in. It's the same for many bloggers, you tend to forget everything else, it's just you and a screen filled with beautifully interpreted words which seek understanding from those who read it. And through blogger you enter a public domain with people of varied writing genres and views. Certain write about horses, some about their family, some speak about issues and some are just mixed. 

That's the beauty of blogging. It's versatile and different. It speaks volumes and expresses many things. 

Cheers to all the bloggers out there!

Nomophobia.

Nomophobia isn't some big scary phobia threatening to put your life in danger, but many teenagers now might think of it as so. Nomophobia isn't some scientific word that was derived from Latin, Greek and Roman, it simply means No-mobile-phobia. But that's the latest phobia affecting the life of many "screenagers", including myself. Infact, I just checked my phone twice during the short period of typing this out hoping for some BBM, Whatsapp or text.
I was looking through Twitter last night, when I read this fact saying that the first symptom according to scientists of Smartphone addiction is the feeling of getting a text even though you didn't.  I remember having that feeling many a times, that's when I realized I am an addict. This morning,I was with my family but when everyone spoke I just sat there, staring into this little black box with a small screen typing away to glory. For everyone else, it's just a phone but for me it's where my whole life is. I get an uncomfortable feeling when someone else has my phone, and I just like everyone else I have locked my phone from prying eyes.
That's the story of every cellphone addict, I don't like it. I know that it's antisocial and crappy for everyone else. But for us, it's where we belong or so they say. You become distant, you hardly listen to anything and you rather stay up late looking through your phone than stay up late talking to your family. It's dangerous you sort of miss what's happening around you. Smartphone addiction has almost the same withdrawal symptoms as drug addiction. That's scary. So just look away from your phone for a second, and grasp your surroundings. Keep your phone away for a while and don't carry it around always. Speak to everyone around you and you'll reconnect. Find a distraction like reading and you've curbed your cellphone addiction.
Everyone will see the change and everyone will respect you for not being like the normal addicted teenagers.
Cheers and be happy. :)

My friend, the Spider.

I am just kidding I don't have a friend who is a spider nor am I even faintly acquainted with spiderman. Although I really long for a comrade who can spit web out through his veins, I've not even watched Amazing Spiderman, too mainstream I think. So I was just lying down on the lazy boy when I see it. A hairy brown small fairly plump thing stealthily descending from my roof. No, it's not Cee Lo Green being a ninja. It was a Lycosidae. Commonly known as the wolf spider, it's known for creeping the hell out of arachnophobics, such as myself. I jump on to the La-Z-Boy, my brain tells me that it's surely gonna come for me. As I trip, fall, run even faster around the house in hysterics with my hands waving madly just waiting for someone to kill it, and watch it retract those 8 hairy limbs in a final shrivel. That's when my uncle told me,I've been  living in this house for the past 32 years I have never seen anyone bitten by a spider. I thought about it, and he was right! But that doesn't mean no one has not been bitten, if you get what I mean. So why take the risk? 

That's when I was looking through this fun science fact website thingy when I saw the cutest spiders. Yeah, I just said that, cute spiders. Hey, they might be hairy, but they're still extremely cute. That's when I thought about it, the spider world would be such a peaceful place to abide in if they could speak. I mean, all misunderstandings shall be solved. Meanie spiders just can be squashed under newspapers, the nice ones can be allowed to live in peace. If the spider I saw could talk, there could be ways in which my encounter could've ended.

Case I:

Spidey: Hey, ssup?

Me: *on the laptop* Meh, just blogging, you?

Spidey: Naw, I'm just hanging 'bout. Hey, d'you mind if I could like eat that wasp that's contemplating mass destruction?

Me: Uh, sure dude. 

Spidey: Thanks man. 

Me: Anytime! *continues with work*

Thus, we both live happy lives.

Case II:

Spidey: BOOOOO. I eat you.

Me: *looks, stares, screams*

Spidey: I destroy your life.

