And you know it

And you know it before  you see it

Yes,I am referrig to our typical Indian movies.Most INdian movies evovle around the concept of love at first sight.Almost in every movie we have a hero meeting the heroine in an unexpected scene and with the exchange of a glance they are in love.Excuse me?Do they even know each other?Have they any clue if the other is married?BUT [irrespective of all our doubts and queries] they fall in love,because that's what is expected,followed by a series of songs where the hero runs behind the heroine among the trees or you have the heroine destroying the sand castle built by the hero and then the hero chasing his love on the beach.Ofcourse all these scenes come to a sudden halt when the girl's family finds out about her love.And then we have to watch the problematic fmaily of the girls' going against the concept of accepting the hero.

99% of the movies will have the the girl's family portrayed as filthy rich and the hero from a lower income family.By then the rich dad has his daughter's marriage fixed to the son of his business partner which is again a politics ie, marriage for money or a smooth flow of business or perhaps a matter of prestige issue.The movie then is not to be expected much from as we all know that either the hero makes a dramatic entry on the day of the wedding or we have stunts with the heroine's finace.Not to mention the depresion following the state of fear where the hero loses hope of marrying the heroine ,by consuming liquor in large quantities to exhibit his masculanity and then barging into the then heroine's finance's house and claming for his love. ;)

If the movie doesn't take a twist of this kind then we have another case where the heroine's father sends men to kill his daughter's love(how inhumanely!!!)and then you have the daughter too suicidng eventually.Now all this happens if the concept is love at first sight.If not, then we have a hero who hires men to cause nuisance to the heroine on her way to college and the hero junping from nowhere into the scene to rescue her from the roadside romeos and impress her.So you have the girl impressed but she isn't in love with him.Shae says a thanks and walks away.BUt like every movie where falling in love has become a necessity, scenes are introduced to ensure they somehow fall for one another.ANd definetly,we have even another exclusive category of movies where the hero goes head over heels for the heroine in the first glance but the reluctant and least bothered heroine isn't really concernd about the hero's existence.Then follows a sequence of scenes where the hero makes desperate attempts to unravel the residential address of the heroine only to relaise at the end of the movie she stayed next door!!!!(so check out whose ur neighbour..lest shud you miss any hunks/chics residing in your next flat!)

Another category of sentimental romance movies arise from the ending where the hero doesn't end up with the heroine,leading to excessive exercise to the tear glands of audiences and therby attaining the name of "really touching movie" and a hit at the box office.Almost every movie follows the same pattern in some way or the other.just with an alteration in dialogue to outsmart audiences like us.

We have a lot too mnay problems with INdian movies considering the fact only obstacles faced by the hero and heroine before marriage is only shot and at the end of the movie they marry,credits roll up and the lights in the theatres are turned on:Movie Over.( "They lived happily ever after"knock! knock! problems arise after marrigae.whose there to shoot issues on that? ) And of course INdian movies don't have intimate scenes as such (not like i am keenly interetsd in watching them but I am pointing out a drawback in comparison in english movies) except for songs where the location is a pub and we have scanty clothed damsels moving their hips(which is not an intimate scene but considered politically inappropriate for the display to indian population).But now hindi movies do exhibit a lot of kissing scenes(leaving youngsters no scope to watch a movie in peace fearing the abrupt entry of an adult into the room since kissing is so casual-shot without prior warning to change channel)after the emergence of Emran HAshmi who set the trend in.South Indian movies still haven't progressed much in that category either.ONe kissing scene and that's the commotion for the movie to be rated as 18+.Yet not wanting to lag behind,the scenes are shown but mostly it is two shadows moving closer and then the vision is blurred (how disappointing! :P)
So now you know how every movie begins and ends.Next time you make plans to go for a movie,glance a thought at this article by a very keen observer of Indian movies as myself and spare the ticket+popcorn expenses for shopping!

Broken Promise

Broken BY the Broken Promise          

           ~ A sincere dedication to my pals - Ann & Asha  ~Soaked in tears of agony I tried to come in terms that I was once again left to fight alone.Broken by the broken promise I writhed in pain,buried by sorrow and mercilessly stabbed by the dagger of love.                          I sat all night                          Trying to think it right                           I knew it was wrong                          Yet wanted to think about it for long.Memories,like the fallen leaves of autumn awaiting the wind,were washed by the bitter tears gushing from my eyes as it were an immortal spring.Regret sprinkled upon reality as I battled to blur the visibilty of my question on the insignificant role I played in his life.Struggling to believe the delusion that I am fine,deliberate I was fooling myself,dejected by his words,I was compelled to conclude LOVE-AN ILLUSION.                         Wanted to forgive him through a kiss                         And make our life a bliss                         Yet somwhere deep down                        Acceptance had already been sown.Smile-a ruse I had to be constantly reminded of,his return-yet a hope I desperately clinged to,his voice-a signature tone of my life now kissed a silent death by the snowflakes of his silhouette,I let  a tear escape knowing that holding them back wouldn't aid in them vanishing.                       I would recite myself strong                       And drown again into thoughts                       Which instead I should have fought                      But cried again and proved myself wrong.Meaningless was my presence in his life,wrath feeling the zenith,soaring was my hatred but I tell youWHEN I SAID " I HATE YOU " I DIDN'T MEAN IT JUST LIKE HOW YOU DIDN'T MEAN WHEN  YOU MADE PROMISES. 

Quotes

Quotes -Disastrous fantasies of Romance-I
  Here I present A small set of my thoughts in the form of quotes.A pure and sincere dedication to my neighbour-cum-friend-cum sister,Mary Miranda- who inspired me to pen down my imagination.  

• A feeling of affection for someone,so rare,so strange and yet so mysterious-that somebody decided to name this unique feeling LOVE and not long ago had I realised without any question of suspicion that I had fallen a victim to this mystique.

