Notice

Hello,

This blog had been frozen in time and after a lot of contemplation, it is being brought back from the deep freeze. 

This will be my scribble book where I, of all people, will let anyone and everyone into my life, mind and memory. So... welcome. 

Of saying our "Goodbyes"

We go through seasons of change. We start out as one person and end up becoming somebody different who just looks the same.

My first year was like the rains. It started with a flood of tears, dark thunderous clouds of doubt and minute flashes of a bright future. Knowing there were 59 others in the same boat made it better. Eventually you learn to love and sing with the rain. With shaky feet you learn to walk that slippery path hoping it leads to some solid ground.

Second year was brief. Almost like the autumn breeze; pleasant, peaceful, fun and free. We had our share of warm fuzzes and fall outs, soul searching and dream catching. The ground we stood on felt warm and sturdy. Smiles were shared and memories made. Just like that, it passed and with it happiness.

Winter (TY) brought with it abandonment. Our class, half full. Our teachers, some left, others didn’t teach us anymore. But there was beauty in all of this too. We grew closer, dependable and hopeful. We grew up. We had to.

Our IV’s were our seasons of spring. Ten days of breaking the ice, spreading hope and sharing happiness (rooms, secrets, clothes, toilets and memories).

 Our lives; the long summer will start soon. All we can do, is saddle up and take it on with all its seasons, and there will be many, just never the same.

Blackout Poetry

She wants a holiday.

Literally!

She wants to leave that room,

And run around like a maniac.

She twirls and twists,

In her long held dreams

Of escaping into the jungles,

And watch fireflies dance.

She has acquired a new dimension

Over the last few years.

With only 20 or 30 days more,

That is, if it kills her first.

- Karen 

(The above poetry is derived from words or sentences picked out from a travel article. Done as part of my Creative Writing class assignment.) 

You will never want...

… to be unwanted in a place you call “home”.

… to be lonely even in the company of friends.

… to be unable to sleep even when you’re exhausted.

… to be happy but no one to share it with.

… to be elated and then deflated.

… to have children, but they treat you like a “stranger”.

… to have a job, but no certainty.

… to have no reason to smile even in echoes of laughter.

… not to be childlike just ‘cause you’re physically mature.

… to want things you know you will never have.

… to hate the ones you love.

… to love something, not ‘cause you want to but because you have to.

… to be alive but dead from the inside.


- Karen

About an old man.

There once lived an old man, an old, lonely man.

He had many dreams, which he thought would benefit the world.

Some of which were good, others, not so.

So this old man with a few strands of hair on his head,

Stood in front of the mirror and began combing his hair.

Looking at himself in his crisp white shirt,

He felt patriotic, and joining the army was something he considered.

But he was an old man, and such thoughts were simply insane.

All he could do now, was to sit by the corner and watch the sky all day.

But this old man was restless.

He had nothing to do, so he said to himself,

“Why don’t I do something for my country instead?”

So with the fire in his belly,

He roamed the streets of Delhi.

He then went to a government office and asked for some stuff to get done.

The clerk said to him, “Sahebji, it’ll take some time, we have a lot to do, but not enough time to get it done.”

He was an old man, and ‘bribe’ was a new word he had learnt.

So he took out his wallet, with a few notes he got from his pension.

And he passed a couple from under the man’s table.

Shocked at seeing a hand under his desk, the man exclaimed,

“Sir! What is your hand doing down there?”

Embarrassed by the whole situation,

He quietly said, “Please young man, I don’t have much time.”

So the man took those bills and immediately speeded up the process, giving the old man some relief.

Happy at what he accomplished that day,

The old man set out in a dark path way.

It was there that his luck had turned around,

A few masked men threw him to the ground,

Stole the money in his wallet and began to run.

He didn’t care, as long as he was alive.

So he began his long walk home,

But somewhere along the road, his tummy began to groan.

So he stopped by a local ‘dhaba’ and ordered for some ‘kebabs’.

But the man behind the counter asked for cash before his order,

So he dug into his pocket and found his empty wallet.

His empty tummy made him grumpy,

He had no money now, so he went home hungry.

He looked at his tired face in the mirror again, and hoped that he wouldn’t have to face the same things again.

Angry and hurt that all his money was gone, he cursed those thieves, the government and the system at large.

With tears building up in his eyes, he made a pledge before going to bed that night,

That he would start a fight for every man’s right.

And that he wouldn’t sleep nor eat till his country was free from corruption and greed.

This was his promises that he pledged to keep.

But not tonight, he had to sleep.

- Karen Pereira.

Inspired by my father's sudden interest in recent issues pertaining to the Lokpal bill. This is not to hurt anyone's sentiments... just my frustration on hearing the same things in the news everyday.

When I climbed 2000 feet...

There was a time in my life,

When I climbed 2000 feet.

It was tiring and frustrating,

But I’m alive and still kicking.

The place was called Dzukou,

A valley you had to climb to see.

Cut away from the world and civilization,

A haven on earth it seemed.

A group of forty we were,

Two, above 40 and the rest below.

Who found the climb easier?

Other than our guides, no one in particular.

Our wake-up call came at 3 am,

We were physically alive, but mentally dead.

Packed our bags and tightened our shoes,

To visit a place only a man called ‘Sudhu’ would choose.

So we started our climb,

From a place called Khonoma.

It was the only time that I cried,

Internally for my Mama.

My memories of the place,

They are very vague.

All I know,

We walked for an entire day.

Half way through the climb,

I thought I was going to die.

But the thought of my Sir behind,

Changed all the negativity in my mind.

The mud, my feet,

The fog and some Twilight trees.

Were some of the things I still can imagine,

Other than the weird plants pricking my skin.

The flora and fauna,

I barely saw.

Just my shoes, pants and hands,

For a whole 16 hours.

I reached the top!

But saw no “Awesome” valley.

No stream or river,

Just some bushes and burnt trees.

Positive that this was the view we came to see,

All I needed now was a good night’s sleep.

Only when Sir mentioned the stuff he saw,

Did I realised that my feet, sky and ground were the only things I saw.

Oh well,

In the words of a great woman I met today.

She said, “It isn’t the top that is wonderful,

But the experience that makes it beautiful.”

The view from the top :  Dzukou Valley, Nagaland.

Karen Pereira.

Life in BMM

I wake up in the morning,

And from then starts the yawning.

To get up from bed,

My mom eats my head.

As I walk through the hall,

I doze though it all.

Then I thank God for sleep,

The greatest gift of them all.

Then at college, I finally reach,

Only to hear the lecturer screech.

None of it makes any sense,

Maybe my mind is just too dense.

But then again don't think that matters,

It’s actually the college timing

That's left my sleep in tatters.

When at last college is over,

A vision of my beloved bed begins to hover.

I head home fast,

But Damn what the hell,

I've got projects as well!

Then I curse god

Who made sleep and studies as well,

How couldn't you know the two aren't ever gonna gel?

The sun set, and the clock ticked on,

My thoughts of sleeping are now long gone.

Typing like mad,

Editing and backspacing till I got an overall count of 2000.

A deadline to meet,

A tired brain, unwilling to compete.

Then at last I head to bed,

It was so welcoming that I just dropped dead.

Now not even the demon under my bed, nor the creepy insects,

Will wake me up from this wonderful sleep,

For now, I am at peace!

We call this Life!!!