Almighty is not the Means. He is the End.

“Ouch!”

“Is it hot?”

“Kind of, but proceed. . .J”

“Ok ma’am. . .”

“OUCH!
*runs a finger across her hand*
Smoooooooooth!
Bill please!”

J
I’m talking about a beauty salon.
Welcome to the life of Bhulakshmi Strapsi, a beautician at Beep* Beauty Salon.

Like any other person before a big event coming up, I was tensed about how I’d look, irrespective of whether others looked at me or not. That’s when I went to Beep* Beauty Salon, one day before My Conference. I had no idea that I’d be meeting one woman I’m bound to respect and admire for the rest of my life. . .

In her gentle voice, she asked me, “How’s college life then?” while she was working on making me look presentable for the next day. Here’s another reason I respect her: No matter how hideous, she could make them look good enough for whatsoever event.

And like any other skeptical idiot, I assumed she wanted to engage me in conversation, so that even if waxing hurts, I wouldn’t know and thus, she wouldn’t be blamed by her employers.

What that small bit of conscience could hear, inside of me, was inaudible to my cynic ears. There was a sense of pleading, a certain amount of pain in her question. “How’s college life then?”

How would I know?

Bhulakshmi Strapsi is a 19 year old.
She never attended college. . . Although out of choice, she regrets it now.

But as it happens in most paths, there was no looking back for Bhulakshmi.

Shit happens. But I don’t know how most of the shit happened to this innocent. . . Woman.

You see, Bhulakshmi is a MARRIED 19 year old. I’m sure you’ll agree. . . It is legal, but way too young an age to live in the bond of Holy Matrimony. At an age where the concept of Marriage itself is strange, getting married is unfair!

Bhulakshmi didn’t want to get married. But she did, because her parents, coming from villages, thought it a ripe, ideal age for this Bond.

Bhulakshmi’s Husband has 2 sisters. . . Both are yet to be married.

Why does Bhulakshmi work: To help her husband conduct these marriages.

Bhulakshmi’s parents don’t know she’s working. Bhulakshmi’s husband doesn’t want her to work. Bhulakshmi still works.
Bhulakshmi’s employee doesn’t want her to work outside of Beep*. Bhulakshmi takes the risk and still works. To increase her meager income of Rs. 3500.

Why does Bhulakshmi work: To help her husband conduct these marriages.

Bhulakshmi wishes she could study further. Bhulakshmi wishes to widen her scope of getting a better job. Bhulakshmi’s parents don’t know she works. Bhulakshmi’s husband doesn’t want her to work.

YET, why does Bhulakshmi work: To help her husband conduct these marriages. . .

At the tender age of 19, where she can’t understand what web this cruel reality has spun her into, where she didn’t want to get married, where she married a  man 4 years senior to her, where she married without will
Bhulakshmi Strapsi, without bothering about her parents ‘trust’, without bothering about the man who held the threads of her destiny: her husband, without giving a damn to the rest of the world; struggled to make two ends meet for one man her fate had tied her to: her husband.

Meet Bhulakshmi Strapsi, the essence of Feminity, the embodiment of Sacrifice.

If you’re looking for something to put Your Faith in, and if You refuse to believe in God. . . Meet Bhulakshmi Strapsi’s arduous journey. Her unwavering loyalty towards a stranger of a man. Her bright, glowing hope that someday, Life would be better. Life would show her a more smooth path ahead.

Meet Bhulakshmi Strapsi. . .
Who truly believes

Almighty is not the Means. He is the End.


*: Name changed for Bhulakshmi's safety. :)

Once in your Lifetime, I promise. . .

You’ll meet a person who’ll annoy you so much, you’ll want to tear your hair out from its roots, and the person will tag on to you like a tail. You’ll also meet a person whom you’ll admire so much, they might just give a new meaning to respect and meaningful existence, and you might just know them for a fleeting instance.

You’ll do something you know is forbidden, and particularly enjoy it. You’ll also do something almost religiously prescribed and curse yourself for doing it.