 

• LOve and MOney are two-one must never rely on.They betray you when you most need them.

 

• Stumbling accidently upon something FORTUNATE is how I would describe our first meeting.

• Relationship is like a handful of sand,the more ur fists tighten easier does the sand slip away.

 

• If I were ever to repay you for the pain you caused me..This lifetime would have seemed INSUFFICIENT.

 

• It took her an entire life to realise"..And the prince and the princess lived happily everafter" was only a mere illusion in REALITY.

 

• Eventually I realised,I had been transformed into a PRISONER OF HIS LOVE.I accepted my captivity of his warmth around me with immense glory.

 

• I cry when I miss you because then I see your face in the reflection of my tears.

 

• Hell spat a thunderous ligthening that split us apart forever and I felt the shattered crystals of my life pricking me.The sky growled and roared like nature had borrowed my feelings.

 

• Never did I take my tear-flooded eyes that blurred my vision away from the spot you had disappeared, but continued waiting for you with beaming hope.

 

• Every time you hurt me,you hoped to heal me with a five letter word S-O-R-R-Y. Yet I said nothing but forced a smile in response hiding the piercing pain of bleeding heart.

 

• Tired of crying,so I try to hate you,so I may forget you-to let your charming face fade away,to let our dreams of "being together" die,to stab any thought that remind me of you,to smile because I know I am dying deep inside.

.

• Regret shadows me in the world of SINGLEDOM..

 

• He was born angelic, but ended his life the devilish way, continuing to haunt women by infecting innocent hearts pleading salvation.He has turned every life a victim of his blessed curse. And yet people continue to belive in L.O.V.E

 

• Beneath every layer of regret,lies my SECRET DESIRE to play the role of his heroine once again.

 

• When DESIRE dominated me,I gave up the temptation to admire you from a distance and so UNLOCKED the doors leading you into my life.

 

• Breaking into a fight and wearing the outraged mask of hatred -was my way to bury the burning desire to get you all for MYSELF.

 

• How could you balme me for your heartbreak,when I was only trying to make you realise the pain you gave me was much more worse?

 

• Blank beneath the title - "HOW TO HANDLE"  yet tagged with a warning label-"HANDLE WITH CARE" is what some passerby said was "LOVE".

 

• Desiring for something you don't deserve is what I concluded when you left me.

 

• I set aside my likes  for him

          I set aside my time   for him          I set aside my life    for him                          &          he set aside   "  ME  "  for someone else.  
     

Without you

I will forget..I promise to forget everything for you.The dreams we saw together,the moments we hsared,the secrets you whispered-anything and evrything.I will let it fade from my heart..like a forgotten fairy tale-for THE HERO OF MY INCOMPLETE LOVE STORY,I will forget evrything because that's all I can do for you.You wre the light of my life and my eyes can sense only darkness since you abandoned me,what for wa it ? ? I still don't know.
Every time you hurt me,you hoped to heal with a five letter word
"S-O-R-R-Y".Yet I said nothing but forced a smile in reply hiding the piercing pain of bleeding heart.the pain only getting unbearbale,the wound stays unhealed,memories like a stain continue to chase my life.Yet my love for you is still the same.Everything around me reminds me of you-of the days when I used to scribble your name everywhere,of the moments we shared-how much I value those priceless moments ,I fail to explain to you.
I shut my eyes and I see you talking to me,I fear that I may lose and each time I try to touch you,to feel you,you seem to move farther when I step closer.Yet my broken heart continues to beat for you.Tired of crying so I try to hate you,so I may forget you-to let your charming face fade away,to let our dreams of "being together"die,to stab any thought that reminds me of you,to smile because I know I am dying deep inside.But all my attepts failed and I feel like a failure before your ETERNAL LOVE for me.I try to conside everything as a bad dream or perhaps hope someday you would come upto me only to say " baby , it was only a joke , donchu still love me? "
Wonchu come?? I will wait.Wait till you come.Wait for your return.And I have been waiting since so many lives.The lonely shores are the witness.The stealthily blowing wind knows about it.The stars are the witness..and so are the lonely shores and now that I have revealed it to you..you too know about my longing to see you again..
Many Many Happy Returns of the Day Dedicating this work to Asad Siddique
There was a time when birthdays weren't known to me, a time when the bursting of balloons,flash of camera or the singing of the birthday song in chorus made me look around with bulging eyes till my lips turned into an unpleasant curve-a pout, followed by my loud cry. That, was my first birthday. 2nd birthday should have been similar because I don't recollect anything differently either.
With time passing, I realised , the singing chorus was a happy event unlike my belief of having concluded it was a mass yelling directed at me,camera flash was nothing to fear but a mirror that showed me cutting cake and opening gifts, and bursting of balloons happened only when someone squeezed or stepped on it.
Birthdays in the later years, was a long awaited event. The idea of being the centre of attention for the day excited me heavily. However, concentrating on the cakecutting and playing games made me impatient with my eyes stealthily glancing at the growing pile of gifts and flashy wrappers.
A time approached my mindset of 'awaiting' birthdays when teen years struck me with the fantasy of its own. Pangs of desire to be frozen to eternity in the youthful phase of life pricked me as my days of buying soaps and creams promising to replenish fairness and beauty filed my drawers.
As I write this, I see myself on the threshold of adulthood, a long journey of battle ahead awaits me, wanting to see how I would face the unexpected twists and turns of life. Birthdays will then be nothing but a day to shun away from the ritual of being enquired one's age. Gradually the uninvited guest will walk into my life -Oldage.


Memory would fade, days would drag, reltaionships would be a name, living - a pain. Sooner, there will come a time when my birthday will be known to none and then I will close my eyes to eternity celebrating my....

.........................................................re-BIRTH

That's mischievious me!

That's mischievious myself! 

