“At one magical instant in your early childhood, the page of a book—that string of confused, alien ciphers—shivered into meaning. Words spoke to you, gave up their secrets; at that moment, whole universes opened. You became, irrevocably, a reader.” –Alberto Manguel

Random Posts

Monday, January 19, 2015

So You Give A Fuck, Huh?

Hey.. Peeps.. :) Out of people you know, how many of them do you think care for what you feel like or how they make you feel like? No one, may be one, I don’t know, can’t say, or absolutely no one to count on that –is that what you are gonna answer?

How many times you think you give a fuck when you have all the rights not to. I am never tired of saying that people are so much to know about and learn from. Sometimes humanity is such, that you care more than they deserve or more than anybody on this Earth will ever care for them and you don’t even expect anything in return. But you care and hate the fact that you can’t help it.

It becomes your personality and sorta habit to wish you were selfish but deep down you know you can’t and trying for it is even worse. Wait, it’s a very good reason to celebrate you are not. Why we can’t be just happy for what we are blessed with. Is carrying a sack of sorrow and odd feelings a necessity for humans to spend life? How much we multiply and complicate things when we imagine of a problem, isn't it?

Every second person I know has some problems, worries, pain, bad experiences –but that’s even, that’s how we live and grow. If we can’t move on, we can’t live. We die multiple deaths when we don’t move on. Am not the person to die that way, I don’t wanna die in installments. I wanna die warm in bed. Why we forget and need a reminder that there are countless people who imagine a life like us. 

There’s always a story behind everyone’s present. I respect people –their beliefs, habits, reasons, priorities, perceptions, fears, weakness, agony, joy, pain, jealousy, insecurity, love, hatred, mistakes, failed attempts, pleasure, dreams, scars, fights, anger, irritation, frustration and what not. I love people the way they are and who don’t try to be the one they are not. How much we are fond of originality, right? We die for that.

I don’t understand, if people want to be understood –why they don’t attempt to understand others. Why they don’t understand that keeping things mutual and balanced equation is necessity of every relationship? I wish; things were not that complicated to make people understand that we have been offered multiple reasons to feel blessed and to make others feel blessed. 

It bothers me, and I do give a fuck –for every decaying organic matter to see in pain, despair and being hurt. I feel bad for every sight of pain, hunger, misunderstanding, anger, other misfortune. As I said in previous posts –we are one and world is extension of ourselves. How can anybody do any bad to their own self? World could have been a better place if we think before we say and do things. Think! Signing out.. may God bless y’all.. :)    

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Pimple Or Something Like That

Hey.. Peeps.. :) So this post is for IndiBlogger’s #GarnierPureActive contest. I have never been part of contests. Commercializing writing was never my idea. But sometimes commercializing is meant to reach maximum number of people or I must say readers. So the contest is writing about the pimples. Well, I donno much in perfect detail. But usually it occurs to me when I have some event next day. I mean, I plan for the event and then bam –you wake up in the morning of the event and you scream damn, looking into the mirror. 

I am not so fond of dressing up or getting ready with matching stuffs, I like simple get up and for me fashion is comfort. Comfort is confidence and confidence is never out of fashion and has always been my style statement. Pimple is everyone’s nightmare come true and always comes with a mini heart attack. So every time there’s one, there’s remedy and curse.  Time’s a good remedy but unsatisfactory one. It certainly shakes off the confidence. I am comfortable in my own skin though but then, pimples are enough to shake it off. 

I don’t hide it, it’s so natural. I am irrevocably in love with everything that is natural. So, it’s ok. Out of hundreds of photographs in which you look great, it’s quite a fair deal to look a little messed up and flawed in a few. Certainly the pose posture changes, but when you’ve got crazy friends you can’t escape. So yeah, there are a couple of pics I have that are not so great and reveal that pimples scared me too.

It’s so human to react to changes, pimples are just small ones. But I just wanna mention a statement before I wind up. “I am blind, impress me now.” Signing out, may God bless y’all.. :) It has been great to be a part of IndiBlogger since 2011

Tuesday, January 6, 2015


“How relieving is it to expect being invisible rather being ignored. I guess every time they ignore you, they should tell you that you’re invisible. That hurts less, ain’t it? But then there is comfort in pain too. For all the scars you feel in your heart seems invisible, right? It’s like air, you feel it but can’t struggle enough to see. In the process of being invisible –I want my mistakes, wrong decisions, failed attempts and unsuccessful results to go invisible first. How important is it to hide things, people don’t like. Being invisible is being hidden right? I guess so, but what happens is exact opposite –all your mistakes, wrong decisions, failed attempts and unsuccessful results comes visible in bright light first and all your hurt, pain, agony, and suicidal blues goes invisible and stabs like north wind. I guess; if I have to make a list of ironies of life –one life will be quite a less span. I would require multiple lifetimes and for that I have to die multiple times.”

Dear hush little baby;
don’t hide under the bed,
turn on the lights;
crawl out instead.

Don’t jump off the cliff;

or slit your nerve,
turn down the razor;
for the happiness you deserve.

Look at your wrist;

all the scars that align,
will fade away in time;
honey, do not resign.

You wish to be invisible;

for every time you’re ignored,
with no source to entertain;
feel like dying of being bored.

Lost track to the time;

and you long for the snug,
absence was a beautiful thing to feel;
no count of the wound it dug.

Scars on your heart;

lies unexplored and unknown,
the made up laughter;
brings pain when you’re alone.

Skip your plans to hang;

or pull the trigger,
don’t surrender to the fire;
or walk into the river.

For the pain that is invisible;

has lost count of the hurt,
has become a habit now;
of the attempt to dissolve in dirt.


P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

P.P.S. Work Of Fiction!