Saturday, March 26, 2011

Some Good, Some Bad

Here are some random things I wanna say:

* There is this one girl whose head i wanna rip off. Stupid SLUT, such a kiss ass. One day, I will show her her place. AND OMG, that day I will feel sooo happy!

* I am going to write for a Mag again! Yay!

* I will become passive in some situations. Bah!


Thursday, March 17, 2011

Bah Part II

Two days back in class, I started to work on my story a bit. The class was thoroughly dull and I had promised myself that if I don’t pay attention in class or bunk; I will do something equally good in its place. Hence, I started to write. And then I came upon a point where I had to decide where my character dies. So, I did what I always do. I thought about the age when I would want to die. And this is where I got stuck. Damn. How is anyone supposed to know what time will be the right time to go away? Apart from people who take their own lives, others have no idea whatsoever. This is the worst kind of exam ever! And you can’t even prepare for it. And I hate being so stuck. Not so much about me dying but about my character. Yes, I love my story, thank you very much.
And then I thought, sadist that I am, that I will make my character indispensible to the people who love him/her/it before he/she/it goes. That way, it somehow becomes more tragic. But I am I making fun of death this way? Am I taking this fact very loosely, little realizing the magnitude of the situation? I don’t know. I am so confused. And now I am sad too. Damn it!

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Thanx Papa, for Ruskin. And Everything else.

I am going to read Ruskin Bond again. He just reminds me of the amazing life I had. But most of all, he reminds me of my Dad. My family lives abraod now and I am here in India. And there are times, when I really really miss them. My first ever book was given to me by my father. It was when I was in fourth standard. The book was the 'Ruskin Bond's Children's Omnibus'. It was a thick book(it still is) and it had the best Ruskin Bond stories, according to Dad. I remember, how we came back and my Dad went into the balcony and read the entire book cover to cover in four hours. I don't know how he managed that. But what struck me was how engrossed he was into reading. From that day on, I started to notice how he read his books. He would always go to his book shelf. Look at it for some time. Spot a book. Ask me if I happened to read it yet (I had never a read a book from his HUGE collection till I came in ninth). He would then tell me the theme in the most eloquent manner and then while talking he would somehow find a spot and start reading. I never saw my mom ever disturb him when he read. Somehow, home felt more homely when he was reading. After we shifted to Delhi, he did not get time to read. He had soo much of work and on Sundays, we always had relatives. I felt bad for him because he was one of those very very few people who enjor reading and don't brag about it. If it had not been for him, I would not be doing what I am doing today. I would not know anything about good books if it hadn't for him. My father always thought that books were the best present. He always gave himself books whenever he shopped. Whenever I rejected clothes over books, I would see him smile. He got me my first subscription to a magazine, the English Champak. He made me read Editorials in the Times of India and write their summaries. He gave me this amazing habit of writing my diary every night, a habit that I continue till today and will go on forever. If I am someone today, it is because of my father. He is so successful and I am very proud of him. I know he was heartbroken when he had to leave some of his books behind in India. But I know he will be able to build his library very soon. And I know, I am going to help him.