  October 12th marks my 17th birthday and I hesitate to speak about my age.Ofcourse, no girl would like turning old.It is either the wish to remain in her ravishing and heart throbbing teen years or the want to be a kid again.Years have gone by and I plead to return to them.Those were the years I would call-a cocktail of innocence,mischief,play and so much more.Mischief ?? Did I say that ? Well,deduce the first 4 years where my memories were blurred and the next 4 years when I was in India where my parents were always stopped from hitting me by my saviours-grand parents,uncles,aunts or any adult for that matter.That makes it to 9 years of adventurous Tom and Jerry play with my mom.Why 9 years?The play has not come to a halt even now except for the new improvised version where the cane has lost its role in this drama.In those days, the moment I realise mom's temperature rising,(I bet it would blast the thermometer,)I look for various means to escape.Tuition?Dance class?Or is it drawing?No time to spare!Flee!!Mom rushes to the kitchen to take the cane which she carefully treasure beside the cabin just above the oven because she knows no matter how hard I try,I wouldn't reach there in an attempt to hide the cane in her absence.There is never a day when the cane is allowed to rest in the cozy place offered.The cane had been so overused that splinters stand from its end.At times my wicked mind wouldn't fail to give a thought on those splinters piercing my mum's fingers and she rushing in search of bandage rather than chase me.I may not be well in sports but at those  crucial moemts all I remember is wearing slippers as  a preparation to run and  flee at supersonic speed to vanish in a jiff to my neighbour's house who apparantly happens to be my aunt,seeking refuge.Sympathising this poor refugee,my aunt whom my mum believes is the source for my spoilt nature would comfort me and assure mom that I woudnt attempt on any more mischief.Wearing an outraged mask,my aunt would question me before my mum,"will you do that again?"I would stare at the transformation in her mood  and nod my head uttering a valueless "no" which is purely inaudible.Few months later,my aunt flew to her native place for her first delivery.When she returned,I went to meet her baby and her,but  was never comfortable at her place like before all because I wasn't willing to share the attention I recieved at her house long before,with her baby!!My visits to her house shrunk,gradually.Soon,I found a new place to hide.My very own sweet washroom!Dad had removed the lock of the other rooms fearing my little brother would lock himslef up and he didn't want to imagine what chaos that could create.I knew the other rooms wouldnt suffice my need because I wasn't strong enough to keep the door shut when mum tried to push it from the other side.However my new refuge offered none to cool my mum.So all I did was lock up myself in the washroom and wait for a few minutes or so till my mum chilled.And then I would open the door slightly giving space just enough for my two little eyes to peek through and when I sense the situation has calmed and the weather in the house is pleasant,I step out without leaving the door knob as a matter of precaution in case mum appeared at the battle field from nowhere.And then I would take  few steps further to spy on what she is doing.And heave a heavy sign of relief at the sight of her resting elsewhere after a series of failed attempts on hitting me.

Practical trauma

In a week,two days are alloted for practicals.As one enters lab,the rule states that the student must be euipped with a rough record which is amusingly any book that my hands feel at the spur of that moment and should be wearing labcoat.It also requires the submission of record of the recent practical class which I admit to never have submitted until the previous day of the exam.Just like me,there would be many others who run around at the last minute to all classes pleading for a labcoat.This very act proved our lose preparation towards practical classes.Unlike a few other students who were keen on letting the apparatus work, my interest was only at copying the observation table from them and presenting it before ma'am for her approval,simultaneously stealing the credit of having undergone successful practical hours.Always having considered practicals as a period devoted to getting loads-of-nothing-done, I was finally taken toll of,on the day of practical exam.
The procedure for practical exam wasn't much of an ordeal.All one had to do was draw a sheet from the stack of question papers and begin working on them.I made a sincere prayer and walked into the lab hoping to pick the sheet that would miraculosuly let me answer every question.Only wanting Lady luck to be by my side till I am thrown out,I gently pick one and hand it over to ma'am like I were the chief guest and had been called upon to pick for a raffle draw!She points out  to my position and I grab the sheet from her and rush to my position only to decelerate as I brushed past my partner with a nudge followed by pleady look requesting her help.I look at all the apparatus served on my table waiting for me to be  connected and wish sympathetically if I could impart my helplessness to them and wildly hope they would assmeble on their own upon my command & make life easier for me.MY EYES SEARCH FOR THOSE FAMILIAR FACES WHO HAD BEEN MY LAB PARTNERS ONCE UPON A TIME AND HAD SHARED MY LETHARGIC NATURE OF COPYING READINGS FROM OTHER BOOKS,NOW SEEMED SO ENGROSSED IN WHAT THEY WERE DOING & GUILT HITS ME HARD AS I WATCH THEIR FINGERS FUNCTIONING EFFICIENTLY LIKE EXPERTS.It is during the experiment that the teacher calls students one by one to be saughtered with the razore sharp questions(viva).As I connected the circuit after a history of failed attempts,my mind did not even forget to skip a thought on the circumstance whereby I might get electrocuted.My knowledge about circuit connections made me think at heights of insanity and I wondered whether boards would pull down practical exams had the news reached their complaint resistant ears.I had managed to eavesdrop a few answers from other students during the occasion of their viva but unfortunately the frequency of their voice seemd inaudible even to ma'am who had by then stretched her neck across the table in an attempt to make the conversation all the more confidential.The scene reminded me of confession at church.Startled by the call of my name,I realise I am the  next chosen victim for the always feared viva.Like a PRISONER SENTENCED TO BE HANGED,I walk out of my place and feel my legs going wobbly as I head towards the teacher.Eyes that I had flinched from looking into,would now focus compleltey on me and the very thought about it made my mind go numb.She shot questions at me, and I FELT LIKE A CRIMINAL BEING QUESTIONED.Had i been offered a TABALA AT THAT INSTANT,I WOULD HAVE MOST SURPRISINGLY PROVED MY ABILITY AS A WORLD RENOWNEDREMARKABLE TABALIST.That was  the height of my nervousness.Unable to answer any question,I get up after my turn with a heavy heart dragging myself out of the lab as though THE DOCTOR HAD DIAGNOSED ME WITH AN INCURABLE DISEASE.But experience has forced me to take an oath on NEVER TO TAKE PRACTICALS LIGHTLY WHICH PRACTICALLY KILLED ME!!

