On the 366th day.

To the 366th day of 2012,

you're the only gap, the only thin line between what happened in the last 8760 hours, and what will happen in the next 8760 hours. You're the only manifestation of cognizance and expectation, now. You're the only source of remembering myself from yesterday and waiting for myself, tomorrow. You overwhelm me, a little. You overwhelm me because you're the only day of the year that makes me feel forgetful, inevitably; every year. I struggle to remember the little details that never seemed little enough at the time of being, and yet they flutter away to a very forgotten space of my consciousness today. The only difference is perhaps... that usually, I come around to remembering. Except, this year; I don't.

Apart from the obvious, this year feels like the kind I'd want to forget with coercion, and yet remember with all my heart and soul. This year started with a note of the perfect new year, however the 'perfect' did hit its ocean bed, not just once, but many a times. But then again, this year reached it's peaks too. This year pushed me just a little more to realize myself a little more, this year made me lose out on people and eventually find them by the end of it. They weren't lost, after all. Close enough, but not enough.
This year bought in people; oh yes, there were new faces. Blessed be the coincidence (or not),  but those faces were needed terribly in my hour count. Thank you, for walking in.

I wouldn't want to be unfair. Every year has its best hair days too, so did this one. This year's been one of the biggest milestones to achieving what I'd set out for; this year was me at my headstrong best. This year had me wandering, and yet not being lost. This year had me lost, and yet willing to wander some more. I don't want to mention each and every memory this time, like I usually do every year; simply because a certain primary element of those memories was missing most of the year. But then again, maybe next year's new year entourage post will have me quoting more memories than ever. But what matters is the feeling I have within me, right now. This year has tested me. It's seen me at my fragile best, it's seen me at my strongest. Things fell apart this year; I walked on to newer things, this year.

So there, 2012. On the 366th day of you, this is me still smiling for you. You had to happen. You needed to happen. You needed to happen just so I realized a few; very few but indispensable epiphanies that were knocking on my door, for a year now. You had to happen. You just had to.

Happy new year, World.


-Nil.

Thank you for not making sense.

A pandemonium inside your bony skull and within your heart that's the size of your mere fist can some times, absolutely paralyze you and hold you still in the middle of a hot, working and busy day. The kind of day when even your subconscious mind should ideally turn dumb, deaf and blind; to ensure no manifestation of mindful disasters. Mindful, mind you; not mindless. 

Such a pandemonium usually means a lot of noise which only gets louder once you plug in your earphones, and every song almost sounds satiric, mocking to your misunderstood misery. 

But say thank you, for not making sense. After every file of obviousness that's been neatly stacked into your mind, and every little box tightly packed away into quiet corners of that coffer throbbing inside your chest.. after such achieved order, we often trash away the not so obvious which wasn't highlighted with a neon marker in the rationality of your mind or consideration of your heart. But often, those little eightysixed details end up actually being the full stops to years worth of bemusement. 

What happens when all those file are scattered on the floors of your mind which is used to being in an apple -pie order? What happens when all those little boxes are blown off their lids and all the four walls fall apart with everything inside meanders out?

Beautiful happens. 

Because all of a sudden, every orderly detail stands next to the ones that are not. And like trifling chipped ends of blue tiles, you connect the dots you thought that were already connected, only to form a completely new pattern, and you witness the same story you thought was over; from the same pair of eyes, except this time, with a sensible mind. 

Yes, I said sensible mind. For in all the chaos of nonsensical shenanigans in your head, all they did was form a nebula of affairs; from your mind, and from your heart. 

It gave you a chance to make sense, once again. 

- A much tranced out,
Nil. 

See You Soon.

"But don't answer that In a bullet-prove vest, 
With the windows all closed I'll be doing my best and I'll see you soon."

It's been a while, I've been a little aloof, and the fictions were dreamy too, yes. But perhaps University exams do that to you, or maybe it was my annual pre winters blue. But hey, I'm back now only to be gone again. Elaboration being; my end sem exams are done with and I have literally nothing to do for the next month and a half except dance in two big fat family weddings, read lots of books, go all out with jams and chill with my favourite human beings AND write some serious fiction. Which is fine, it's the one thought that I'd been binging on all this while that my exams were on. 
I was in Bombay, a week back. I'm in Calcutta now. I'll be in Delhi in four days. I'll be in Pune in about two weeks.
Needless to say, I'm going to be all over the place and as much as I promise writing like a lover all of December, I can't promise if they'll be typed beyond the pages of my big fat leather diary. Simply because the whole month of December is going to be so fly. But I'll try, for sure. Otherwise... Bonne chance with the Fiction/ Poetry OD in January!

But Calcutta has made me write some. Like always. It's the one place I've always been inspired to come up with some tale out of some crooked thought. I have a feeling this month of December is going to give me a lot to write for, it's a good feeling. It's been a while since I wrote my heart out, I miss that feeling of fulfilment when I am able to pen down exactly what's in my head and put it to paper. So here's hoping that feeling comes home soon, and here's a picture from today. 

Piyushsterr & Nilsterrr meet in another city. 

I don't feel like talking much today, so I think I'll get back to my book now. I'll try to be around, but if I'm not, see you soon. :)

-Much love,
Nil. 

Untitled, for once.

Have you ever had that one stretch of uncounted hours when your mind shuts off to all the sense in the world, and you find yourself in a boat; a boat, in the middle of your mind. You can see the walls of your mind but all they ring of being cold air. The seams of the white in your eye have a tinge of red, your throat is chocked but you're biting your lip as hard as you can to not cry. You're a strong girl, strong girls don't cry. That's not what the world said, no. That's what you told yourself.
The little lamp of white light next to you gives you no comfort. If at all, it reminds you every minute that there is not a single door present in the valves of your mind, there are only walls; which do not even listen. No matter how much you speak aloud, you'll just bite your lips harder when your words ring back to you.

You don't understand this. You don't understand this confinement, you don't understand your mind. And you know; this too, shall pass; though this one sure is doing everything it can to make you ridicule a hopeful belief, such.

You're a strong girl, though. You're not going to cry.
Tell yourself that, just one more time. 


-Nil

Ledz bee productive?