Me: *uncle enters* *SPLAT*

Thus, I (well, not really me) saved the spider world from an evil man, now they shall worship me by spinning a 3D model in silk. :)

Case III:

Spidey: brgrgbrgrbrgrbrgrbgbrtgbrgbrrgbggg

Me: SSAPPENING? 

Spidey: brrrgeujwhf,ewngb,

Me: K.

Thus, we shall be all screwed if they don't speak what we speak.

P.S: I have proved my point. Cute spiders, they're cute. See for yourself!

Tweehee. 

The Word Of The Day - Freaken

I was talking to this friend of mine, well obviously you talk to your friends. I was in a bit of a dudgeon the other day, when he took the liberty of trying to cheer me up. We spoke about a whole lot of random stuff, the topic train went in a crazy route, en route we spoke about the latest mall in our city, it's apparently the biggest mall in South India. The place is packed! Because well it's "ignorance" if you don't go there when it's in your city and there are people taking buses and coming from far off places like it's some pilgrimage. And through all this is the first time I heard it, FREAKEN pronounced as "Free-Ken" is our word that refers to them cool guys who think abuse of hair gel is hot.Shadiness; that's just one of their traits.

Freakens, I'm pretty sure you would have obviously seen one and you would have taken a second glance at them. It's impossible to miss the skin tight tee shirts on the skinny bodies along with coloured pants that are outrageously PINK or PURPLE. Looking further down, the feet are clad with Nike or DC rip offs that totally contrast the rest of the outfit or even flip flops "Reedock" or "Tonny Hilfiger". Finally you look up to the fatuous face that thought he could actually pull this off. And there you see it, resting on the bride of the nose and extending to the faces beholds silver "cooling glass" (shades). Yes, it's 18 hours into the day, yet the sun's not set in their heads. Yes, you're indoors but then the sun's rays that leak through the Vesnetian blinds can totally ruin your eyesight, or is it because the rain can get into your eyes if you don't wear "cooling glass". Beauty thy behold, from afar. I could stop and stare forever at a gang of such, how amusing they are. But what ticks me off is when the catcalls start. Dudes, you people shall never ever ever know what my "good name plis" is. I don't understand how you could possibly dress that way and not laugh at yourself. I would, if I ever was to. I don't get how anybody would let you walk out of your room like that. But then, everyone has their styles I'm just expressing my disgust to a certain type. 

So remember, next time you see a person who is too cool for his own skin don't forget to mentally note him as a freaken. Freakens forever and ever.

To conclude I shall quote a very long paragraph a friend said "They think they are so cool with their coconut oil and hair gel mixture with whatever is in their hair, with the absurdest hairstyles. They drive around town like it's the Grand Prix. They wear all sorts of 'legit' shoes, pants so tight they can barely walk and finally having 3 different mobile phones to be the 'person of the area'. Acting tough in front of the cops and breaking down when they realise they're just hopeless and miserable."

Thanks for that Josh!

Last Cynical Post

Reading my blog, and thinking an outsider. I would profile the writer as a cynic, pessimist and highly critical of every movement of the Indian sub-continent. That's not very nice, now is it? It's too depressing, my life looks so grey. Which is probably in the parallel universe. Anyhow, this post, is my last cynical post. And I'm just going to tell everyone what ever I just absolutely, completely, wholly and undoubtedly despise. 