You’ll find that in the most attractive fruit lies the bitterest juice. You’ll also find that the most rotten looking fruit will soothe every inch, every fiber of your being with its pure, juicy essence.

You’ll fall in love with hatred, give birth to hatred for love, become a cynic and curse life as a whole and death would seem a better option. You’ll also appreciate the pristine, indomitable beauty of living, the inevitable darkness and finality of death and the sheer joy of breathing fresh air.

You’ll never tread the untrodden path that your feet longed to feel. You’ll also carve yourself a future out of something you’ve sworn to avoid and find yourself enjoying it.

You’ll run for a mile in someone’s shoes you prayed you’d never have to wear, and would have traded with your own shoes any day. You’ll also run for a mile in your own shoes and wish you had someone else’s shoes beneath your delicate sole.

You’ll find that you’ve lost something that means your existence to you. You’ll also find that whatsoever meant your existence only left to give you another more meaningful, more pure, more enthralling reason to live.

You’ll find yourself compelled to love the person you can never bring yourself to like. You’ll also find yourself compelled to hate a person you can never bring yourself to not-love.

You’ll find yourself sheathing the darkest realms of you from the ones you love. You’ll also find yourself exposing it, without your own knowledge, to your most-feared enemy.

You’ll find yourself forced to do good for no reason. You’ll also find yourself harmed for doing good.

You’ll find that nothing goes according to plan, life’s messed up, you’re on the verge of breaking down and jumping from a crevice is the most rational, suitable thing to do.

Then always remember, every step on hot coal, every little tear, every small smile, every large chunk of happiness is the part of a larger plan made by the Heavens Above. Nothing will ever go as planned, cause you’re never the Planner at all.

What you want is not what you need. What you need is not what you want.

Three words sum it all up: Life Goes On.

What not to do in a School Laboratory. ;)

1.       Do not laugh at someone who is being yelled at by the Teacher. It gets you nowhere in their good books. K They will NOT, I repeat they will NOT appreciate  a goofy grin at their humiliation max. moment.

2.       Do not curse the teacher. . . Not in front of them at least. They’re experienced, seen around 25 batches like yours and know what you do when you lip sync. No, they don’t think you’re chattering, shivering, and definitely NOT singing.

3.       Do not look at colour changes during the experiment and smile like an idiot, or give an expression as if you’ve been hit on your head with a club. Rei fool, the teacher sees experiments like that everyday. And if you smile, you just come across as a fool. Which is exactly what you are anyway, cause you’re reading this. :P

4.       Do not behave as if you’re eager for an explosion to happen. Darling, explosions are only exciting as long as they don’t turn your face into charcoal.

5.       Do not handle strong acids and bases like they’re your  G.I.Joe playthings. Arrey girl, they’re not Barbie doll playthings also. Handle them like a glass container should be handled. Frankly, handle with care isn’t a pansy, gay thing to do. Its sensible.

6.       Do not look at a 6 volt electric circuit and ask if you’ll get a shock and die. Beta, class 7 if you’d have studied, you’d know six volts is not enough to kill a microbe in your dirty fingernail also.

7.       Do not ask in which direction current flows when you’re in 12^th grade. Remember not to show off that you’ve always been promoted from each grade to the next and not passed on pure merit.

8.       Don’t run around the teacher as if you don’t know what you’re doing. Most of all, do NOT look at the apparatus as if you don’t know what its related to. Its ridiculous.

9.       Oh yeah, DO handle the apparatus carefully? And don’t laugh at others who don’t. ;)

10.   Follow 1 through 9. :D

P.S.: The above points are based on pure experience. Any resemblance to any lab, active or dormant is purely real and intentional, definitely not co-incidental. J

Absolem

It has been 16 years, 3 months, 13 days and 8 hours and 48 minutes (as of 30th May, 1652 hours). Since I was born, that is. Quite long I’ve seen this place, haven’t I? J

When I was 7, one morning, I had the future of a completely Mumbai based girl, travelling in trains/buses, et al. The next morning, I woke up in a train on my way here. Hyderabad.
When I was 11, one morning, I had the future of a girl giving her class 7 exams, and giving them quite well. The next morning, I was in a hospital bed, with the doctor saying, “One more day late, and. . .”