Too much socializing has happened over the past month, and now I'm panting for some breathing space and alone time. Which is perfect timing because I have my end sem exams starting this 21st, and I really should be studying (now.)
I realized I like my course; as in the content in it. Obviously that doesn't stop me from harassing it with some serious bitch rants before every internals... but feeling calm and sober right now, I admit I quite like the stuff I'm studying. Specially Marxism (yep, I know you hate me for saying this, Vanta) and Functionalism.
So basically, I plan to utilize the next two weeks studying like a crazy person, re-writing my notes with a handwriting that any literate soul can comprehend, and the one the University wouldn't give a straight fail to.
This feeling is nice, it feels like the Boards all over again when all I had was a focus, I kept to myself and nothing could distract me. I miss that focus. Somewhere I know that this whole college rush has made me forget that feeling, I've forgotten how to study with passion and feel good about knowing my subject. And no, believe me, I'm not a nerd. I just like accomplishing priorities. So because of college and the zillion activities around it, I've been juggling with my priorities which is never a good idea, by the end of it I'm really irritated with myself and I snap at people. =/

Thus, the next two weeks will be spent sitting with mugs of black coffee, neatly highlighting important sections from the reader with my lovely neon highlighter, and perhaps and hopefully quite a bit of blogging during my breaks. I want to feel productive again, not just extra-curricular-wise/ socially but academically.
Mission starts tonight, people. Tonight.


-Nil. 

Still alive who you love.

Origin of this post: 

It began with a quiet hum, almost like a silent conversation in the back of my mind. The hum was low and melodious, though abrupt and began out of nowhere, not a single origin was in sight. As the hum grew vociferous, a beat caught up, and some sense began to unwind from its slumber. As soon as I began understanding today, tomorrow ran in; as I tried to understand tomorrow, day after tapped its foot impatiently. So I decided to unlearn what I realized, and I decided to listen hard to the music which made no sense to me, at all. Though that music felt like a part of my world, and even though the melody grew into something stronger, that faint hum of abruptness didn't leave me. For that hum, was my discovery. 

The hum became an epiphany, it became a dream that should have been seen before, it became a possession  it became a performance... it became a masterpiece.
The song was never staged, though. It resonated much too often along the veins of my body which helped more revelations travel, than fluids. A feeling was the perpetual invader of my existence, irrespective of which one, but there always lived a feeling.

And perhaps, that is why a faint hum eventually turned into a marched progression of a sense of strangeness, though a strangeness with a twisted smile, the one that looks beautiful on a face.
And while I live on along with this strangeness and a constant hum that feels abrupt in all its glorious continuum,  my existence will resonate nothing but blessedness, for the beauty of discovery is such that the unfamiliar becomes and acquaintance, crony, and some strange day I shall realize; it's become a part of me, and its existence is seen, felt, and heard every time I sit alone on a quiet afternoon, feelin' blue..

For that hum was my discovery,
and for me, that hum was you. 


-A happy feelin'
Nil. 

Slow down you crazy child.

And I'm finally home, ultimately crawled back to my favorite safe haven to tell you stories about the happenings around the life of yours truly.
HELLO, World! It's been a while we spoke, have I missed out on much? I've been getting all the lovely post updates from y'all, no worries, I shall bombard all of you over the week =)

Alright, so the past month has been QUICK alright. I can't even figure when it came and where is went, but it sure as hell was god darn exhausting and pretty much on the awesome side of the scale. We first had inhuman hours of theater practice for this huge ass competition, add in college freshers which was Pickles and my FIRST performance in college, and might I add, it was legendary; to say the least =D
And there were multiple chill scenes, one of the best being a random chill at Majnu Ka Tilla with the crazy buggers (if you haven't been, GO. Now. Shoooooo.) Oh, in the span of which Vanta, our beloved Saucy Jane managed to cook some dengue love within her. ^.^

Other than that, I had Durga Puja happiness all of last week. It's always the one time of the year when I feel like I'm on a sugar OD, it was awesome, a few people were missing, but hey, you can't have the cake and eat it too.
 (Or can you?... TA DA DA DAAAAAA!) OK, sorry. Nobody except my Nerd Boy gets the joke :*
 But yep. Pujo was super chilled out as always, and the crown was the Ashtami Aarti, Dhunochi naach (Go GOOGLE, people with a frown.) Yep, that's me being badass with the dhuno ------->
That was the highest point of Pujo, the crazy beats of the dhaki and us lost, completely in some other zone, dancing away to glory.
MAN. What a feeling.

And for all of you who haven't been lucky this year to see how gorgeous the idols looked, here's one picture for y'all. Mind you, this one's from Pishki's album, so ladies and gentlemen, Piyush Mukherjee Photography!

Beautiful, innit? =)

And now, all that another year's Pujo has come to an end and all the craziness is over, I have to face the music. Internals coming up this week and I do not know the first word of my readings.
So hey, good times ahead :|
Anyhoo, that's all for now readers. I shall now go, grumble for a bit and finally pull my imaginary socks up and get crackiiiin' with some Sociology of India.
Until then, enjoy the quiet winter chills that have began, finally. Cooooold evenings with coffee, sweaters and mufflers, coming right up :D

Good night, World.
Much lovin'
-Nil. 

I have a lot to say.

Greetings, World. 
This is one of the I Have A Lot To Say series. I wouldn't call this post completely fictitious, it's a...different style of writing that I attempted, to free my head of certain epiphanies and visions that were rather vociferous. This post was inspired by a random photo of a lazy cat that came and cuddled next to my foot and I clicked a picture of. Just like the other post of this series, the following is somewhat a cornucopia of strings of thoughts, that came in one after the other while I was in the strangest mood, and I never stopped. It does not follow any order, nor do the tenses. It may not make sense, due to the drastic transitions of odd imagery. But it's raw and unedited.
That should be intriguing enough.

______________________________________________________________________

The lazy cat looked like she knew what she was doing. There was not a hint of abashment or fear as she kept slumping her hilt on a new spot every time the bedeviled waiter shooed her away, making strange noises. At another corner of the world, a boy sat down ridiculing how people phrase regions of the world as 'corners' when none actually exist, when there isn't a literal end to the world, and how in reality, we're all naive early men within who comfort themselves with ancient, impractical thesis. At that very moment, a stand up comedian in your home town makes a cat's purr the butt of his pun and a blink later, the lazy cat stirs next to your foot. While you distract yourself from the utterly boring conversation the lady ahead has to offer, you look down and the cat looks up. And right at that very second, the stand up comedian forgets his punch line.