1. THE LESS FORTUNATE PEOPLE DROOLING OVER SOME FOOD: I can not stand the sight of that. Especially little kids, when they just look at you when you're eating something, they just there. A side of me, wants to offer the food to the child and watch they way they eat it up. But the glutton takes over. One day, I promise to feed every poor person who even looks at me with all the food I have.
2. LITTLE KIDS FORCED TO BEG/WORK: I don't get it, when we're just minding our own business and counting down till the signal turns green and then *BAM* there's a small child about 7 or 8, comes and flattens out her dirt-smitten face on the window and knocks once or twice either with a something to sell in her hand, or miming that she wants money to eat. But I've heard, that whatever money they earn really goes to cold-blooded businessmen who make money out of these little kids. (Courtesy: Slumdog Millionaire) So, you're supposed to hand out food, but these kids refuse that. Or when these people come with little babies crying from the little slings hanging from the shoulder. And when I see them clearing tables and cleaning out the waste in small shops, it's depressing. I feel like shaking the shop owners by the shoulders and saying, realize, these kids are in school not to be clearing out other people's waste! But I'm just an eccentric girl, no one wants to listen to me.
3. OLD PEOPLE WORKING: Why? Why is this inhuman evil done on this Earth? It breaks my heart to see old people working, the ones with white hair, barely enough teeth to count and a shriveled body do labour. Why do people hire them? Yes, hardship might prevail at home. But isn't that what the kids are for? To return whatever sacrifice your parents have made for you and let them have a happy old age? It's soul tearing.
4. PEOPLE EATING ALONE: There should be a law against little kids and old people eating alone. I should go and give them company, but if I do that they might just think I am mentally deranged. I just cringe when I see people eat alone, some lost in thoughts, or some just void. The lonely air is still around them. It's contagious, cause I just suddenly become all blue and depressed.
5. OBNOXIOUS TEENAGERS: The ones who think they're too cool for the world. The ones who walk around the streets in "cooling glass" and "skinny jeans". The mean ones who torture animals, and even record all that. I don't know why I even bother talking about them, because I am a teenager too. So, let's move on.
6. PEOPLE WHO MAKE TOO LONG SPEECHES: Yes, we understand you like the sound of your own voice, we know the mic is pretty cool. But please! The horrible excuse for a speech is just remorseless droning of a monotonous voice. Or if you intend to make it long, make it entertaining. That way you're captive of the audience and thus you shall not witness people sleeping off. And so, you've got yourself a nice speech.
7. WHEN YOU CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT YOU DON'T LIKE: Which is why, I shall stop here. 

   

   Here are old people smiling

   
   

   

   Here's a kitten, just because.

   
   

   

   Happy children are as cute as the kitten above

We build our reputation.

OH MY GOD. Don't these people ever get tired of trying to put our country into total shame? What they're doing in total moral annihilation. I've been itching to blog for a really long time,I've been having many topics to write about, but then it never got into my skin so much that I should write about it. 

We build our reputation, not our bloody monuments or commerce. It is the people who actually play an important role in the development of the country. But everyone already knows that. I'm not just talking about good health, proper education or living conditions. (yes, Geography has gotten into me)
It's called moral values, our country who is supposed to uphold moral values, we're supposed to embrace and we're supposed to profess it. The last part we do, I mean obviously that's what we're good at you know, finding fault in every little thing, telling them what's right and what's wrong, call women Goddesses and honesty is paramount. UNDA CHAKKA. World Class Hypocrites, that's what we are.

We call women Goddesses? Oh, so is that the reason for female foetuses being found in the gutters? Or the reason why the rape cases just keep multiplying like a cancerous cell. Honesty is paramount they say, that's why corruption is not even heard of in India. Why, why is it that only our country is not bothered about what other countries think? We have been labelled as the country with the most number of rapes, and to add to the hall of fame, the ugly sad men rape tourists. GET YOUR OWN WOMEN! That's why we've turned against our own brother countries because India is the best, India is that, India is this.

Adolescent population is the most valuable assets of the future? If we grow up in such a country, when the news is always so pleasant, how do you expect us to make the country a safer place to live in. Cause obviously, we learn from the older ones.

Everyone disappoints me, and others who think like me.
Shame on you, India. 

Superwoman

Mother is synonymous to love, care, selflessness, laughter, joy, God.

From the very moment I started existing, my mother loved me. She didn't know how I was going to turn out, she didn't know if anything was wrong with me, yet her love was unconditional.

The second I entered this world, my mother held me in her arms, and tears of joy filled her eyes for bringing this new life into Earth. Forgetting all her pain, her anxiety and all the trouble I gave her from sitting inside of her, she was proud of this hiccuping infant in her embrace.