THE CHEMISTRY OF CHEMISTRY

Dear C6H12O6,

I am diluted in your love.As the intermolecular bond between us strengthens,I realise no outside force can separate our triple bond.The interstices in my mind are filled with your thoughts and you precipitate even in my dreams.I donate you my heart and I am positive that you will accept it with immense pleasure.My dad fumes at the thought of us getting married.He is pretty exothermic and quite unpredictable.Yet I hope his anger will settle at the bottom and willingly participate in our reaction.However,mum continues to remain at equilibrium when I speak about you.Now because we don't meet everyday doesn't mean you behave like sodium metal in water(reactive)at the sight of any chic on the street.I get excited when I think about you and visualise golden sprangles.I am hoping you share the same feelings.I am decomposing my letter here.P.S:I love you for not behaving like noble metals at room temperature(unreactive) towards my feelings.With loads of electrons,

 your solute,C12H22O11.

Bleeding Memories

 

I was reminded of the day we held hands and swore to live for one another,to be together to eternity.My heart beats fast at the very thought of me realising you were my heaven,on visualising my future through your eyes which feared to look anywhere else like I would vanish the next second.I had always wanted our relation to be like the wick of a burning candle saved from blowing off by the slightest of the slightest breeze,always being protected and careful. I thought about it,not once but infact many times before I finally concluded that it was high time we said "GOOD BYE".My strength seeped at the very thought of parting,my voice faded and I wriggled with pain on how horrible you could have felt.Drowned in depression,yet I continue to battle with misery but I hold no hope of surviving..surviving for you.Memories flood my mind and I shut my eyes tight to chase them away till my cheeks and palms share the moist and the tears die at my lips.Disastrous moments have struck me when you not knowingly crept into my thoughts ,my dreams,my vision.Helpless-me,I could do nothing but cry hard till I grew tired.Never was a peaceful night promised to me eversince then.I would either wake up abruptly in the middle of the night or suffer from insomnia spending night listening to the soft thud of tears falling from the corners of my eyes,onto the pillow.My act of abandoning you could have been equivalent to me stabbing your heart but I must have shed more tears than the blood that dripped from your heart.Fury blazes in me as I realise I have obeyed the voice from INFERNO and I bow guiltily before my angels.As I bathe my sinful act in tears,I plead forgiveness and confess on how regretful I am, on having "UNTANGLED FROM YOUR BOUNDLESS LOVE FOR ME".Apologetically I ask you with pure sincerity and affection,CAN I NOT DREAM OF ANOTHER TOMORROW TO BE YOURS ONLY ? ?

GONE ARE THOSE DAYS

GONE ARE THOSE DAYS...-A SINCERE DEDICATION TO ALL MY FRIENDS, TEACHERS AND MY DEAR SCHOOL...

 I remember those mornings when I woke up whining not wanting to go to school fearing a not prepared test or undone homework.

School phobia-you may call it,everyone definelty has passed this phase at some point in their life.I recall my first day at school which I declare tragic for a three year old.The moment my mum turned to leave the "awful" classroom I was subjected to,tears burst out and I let out a loud cry.Unable to leave me crying,my mom rushed immediately only to hug me.The teacher  was a witness to so many heart touching incidents of this kind that over the years she had become resitant to this innocent feeling of mother-child relation,that she requested mum to leave the classroom at once to avoid predicted sentimental scenes.However she looked at mum with an assuring promise that I would be fine under her custody.The minute mum was sent away,I became violent.With tears rolling down mercilessly crossing the corners of my little lips,I went around the class stomping only to throw all my books which had been neatly covered and stuck with clean labels-by hands that desired only to see me successful and well settled in life- onto the floor.However my temper chilled within minutes as I realised my drama wouldn't please the teacher to send me back home.Before leaving school for the day,everyone was offered chocolates to brighten up their little faces.Let me also point out the joyous occsssion of leaving classroom were one kept both hands on the other's shoulder like mini carriages of a train,singing merrily towards buses.Ofcourse we weren't old enough to identify one's buses.We were accompanied by a bus conductor who would distribute us into respective buses.Happiness was in the air when the conductor arrived at each class during the last hour to escort us.He was definelty our saviour from those long dreadful hours of learning which took us to heights of suspicion on whether the school bell stopped working!!As years went by,the role of our saviour was taken up by different characters starting from peons who would intrude between those monotnous hours of lectures to inform teacher about the untold meetings with supervisors,or it is the prefects who came with announcements or sometimes even other teachers dropped in to discuss issues we were alienated from and soon the duo would leave  the room.Alas! those were the few minutes were one would treat themselves with wide yawn and stretching followed by the class turning into a platform for unidentified flying objects,enthusiastic young cricketers batting and bowling aluminum foil crushed balls and few others would indulge into luxorious talks about the recent family picnic or weekend outing and before each one could be done with what was begun on,the teacher would be back.Wrist watch and poor timetable are the only objects I plead forgiveness on behalf of all the students as insult upon insult would be heaped upon these persecuted objects for no fault of their own and the class for the rest of the day would indirectly compel the teacher into believing the fact that tables and desks would prove to be better listeners. Days,weeks,months,years have gone by and time has arrived for one to ditch those unfashionable uniforms and stuff bags with gadgets.But no thought would possibly console your sorrowful heart as you find yourself crying yet again with a different cause for your tears.A re-enactment of your first day at school is what you feel when the tears roll down,very well knowing this time the reason is not the same.Simply having fallen so closely attached to school,you haven't the heart to bade goodbye.You had entered school with a tiny bag of books and so innocent a little heart of curious questions and now you are leaving with another bag,bag of memories..valuable nostalgic memories and a heart mould to deal with the challenges of a never before exposed world.It is a mixed feeling of joy and sadness as you stand at the gates of the school longing for those days to play for you again.The list of items that one is going to miss has no limit starting from friends,teachers,games played.songs sung,crucial incidents were you were the chosen victim to be yelled at,days you prayed for the teacher to be absent and so on... AND NOW THEY LOOK LIKE THE FAIRYTALES OF UNSEEN PAGES OF A BOOK.. LET ME GRAB THIS OPPORTUNITY TO ULTIMATELY THANK EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU FOR REFORMING ME INTO WHAT I AM AND I PROMISE TO BE ALWAYS GRATEFUL TO MY EYE OPENERS FOR THEIR PRICELESS CONTRIBUTION FOR MOULDING ME INTO A BETTER PERSON.THANKYOU!