A gypsy woman recites her burglary around the world to a six year old boy, while her scarf hides the source of her dreamy voice. A caravan stops eight stops early to pick her up and away it went, puffing smoke from its choking rear. 

Mars decided to shine a brighter blood red, and that simple celestial decision made an old man very happy. He smiled a weak smile that peeped brighter from behind his half moon spectacles.. He particularly missed his dead wife, tonight. 

While such preoccupations worried the world, the cat purred next to my foot. And when the waiter came to shoo it off yet again, it picked it's hind up and settled on the foot of another distracted conversationalist. The lazy cat looked like she knew just what she was doing. Unlike me. 

-Nil.

 

Hate mail to blogger, almost?

I don't know if I love or hate the new look blogger's tried to pull off. I definitely hate the dashboard with a passion, but the draft area is a dream come true, too much love. So this post was going to be a hate mail to blogger cause I happen to be one of those loyal bloggers who come back here to crib about life, and so, I don't like it when my personal space is fiddled with. AND THEN they put up a stupid video they want us to go through just to figure out how this shit works. WELL, THANKS for the inconvenience which your Youtube video totally does not solve. I still feel orphaned. Old Blogger was classic. But yea okay, you bribed me well with the beautiful beautiful draft space. ugh.

So hello! Ideally this was supposed to be a fiction post, just to be on roll with the poem and everything. But no, I decided to head back home and rant about nothing. Joy, innit? (quick swigs of martinis will help you listen up, go ahead, I know you want it.) So the last ten days have been slightly horrible, the kind of horrible that's squished big black ants on your new green neon notebook. (The horror.) I was sick with fever high, and a behemothic assignment that was almost the death of me. Might I add, it's finally done with and if the professor does not give me ace grade then... well, I can't do shit, but I'll give her a dirty look. (Stop slowly clapping man, no dissing at me on my blog.)

I know I'm blabbering some seriously unnecessary BS, but I'm in such a mood. Today was just about OK. College was...a lot of classes. =|  (yea Guinz, I know that's 'your smilie'.) Yeah guys, my friends copyright on smilies. It's alright, we all have our...differences. Anyhoo, so I just got done with bugging Rob on skype for centuries together. Mind you, his face looks like a poster cause his internet sucks, not mine. (stop rolling your eyes, Rob.) So much for China being techno-big. Pffft. (Bored look, people.)

Tomorrow's going to be a busy day. I have to somehow be at two places at the same time. I have my submissions and Vanta's art exhibition at the same time. My presence at both places is indispensable. Okay, no. I'm just trying to feel important, but my presence at both places will be appreciated, nevertheless.

On a completely unrelated note, did you know if you lifted kangaroo's tail, it can't hop? And that heart attacks are more likely to happen on Mondays? :O So now that I really have nothing to talk about, I think I'll just go. I have no assignment or job for the night, so I'm just going to go be cool. B)

If you've honestly read through this yet another pointless rant of mine, you should really realize the kind of elation that loyal followers like you give me. Jesus bless yer souls, and I'll save your sanity with a sensible fiction coming up in the next post, my word! 

Good night, World.

-Nil. 

P.s- Oh my god, I just want to keep writing. This draft space is so beautifullllll.

P.p.s- I just wanted to write some more. kthnxbye.

P.p.p.s- I did it again. 

Dark Room.

Dark Room.

Let's play Dark Room,

where I try to find you,

with devoid cheating with the shadows,

or the Christmas lights that blink too often.

Let's play Dark Room,

let me find you. 

In this dark room of mine,

I find myself in the middle of a sunny day,

when the back of our shirts were wet,

and our throats parched,

from all the laughter that rang louder than the heat,

I find that day in my dark room, tonight. 

The corner of the bed,

oh, how innocent tonight? 

Useless air occupying space,

there aren't any green bottles standing drunk,

though I find your hiccups hanging in the air,

I find our drunk tales,

in my dark room, tonight. 

A poor blue shirt hangs on my chair,

since tonight you aren't complaining,

no complaints about its creaky legs to give away,

no complaints about a fall,

none tonight.

Though, I find the day you did,

I find that afternoon in my dark room. 

If walls could talk,

they'd be silent tonight, they'd weep instead.

They'd want to find every season,

every evening, and every dusk,

when you created a moment here,

in this room that's dark tonight,

Let's play Dark Room,

let me please find you. 

________________________________________________________________

Horrible after midnight mood swing. Kindly excuse the abruptness of such strange poetry but at ungodly hours  as such, the mind is usually not at command. Some times, all you need is just one moment. 

-Nil.

I'm the baffled king.

Greetings to my readers from India, Russia, France, Ukraine, United States, United Kingdom, Thailand, Malaysia, Spain, Mexico and Jordan! (Well, according to my Blogger Stats for the day anyway.)
And a big, frantic hand wave to everybody out there who's reading this up right now. =)

Life's been pretty darn hectic. 8:50 am classes everyday in the morning have coerced me to sleep every walking talking minute when I have the time, that is. I get free from college soonly, but then I have society practices which are making me run up the wall, too. In between all of that, add in hour long metro rides to and fro, chills with homies, some sulking and some thing or the other that crops up eventually.
OH, and let's not forget the DUSU elections which have resulted in mobs of angry (not so much), young college students yelling their lungs and throats out onto the road and into our ears (ew, too visual?) and shoving pamphlets with a zillion candidate names into our mouth (well almost anyway) with the most formal smiles. (If that's even possible?)

Mostly, I have pretty good days, and I'm spared the horror of days such as today which by all means and in all practicality sucked monkey balls. By the end of the day, I almost crawled back home on all of my fours. I can't remember, it's all blurry, that memory... (Okay, over doing it.)
One of the   The only high point of my day was the brown package from Flipkart that was waiting for me at home, nicely sitting on my bed. I had ordered Mitch Albom's latest; The Time Keeper.
Thus, we all know who's my date tonight.
Look at him, isn't he preeeeeeedy? =)

cool purple specs win win, eh?