Then came the sleepless nights, the constant crying and pretty much a lot of pooping. She was the one by me at all times, she is my wonder woman. My hand was tightly wound around her fingers in that 10 step walk from the school gates to the door, on my first day to school. And I smiled away my tears as she drove off from the hostel. 

Almost every weekend I see her, yet it is still unfathomable that such an angel exist not only in story books. I look up to her as my role model, she's the first person I think of every morning and the last person I pray for every night. She never projected her disappointment when I failed her. Every day she tells me, that I'm destined for much bigger thinks than what I am aiming for. She has never told me, and she never will. But Ummi, I'm letting you know, one day, I will make you proud, and my whole life I will strive on that. The kind where you look at the paper and say, "Yep, that's my girl, my daughter." You're my angel, my best friend, my confidante, my role model. You're like God's eyes on Earth. I'm not really sure if that makes any sense, but you'll understand. And I know you will.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

I love you!

So What If I like Football?

So what if I like football?
So what if I debate on Man-Utd's fall?
So what if I scream at every goal,
Does that make me a girl with a boy's soul?

So what if I snigger at "bad" jokes?
So what if I fist pump with all those blokes?
Just cause I can make a punch hurt,
On my femininity, must I assert?

For all you male chauvinist pigs out there,
I play CS and FIFA 13 fair and square.
Don't you dare judge me because I'm a girl,
Just stay away or make my fury unfurl.

"You're a girl, how can you do that?"
I can engage you in mortal combat.
Don't you dare mess the Sakhmets of today,
Because you never know, what gave your head away.

Desideratum

Sometimes when I look through my Newsfeed, I see all the fun people have. And then my mind starts telling me, that I'm a loner and I have no fun whatsoever. Sometimes, the jealous monster throws green eyed stares at every photo. That's when I realize, when I sit here, brooding about what I don't have, I forget about everything that I have. 

That's what are weakness is you know, that we forget about all the good things we have. We only have time to wail about everything else in the world. During the time you sit here, depressed, you indirectly dismiss everything and everyone else, and slowly by time, whatsoever you had as well goes. That's something we would never want.
Here's a wee poem towards that.

"Oh how I wish....." those words slip through the mind,
Those very words, makes you think of stuff, unkind.
They spark a little jealousy in you,
Which turns into longing, anger and disappointment too.
They hurt your ego and kill your happiness,
It becomes so bad, they think it's an illness.
How you wish you had eyes just like a bloke,
How you wish you had a humor like the guy who cracked that joke,
How you wish you had fun like she did,
How you wish.... aah, who are you to kid.

When you wish for things not yours,
Think of your blessing, the wound it cures.
Your unnecessary aspirations don't do any good,
Rid of it you must and should!
Pray to God for all that you've been given,
Because your life with these are driven.
Who knows somebody might be sniveling at you.
Wishing they would be like you too! :)

Odiferous Beings.

Having food in your teeth is embarrassment beyond words when you are grinning at a person and having a ball of a time. The person doesn't want to be rude, so doesn't mention the little black peeping tom in your teeth, but they can't help but stare at the disturbance. And when finally when you do realize that you had a "friend" sticking around all the while, all you can do is turn beetroot red and mega facepalm. 

You know what sucks even more? When you smell like a zombie that had it's coffin stuffed with rotten eggs, in a gutter near a fish market. Okay, that was a little too much. What I mean to say is, smelling bad is one of the biggest turn offs ever intended by nature. Before I begin, let me just explain the whole phenomenon of stinking really bad after sweating in buckets. 

