randomized

'Come on boy, come down now. It’s time to go. We are getting late!!', Ram hollered at the tree without a pause and walked towards and through the clearing. Manu looked at him going out and started climbing down the tree. He didn’t like being left behind and Ram's going to the clearing meant the longer he took getting down from that tree, the longer the distance he'll have to cover to catch up with him; and that man walked fast. So he climbed down fast and ran after him.  It was his favourite pass time, Manu’s. Sitting on that heavy branch, halfway up the tall Peepal tree, and watching the sunshine break way and glimmer over and through the spaces between the rooftops and treetops early in the morning was the best moment of most of his days. He got up early, climbed that single, old, tall tree and sat there each morning till he heard Ram call him out to go for breakfast and start work day. Breakfast meant a steel bowl of milk and a small pack of glucose...

There are days when you, think of the wonderful past © anonymous. From google. those beautiful memories, which will forever last Meeting new people who have, come to be your lifelong friends visiting exciting places with them, and trying out blogging trends Discovering a writer in yourself, writing to make laugh and cry feeling up n above the clouds, thinking why didn't you earlier try Experiencing the innocence of thoughts, filling your heart with joy reading those posts by your friend, you so wait for, adore and enjoy The excitement you feel when you, see how similar you both think how relatable everything is, you, might as well simultaneously blink You share anything you find of interest, and eagerly wait to discuss and you talk of many other things, which to you are surely precious You laugh and you cry with them, share your wrongs and your rights and you don't even notice when, you start talking whole nights Then time comes when you, finish each ...

This is a new year. Not very new in strictest technical terms, but new in terms of my blog. A happy new year to all of you. I have been absent from this space for quite a long time; so long that sometimes I even thought that my 'phase' of blogging is over and that I am done with it. But thankfully it wasn't and isn't. And while I was still skeptical about this whole thing, I did never think of, and would probably never will, think of or have the courage to close it down. I cannot do that, it has too many good memories associated with it. Having said that, I will still not make promises to whoever stumbles upon here, that I will keep the updates coming on comparatively regular intervals from now on. I can't make any promises about this; I know better of it. Instead, in this post, I am going to just thank you all who still remember this blog and sometimes come to see if there is anything new cooking about. To thank you for being part of this journey and ...

Okay, here is the thing; I am not a hero. I never was, nor am I now. And I don't think I can be one in the future. My father once said how all your good deeds cease to mean anything once you do a terribly bad thing. 'What is the difference between a bad and a terrible thing, father?' I had asked. 'That depends,' he had said, 'on what you consider a bad thing and what you don't.' I never understood that remark of his. Surely, I thought, bad things are bad for everyone; that bad things were considered bad universally, that was the deal, correct? Turned out it wasn't. Not always were bad things considered bad. Not in every case were guilt a visible emotion in the guilty. But when I understood this, my father was not around; neither was my mother. Both had departed in their sleep on the same day some years ago. And I was left alone to comprehend the terribleness of my deed; a deed that had wiped all my good ones, if there were any before it. ...

Once upon a time, there lived a girl in a small fishermen village in a beautiful land. The village, like the whole kingdom was picturesque in whatever corner one were to happen to be in. There were many small villages and odd towns where people engaged in various trades and works. There were forests and large swathes of fields which separated them. The farmers usually lived near the forests and the rivers and the shepherds and cattle farmers on the fields. As for this particular village, it was one of the numerous which lay near the big river that was the lifeline of this wonderful land.

A few months ago, I received this comment from this reader who wrote how she essentially read my whole blog in a single day and even though I sound like a narcissist douche, I was and am pretty sure it was more ‘her’ ability to sit around than anything else.    The P.S. of her comment, where she wrote how when we meet, she is going to take my autograph, made me both overwhelmed with happiness and silly and I responded saying that we would get a photograph clicked and I’ll make a post about our awesome meeting on my blog. Even though I was genuinely happy, at that time I presumed, as I did not know her or had a look at her blog, that she would be just another blogger teenager, all fascinated with my amateurish attempts at writing and someone who maybe did not have much literary exposure. But boy was I proven wrong when I actually met her and found that she was as much like I had imagined her as east and west are same and when incidentally, as it happens with me always,...