When I went to my aunt’s place over the summer, for an intended 14 day schedule, on the 8^th day, I looked forward to 6 more days with her. The next morning, I was looking for flight tickets back home. My grandmother had expired.

But why?

Because nothing is Absolute.

You could probably wake up and feel like the healthiest person this morning, and live it to the fullest. Who knows, next morning you might be diagnosed with cancer! Cynical though this may seem, pessimism though it might appear, could one find fault with this theory? I don’t think so.

Tomorrow is, truly, another day.

My other grandma, lies there, in quite a critical situation in a hospital. Doctors have given up hope. I was looking for somewhere, where she could take a ‘U’ turn and come back to normalcy. But that road seemed almost endless. And straight. I knew that this was merely an illusion. The road looked endless till the end came. And it would just. . . go. Like that. So we, as a tightly knit, supportive family, together walked. Walked on and on, waiting, watching, carefully, whether the end was there already. But it is not over, until it is over. . . In vain, for Her good, we hoped that it was the end. Days on end, we did that. But just when we thought the road would end, it seemed to begin all over again.

At times I felt, well, I hoped the ‘U’ turn had come. And then I realized that I was being a kid. But is it really wrong?

At heart, everyone hopes for the Tooth Fairy, the Santa Claus, et al to exist. I’m 16, I do have the right to hope for a ‘U’ turn. But the fact remains that whichever of these you believe in, you’re in for a sad shock. They don’t exist.

Cause tomorrow is another day. And it is uncertain. My next minute is uncertain.

There’ll be people who’ll break your heart, there’ll be people who mend it. And all of it happens today. Today doesn’t have a sequence. And tomorrow’s existence doesn’t have a guarantee. All you have is now, this second. Live it while you can, when it is there.

Do your best, do it today! I don’t say fulfill all the guilty pleasures. Cause hey, that isn’t what life is about, that isn’t what fun is about either. Fulfill what you think you owe to the world. Finish that unfinished song, take the last rhythm towards perfection. Sing loud with your head held high.

Because all you have is now, live it while you can.

You know, ‘Live for today’ seems quite a cheery thought to think. I feel it is a Cynic’s view. And very True.

There are so many possibilities of the events that might occur today. No one can call their lives monotonous. Cause no one’s life is. Everyone thinks they know what’s going to happen the next second. But who is absolutely certain of it?

It all depends on just one thing: Belief. Faith.

I believe my tomorrow is a fantasy. All I have is now.

Love,
Assumed Realist.

I, most of all, fell in Love with Love itself. ^~^

29^th of April, 2011 was a day of lot of firsts for me…

I almost slept all day! Except 4 hours in the morning, and a few more in the evening…

My cousin got engaged to his beautiful, charming Bride-to-be. (His first :P) I did make up for myself (my first :P) and I wore high heeled shoes for a family event (another first)! And no one noticed the last two events (this isn’t a first ;) )

I’m generally branded anti social. Its just my fondness for repartee and wit, all the time. Probably at the most unsuitable moments… Like suggesting that my cousin’s Bride had 5 days to say no and she lost the chance and is now hitched (during the engagement). Someone for sure would’ve killed me for that. And my obvious dislike for extremely loud, big functions where people don’t know half the guests present, the grand clothes and 3 layers of make-up…

But this was the best and the biggest, epic first of 29^th April, 2011: I enjoyed the function. I enjoyed the ceremony. I enjoyed everything about it. (Emphasis on the food :P)

It was when I saw those little sweet moments in the ceremony, when I actually cared to pay attention did I start loving the ceremony.

I loved how everyone in the crowd found their small moments with their loved ones, away from all others just to look at them and smile, laugh, and enjoy Togetherness.