Separation

Separation-THE FIERCE WARRIOR

A PURE DEDICATION TO MRS. REENA KOVOOR,HEAD MISTRESS OF OUR OWN ENGLISH HIGH SCHOOL,SHARJAH SEPARATION is one word everyone flinches at.Yet, human specimen is compelled to pass this phase time and again.Thanks to the circumstance that keeps one back in circulation rather than let brood over the pain of distancing to eternity.A close analysis let to the realisation that separation is inbuilt in every human life.It is Almighty's way of letting one realise the values of relationship and solidifying one's mental stability-a training for the ultimate separation.Here,I pour out my valuable in-depth analysis on separation.PHASE 1:Separation is your twin.Scientifically proven that you are younger to your twin by a few ticks on the clock.Separation occurs first as you are plucked from the comfort of your mother's womb(umbilical cord)where every need of yours was met without demand and then occurs your emergence into the world of challenges,marking your first and foremost separation.PHASE 2:Pampered with love,lullaby sung to dream,cradled to comfort,day arrives to peel you from home and plant you to educate.A few hours away from those familiar faces (of parents)marks the next separation.However,the wound heals as home-away-fom-home feeling grows within you.PHASE 3:Knowlegde builds up with simultaneous formation of new relations.Bonds thicken,presence valued and communictaion deeepens.Innocence no longer shields your mischief as surroundings begin to consider you a young adult.You flee away from the furious separation but time of fate chases you and holds you a prisoner as emotions defeat your strong heart and unwillingly you bade goodbye to your beloved school with a false promise to return again.Notorious separation plays the leading role that was exclusively reserved for her.PHASE 4:Discussions on studying abroad haunts you till they come to reality and separation sweeps you away from home and tosses  you to far ends.Thoughts about loved ones lets you spit anger upon the brutual separation very well knowing none is to be held guilty.PHASE 5:Open arms and tears,hugs and overflowing affection welcomes you back home on completion of further studies only to compel separation to grin as she has forseen her life yet again through your marriage.A state of excitement and anxiety,you feel like a flower plant shaken off from root only to be planted into another pot.Separation pinches you hard this time.PHASE 6:You bear the fruits and flowers of spring,shed your worries like leaves of autumn,look after the splendid summer family and enjoy the showers of happiness when separation approaches you like the threatening drought to split you from your lovely grandchildren.You plead,fall on knees and cry bitterly not having the strenght to bear any further pain,drifting into thoughts on how long the piercing pain of separation that thrust through life took ages to heal and before complete recovery,another deep scar awaits your sombre heart.Forced to welcome the uninvited guest,you experience another separation from your grand kids as they migrate to settle elsewhere.PHASE 7:Years hav gone by,every separation meant to strengthen you,to prepare you to the ultimatum,has proven only to faith seeping and as you feel the wrinkles on you face,fear washes over you.Memory at its loss,you struggle hard to recollect the horrific moment when you witnessed a strand of your raven locks having turned grey.And before your frail hands could make a feeble move indicationg a farewell gesture,villanious separation steals yours life from earth.

Waiting

 

 I looked at you for so long struggling to utter my last owrds before we parted..frozen lips and tearfilled eyes were all I could express but how could I impart the pain of dying heartbeat??Incomplete memories like foggy dreams misted my thoughts.Pleading eyes tried to consider eveyrthing a bad dream.But only evil-eyed disappointment grinned in response.Teardrops like dew,rolled down,crossing the corners of my shivering lips yet I refused to turn away and hide my tears,unwilling to crush the last moments I get to see you.Instead I wiped them in the hope you hadn't noticed.I take two steps away from you,not wanting you to hear my heart tearing apart.I forget to blink because I was mesmerised by every feature of your captivating face and hoped to treasure it and prayed for your face never to fade from my eyes.Unheard prayers ! Pleadings that fell upon deaf ears !!Finally you spoke those thorny words.."LACK OF INTEREST"and turned away from me.Only voidness welcomed my rupturing heart.Dragging my weakened body,I rushed into the dark to catch a last glimpse of your heart-throbbing face .But never was my wish fulfilled.Hell spat a thunderous lightening that split us APART FOREVER and I felt the shattered crystals of my life pricking me.The sky growled and roared like nature HAD BOROWED MY FEELINGS.But I stood there motionless.Suddenly I realised I was wet.Raindrops had been dripping from my hair.Yet I did not wish to take my  TEAR-FLOODED EYES THAT BLURRED MY VISION,OFF FROM THE SPOT YOU HAD DISAPPEARED,BUT CONTINUED WAITING FOR YOU WITH BEAMING HOPE. Everyday,I stand before the mirror searching for a lost smile at my very own reflection.But even the mirror seems to have forgotten my smile.And yet I continue to live with the hope you would return and TRUST ME THOSE EYES WILL NEVER GROW TIRED OF WAITING FOR YOUR RETURN..
AND WHEN YOU RETURN, PROMISE THAT YOU WILL TEACH ME TO SMILE...PROMISE ? ?

