let me touch you.
hold you.
feel you.

you are real.

I are hot.

radio mirchi says, "angule dot maane apni hot".

my forefinger is purple.

woah baby!
this feels good!

the whole experience was extremely hilarious.
and yes, i was laughing.

last night, my dad and his buddies were having their usual no-reason party.
these parties usually include the other family members too.
and basically, they do not make sense.
(now you know the secret behind my *ahem* well being)
anyway, basically, by 1 a.m., they had decided that we would all go to vote together.
the plan was to wake up at 7 and vote and go for breakfast.

we left at 10.30.

there were three first-time voters in the group.
this guy called tuhin, my sister and me.
and i shall not start talking about the hype.

and yes, i was the youngest in the group.
and yes, there were a few shocks.
hmphf.


we were standing in the line (which wasn't very long) and i had this weird feeling inside(like always).
di was standing before me.
and before i could even understand the byapar, the man was asking me my serial number.
after that, there came this man who thrust me this funny yellow slip which i took to the inking man.
and then, MY FINGER BECAME PURPLE!
*does the jiggy*

i half ran to the EVM and didn't see a thing.
i knew who i was voting for.
searched for the name.
pressed that button thing.

i came out.
ma looked at me, grinning.
i grinned back and showed her the finger.

i'll show it to you too.

it felt funny.
i felt proud.
like i did something substantial.
like i am finally an adult.



apparently, the rest of the group got shouted at inside for being too loud.
i told you.


i wasn't sleeping.
:)
were you?

spring.

i wish i could paint a rainbow across your face,
and colour you with laughter that would never die
and show you the dreams that would keep you awake
and bring to you joys that would make you cry.

this was in my drafts thing for a really long time.
and i felt like posting something.
so this happened.
so, bleh.
laugh.
i know you did.
you always do.

This, I say.

I’ll be there for you.
I will hold your hand
And build castles of sand
With you.
I will whisper in your ears
And scare away your fears
and wipe those tears
you cried.
I tried.
I tried to keep you here.

I promise you.
I promise you 365 roses,
Thornless.
I promise that I won’t make you bleed.
I promise to be there by your side
And count stars with you at night
Even if you don’t succeed.

I will remember you.
You with that apple I want to eat,
Grinning at me.
And me,
Staring at your beautifully crafted face,
Wanting to wipe off that half smirk
Which heightens your beauty.
You with those invisible wings,
Flying into forbidden territory,
Trespassing.
And me,
Giving in.

I will erase you.
Someday.
Not today.
Today,
you can stay
My lone bright star.

i have realised that i have an extremely bad habit of staring at people.
as a result of this, i get eventually get The Stare back, or i catch people in the act.
they all look at me as though i just sprouted dingleberries on my forehead.
but, whatever.
my concern is not regarding getting The Stare.
it is about me giving it.
and about me making notes in my head about the people i stare at.

i got on to the auto today.
the man sitting beside the driver in front was digging his nose and was looking into the rear-view mirror.
that was until he saw me staring back at him.
humiliated, he started giving me the you-don't-have-to-stare-kid look because i, like the complete moron that i am, deprived him of his independence.
after all, india is a free country and everyone is allowed to do what they want.
they are the free citizens of india, after all.

i went for a concert in the evening.
a friend's band was playing.
they were pretty decent.
they were then followed by this band called Steel.
well, i don't know whether they really were a band.
i mean, were they?
or was it just me?!

and then there was the crowd.
oh, yes.
that is the whole point of this extremely boring post.
The Crowd.
with all the coolio people the city could ever produce.
doing the whole "bhashan" routine to "Coming Back to Life".
all of it made a very interesting watch.
there were people, who had not even heard of bands called Pink Floyd and AC/DC, "headbanging".
"moshing".
wow.
they make me feel good.
i don't know why.
i look at them.
i stare.
i GAPE.
i make mental notes.
and i keep safe distance.


there are times when i think that maybe i be a tad bit too elitist.




and then there are times when i ask myself why i even write.
like now.
no point.
no one reads.
bleh.

sleepy head at work.

I am those unsaid words stuck in your throat,
that voice of comfort during your times of fright.
I am the gooseflesh you felt when a teardrop fell,
the warm wind that blew over you yesternight.
I am not what you thought I would be.
To you, I am more than a physical form.
I am the flowers of spring,
the song on your strings,
the smile on your face when the day dawns.

and I don't want the world to see me
'cause I don't think that they'd understand.
when everything's meant to be broken
I'd just want you to know who I am.

this blog is so full of crap that i could die.
right now.


no.
not now.
i will live until holi.
i will die on friday.


oh, no.
sorry.
sunday.
next.