Let me tell you my story in relation to friends. When I was 7 perhaps, I was admitted to a new school, in 2nd standard. There, among other things, which included marvelling at the size of the building and playground and discovering that I could buy an amazing hot samosa and a hotter bread-pakoda, both in all of ₹5, happened something quite  remarkable . I learned a new term, Best Friends . I didn't know exactly what kind of friends were called best friends,  but from what I did get, I was pretty much enchanted by the idea. That day, I saw a boy tell another how his best friend  from the class was on a vacation abroad and was going to bring him a gift from there. Later that day, I saw two boys, whom somebody maybe referred as the best friends , walking around during recess or maybe after the school ended, hands on each other's shoulders, chatting excitedly, like they were having the best time in the world. So, I assumed that perhaps best friends ...

This is the third part of the story. Find the first two parts here and here . The first 'here' points to the first part. ;) Note: This part is narrated from a third-person's point of view. Doing this from Joy's POV was my initial resolve, but it wasn't coming along as good as I wanted to, so I decided against it. This is a loooooooooooooooooong post. *** 'Let me help you!' 'No, I 'm good!! I'll ...just...have to...jump a...little...higher...ahhh.' 'You'll get hurt. And what if someone sees you jumping like this?' 'What of it?' 'You're a Princess!' 'Oh, all the... better...Nobody...will say...anything..."oh fishes"...to the...Princess.' 'Here! Take my knife. It'll be easier with it.' She waited out of pride, contemplating whether to take the knife or not, thinking she was definitely capable to do it by herself, but then she took the knife and thi...

This is part two of the story 'Princess and the Closed Room'. Find the first part of it here . *** I came out of the house and started walking absentmindedly on the driveway and later out of the big iron doors, on the cobweb of streets. I wasn't paying much attention to the path and turns on my way, but I knew, in that uncaring absentmindedness, where I was going. It was an impossible thing for me otherwise, due to my not so good sense of direction, but I kept going without any hesitation, as though I was following a map without actually having one with me. As soon as I had come out of that house, it felt like a big weight has been lifted off my chest. I felt less uncertain, less worried and less scared. I was free. I know I had made a lot of promises to people in there, specially to Joy and I know he would hate me later for doing this, but it was something I had to do. I knew this was wrong and I knew this would break the hearts almost all of those inside, ...

This post is part of Theandric Thursday , a fortnightly  whenever-she-feels-like-posting feature hosted by Ashna Banga . The dictionary definition of 'Theandric' is 'Relating to the joint agency of divine and human nature'. Sounds interesting? Write your own Theandric Thursday post and drop a link on her blog. You can write fiction, real events or a mixture of both. You may use the image on the right for the same. Happy Writing :) *** I don't remember how it all started. It felt like jumping straight out of one dream and into another. We were in a quiet suburb street, me and Lily. It was afternoon and no one could be seen around. Dull, bland houses lined the alley on both sides. There was a peculiar grey tone to each one of them.

Here's what happens. You pick up a book you are really excited about reading and which you have heard about a lot from your friend. You've read the blurb, which looked pretty promising and seen some amazing five star reviews. To add to its appeal, it also happens to be one of those books by one of those writers who almost everybody swears by. So you get down to read and you like how it starts and you read more and you like how it's going. You like the characters, you like the humour, you like the use of metaphors in it. So you keep reading and you keep liking, so much so that you read more than three fourth of it in a night. The next day you continue with it and finally finish it. Seems good enough, right? You've read it fast! You must be feeling good, happy, contented, excited(even more than how much you were before starting it), right?