In other news, I got my first two assignments for this semester. Which means I should really stop treating my books like pillows and get crackin'.  -,-

This week is going to be tragic and awesome. Don't ask me why. Long story. Not blog material. And muchings of drafts saved up to (hopefully) be published soon. 

On a completely unrelated note, I've been craving to go out for a photoshoot. I can't decide on a place/ theme. Any suggestions? 

So yes. I think I'm done ranting here about the trivialities of my immodestly significant life. I shall cut you lovelies some slack and catch you here next week, with some fiction, perhaps =)

Good night, my date and a bowl of cereals be waiting. 

Much loving and wishful sighs for Cheesecake,

Nil.

Fragile.

"Fragile." 
Your suitcase is going to have that sticker when you're at the airport, right? I want to be that sticker. I want to be a part of that suitcase that you packed from home, that has that book you kept asking me for but ended up buying instead, that has the orange shirt that has the cologne on from last night's farewell, that has the black bow tie I always wanted to see you in, and the little black diary of yours that's tucked away into a chain.

I want to be a part of that box of home that you're carrying to a new land. I want to sit next to you when you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for your flight to take off. You've been waiting too long to escape this place, haven't you? The ticket in your breast pocket was the one shot you needed, it turned out to be the one shot you finally got.
I want to be standing right there when you step out of the aircraft and see the new city for the first time, when your mind has no curfews and you're all set to run... I want to start running with you.
I want to be sitting across the table, when you have your first breakfast away from the round table with a red and white checkered table cloth back home.
I want to see you quietly put a letter you received a day back at the bed side drawer, I want to see you read it, again. I want to be the last full stop, on that letter.

I want to be each and every stamp on your passport. I want to be every single crinkled bus ticket that stays in the pockets of your jean. I want to count your change while you tip off the waiter at the cult cafes around the world, I want to share the binoculars you see through to see the horizon complementing your new terrace. I want to be the coin you toss in your first wishing well in Europe and I want to be the chop sticks you use so proficiently for Sushi.

I want to feel your pulse as each and every second becomes an experience.

However, I see the ends of your trousers flapping through the gust of air that comes in while you board the plane, and your suitcase goes away with you, while the Fragile sticker stays on with me.

-Nil.

(P.s- I promise and update post, next. I'll spare you the perpetual after-midnight- Fiction OD.)

Where do you go when you're lonely?

Do you walk on that one street with restaurants on the right, glowing a gorgeous warm yellow and buzzing with the clutter clatter of cutlery? 
Do you feel a little comforted when you see people from those big glass windows dining and toasting to company? 
Do you quickly hold on to the cap on your head, feeling the warmth of the wool and wait for it to breathe out cold air, just like you? Or do you blow out that very cold air into the chilly evening and pretend for it to be smoke, just so you're not alone, just so your mouth is in touch with something, if not words. 

Or do you switch on that old sitcom while it starts snowing outside and you're too scared to look at the white outside, to remember last winter..  
I've noticed how you never put out the Christmas cards on she shelf anymore. Don't they make you feel more at home? Don't they remind you of home? 

Where do you go when you're lonely? 
I've seen you get nervous even when your shadow follows.  
Do you go to the town's carnival, buy yourself cotton candy and eat it while your eyes descend to London's big eye and the time you took a tourist friend on it? Or the one time you had your first kiss in one of the cabins in it? 
Do you remember your old high school corridor? You never felt lonely when you walked on it, did you. 
More so, because you were too busy driving away her blues every morning. 
You often wonder about her.. She still wishes you went to college together, in the same city. Even though it's been so many years to those times.. But  yes, you both still do think of each other. You hope so.. 

I've seen you walk into one of the big games with a single ticket too, at times. I've seen you keep quiet while the whole stadium went wild. 
I've seen you sitting in movie theaters, half listening to the dialogues and half smiling over youthful shenanigans in the theaters back home, with her. 

Doesn't everything about this new city remind you of those times? 
Every street is different from the ones back home, and yet you can see the same things happen at every corner, at every cafe, every colorful door on the white walls. 
She loved colors, didn't she? She also loved long walks... long walks, with you.  

So where do you go when you're lonely?
Somewhere.. where you hope she follows you?
Haven't you both... just been following each other all this while, sweetheart?  
______________________________________________________________________________

The inspiration to this post :

So yeah, I promised some fiction... Sorry about the abstractness of this piece but aah well, Rem sent me this version of When Stars Go Blue, and I just wrote ahead with a smile. It's alright if you felt a little lost... This post was a little cuckoo in the head, and even more in the heart :) Much loving, Nil. 

Starry Starry Night

Hello.

Hadn't I promised a photo update some million years ago? Yeah, well there y'go. Last night, my Seeboo Sud came over for a sleepover and decided to (like always) entertain my retarded idea of drawing stars all over each other and hit photoshoot mood. (Yuz, I heart you prettyface.) In my defense, I wanted to experiment with tones and image processing and well, yeah. Now if you're done judging me, you may go right ahead and have a look at all the loco pictures that follow.

-finito-

Oh come on, it was a fun photoshoot. Deep, really deep inside, you know you want to do something like this when you're utterly bored and...well, crazy in general. In other news, college is crazy hectic but I'm loving it without no complaints! Meeting new people continues, and eating super cheap (and yummaayy) food continues just as well. Hopefully, the next post will make some more sense with a few fiction pieces that I've been working on. Yep, feeble light of intellectual engagement by yours truly is what you can hope for the coming week.
I must now take your leave and indulge in some music and quick fiction. Or, I might just go watch Sherlock. (again.) So yes, toodles! Have a good week, and come back for the weekend to read some fiction here, y'all =)

-Love and all that,
Nil.

I don't know where I'm going, but I like the directiiiiion.

It's already been two weeks into college and I haven't had the time to breathe, no sirree! Which brings me to the heartiest apologies for abandoning this cyber rant machine for so long, but honestly, I feel like a ninja- what, with so many things going in and around college. I feel like a ninja to have actually coped up with it, after 3 months of literally doing nothing.