Firstly, the reason why we sweat is to cool our bodies. The warmer we are, the higher are body temperature so the more we sweat. There are two kinds of sweat glands. One which is there all over your body, which only releases salty water sweat, this is the Good Guy Sweat Gland, so he doesn't stink. Now, every story needs a villain, and in our biological story, it's the Meanie Sweat Gland which produces oily sweat which is  more concentrated in the armpits,scalp and the genital area. He himself, is evil, but not as much, because every evil villain is better off with an accomplice, the bacteria loves eating this sweat. Here's a creepy fact, there always is bacteria in your armpits, but they don't smell. (Like human beings, the fattier food the more pungent "gaseous waste".) The smell, is the waste produced by the bacteria after eating your oily sweat. Basically, it's just bacteria farts. 

Everyone has those times when we sweat by buckets, and yes, you should be stinking. But the catch, is when, some people realize this and they dash for the bathrooms, while others don't. That's what is causing me to write this post in the first place. 

Like bad hair days, we have stinky days, when you think you're stinking a little more than average. That's why the world has created deodorants, colognes, perfumes. SO THAT YOU SMELL GOOD. Please don't be afraid to go ahead and  use one. And for us teenagers, puberty is a hag. We smell like decaying onions even when you do absolutely nothing, so don't forget to carry a little handy cologne or anything good. 

Ah, then we have the case of the bad breath. When you're conversing with someone and you realize they're looking a little too uncomfortable, they're scratching their noses and looking at your mouth. You can narrow it down to two conclusions:

a) They are bored as hell. 

b) Your mouth is stiiiiiinking!

Bad breath comes with bad brushing habits and empty stomachs. Remember to brush twice day, (or once more if you seem to smell like a drainage) and carry around a box of mints. Otherwise, God bless you child, not many would like to engage in a conversation with you. 

Real Men

Jonathan Walton- Here's the link.

I'm sorry Anna Nicole

- Jonathon Walton

Poetry, it’s my release
My shield from my own grief
The refuge to which I retreat
When this world is too much for me 
Phrases on pages
Language my mind speaks 
Metaphors and similes
Poetic elements 
I just breath.

This poem is entitled I’m sorry
Anna Nicole

I step up to a magazine stand
And it’s like stepping up to an auction block
Because sex is for sale
As I see the bodies of females
On display 
For my ‘trying not to look like I’m viewing pleasure’
And I think to myself
“Which one is worse?
The burqa or Bulimia?"

“Ladies, free yourself so we can buy you
Don’t worry about your value 
We will define you
Because happenings minus the fact 
Equals news for us
And news equals the truth for us
So Anna Nicole must have died from an overdose”

But I know there is a thin line 
Between tight and too small
So pornography is just prostitution with taxes
And the fact is
Anna Nicole lost her power of self definition
And it killed her
She become a commodity
A novelty
It really starts to bother me
How brothers under covers
Went to the gutter and had her
For 2.99
Or less

So this is my apology
Because I am one of them
A letter asking for forgiveness from the hearts
Of all women
See dear Anna Nicole, Jenna Jamison 
And those Vivid Video Vixens
Those Playmates and Penthouse
And those pictures on the Internet that have no names
Just descriptions

I wish that I could write you a cheque
And give you back what I took
Give you a DVD or a magazine
To upload your self worth
Download your dignity 
Or just see what you are really worth
Because I witness images I didn’t have a right to
And I can’t erase my memory 
So I have to write you and apologise 
For taking something that I paid for a price
But no matter how high
Should have never been mine

I realised something
Standing on the corner of Broadway and 116th
As I saw 57 magazines
And women covered the covers
Of 53
These weren’t just bodies
They were sisters, daughters and mothers
And it was my call to be the best 
Husband, son and brother

See now, with a changed heart
I am trying to change
My mind
And my desire
See Anna Nicole makes me worry
But the unnamed make me cry
Because how many girls have died 
Or been hospitalised from not eating 
Trying to be the ‘right size’
How many pills have been popped
How many drips of blood have been dropped
Onto bathroom floors
Behind dorm room doors
Or those other doors that lock on the opposite sides 
Of cell blocks

See, when will we wake up?
And realise we are raising a generation of ‘prosti-tots’
Kids that know how to suck
Before they know how to love
Know multiple positions 
Before they know long division
And the minority becomes those 
Who are not sexual assault victims