Open house-closes house

 

 " The open-house for Grade V to XII is scheduled for the 10th of december 2009 from 8:00 am to 12:00 pm.The school will remain closed from 11th December for winter break.I take this opportunity to wish everyone a Merry christman & Happy New Year on behalf of the staff and faculty" reads the circular. Christman follows my open house which implies it is MY "Good Friday"(the day jesus was crucified) that would overlap this joyous occasion.Oxford dictionary explains open house as "hospitality to all comers".Now I serisously don't understand why the meaning of ths word is not experinecd in real life.Atleast the stories of our experiences is next to nowhere near its meaning as one doubts whether he/she would be permitted home after the terrific marks.The circular is welcomed home by the outburst of arguments between mom and dad who neither would risk their life to collect my report.At the end of the day the issue is left in mid air..The sight of the calendar hanging on my door lets chills run down my spine as I count time left for my fast approaching "judgement day"Staying right next to school maybe considered a boon by many who feel I am rewarded extra hours for completeing homework, wake up in the morning an hour late, avoid missing bus, free from paying transportation fees and so on.Initially I was excited to stay near school, Point out the flowers overflowing from my balcony to all my frineds.But my excitment did not live long.All the teachers expected me to be at school before any soul arrived.Fighting their demand.I was labelled the "latest" student.So there goes a minute contribution to the pile of complaints by my teacher on the open house.The other disadvatnage of staying near school is to begin my day even during vacation with the sight of this dreaded building reminding holidays are coming to an end.Thirdly, I miss all the fun which my friends have in the bus that perhaps could reduce the weight of my "memories forever" when i leave school but burdens my "sack of regrets".The FATAL DISADVANTAGE is my parents's need to collect my report before other parents arrive.Not that they are curious or eager to know my position in class but simply to beat the rush that occurs in the following hours.Now collecting the report early would imply Extra hours of getting blasted apart from what is goin to follow in the weeks to come! I hope for terrible incidents to strike my so informed open house day like an unproclaimed holiday, my class teacher getting jammed in the traffic or worst of the worst-the world to end.But my life lives through all the so assumed disasters and I open my eyes to the frightful day probably visualising myself grounded and banned from attending any forthcoming parties/social gathering.I crawl out of bed throwing curse upon curse on the inventors of exams and unit tests,get ready and drag myself to accompany my parents who would have fianlly settled the dispute on who will collect my report by concluding with a joint decision that both would put their presence before ma'am.Let me also take this opportunity to extend my gratitude to those parents who forsee my parents's decision of collecting report before time and appear even earlier therby increasing my relaxation time and decreasing my crucial hours."shame on you dad and mum!despite staying so nearby, you are beaten in the race to be the first visitors"I would murmer under my breath and giggle recollecting all the hurry they went through in the morning like they were late for a movie show.But my giggles are shortlived as my turn arrives to collect the report.Pulling out the innocence of a lamb to be slaughterd,I stand beside my parents with my head bowed and silently pleading for the tedious moment to pass through.A large drop of tear trickles down my cheek and falls upon the furious red inked scribble on my sheet.Sentiments overflow between parents and me,and I have a narrow escape through a melodramatic scene is what you would expect.No!My parents are COLD BLOODED AND INHUMANE to the bitter cries over bad report.I predict my royally grounded future for the next few weeks.Hopefully  the mental torture I face wouldn't affect my creativity to entertain you with more experinces of mine.Let's be optimistic,that I will appear next time before you with some other incident of eveyrday student life!!

Bruised heart belonged to her..

He was a little boy,poor little boy with a little too excess innocence.Like no other he was fascinated by a spectacular treasure of his. Nothing to be described greatly of,nothing to be cared so much for,yet his possession seemed of utmost value to him.Every description of fascination suited his unique belonging and he thought he had bagged something worthy to LIVE LIFELONG.You are thinking right!That nothing is nothing but a mere rag doll!She was adorable,her chubby face- a charm to the owner.Her pink frock had lost glitter,beautifully messy raven locks framed her blushing face.Her knee was bruised.Oh!She had been tossed into the trash by the rich girl next door.Had she had not owned a lot too many toys,she might have continued to shelf the doll but here was the doll-crying her heart out,lying in the backyard,when she was spotted by the little boy.Pity as he felt,he crept into his neighbour's backyard to pick the enchanting creature.There were trucks which had lost wheels,broken cars,dirty teddy bears and the pink doll!!!"what a pity! what a pity! " he said to himself as he picked the doll not having the slightest heart to leave it among the many other attractive toys that failed to have captured his attention like it should have.He took her home and put her in his shelf.He played with her while the other toys flashed green with jealousy.The pink doll transformed his little world into paradise.He wanted her presence beside him while he ate,did homework and went to bed.She loved the attention she received, enjoyed the warmth with growing doubt if she deserved so much yet wished it for eternity.But it was not long before,her world came crashing down to her.It was his birthday,he was turning five.Somebody gifted him a wooden box.There was a ribbon to it,and there was just this gift unlike the rich girl who got many gifts.He opened the wooden box with spilling curiosity."oh dear!its a doll! a frilly frocked, burnette!! mum,did you see this?"saying so,he rushed to show his mother what had been gifted to him-almost having forgotten the rag doll lying beside the wooden box."it's a fine one"mother said.He played with the new doll's hair,sang nursery rhymes to her and even took her to school to show his friends!!One afternoon, mother came to clean his room,picked all rubbish and disposed them in the backyard.Among the rubbish was the pink rag doll.Heaping hope upon hope,she lie there waiting to be picked by the little boy, very well knowing he wouldn't turn up.SOMEHOW LYING IN THE RICH GIRL'S BACKYARD WITH A BRUISED KNEE WAS LESS PAINFUL THAN LYING IN HIS BACKYARD WITH A BRUISED HEART. THE RAGDOLL WAS ME AND THE LITTLE BOY WAS ? ? ?

selfish earthlings

Water..water everywhere but not a drop to drink!!