So yes, for most of you who are curious to know (or so I'd like to think, anyway), college is GOOD. It's intense, I absolutely love my papers and the profs are notches higher than brilliant. The (literally) beautiful part about my class is, I can be as politically incorrect as I wish, and nobody minds! Every class is like an open debate with no rules as such and it's a breather from how school used to be. Kids in my class are pretty smart. I've made quite a few friends, yes. I'm hoping few of them go a long way, they're chiller people =) Classes get cancelled often, and "perks of North Campus" is an understatement in that context. The kind of unadulterated joy you feel when the professor cancels out on class is just... happiness!
Classes/No classes followed by chills at the cafes only make life better, not to mention the student considered prices in the restaurants only make you want to run around wearing a cape reading "I ♥ NorthCampus".


The past week has been mostly auditions for various societies. And might I mention, I made it to Aria, the 
Western Music Society of my college =) Next up, trials for the much talked-about DramSoc, Ibtida. 
Next week's going to be slightly crazy, again. But I'm hoping by the end of it, I'm going to be settled on the societies I want to join. 


The highlight of the week has been a visit to my favoritestestest bakery with college friends when a class got cancelled. Now see, the place was built so people like us could taste love. I exaggerate not, two of my bros and I can take a blood oath on Elma's Red Velvet Cake. (Vanta, Guina.. if you're reading this) :*

Photo Credits: Tara :)

Oh sure, I dint mention right? Yep, got some color to jazz up ze hair a litttuul bit, and crazy specs were only a necessity. =D  (Stop judging me, okay? You can't do this shit when you're 80.)
SO YES. 
College has well begun, and it's been good to me, so far. Life only promises to get crazier, so hey we'll take it as it comes and yabba dabba doo into the sunset in your pink rickety mustang!


Fill me in with emails and everything on how goes it with y'all?
Are the 12th graders slogging it out? You work-o-holics still on double shifts? Mommies going crazy? Kids stomping on mud?
Do tell! 


-Red hair and Purple Spectacle-ed,
Nil =)

If irony were a hint, I'd be in trouble.

It's been a strange night, not a quiet one in particular, not a silent night. A usual night, with every prerequisite element of normalcy. Except an epiphany; 


If irony were a hint, I'd be in trouble. 


What do you do when a realization of sort awaits you, like a person walking quietly to your door and is about to knock; what do you do when that realization is something you'd want to be hit with later, in future, in good time and when you're a few more days older?
That realization's waiting outside, it's presence has been realized by you, for you can see the hovering shadow of its dense existence outside the door of your acceptance. 
You've had thousands of people nudge you, to think, to consider; some even spelled it out for you-- but you let it go. Why? Because the subject of that realization had dismissed its rationality. It's proof. It's...being.
And you let it go, you asked a valid fact to scoot away, so life would be easy and pleasant for the two of you, without troublesome shenanigans and you'd still be at that safe harbor, with nothing to risk, and everything gained. Almost, every thing gained.


Now, what do you do.....when the very subject of that realization nudges you to rewind and realize in the past, but doesn't ask you to alter the present and yet promises a future?


What do you do, when the only answer whispered through that door is simple; What is meant to be, will be...
While somebody, is waiting, beyond that door?

-Nil. 

18.

It's official now. If I kill somebody, I go to a proper jail and not the juvenile one.

Yes, I'm officially 18, ladies and gentlemen. I have so much to say about the birthday and the day after that.. starting from a midnight surprise by Vanta, Guina, Mitra, and Dasgupta to a poster on How to Shit, a silver ring (WISH LIST, check!!!!!), a BEATLES mug (!!!) and Vanta's card (:*). Not to mention Nair and Guina's dramatic shenanigans at buying me a dress, the ulterior motives of which were realized later. Nightstay with the girls followed a lunch with my retarded clan of lovely lunatics (very entertaining,mussay.) the next afternoon. After a foot long bill, we made our way to a fort where we well, flopped ourselves and chilled for a while over puns and whatnot.
All of that followed a trip back home, only to leave again with dad to get a new phone ^.^
After that started a nice warm evening dinner at home with three of my chudddy buds and family where Rob managed to startle me yet again (like every year pssshhh) with his present. It was the Flash tee shirt that Sheldon wears in TBBT, something that I wanted since forever but managed to forget about myself cause I thought it was impossible to get it :O Yah. Crazy how he manages such things every year, eh? :)
I got my first Nine West bag from Pishi and a gorgeous green (huge) bag from Debo Da for college. Oh and LOTS of chocolates. Like, lots. Willy Wonka's factory kind, yeah?
And the next day, my friends took me out clubbing for the first time! (the dress, remember?) Apparently, you're not 18 enough until and unless you go clubbing on the night itself =P I cant feel my feet, that's how much we danced. Shivi and Nair, both wrote me letters =') And Piyushsterrr recorded his version of Fix You and sent it to me as an 18th special. :')
Yeah, well. That was a long (LOOOOOOOONG) story cut short. Because in the span of 2 days, so much awesomeness has happened that it'll be slightly ridiculous if I described all of it right now.
And honestly, it'll kind of spoil it. What happens on an 18th, stays in the 18th ;)
I'm blessed, is all.

Year 18 came with a whole lot of revelations, too. Many of my bestest friends weren't around.. (Uhhuh, you know who you guys are.) but it was quite a birthday, nevertheless.
Year 18 has come with a certain expectation, a certain hope, a certain anxiety too, in the back of my head. And well, I'll take it as it comes. What's meant to be, will be.

To all of you who worked so hard despite me being a pessimistic douche the day before my birthday, THANK YOU, really. You guys make life in general worth it. It's been great, it's been bright, it's been perfect, it's been brighter than sunshine. Let the rain fall, I don't care. :)

18, be good to me, alright.

Snippets from the day :)

-Legal and legit,
Nil. :)

The right glass.

This post has been published by me as a part of IBL; the Battle of Blogs, sponsored by WriteupCafe.com. Join us at our official website and facebook page.www.indianbloggersleague.com
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_____________________________________________________

The right glass.

Since the past eighteen hours, all I can see in front of my eyes is a man turning away from the jail bars in front of me and walking away, and he’s been walking away the whole night, and I’ve been watching him leave.

*************************************************************************************************

Frenchmen are often celebrated for their impeccable taste in wine, and their sensitivity towards every shape and size of glasses that is made for every taste and brand of liquor. 
Well, Cyril Galtia was a sorry exception, however a perfectly happy one. He had the eyes, nose and nails of a Frenchman. But his body had a tan of the tropics and his soul thrived in a prideful summer house tucked away in Pali Hill, Mumbai; where the man fled to after a mid-life crisis that didn’t promise revelations of any worth.