See this is for Denise
Laying down in front of a web cam 
And following directions
The wife 
Who just found her husband’s private pleasure collection
The girl at the bus stop 
Who has just been molested 
The Lady
Walking the street followed by cat-calls and craned necks

I’m sorry

And that’s all that I can say

But when I have a son 
I will raise him to respect you
And if my poems are bricks
I’ll build word walls to protect you
From males not worthy to hold the title 
Of “man”

Sisters and Mothers
I’m sorry

Husbands, Sons and Brothers please
Pick up your bats 
Because the women of this world 
Are waiting for us 
To step up

A Poem Of Nothingness.

Caved in thoughts run around the mind, 

Beams escape through the Venetian blind.

At the corner, poised a deaf 6-string, 

Music, melody, many thoughts does it bring. 

Staring out into the blue gradient of the sky, 

The Sun peeps from the clouds, perhaps shy. 

The television blares from beneath, 

I sit here,doing nothing, gritting my teeth. 

This is a poem of void, 

My creative side of the brain seems to be destroyed. 

Which is why I am annoyed, 

Now I know, why some authors remain unemployed. 

This is poem is a diddly squat, 

Because my blog seems to be as overwrought. 

And now because I have a long train of thought. 

This poem is nothing close to what it should have brought. 

Superhero Part 3.

This happened to my sister. Just thought it's worth sharing. 

"Sometimes the most unexpected people come to your aid in ways you cant fathom. 

This happened to me yesterday.
I had barely 60rs left in my wallet and I had to go to the station to catch a train from. I decided to withdraw cash from outside the campus as the ATMs inside weren't working. Little did I know that was the case for almost the entire town. 10 mins left for my train and I had gotten in at least 12 atms.
The auto driver drops me off at the station and says,'its alright, you can pay me after u come back.'
Touched I offer him all the cash I have and told him I'll pay the rest later. He looks at the cash in my hand and says,'is that all the cash you've got!? Here. ' and he takes out 100rs from his pocket.

Stunned, it took me a few moments to recover enough to decline politely and take his number.
In your hour of need God Almighty indeed sends his angels in disguise."

May God bless this man. 

Superhero Part 2.

Okay, this is one memory that you would want to "Shift + Delete" form your brain. But nope, it's ROM and I can't do anything to un-remember it. (No, not forget it, un-rememeber it) So, here goes.

I was on my way back from Australia. You can imagine 2 months of summer in an entirely different continent with the coolest aunt and uncle, so yeah, I don't need to give much of a description for my trip. Anyhow, coming back, after the tears, hugs and goodbyes, I got into my flight from Goldcoast, Queensland, I was to have a 10 hour transit in KL. So, my uncle booked a little nice hotel 3-4 kms from KL Airport, so that my grandmother and I could rest in luxury. I was a bit apprehensive about that, because I did not want to get out of the "safe haven" of the airport *snort*.

After 8 hours of butt numbing joblessness, at 3.AM Malaysian time, I reach KL. The immigration was a piss off, all these officials, didn't even bother to smile. And that annoys me, why can't they smile? Anyhow, I went tot the taxi counter and ordered for a VIP taxi, and voila my taxi chettan came. I got in, and right after we left, I looked into the rear view mirror into the taxi driver's face. At first, I wasn't sure if he was sleeping or his eyes were that way. I didn't want to seem racist, so, I kept quite, then I heard loud breathing, so I made even louder noises so he would wake up. He dropped us off at the hotel and he took off.