The doorbell rings and questions arise on the availabilty of my younger brother.The subject of the question having opened the door himself,rushes to my mum for her permission to play out.His request would be entertained only if he had his showers-was the response.
"5 minutes.Don't go.I will come" he says as he shuts the door and runs to the bathroom.Mother had been nagging him since morning to give him a nice rub.However his laze simply wouldnt let him move an inch from the cozy comfort zone of the sofa where he had devoted his eyes to cartoon network as thought he was considering it to be the Almighty and thanking the beginning of another day.Twice or so mother had given a break to the kitchen chores and interrupted his luxury by making an abrupt entry with the chapatti roll.Obedience at its height,he would stand up in a preparation to turn off the television and head towards the bathroom.Seeing his quick response,she would return to reunite with her kitchen chores and the curtains having fallen in place,he would let himself fall back again into the tiny pit in the sofa formed due to his seating postion for long.But now the need was his.It was playtime!Had he chosen watching television over friends,he would regret as his playhours would'nt be compensated with study hours.As though was a mode of punishment,mother was reluctant to give him bath this time and said he would have to wait till she got done with her work.Being the youngest,he was pampered to heights of insanity and it wasn't unusual for him to throw tantrums had his desire not been a reality.To please him,mother allowed him to have the tub filled.If that could keep him calm for a while,be it then,she thought,In a matter of few minutes,mother was in the bathroom-all set to give my little brother a nice shower-her chocolate heart having forgiven his negligence for not having shower on time.He had been merrily playing with water when she walked in,relishing the fun of splattering water by pouring it from a height into his stretched out little palm and then when the mug drained to the last drop,he would look up into it and squeak "finish!" and repeat the act.With utmost curiosity he asked mother about the origin of water.Explanation considered indigestible for her little offspring,mother explained on how every building has a big bottle resembling his juice bottle from where the water comes.Having aroused his curiosity further, he said"my juice bottle??oh mama!its over.Will water also get over?"Mother having realised how relevant and prevalent the question seemed in today's world,flinched at looking into the tub which was filled to the brim and overflowing in proportion to her son's enertainment,gave him a quick bath,dressed him and opened the door to let him off.Before leavin he asked again,"when will it finish?"Hesitating for a moment,she replied,"one day"He gave her a beam of smile and said,"that day,I will go to play without taking bath" and off he ran.

Autobiography of me

Collide into unwanted system of particles (mischief) and then conclude in the end that my trajectory(path followed by a projectile) is full of twists and turns.Right now,I am travlleing with an optimum speed that is maximum safe speed  with which I take turns on a curved,levelled road without skidding-(without making use of frictional force).The moment I skid,I am sure to meet with an accident from the approaching truck(my parents).Then I do not know what will be the change in momentum(impact on my life). But all I know is the impulse will be very high(force with which they act on me for that short interval of time).So if the impact of collison(with my parents)is really bad,I will have on the spot fusion-(melt that very second)or my courage will push me from the top of any tall building(where my potential energy is high) and my escape velocity(minimum velocity required to escape from the gravitational pull) can easily be calculated.But all these are the cases if I skid,so why travel on twisted and turned roads?? I prefer motion in a straight line better.I prefer this because elasticity(behaviour)of parents is quite unpredictable.You never know when the load(anger)on their string(head) increases and what exactly is their breaking point(height of patience)?Afterall,they measure(observe) us from various dimensions(angels) loking for errors(mistakes) in our work done.I also forgot to present the matter that the truck(parents) also collide into me on my open house day.Phew!dont ask me with what kinetic energy(anger) they come and collide into me.At that moment I wish if I could be latent(hidden).All these years my marks were equivalent to capillary(rise or fall of a liquid in a tube,against the effect of gravity).But from the time I was projectted(promoted)into 11th grade,there seems to be excess gravitational pull on my marks,that it is at times"tending" to zero.Well,right now my speed of writing is decelerating due to elastic fatigue(lost of elastic properties due to excessive use for long time).So,I leave you with a few principles(thoughts). Better keep your power to yourself rather than expressing it before your parents..otherwise EVERY ACTION HAS AN EQUAL AND OPPOSITE REACTION..GOT IT??? NOTE:ALL PARENTS HAVE LOW SPECIFIC HEAT CAPACITY(AMOUNT OF HEAT REQUIRED TO RAISE THEIR TEMPERATURE). IN ADVERSE CASES-BLOOD BOILS.SO,KINDLY STOP THEM FROM EXPERIMENTING(READING)THIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY.IF YOU LET THEM EXPERIMENT,THEN DON'T REGRET ON THE RANDOM ERROR YOU HAVE COMMITTED.BYE!

Mother's day

                                              

 

I saw the kids have fun

& realised they weren't mine.

The terrible thought made me run

but I stayed on to tell him,"I am fine".

 

He knew what I was thinking

& tried to cheer me by winking

we had been praying for long

but our hopes were all going wrong.

 

Finally the day arrived

I was told,I would soon be a mother.

I fell like a feather

Into the world of pleasure.

 

Boundless was the joy

& so was the want for a boy

Eventually my dream came true

With immense affection he grew.

 

Today,he came to me to say

I had been his lucky charm

who kept him away from all his harm.

Thanking-that's his way

For today is MOTHER'S DAY. 