I loved how my cousin tried to make his Bride comfortable in her elaborate and heavy attire. I love the enthusiasm with which he held her very close to himself and danced with her, danced like no one was watching. I loved how, even with all the crowd and noise, they could ignore it all and look so fondly at each other and feel blessed. I loved how while everyone socialized, they both sat next to each other holding hands…

It wasn’t that I’d never seen this miracle amongst mankind, Love, show itself. I had. Many a time, I had. But for the first  time, I took part in it by appreciating its Beauty. Its simplicity and intricacy. The thorns and the petals that together formed this Rose.

This is a tribute not to my cousin and his Bride, but to the feeling itself. To Love. I cherished the feeling. I, most of all, fell in Love with Love itself. Because no feeling could ever replace the warmth and comfort this one could.

Despite all its lows (like not-so-decent people around), this engagement ceremony was, perhaps, one that I enjoyed the most, till now.

I, most of all, fell in Love with Love itself. :)

iMother ;)

I love her, like a mother would, her child. 

Even after 2-3 readings of Stephenie Meyer’s The Host, the concept of maternal love that engulfs a complete stranger for another complete stranger was... let’s just say it was strange to me. Of course, as a 16 year old, obviously I wouldn’t understand. I would know the other end of it, the love of a child for his or her mother. But mother to child...? I know that it is that kind of love where the usage of the word “magnitude” itself would be derogatory to the bond. The depth of the love is unfathomable...

And with that mentality, AishU was travelling to another city, to meet a few people very very close to her. Like I said, I’m a 16 year old. My mother was extremely worried about my safety... In the very beginning, the worries were more general: AishU, make sure you know who is picking you up, keep their cell phone numbers with you, if there’s any issue, you know whom to call, etc, etc, etc... Justified. Then came the more primal, more human worries... Don’t talk to strangers, don’t get too familiar with anyone, all of that.

They say man is a social animal... I agree. I think the ‘social’ trait was hammered into me by God way more than it was hammered into others, in as much as, I just can’t keep quiet, and listen to music on a 12 hour train journey. In fact, not talking is closest to impossible for me! xD

Add to it, the people in my compartment: Two aunties, three kids... AishU. Two aunties. Three kids. Don’t talk. What the HELL! They just didn’t go together. J

The kid I first set my eyes upon... Her eyes the colour of night, her skin the colour of milk, and her beautiful curls the most beautiful brown I’ve ever seen... She’s beautiful because I love her, and not the other way round... She’s beautiful because I love her. I couldn’t get my eyes off her, and I couldn’t stop smiling, as I watched her play, give flying kisses, and blink shyly... I’ve never had the urge to look at anyone the way I did want to look at this baby. The best part is that the urge didn’t seem wrong. It seemed to come from every cell inside of me. I wanted to hold her, that Angel. I wanted to hold her just to feel that this was real, she was real. And when she smiled at me, the heavens above had conspired to make me happy. When she played with me, like there was nothing else I wanted from life. And when I held her, I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve that contentment. It was exactly what my dad has warned me against: don’t get too familiar. And yet, I did. I’d broken every barrier and fallen in love with this Angel. I cared for her from that instant like I  knew her all my life.

It is extremely hard for me to fall asleep in trains, especially because of all the shaking and the speed... I’d tired myself out that day so that I could sleep in the train. And yet, when I saw this two and a half year old, I felt all my energy return to every part of me. Only when she fell asleep did I actually feel the first sparks of worry, as I’d realised that I was so energised and refreshed just by playing with her and holding her that I wouldn’t have been able to sleep... And when I lay down that night, I knew I wouldn’t sleep... It wasn’t the journey ahead that occupied my mind, but thoughts of this little girl sleeping in the berth opposite to mine. I was worried... worried more for her. I hoped that she’d sleep well, wake up fully charged for whatever she was to do that next day... I hoped she’d get the milk she was so craving for in the evening...