When I tried to check in, there were a few blunders, which I don't remember much. Anyway, here comes the thing *drum roll* I looked into my bag to get my wallet to make my pay, AND IT WASN'T THERE. I checked forever and it wasn't there. The emotions that hit me, jeeeeeeeezus (my palms are sweating right now thinking of it). Hopeless, sleepless, broke, I sat devastated, and episodes of Jailed Abroad started playing in my head, just to make things worse. I got WiFi and tried to tell my uncle that my wallet was missing. But by the time "MAMA, We're stuck" was sent, my iPod died. WOOHOOO. I paced back and forth in the hotel, just having faith and prayed that we'd get out of this hell sooner. And that's when my superhero came, no he wasn't wearing a cape or undies over his tights, he was simply wearing a security guard's uniform. He came up to me, gave me 20 ringets, and asked me to go to the airport and tell the Airport Officials. (Did I mention, I was stuck in a hotel, and I needed money to get to the airport by the shuttle bus? So yeah, if he hadn't given me, I would still be stuck in the hotel) I stared at him in awe, out of all those diamond-wearing, iPhone-carrying asians, this one man, saved my life.

I heaved around 40 kilos in each of my hands, got into the bus and reached the airport. I reported to the Airport Cops, the Indian Embassy and everyone else. So, I connect to WiFi (I had a phone as well so, woohoo) , and get this tornado of messages from my uncle. I reply back, short and brief about the whole thing and finally breathe better. I had dreams of buying chocolates and so many things from the KL duty free, and all that shattered. So with the little money I had left, I called my mum up from a payphone and updated her with everything. And the change even after that, I bought myself Dunkin' Donuts, as I stood drooling over Starbucks, Asia 24, KFC and Maccas. I log onto Facebook, and update a status on my current condition and asked if anyone could help. I felt so helpless, I almost started crying, but no, I had to be strong.

I took a short nap, sitting down, because I had to kill time. Right after I woke up, my uncle had arranged for a guy to lend us 200 ringets. I got the money, and I finally could buy a little more food. After 7 more excruciating hours ( sorry for being so very vague, it's just that it's all foggy memories now) we reach our gates, when a Mallu aunty, hearing out our sobstory, buys us food and some water. There again, someone saves us.

I sit in the flight bound to Cochin, "Ayyyshaaa, Fathimaaa, avide irrikedi" ( Aysha, Fathima sit there!!); my mother toungue floats around the whole airbus. I smile a little, I'm finally home. I didn't know what happened to that wallet, maybe it's still there, maybe someone who needed it really bad got it, maybe... aaah, let's just forget that. I say a little prayer to God, thanking him for giving my courage to go through this tirade, and also for that security guard, if it weren't for him. I do not know what I would be. 

Super Heroes Of Today.

I sit here, listening to Save The World by Swedish House Mafia. It's a nice song, isn't it? Mental images of Superheroes come into my mind. I've been obsessed with Superheroes lately. Not only because we hosted a super hero themed farewell for the 12th graders in the hostel. 

Lately there have been a few superheroes that I have stumbled across, certain people who have left me thanking God there's still humanity here. Call them angels, superheroes, saviors, but these people were the ones who have hearts bigger than their bank accounts. You're going to read 3 anecdotes, two which happened to me, one to my sister.

First One: I was in Chandigarh, visiting a Hindu temple. It was amazing, the majesty of those Gods and the devotion of the people. They sufficed for each other, the devotion credited to the Gods' mightiness and the vice versa. There was this one man, who had got my attention even before I took off my shoes at the entrance. He was lean, lanky and had hair so white that it looked very holy for some odd reason. After praying, we collect something called "prasad" a kind of halwa that we get which have been blessed by the pandits. I got my share of it, and I quickly gobbled up the wholesomeness and richness of the ghee. But this one man, he took his and put it in a bag. I noticed that, but didn't waste much thought on it. We came out of the temple and headed to the car. Some invisible force, compelled me to turn back, that's when I saw it. 

He walked to the other side of the street and took out the prasad from the bag and gave it to a row of hungry homeless children that eagerly waited for him. They thrust they hands out and looked up at this angel. I had never seen God in action before, but I saw it, and right in front of the temple. I could not possibly imagine what the kids saw him as, maybe they saw him as The Face Of God, because maybe he was. I can't possibly express my respect for this man. I do not know his name, I do not know where he is from, but I do know, he is an angel. 

To be continued...