Talking Silence

My heartbeat dominated the silent wind.Whatever was he going to say,I hoped it was another call back into his life.We both had our own shares of mistakes.Apologies died before our ego to admit to the faults and now, time had taken toll on our beloved relation.I had been walking away from him when he called out my name,I wouldnt say he called out,It was more of  questioning his inner soul.I stood still with my back facing him awaiting further words to fall from his lips which once promised me eternal life through his life.I held my breath hoping to concentrate every approaching step of his which grew louder by the second till I knew he was only inches away from me.I closed my eyes and the tear trickled down my cheeks.The even breeze played along.Gently he placed his hands upon my tired shoulders,sliding them delicately down my arms and then carefully wrapping them around my waist.With a slight pull,he set  his head resting on my shoulder and my back lay upon his chest with a soft thud,sprinkling his fragrance into the air around me.Drops fell one after the other from the heavy clouds overhead drenching us and forming small puddles around like nature was rejoicing our reunion.My hair stuck to my face and he released one of his hands from my waist to pick the little strands of wet hair away from my face and hid them behind my ears.Tightening the grip around me,his lips whispered into my ear             "Please stay in my life".Ectasy burned through my skin, my lips shivered in happiness and I kept my hands upon his without disturbing the moment of divine love flowing between us.With beaming hope I turned,my eyes searching to admire the face that had always charmed me ever since I first saw him.But,He wasnt there.He had disappeared.There was nothing but thick impenetrable layers of fog before me.I was suddenly startled by the roar of thunder.Lightening escorted me into reality.I had turned not to cherish his face but as a response to his call.And from deep behind those foggy blankets,I heard a faint voice echo "GOODBYE"

Prisoner Of Your Love

A feeling of affection for someone,so rare,so strange andyet  so mysterious that somebody decided to call this nameless feeling "Love" and not long ago had I realised without any question of suspicion that I had fallen a victim to this mystique.So divine and unique is this feeling,like the reflection of the moon upon the placid lake that I fear even the rustling of the leaves may disturb it.I fight my temptation to be in his company and admit to have thought about him equivalent to the number of times I blink my eyes.I refrain from doubting my feelings for him because now I realise to have genuinely fallen a prey to his fatal love.He cradles me in his love and lullabies his dreams till my eyes drop off.I smile in my dreams and he probably believes that as a response to his whispers in my ears.My mind never settles to peace until my thought are focussed on him.EVENTUALLY I REALISED,I HAD  BEEN TRANSFORMED ONTO A PRISONER OF HIS LOVE.I ACCEPTED MY CAPTIVITY OF HIS WARMTH AROUND ME WITH IMMENSE GLORY.I visualise him as the the prince of my fairytale and pray for the story never to end.When he realises,I have drifted into the paradise of heavenly dreams,he gently kisses on my forehead symbolising a promising tomorrow to be with him again and cuddles me,joining my Eternal dreams.

About me

Well,I am Jasmine James.I write and I do hope to be a world renowned writer some day.Your sincere support,valuble criticsm and appreciation is all I ask for.I dont stick to any topic as such but gets carried with the flow of creativity provided by whatever topic strikes my mind.I do mix  a wee bit humour in an attempt to grab readers to the last line of my work and I proudly declare it has always been a successful task.I never was a born writer nor did it come through genes.I started writing by accident.It would be a great sin if I fail to mention my Guru-Mrs.Anu Thomas-English teacher of Our Own English High School who trained me into what I am at the moment.If you ask me when do I gather time to write so much..well I should tell you in my freetime.But if you ask me when exactly is my free time then I would say that you are compelling me to share my secret with you.My free time is my study time.Trust me nothing creative strikes me till my boring books stare at me with regret for having revealed themselves to the wrong person as I !And ofcourse many do ask me if I read a lot too many.And the bitter truth is I dont.Its not that I don't like reading.That would be an insult towards my role model authors.My parents always believed reading N.C.E.R.T texts through learning was everything.I ask their forgiveness as I never pleased them this way.Neither did I keep myself unhappy.I read books by keeping them in the protective shield of N.C.E.R.T books.Name the book and I bet I wouldnt have read it.Infact not even heard its name. All because my choice for reading has been very poor.But I tell you, my main source of english vocabulary comes through reading newspaper.Not that I read it because I am curious to know the happenings around the world but I read it for the pleasure of grabbing new words.Any word I come across I desperately desire to know its meaning.I don't posses any great hobby.But I have a pocket sized Oxford dictionary on my study table and I admit that I flip through its pages evry half an hour to fortyfive mintues during my study when I prefer a break.This way I get to know new words.If a phrase I come across which I find very fascinating and enchanting-I fail to abandon it unless I use it in my daily language and finally it ends up somewhere in my piece.I am not much of a poetic person but I have made a few attempts and "Mother's day" was a result of those trials.My parents hadn't known my talent till my marks started dropping and it was only through investigation they were revealed the truth. I have spilled more than enough of myself- is my assumption.I request every reader to drop your comments at the guest book provided.I shall not hate you for criticsm because its through you only that I can learn my mistakes. Thankyou!Jasmine James

Home - ET-TU BRUTE

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Lend me you EARS!!!

Here I am, a budding writer,wanting your sincere support.I write articles and with immense pleasure I share the information that I have decided to exhibit my literary skills to you all.I welcome your VALUABLE CRITICISM AND APPRECIATION.My writings are prone to grammatical errors as I haven't given the opportunity to anyone so far to edit my articles but here i give you ABSOLUTE FREEDOM AND COMPLETE PRIVILEGE TO DO SO.I might not respond to the grammatical errors in that very article but I assure you that I would try and not make the mistakes again in my forthcoming articles. My introduction is very conveniently titled "ET-TU BRUTE" -a famous quote from Julius Caesar to convey a very neat message that I do not wish to see my articles in some other site with the writer's name changed.It hurts..truly hurts!!!THANKYOU!