The Symphony of Grief.

Life couldn't be more demanding,

Can't I go back to the time when my biggest jolt of fear was marking the western countries in the world map for the geography exam ?

A lump in my throat tells me my eyes are going to rain,

My senses are numb,

Grief refuses to leave my side,

fingers firmly weaved into mine,

Tears do not want to part ways,

did sadness bribe them ?

Loneliness made me sleep with himself again.

I'm screaming with no voice,

I wish someone hears it and snuggles me to the sweet bosom of happiness.

Is it just me

or

this offensive universe is plotting against you too ?

I ♥ Sidney Sheldon

Because this blog proudly boasts of being familiar with all things I love, this post just had to be here.

S I D N E Y   S H E L D O N 

the writer with substance, the writer with a certain class of his own.

the writer who believes in women, the writer who believes in their willingness to bring change.

In my sophomore year of engineering, a middle-aged professor came for a little seminar on the importance of soft skills. I can never thank him enough. If it wasn't for him, I would have never stumbled upon any of those dark contrasted novels with titles like 'Bloodline' and 'Are you afraid of the dark ?'.
That professor bizarrely emphasized 'communication skills' way too much, over and over again and wanted us to read these two novels he recommended, before his next visit.
Being the ruthless book-eater that I am, I landed straight into the book shop and grabbed a copy of each.
One of them was 'If Tomorrow Comes' by Sidney Sheldon. (Tracy Whitney is seriously his best heroine ever, Go get a copy and thank me later :D)
and the other one was 'The inscrutable Americans' by I-dont-know-whom. (which I haven't read even until today). Since that day, there has been no looking back.
And today my collection proudly owns all the 18 novels the legend has written in his lifetime.

*patshershoulderlikeamoron*

I remember those nights when I'd feasted upon them, Mom would peek in at 3 in the morning telling me to sleep and stop reading, but they are so darn unputdownable, I could not part my fingers from the pages.
They aren't novels, they're drugs.
Always leave you wanting for more.
And you never get enough of them.
Sadly, the writer isn't alive to enchant our minds anymore but Tilly Bagshawe is taking the legacy forward.
I've read her work, the one she dedicates to Sheldon. Great going, lady :)

This Wishful Rambler wishes him back to life.

Was that a real shooting star ?

P.S. For all those folks who aren't familiar with the legend, Buy any one of those 18, and I promise you won't be needing anyone to tell you to get the rest of the 17.

My Sweet Nothings

I so adore making lists :) Here I come up with another one :) Certain very beautiful little instances of my life have been enlisted here and I'd so re-read this when I grow old, become a toothless granny and laugh my lungs out at how crazy I was :D

1. I love the strawberry fragrance of my new soft wash. It's so fruity and vibrant. Makes me feel like a fat strawberry fresh out of the green. LOL :D

2. When I'm bored studying, I love making weird patterns on the bed sheet ( I make good contrasts, I have pens in all colors ) and on the pajamas I'm wearing.
The look on mom's face is worth capturing when she sees them. :P

3. I love the feeling that hungry version of me experiences when I see my food arriving at a restaurant.

4. I absolutely adore the blue family. Aqua, Royal blue, Sea blue, Sky blue. Love'em all.

5. I love it when my mom sends me and my brother a text everynight saying 'I love you both, gudnite beta', although it takes her an eternity to write through her qwerty keypad, she does it for us.
I'm proud, I taught her how to text :)

6. I love to apologize without saying sorry.

7. I love it when I find people doing the same wierd things that I do.

8. I love it when after a long winter day, I get into my oh-so-cozy bed and my quilt takes time to move from cold to warm to more warm. That warmth makes it all worthwhile.

9. I love 'How I met your mother'. I feel so so so connected. I cried when Marshall lost his father.

10. I love the simplicity and neatness of cartoon character's lives. I used to read comic books when I was a kid and more than the story, the environment interested me. Any damn colored walls, clean neat simple homes, little windows, everything so cute and proper. (Yea, you guessed it right, I'm an obsessesive Virgo) :P

11. I love receiving instant replies to texts sent after 2 AM.

12. One new message on Facebook makes me much more happier than 10 new notifications.

13. When idleness leaves me with no choice, I love to paint pretty pictures on my nails :)

This picture came out as a result of my exam anxiety :P

14. I love the cold side of the pillow.

15. I love completing a task before the microwave beeps.

16. I love to try going back to sleep hoping to complete my incomplete dream.

17. I absolutely love to surprisingly find money that I don't know of in my jeans pocket.

18. I love balancing a light switch and then celebrate my little success with myself :)

19. This is one thing that does not happen but I'd love it if it ever does. I wish to receive letters from my friends. Not the ones they hand over to me themselves but the ones that are actually posted. The ones that have little drawings of hearts and flowers and stuff on the borders. :D Huh !! stupid cellphones and low call rate plans. Letters are extinct.