And I did fall asleep. I slept while listening to her rhythmic breath. I felt like there couldn’t be a more beautiful sound than that. In that minute, which I’ll hold dear to me for Eternity, I understood, in the truest sense, what 

music is. Its this baby’s breath...

And the next morning when I woke up, my eyes ached for her sight. And I was blessed. She was right there, in the berth opposite to me. A wave of relief washed over me. Just that she was safe, although there wasn’t any need to be worried, made me elated. Happy. Out of the world...

When she woke up, I said, “Good Morning!” with the hugest ever smile on my face, and every bit of me meant it. When I asked her whether she slept well, every fibre of me was concerned. If only they could feel the warmth of my concern, they’d be baking.

So here I was, with concern emanating from me for an absolute stranger... It wasn’t ‘this’ baby. MY baby. Not in the possessive sense, but in as much as... Love.

This wasn’t some love where one feels guilty, gets hurt, expects... It was pure, ethereal, blessed. It wasn’t where I could feel the pain of separation, because the fact that we met in the first place made me feel contented.

When we got off the train, her mother asked me to hold her for a while. And no one on earth, no one could’ve ever felt happier. More honoured. With her in my arms, I felt safe. I felt like I’d let go of her, only if I knew for sure, every atom in the Universe promised to me that they’d take care of her. Bless her.

And there I  understood... That was my version of maternal love. The love I’d developed for this Angel, this Child of God... Clean and deep...

I love her, like a mother would, her child. J

Connecting Dots

So suddenly, almost unnaturally it seems, I’d shifted from Prose to Poetry... And almost immediately, though over one year it has been, I’m shifting back to Prose again.

Of course, I did write Prose in between too... One post a month or less. I always felt like there was a huge Void inside of Me when I didn’t write Prose, although without as much Poetry as before, it doesn’t feel so Empty. As it stands, Prose gave Me the kick to Write, in the first place.

Oh, its been about 2 years since I first felt My Passion for Writing.

My dearest Cousin Prashanth, a photojournalist, was my daily chat buddy J We used to talk about everything, literally. I was His “Daily Dose of Entertainment” as He was My “Daily Dose of Wisdom”, My very mellow Reality Check. It sounds awkward, crazy even, that someone should suggest a phrase such as a Mellow Reality Check, cause they’re always supposed to be rough Jolts that kick You in your a** so hard, you just are more aware of things around You. But Prashanth, goodness! He was the opposite of a rough kick, he was the warmest Embrace. The funny part is He was a Warm Embrace of Reality! Like someone soothing You and yet making You realise that the World’s not that pretty a place.

It was in those days (feels like eons ago now) that I’d forever check his blog, as hearing from him was not a Hobby, it had become a process to Learn, to Grow... To Live, even! It was the Piece He wrote of His Grandfather that was My Warmest Embrace... My Reality. It was when I read it that I realised that THIS was Who I looked up to, this was how I wanted to write, this is what I wanted to BE. But I never realised HOW... The Destination seemed so clear, the Path very clouded. And on the 26^th of November, 2008, when Terror seemed to show the Ugliest Part of its Face to Mumbai... I found it in Me. I found that weeping Part of Me that Wrote.

I finally understood why Prashanth’s piece on his Grandfather inspired Me so. Because it was so True. From Within. Not an inch of frivolousness or Pretence. And so with this... My Love for Writing Strengthened. After this Day... He was My Guru, My everything when it came to writing. When it came to anything at all, in the first place...

And thus, He was the first Object of My Poetry. It seemed so Natural that the First Piece of Poetry from Me was written for Prashanth. My Gift for His 26^th Birthday was a Poem, the first ever that I wrote...

Now when I look back, everything seems to connect. The dots are making Sense. I was a Harsh writer then, I am one now too, even though Prashanth always said: You’re good, but you need to mellow down a bit...

Months after I’d written for Prashanth, Poetry became a Daily Thing for Me. An inevitability. The day ended only if I wrote. My blog entries lessened as Poetry seemed to rush out of Me... Like Love, Hatred, Anger, Disappointment... Like all My emotions had found a new outlet: Not My Eyes, My Hands.