Cyril Galtia was my husband.

Like most romances, ours was ordinary. And like most couples, we thought it was extraordinary. We lived in that very house in Pali Hill, a house that was a little too immodestly huge for the two of us, the limp gardener, and the cook with a fat bronze wedding ring.

For four people, we were a loud bunch. My husband and I were a little embarrassingly clamorous about our conversations and lord save the neighbours on the occasion of an argument. Our gardener was a pessimist who limped around the house more than the garden, muttering grunts about his Polio stricken childhood and his evil step mother. And our cook, well he was a potbellied jolly man who obsessed over the precision of the things around the house more than the spices in the cooker.

Often our friends would come over for drinks, and jokes about our marriage would fly around the lounge. About how in the world did a mid-life crisis stricken Frenchman fall in love with an Indian woman half his age, about how all an old lad like him needed was a coquette like me, and how I’d run away with all his money someday once his arms aren’t strong enough and his wrinkles older than the day before. It was controversy among his friends initially; eventually it was all in good humour. His parents were long dead, and he had a sister who was leading a blissful life of a hippie in New Delhi.

Cyril was a loud Indian man stuck in the body and with the surname of a Frenchman. He ate more spices than my stomach could ever hold and he licked every end of his fingers only after which would his meal be complete and would he be content. 

I remember this one particular night during one of our weekend get together, I saw Cyril sip on beer from a wine glass. I jibed at him in a friendly way about how the first and the last thing that was expected out of a man from Paris, such as himself, was to at least ensure the appropriate glass for his liquor, and his response came after a hiccup or two; “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
The response was apparently a revolutionary one for it was the butt of every punch line for the next few parties and it had everybody rolling in fits of laughter, except our poor cook perhaps who broke accidentally broke a china dish in anger and almost barked at Cyril about the specificity of everything in life, and how it was just as much of a sin to have liquor from the wrong glass as it was to encourage blasphemy. All our senses were a few drinks behind, so the cook was shouted at rudely and he scoot away into the kitchen, left alone to entertain his Obsessive Compulsive Disorder baggage! 

Perhaps it is because we had such an ordinary life that everything seems like a blur, and just one night comes to my mind when I think about Cyril. April 15^th, was it. It was another of those weekend parties at our house, and it was a particularly drunk night. Cyril was annoyed at the gardener all day for he had ruined the rug from Kashmir in the corner most room by leaving mud stains on it. Work wasn’t all that great either; he had lost a client to another agent.

It was about 8 in the evening when he asked me to get him a drink, to perk up his mood since the guests started coming in. I was a little agitated due to a heated argument we had earlier during the day (and so were the neighbours), so when the cook handed me Cyril’s glass of red wine, it almost slipped. Another stain would have made its way on another Kashmiri rug had I not grabbed the lower end of the glass firmly, I had thought; relieved.
I took Cyril’s drink to him and eventually, he slipped his fingers into mine. We walked around the lounge joining our friends in-between conversations and puns when I noticed a rather unusual guest; It was Mr.Bomfry from two blocks away who was a regular recipient of our chain email invites for the get-togethers, however he chose to never come and wasn’t quite a man in our grid. Cyril and I walked upto him and told him how kind it was for him to join us that evening and all he did was nod at us and the man went back to his sushi.


Other than that, the evening proceeded perfectly with Cyril sipping on beer from a wine glass for cheap thrills and I kept teasing him loudly yet again about how an inappropriate Frenchman like him shouldn’t be given any alcohol. So I didn’t find it too odd when Cyril vanished into our bedroom for over twenty minutes, however I did find it odd when I got a text from Cyril saying; "Bedrum, pliss”. He never misspelled words and most definitely hadn’t called me to the bedroom while the house was full of guests… nevertheless, I did find it rather romantic and I opened the bedroom door with a playful coquettish smile…

And that smile stayed, frozen.

Cyril lay staggered next to the bed, the right side of his head blood read and his left wrist slit with strange words scratched with glass on his still arm which held the broken end of a wine glass. 

Cyril was dead.

Eventually a friend walked in and found me sitting next to the dead body with cold eyes and the broken glass in my hand. Eventually, everybody found us.
The police was called, and suddenly from humorous jokes, I actually became the coquettish woman half his age who wanted to kill him and run away with his money. The broken end of the glass that was the source of the strange scribbles on his arm had strong finger prints of mine, only nobody knew that was because the glass had almost slipped from my hand earlier in the evening. And the scribbles only accentuated the allegations of my so-called deranged doing;

“YOO MUST DRINK FROM D RITE GLASS. BEER NOT FROM THIN GLASS CYRIL”

I had nothing to say. I was accused of being the obsessive wife who nagged about his habits, I was called a cheap money hungry woman who ran behind a man double her age for ulterior motives, apparently I had a lover tucked away somewhere, I was supposedly mentally sick with OCD… and all such allegations were crafted by our “friends” who got drunk every weekend at our house.

The police found my gold chain broken and lying a few meters away from Cyril’s body with hints of blood, they found a single earring and a fat ring which were found in the periphery of the body. 

The fingerprints were mine, the scratches on his arms were my words, only misspelled. And my shocked silence that went on for days didn’t help. I was deaf and dumb throughout my trial, I hadn’t spoken a word. I was sentenced to be locked away in jail for 13 years and I hadn’t spoken a word.

I hadn’t spoken a word until yesterday when my cook came to drop my tiffin and I noticed his ring finger holding the jail bars… it had a fair band of bare skin around a tanned hand, and I realized his fat bronze ring was gone. Only then did I remember the police finding a fat bronze ring from the room, that lay very close to Cyril’s dead body. When he saw me staring at his finger in shock while realization finally hit me, he said; 

“Cyril should have used the right glass, madam.”

And he turned around and walked away.

________________________________________________________________________

-Nil. 

What you want to hear, what I want to say.

HELLO!

Just how have y'all readers been? Yes, it's been a while. The month of June has been an erratic sketch of ridges and troughs, but we shall ALL take a moment now and thank it for the perfect end, yes? 

