The Tiranga.

The tiranga, standing mighty, standing tall.

The tiranga, a living symbol.

The tiranga, flowing in colors and in cultures,

In flavours and in traditions

In devotion and in love.

The tiranga, a marvelous spectator

Of oppression and freedom 

Of discrimination and equality 

Of dictators and fighters

Of hate and love 

Of death and birth 

Of them and us. 

The tiranga in us

And us in the tiranga

~~~~~~~~

 P.S. The tiranga is the Indian national flag. 

What my mom taught me.

Today is the birthday of the person who’s my life. This person had a huge impact in the way I am today. This person taught me life’s greatest lessons, and shaped the way I saw the world.  And you want to know who this is? My mom. 

My mom is literally the best person you can ever meet; she’s intelligent, intellectual, trustworthy and humorous. Well, she has always been the same, when most people I’ve seen in my life slowly take off their masks, she never did, she never put on a mask. She has always been herself to every single person and she has even been judged for it. But well, I would’ve never learnt to be myself had she not been. I’ve had practical lessons. 

Everyone, once they become adults, realise all the wrong they did to their mothers. They then start treating her like she’s some goddess, somebody out of the world. Well, I once asked my mom what she thought about this and her answer was,

“Oh well, had they already treated her like a normal woman, they wouldn’t have to do this. The thing is, people think they’re mothers are gods, are superhuman and they start treating them like that. They don’t realise that mothers are also humans and they go through the same things that others go through. A mother needs love, care. She wants to be happy that the souls she brought into this world would always remember her, love her. That’s all that a mom wants.” 

Her answer left me dumbstruck. Well yes, of course, even I’ve ignored my mom at times, but my mom, understands. My mom accepts that she has gone through all that I’ve gone through and that she understands. She just tells me what to do. And she’s always right. Always. Every single time. 

My mom is my best friend, and I so want to be like her. Be a strong woman like her. My mom has inspired me that being good isn’t that bad. And being good isn’t that hard. 

I love you, mom, and I hope next year I will be able to give you something. And I hope, that, this year you’ll be happier than the earlier year. I hope that you fulfil your beautiful wishes and well, mom, happiest birthday ever! I love you tons and tons and tons!

The Kite Runner: A review.

*SPOILER ALERT* 

**You have been warned** 

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini doesn’t just break your heart, it shatters your heart into a million pieces and it becomes an inseparable part of you. The story (well, I know this is not JUST a story) leaves you as a mere spectator of all that is going on in this world. 

Well, of course, Hassan is everyone’s favourite. But well, mine is Amir. Amir is the reality, Amir is you and me. I don’t know whether anybody else felt this but if it is just me, but the whole book felt like a simulation. Like, I was Amir. I felt like I was going through all that he was going through, and well, of course, I would’ve done the same things he did if I was in his place. And a lot of people also say that there’s nobody in this world like Hassan, but fortunately, yes, there are people like Hassan and that is how the author got the inspiration for this character. 

Well, all of the other characters, whether it be the strong character of Baba, or even the most cruel and unimaginable Assef, they were well crafted and they were so realistic. As though the whole story was a real incident. But well, it isn’t.

The book was loaded with shocks and they were so huge that well… You just kind of think “how am I still alive?”

Hosseini portrayed the starvation of a soul for redemption very well. Maybe the prasies for this book is never enough. But, the only thing I have to say about this book is that, it had a huge impact on my life and changed my life altogether. 

Well, I’d really like to end my review with a quote from the book that touched me a lot, 

And that’s the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too. 

THE VERSATILE BLOGGER AWARD!

Hey all!

Thank you so much, Meher Gandhi (follow her at https://thescribblingssite.wordpress.com) for nominating me! It’s a great honour to receive this award. Much love to you, Meher.

RULES FOR THE VERSATILE BLOGGER AWARD:

  • Thank the bloggers who nominated you and share their links.
  • Nominate at least 10 bloggers for the award and provide links to their blogs, informing them about their nomination.
  • Reveal 7 facts about yourself that your readers probably do not know.

Here are the awesome bloggers I would like to nominate:

  1. https://thedevilsbible.wordpress.com/
  2.  https://z44961.wordpress.com/
  3. https://vbpoornima.wordpress.com/
  4. https://thestonewallwritings.wordpress.com/
  5. https://digantamisra1.wordpress.com/
  6.  https://inkgirlandwords.wordpress.com/
  7.  https://shreyaagr.wordpress.com/
  8.  https://asthabhardwaj1.wordpress.com/
  9. https://facetsandgamuts.wordpress.com/
  10.  https://thewordstrucksoul.wordpress.com/

If you’re interested in the award, consider yourself nominated!

7 FACTS ABOUT ME THAT YOU PROBABLY WOULD’VE NEVER EVEN THOUGHT OF:

1. I’m an introvert.

2. But I’m very, very social.

3. Sometimes I can’t accept that I’m wrong.

4. I hate it when somebody mispronounces a name. It’s very irritating.

5. I’m short-tempered.

6. I love watching sunsets with the people I love.

7. I can confuse people with the way I use my words.

Once again, thank you Meher for nominating me! And thank you all for showing me so much love and giving me all of this encouragement! My gratitude is too large to fit in! 

Evening at the seashore. 

The sun submerged in oceans,

The light spreading on waters like fire.


The waves rising in colours, 

I could never name. 
The coldness rushing through my veins;

My laughs of pleasure echoing 

Through the million thoughts

I wanted to conquer. 
Walking on wet sands 

With pockets full of clanging shells. 
Singing songs and forgetting worries,

Being more of nature than of myself

In a beautiful evening at the seashore. 

Gross Reality.

Frozen hearts and 

Melted wounds.

Fire burning within self.

Dark shadows looming underneath

The covers of truth.

Happy voices stuttering 

When they see the gross reality,

Cries of help, all around us.

Tied around with the rope of lies,

Unable to move.

Benign winds causing eyes to shut

Madness and chaos,

Leaving us searching for the truth.

The truth, still laying far down below;

Is too huge, for us to leave free. 

The diary.

My diary is that book you’ll find in my table, that has been laying in the same place untouched for six months now. And still, whenever somebody asks me what this green coloured book is, I proudly hold it in the air and say, “Ah, it’s my diary.” The way I say it, it sounds as though this book has secrets and moments, that this book is made up of time and people, when it’s actually just blank papers staring at your face. 

Sometimes, when I think about this poor book, I feel sorry for it. Sometimes, I feel bad that I was the cause of a tree being cut. Sometimes, I think of filling it with each and every seconds details and sometimes, I dont even remember it at all. Now you know why I called it a ‘poor book’.

But, I did open my diary today. A lot did happen over this six months. The world changed, people I knew and people I barely even saw changed. Concepts changed. Styles changed. Trends changed. Devices changed. And most of all, I changed. Change is inevitable. But writing all of this was impossible, at least, this late at night. So I just wrote down what I felt. And what I felt, I can’t actually define. It was neither happiness, not sorrow. Not anger, not peace. It was confusion. And now you know what I felt. 

I think my diary is the place where I write down experiences. Not the “Today this happened to me..” experience. But the , emotional experience. I think my diary is the place where I freely and openly define emotions that are hard to be expressed on the outside. Words sure can play a game with your head. 

My diary is also the place where I write down letters for my future self, where I tell my future me to be careful of to do this or that. It’s just funny and thoughtful at the same time. My diary is actually like my friend, knowing me very well and advicing me at the right times.

What is your diary to you? Do you have a diary? Do you write letters to yourself? Let me know in the comments!