The more I wrote, the more I wanted to write. All thoughts of Everything forgotten, I simply wrote. Slammed down one Poem, 3 pages long a day till My Reality Check came in again. This time it was not Prashanth’s warm Embrace, it was my Uncle’s harsh kick. My very first Criticism on My Inability to Rhyme and thus my absolute failure at being a Poet.

From then on I practised and practised till my Emotions weren’t restrained in anyway, but channelled, yes.

But, also, from that day, My Readership was Limited. Not because My writing sucked (which it maybe did and does) but because I restricted it. First off, my blog became a diary entry. Second, my Poetry was given to a Select few. People who belonged to the Select Few, who READ what  I Write support my restricted Audience. In a way, I’m glad too. Somehow, this gives Me more Joy. I need no Motive to Write as when My Audience was restricted, My writing seemed to be more for itself, for ME.

I remember that the first time I was criticised, all the activity that My eyes did was to replace dried tears almost as soon as they dried... I thought of how a Critic could be hiding a Cynic within. Now when I look back, I realise I have no right to accuse. Back then, I was an Idealist. But with two absolutely varying Reality Checks I’d received, becoming a Cynic was inevitable.

Some people who read what I write find it melancholic, sad... Depressing, mostly. But that’s what pushes every inner cell of Me to write, these days. My Prose and Poetry, both come out through Channels, unlike the open rivers which used to gush out in full force.

But My First, Eternal Guru for Writing will always be My Daily Dose of Wisdom...

In His absence My writing had turned less of a Vocabulary Sea and more of a Reflection of Me...
But every word I write, every word I will EVER write will always belong with Him, who taught Me that writing is everything to Me, and so it shall always remain.

Death and All His Friends

“Death is terrifying because it is so Ordinary. It happens all the time.”

My grandma was the All-Knowing, Ever-Forgiving, Ever-Kind and the most Selfless person I’ve ever had the Fortune to Know...
While People talk of Karma and good deeds morning through Night, most Evenings I’m beside My grandma thinking, “What bullshit.” My gran’s 85, and I’ve seen the past 16 years of Her Life.


She was seeing Her Life’s Eve as I was viewing My Dawn with the same words echoing throughout Me, “What Bullshit.”

When I saw her a year ago, She was, for Me, a Warrior Princess. She fought Death valiantly, with the Force and Bravery of a Warrior who has seen Death’s Ugly Face a million times and fought it, coming out Unscathed. But today, I see her with complete Inability to Fight. Or was it...?

They say when you accept Death, it becomes easier... It was when I saw her shivering in Her bed, not saying Anything to her nurse and calmly undergoing all the medical procedures which would’ve left someone like You and Me begging for Mercy with a benign Smile, that I saw she wasn’t Weak. She was the perfect antonym of Weak. She was Strong. She embraced Death in whatsoever way it revealed itself to Her...

She’s the Perfect, Flawless, Beautiful Woman... But for Me, she’s God’s way of showing Me what Strength lies in, in Reality. Not to fight Death, but to Embrace it like an Old Buddy...

“Death is terrifying because it is so Ordinary. It happens all the time.”

The Musings of an Optimistic Cynic (:

Man will forever See what He wants to See. God gave Him a Mind so he could think, though now the Mind deceives Man, and disagrees with its very purpose.

From a month, I’ve stopped enjoying school the way I used to. School for Me used to be second Home, though now it has become merely tolerable, bordering on unbearable.
So I now sit in the last bench and while the Teacher isn’t around, I while away my time thinking How nice school WOULD have been... How nice school COULD have been.

All One could want from a Friend is unending Trust... Unwavering Support... Unswerving Loyalty and that streak of Selflessness. Is it too much to ask of Someone whom, in the Truest Sense of the Word, you call, A Friend?