After much ado, life is finally, finally good. I made it to one of the best colleges in Delhi University (!!!) and college starts in a month. Orientation Day is on 20th July, oh and might I mention I'm on my toes.

I'M SO EXCITED IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY :D 

The professors are absolute sweethearts and the kids are different shades of fun and intellect. I absolutely LOVE the college campus! University Feeeeel at its BEST. The colleges is a typical old school, red bricked building (♥) with loooong corridors with ample sunshine and pretty green fields here and there. I'm yet to see the library, shall do on orientation day =)  

Travelling is going to be well, tiring. But it's worth it, so hey. What the hell. 

Anyhoo, in latest news- It was ze Beedles's birthday on 28th. So after screwing up her dress, ensuring she lost her pair of brand new contacts and hogging on a strange yummaayy mix of Chinese and South Indian we figured we'd push off for home when the sentimental Jack in us kicked. You see the education hungry was to run away to Bombay today to become a hot shot lawyer and jazz. So we figured one last sleepover was due, and thus sleepover we did. The night was spent lying around on the couch calling old stories at each other and munching on crackles with pickles (*keyboard stops working with all the drool on it.) 

Some fart jokes and a few heart-to-hearts pretty much sums up the night. 

I'm going to miss you, dipshit. AND THAT PHOTOGRAPH MUST BE PINNED TO YOUR PINBOARD AT ALL TIMES. Okay? OKAY? Yeah, okay. 

In other news, I be going for a trip! To the hills with 3 of my favoritestestest homez. Should be fun, but hey, I'm not saying nothing till it actually happens. So yes, shushh about the excitement. (*silently screams like a happy little girl)

Other than that, I'm figuring ways of ditching out of a dance show. I want some time off from absolutely everything and chill out some. These 20 days before college starts must be spent judiciously doing everything awesome. OH AND BIRTHDAY MONTH IS ALMOST HERE. :O I have no clue if I'm doing anything or not but ehh. Must figure out soon :|

And ofcourse, Piyushsterrr going on about some surprise he has in mind for ze birthday does not help my excitement levels ^.^  (If you're reading this Pickles, TELL ME ALREADY.) Oh, and don't go? Please? Thanks.

Moving on, fill me in with what's up with y'all? How's the weather at your end? (small talk. FAIL.) How's everything been? Who died? Who lives? Oh, and apologies to have not been around much and throwing in my comments. The college scene had the best of me the past month. But I shall stalk you guys right up and catch up. Mails to be answered by the weekend, promise :)

I'M GOING TO FRIKKIN COLLEGE YOU GUYS.

Oh, and random photo update-

Yes, my room happens to be very pretty.

retard picture 9384948. Pickes clicked!

Yeah, okay. I'll go now =) 

Muchings of lovin'

-Nil.

P.s- Fiction, soon enough. Yes, very very very soon!

Somewhere back in time.

It was that one moment when we sat under what Keats would call a bower quiet. Alive and yet so still midst the canopy of sunlight that turned warm; welcoming in a lucid moment that was a part of a picture, that was meant to be. You and I, while we sat in stillness; the earth rotated just fine along with time that was fluid out and around that moment we were captured in. I let lose, my head fell back and there was not a single leaf I could trace above that blocked the sky and separated us from the gigantic blue. The layer of green became a gorgeous portrait of blissful in-distinctiveness. Every sharp end became an unfocused circle, and the bokeh played a game of changing colors and depth... yes, it was conjuring in a world where a wizard is a myth and sorcery a hoax.
The frenzy my eyelashes caught when I looked at your face was a loud heartbeat that I didn't dare skip; that heartbeat echoes and thuds within my memory, still. You were a beautiful boy with a hue of sepia around your silhouette, and browner eyes that tasted black chocolate every time they blinked.

...then slowly and gracefully, I let in a familiar emotion from a different time residing in a forbidden memory. 
An emotion that was meant to be. 
An emotion that was that one day, which was that one moment, somewhere back in time. 

-Nil. 

BOO, stupid MOO.

I have always, always wanted to drive an auto. As in zoom away like a boss in full speed, y'know? Wear those cheap golden framed aviators with a wide ass grin and scoot around the city. And fixing the meter would give me cheap thrills of another kind altogether, I can literally feel it :D
An auto version of Crazy Taxi is what I have in mind (a slightly deranged version, actually) but you get the feel of it, right?  No? Not at all? Well, I'm just too cool to be understood so yeah, whatever.
Uhhuh, yah. That's right, I'm giving you attitude -,-

Obviously you've done the math by now and figured I'm in a sliiightly random mood. And no, it's not sugar. It's probably all the Pepsi binge drinking I've been doing. (Or as Zeebster puts it, high on Oxygen, yes.)
Anyway, so imagine this- I'm in my room, with pretty dim warm fairy lights, a good mood, absolutely killer playlist calling out to me and then the speakers decide to not work. Now, imagine one of those exasperated looking memes you find on the internet going "FFFUUUUUUUUUUU". Yes, that's how gawwjuz I look right now.
OH and Gawjuz reminds me- got a pre birthday gift from Chiki today. Insanely pretty freakishly long feather earrings. I'm slightly obsessed with how loud and downright crazy they look, so excuse me while I go shove a camera into my face and super glue my index finger to the shiny silver click button. Which reminds me, I've always wanted to own a Polaroid camera. And might I also mention, the sound that a camera makes after every click gives me the cheeeaappest thrills. (Some times when I'm bored, I put the camera on Sports Mode and run around the house. But you weren't supposed to know that, no. )
I have a lot of cheap thrills. And pet peeves. Did you know?
Irrelevant. Everything about this post is so irrelevant :D

OH. It fiiiinally rained :') I had the Yabba Dabba Doo face for about a whole minute when I saw them rain gods being generous. And did you know a 75 year old person will have slept 23 years? I want to eat a lot of carrots and see if I actually turn orange. And for all of you who drive- the average person spends about two weeks waiting for a traffic light to change [Now you look like that meme from the internet :D ]
Did you know it's impossible to lick your elbow? Or that if anybody ever calls you a twit, they're actually calling you a pregnant goldfish? (and now you'll imagine one- go ahead)
Oh, and 75% of the general population will try to lick their elbows after having read this. #Fact
TURTLES CAN BREATHE THROUGH THEIR BUTTS.