20. I love the sight and sound and feel and touch of the rain.

21. I totally love the tininess of baby clothes and other articles. My nephew and my neice give me tonnes of happiness by being so little and crazy :) !

22. I love falling asleep on a couch and waking up with a blanket on me. Mom Mom Mom. Can I ever love you more ?

23. Damn you Steve Jobs, You've made me fall in love with a gadget. I adore my iPhone like bees adore honey. I used to loathe touch screens and now my fingers try to flee off my hand when they see a keypad.

P.S. when is the next one coming out ?

24. I know 24 is a weird number to end this list but no censoring and no extra footage to anything that hasn't earned to be here.

- I love to smile when I send you a smiley. Sending an emotion and not an emoticon is the sweetest thing life taught me. :) (Yes, I did smile).

Have a pretty day :) !

Hugs :*

Do you see the monster walking away with the filth ?

I apologize if the kind of language I use in this post offends you at any point of time. It was really important for me to pen this down without censoring anything.

Since past couple of weeks, I've stopped reading The Times Of India. On purpose. Mom thinks I've become lazy and lost interest in reading because I don't even open Delhi Times. The day before yesterday, she asked me if she should tell the newspaperwallah to stop delivering the english newspaper. Tragedy struck me. I could not part ways with my newspaper. I managed a quick NO and grabbed that day's copy. I couldn't tell her what was going on.

It was yesterday, I turned over to page 2 and there it was in bold capitals '16 year old gang raped by dance teacher and his friends'. Tremors of shock,anger,rage went through me. I read the story. It told they were four of them, and two of them were minors, below fifteen. I was blown away. But I was glad on further reading that the bastards were caught and the case was filed. It made me speak aloud, 'Darn you filth, I'm not proud to be a citizen of my own country because of you'.

Plus what is up with the statistics ? It said compared to 2010's July, 2011's July has reported a 10.73% decrease in rape cases. What the fuck is wrong with this system. Even a single girl raped in 365 days should be a failure for them.

If I were even a little significant in deciding what should be the punishment for these sons of bitches, I would have recommended hanging them, not till they die, but till the victim feels satisfied from within that she has been avenged. Not that it will be of any help, not that the writhing pain would find an outlet out of their crying souls, but because this is all that can be done.

These bastards do whatever their filthy heart desires and then get away with it as easily as they get into it. Who is to be blamed ? The victim ? who sometimes stays quiet fearing public humiliation and future disgrace Or the system ? who listens to those bold hearts who gather the courage to come out, files a case, does some paperwork, catches the accused, and then eventually releases them succumbing to certain superior pressure.

A 12 year old raped,  A 10 year old molested, I mean don't these monsters have any moral conscience ?

An acquaintance of mine who must not be named here, told me an incident the other day that actually moved the ground underneath me. Late at night she was out with some neighborhood buddies for a walk, they waved goodbyes and marched towards their homes. She was suddenly interrupted by a man on his bike who looked like in his twenties, his face was covered, he had an office badge of the company that too must not be named here, and a laptop bag hung diagonally across him. All this description must have pictured a decent guy returning home from work. But the bastard then started doing 'stuff-unmentionable-here' in front of the girl. She froze for a millisecond and ran screaming from there. Listening to this I actually wanted to give Papa a call and thank him for being so strict. My father doesn't even let me go to the next-lane confectioner without somebody elder and responsible with me. I always fought with him saying 'you'll never let me become independent Papa' and storm out of the room. But realization has struck me hard in the head now. And I want to be a parent just like him someday.

Although they've never showed much of her show in India, but I myself look up to this lady. Oprah Winfrey. the legendary philanthropist. was molested at 4, raped at 9, a mother to a boy at 14, who shortly died thereafter, and still a live example for those victims of fate. That lady has obviously not had a normal childhood like we have had but managed to send the people responsible for this behind bars, built a place and standard for herself that would be hard to achieve for any individual who even dares to try for at least another millennium.

I'm a very pretty and happy writer most of the days but I needed to get this out of my head. I just got the news of a 12th grader molesting a kid in 3rd grade and my blur overflowed. I mean for God's sake, he's a little baby who is supposed to paint a sunshine scenery with his newly bought pastels, not experience this cruelty. I wish the bastard gets beaten up to death by an angry mob.

I wish our country apes some of the strict judiciary laws of the west instead of that lame nothingness and nudity.

Tonight, send me a shooting star.

Tonight, I wish a better place to live in.