Maybe Today it is. Because beyond an exam, Your OWN exam, there’s probably nothing You can think of. I won’t blame anyone, maybe I’m such a creature too. I CHOOSE to see My Friends as Unselfish. Not that they were, not that they are, just that that is what I Choose. Maybe it IS definitely wrong to See... Because what You See is what You wish to See. And before long, before You know it, the Sight before You becomes a Hope, the Hope a Dream, the Dream a Vision of Perfection, the Perfection shattered the Way a mirror will be.

And yet, in those million pieces, one won’t stop Himself from searching for His own Reflection: What He wants to See. What He wants to Be. Because a shattered mirror will again, always be a Mirror. . . A million different pieces of a Mirror You once nourished.

Like I said, I’ve started sitting in the last bench away from everyone. I can’t figure out whether it is the Shallowness that effects Me most, or the Streak of Selflessness that I’m still searching for...

Maybe its both? But My classmates, as I said, refuse to See. They think ‘m deep in thought, preparing for the forthcoming exams.

You only choose to see that which please You. . .

So don’t See at all... Or maybe continue to See.

Because Life’s always going to be a dilemma.

What You See... is what is hiding the infinitesimally small, beautifully intricate and uncountably many layers of Truth within That which You see.

You See what You wish to See

Be it in Others or within Yourself...

As a Very Special Person always says, “ Its all Within You.”

Yours Truly,

An Optimistic Cynic. :)

New Year's Eve (:

Wishing y’all a very very VERY Happy New Year!
So my first blog of the Year is what I learnt this New Year.

You know people generally make resolutions and all that on the 31^st of December, I end up learning things. Maybe its just Me J

My New Year started off at 2230 on the 31^st of December with a Bad Feeling at the pit of my stomach. Like, literally, a very very bad feeling. I had stomach ache :P There was a New Year’s Eve party at My Uncle’s place. Basically so that 15-20 voices could shout together HApppPAYYYYY New YeaaarRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrr, I guess.

As it always happens on New Year’s Eve, people got drunk :P Well, not ‘got drunk’ per se, but yeah, that one-two shots of Vodka and God-Knows-What Alcoholic Crap was there. Thank heavens I’m 15, I’m not allowed to drink. After 18, I’m hoping and wishing I can say No with enough firmness. I have these rigid fixed views about Drinking, Smoking, and the likes of it. I just can’t stand the smell of Alcohol. Neither arising from the bottle nor from people -_-

Either which way, I was just sitting and watching everyone. My Cousin’s Wife handed her glass to Me so she could pick out some other glasses for some more guests. I remember how I held the glass as if it carried some infection. I held it so far away from Me that even if Wind blew in My direction, I wouldn’t be able to smell the Alcohol. Boy, I’m allergic to it!

I used to try and stop people, but after that I realised that it is of no use. I could only hold Myself back. On My 18^th birthday, I’m going to have a ‘dry’ party. Call Me boring or whatever, but yeah, ‘dry’ party.

My cousin’s friends who’d come, they drank too. And by 0015 (12:15 am), they were out. I asked My mom why they’d left, and she said “Beta you see, the Traffic Police will be taking Alcohol tests in a while.”

What I realised was that People wouldn’t stop drinking. People will forever and forever try and find loopholes in Law and try as hard as possible to defy it. Don’t drink and drive means Don’t. Drink. And. Drive. Whether it is 0015, or 0020. Just. Simply. DON’T!

Incident two: During the party, we played Dumb Charades, Antakshari, etc. As I sat there looking at everyone sing songs I didn’t even know existed... I was cursing every single damned person on Earth for making Me suffer this ‘Fate.’ Even then I wished that these people would sing songs I recognised, not that I could recognise the songs they sang.

New Year’s Eve, All in all made Me realise that however much We try to put on a Sweet Face, it is, in the End, just that: Put-On. Nothing on Earth will make People change some things in them. They just prefer their surroundings change according to their Wish and Will./

I guess, Be who You are must not be taken so seriously after all!

xD

Happy New Year folks J