Must.Stop.Now.
I've just been having consecutive good days, OKAY? sheesh, stop judging me. Pfffft. Go JUDGE COWS. They're weird as fuck. Big. White. And they always chew. And they MOO. Who moos? I mean why MOO? Say it out loud- MOO- it doesn't even make sense.
Stoooopid intimidating animals who can't be led downstairs once they're up.
MOO.

And if you're still reading this, you're obviously equally jobless (and a very cool person.) I'll get along with you just fine.

I'll go watch Youtube videos on the Hula and try to copy them. And air guitar to GnR (that's another secret-ish cheap thrill of mine that I encourage.)
Bye you guys.

Did you know-- ?

Ok, just bye.
-Nil.

Joyous June, Day 2!

Greetings and yells to the world!
The following post is for Kanika's blog month's marathon Joyous June! Since she's been one helluva enthusiast with absolutely gorgeous inspirations all of February and now June, us fellow bloggers have no highway but to get inspired. So here's the inspiration followed by my post on it :)

You know that feeling when you've been sleeping for a really long time encouraging a fantastic dream along with; when you suddenly wake up and you don't quite really remember the dream but that latent feeling of happiness or a buzz of sort stays within you? You run your errands and function like a human being daily, however it feels like a haze, a timid scurry; when reality in general feels uncannily fictitious just cause you're so disoriented. The voices around you make you feel like a radio head, and the images ahead look filtered, with tints of photoshopped colors.

Midst scattered coteries, your center of gravity feels zeroed down to the 'V' your feet form. Contentious arguments, vociferous at them- reach your ear lobes which have agreed to selective hearing, only. Thus, even little remarks create reverberation around your understanding. You're as aware as a rabbit's right ear; perked up, however when you try and focus on an object/person/sound- you feel high and vulnerable. You lose your balance, while perfectly sober and well fed.

And then, you leave. To resume that dream that unconsciousness would find.
__________________________________________________________________

Much loving,
Nil. :) 

Enter like a Tornado, leave like a Tsunami.

That's what I used to say about my Econ teacher; enters like a tornado, and leaves like a tsunami. The econ teacher who pretty much picked on me every time anything in the world went wrong (or she just realized what a waste of space she was) So now I'd like to go shove up my much prided 96 on her face.
(*Does the IGot96InEconomicsBitchDance.)
#DrumRolls
Yes, ladies and gentlemen. The CBSE Board results be out, and good ole Nil's managed a 94%  HELLS YES.

So although I'm still considering if the marks on the mark sheet are mine or not, I'm pretty crazy happy and yeah well. Just pretty muchings crazy happy, is what I am!
Though the happiness was a littttul choked when the newspapers said the cut-offs were to rise this year
 (a-gain.), nevertheless, all that is for later. The point is, I'm slightly "Freddie Mercury Posed" yet again ...and I'm officially, offficially OUT of school. That's a stupid thing to say after the farewell happened in January and everything, yah. I know. But fact be fact, it never hit me. Nor has it now, actually. But somewhat of a closure came with the mark sheet.

And now, comes college. (*crazy lady scream in ze background.)
Running around for forms, getting twenty passport size photographs, filling forms with black gel pen, running back to submit them applications before the last date, entrance exams, last year cut offs (peeing in my pants), current year cut offs (peeing in my pants Part II), long lines before the admission counters (pretend to faint, works all the time), and yada yada bada bleh! ----> The little rat race has begun, folks! Carry some Gatorade in your bags dear applicants, cause June and long college admission lines don't go together. At all.

So obviously having said that, you must also know that the process has merely begun and I'm already tired of the...well, hard work. (HONESTLY NOW, Education wasn't supposed to be sucha pricey luxury okay. KIDS ARE SUPPOSED TO GET INTO COLLEGE. COLLEGES ARE SUPPOSED TO TAKE KIDS. SIMPLE.)
Yes, ignoring my sudden moment of absolute hyperventilation, the point is that I'm going to be running around like a roadrunner with a purple face all around the place just so as to ensure myself a little more education, which is obviously not the priorities of most colleges anymore because all they do is cut kids for not getting a .25 or .09% more. (REALLY PEOPLE, HEAR YOUR SELVES WILL YAH?) :O

So yes, I'm utterly jobless (well, I should be preparing for an entrance but oh well, pointless shenanigans are just so much better. You feel me brodah/sistah?) and in this enlightening process of being jobless I'm going to try and figure out a college which might be having a good day and decides to take good kids from the general quota.

And now, I shall go watch a movie as it's 3:15am and that's just what normal people do at this hour. MIB III in 3D tomorrow. YAYAYAAYAYAYAYAY.
OkBye.

-Nil. :D


P.s- A big THANK YOU to Anjali for the Versatile Blog Award! So much niceness you are! =)

Mind bereft.

You know how people talk about how the soul leaves the body after death... Yeah, what happens when the mind leaves the body while alive and breathing? When motor skills resign to an abominable lull of procrastination. When the fingers mull over the same object not realizing it's sharp cuts, it's bald surface, it's porous texture, its purpose. When your dry lips don't remember the tongue, when the throb in your head isn't pain, anymore. When there's a miasma of  botheration and a nagging solution in the back of your mind, but alas the mind has left with the aircraft in your subconscious sense and the solution is tightly pressed with harsh hands around its mouth.

You understand it's an ephemeral feeling, but the arrogant speed of time makes you jittery and insecure. You've stopped acting, and every sense of reason is mating with every slightest hint of emotion. While your vision was capable of registering every color in erstwhile times, what you see now is a filter of sepia.
There aren't watches around you, and yet you hear a rather loud ticking. Rude and loud noise of aircrafts taking off somewhere very much around your being scream within your hearing range.
A decision of sort is awaited, and it humors you that you don't know what the question is; that is to be decided upon and yet, you know the answer.

Yeah, what does indeed happen when the mind leaves the body while alive and breathing? 
When you know your mind is in that aircraft in front of you, but your heart wouldn't let you take a step towards it ; When your mind takes off with that aircraft and you've finally, finally lost your mind.

(Don't ask why, just don't. Certain pictures don't leave you with an option but to write. And circumstances help, if not anything. )
-Nil.