i wrote this a really really long time ago, it's an extract from one of my stories, one of the many i didn't finish. maybe you should know, my stories are sometimes just diary entries written in third person...so i write them to just have the simple pleasure and relief of writing, and, fortunately or unfortunately, making sense is not one of the requirements. i found this in an old notebook and i think it stirred something in me, so i thought i'd put it up. the rest of the story is probably lost. this is it.
lots of love, apoorva
Her vision went fuzzy. Tottenham Court Road! Tottenham Court Road? That was where they were going? Suddenly she forgot what she was doing. What did they need to go to Tottenham Court Road for? Why was her mother coming? She knew the way to Tottenham Court Road. She could roll there with her eyes closed. Nobody needed to go with her. But why was she going? She didn't need to go. What was so special about Tottenham Court Road? There was nothing there. Nothing different about it from any other road. Except that she could look fixedly at her feet or even shut her eyes throughout the entire ride and still feel it in her bones when they reached it. Why? She stumbled out of the car, following her mother robotically. What were they doing here? She didn't want to be here. Why was everyone always trying to bring her here? She felt like she could hear her own heartbeat, and also that of every person around her. Could you differentiate heartbeats? Did everyone have a distinctive one? Whose was she hearing? Whose was she listening for?
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Holidays..
Holidays! Some relaxation after exams! I screamed in excitement that our end semester exams finally got over. I went to the "Cafe Coffee Day" opposite our college, with my best friend. I had a wonderful chocolate coffee and she had a yummy plain chocolate chip muffin with vanilla ice-cream. I returned home and I sat back relieved, watching a show called "Ishaan", because it had this really melodious song. This is the show, by the way, in which one of our guest lecturers, Mrs. Ruby Chakravarthi has acted.
I went shopping that evening with my mother for a wonderful stole, two cute mini diaries and a big 5-subject one for the next semester. I didn't want to do a last-minute shopping for the 2nd semester. I came back home and I went to my room. I sat there, staring at my desktop and my modem and my fingers were itching to switch them on, so I did. I went on the site to which most of my friends know I am addicted - facebook. I played a few games to let time pass as quickly as it could. Then I was bored and so, I started styling my hair in front of the mirror. Then I got even bored so I stepped into my parent's room where my mother was watching tv and I sat beside her. Usually I find programs that I watch with her, more interesting than when I watch them alone. And so it was very interesting. I got to discuss some personal things with her. It was a pleasant mother-daughter time. My brother was playing with his friends, so there wasn't anybody to interrupt us. Later on, I went to sleep.
Then on Sunday, my entire family was free and we took off to Mantri mall and enjoyed the feasts there. We also went for a little shopping - you know, on-the-spot. Ah! It was amazing! Since my future plans are to become an architect, the architecture of the mall fascinated me. I enjoyed it a lot. Then we went back home.
On Monday, we went to Hosur to shop for crackers, for diwali. I don't like crackers; they were for my brother. I simply sat in my car with my dog in the back seat, all alone, text messaging one of my old friends. He had just woken up when I did. Then from there, we decided to visit my dog's birth place. Unfortunately, his mother, Nancy, had been given off to someone by the owners as they couldn't handle her. But surprisingly, my dog recognized the place! And he was only 3 months when he left that house, to come live with us!
Tuesday was nothing great. I just waited till the evening so I could go for an hour of golf practice session. It was not all that great. Since I didn't go for 2 weeks, I lost my swing in the air. The balls neither went to high, nor too far, nor straight. I was disappointed. Later on, I decided to work on facebook again. Nobody was online, so I just played a game and started writing songs. And now I have a complete collection of 14 of my own songs!
Next day, holiday? Well, not exactly for the WMAs. We practiced throughout the morning and had loads of fun. At least we got to meet our group friends! Later part of the day was dull for me. I didn't have anything to do. So this is exactly why I thought I'd post something here.
You know, I really didn't think my holidays would be this boring. I want college to start soon and I wish I could meet my best friend, even before that. I miss her.
~ Madhuvanthi
I went shopping that evening with my mother for a wonderful stole, two cute mini diaries and a big 5-subject one for the next semester. I didn't want to do a last-minute shopping for the 2nd semester. I came back home and I went to my room. I sat there, staring at my desktop and my modem and my fingers were itching to switch them on, so I did. I went on the site to which most of my friends know I am addicted - facebook. I played a few games to let time pass as quickly as it could. Then I was bored and so, I started styling my hair in front of the mirror. Then I got even bored so I stepped into my parent's room where my mother was watching tv and I sat beside her. Usually I find programs that I watch with her, more interesting than when I watch them alone. And so it was very interesting. I got to discuss some personal things with her. It was a pleasant mother-daughter time. My brother was playing with his friends, so there wasn't anybody to interrupt us. Later on, I went to sleep.
Then on Sunday, my entire family was free and we took off to Mantri mall and enjoyed the feasts there. We also went for a little shopping - you know, on-the-spot. Ah! It was amazing! Since my future plans are to become an architect, the architecture of the mall fascinated me. I enjoyed it a lot. Then we went back home.
On Monday, we went to Hosur to shop for crackers, for diwali. I don't like crackers; they were for my brother. I simply sat in my car with my dog in the back seat, all alone, text messaging one of my old friends. He had just woken up when I did. Then from there, we decided to visit my dog's birth place. Unfortunately, his mother, Nancy, had been given off to someone by the owners as they couldn't handle her. But surprisingly, my dog recognized the place! And he was only 3 months when he left that house, to come live with us!
Tuesday was nothing great. I just waited till the evening so I could go for an hour of golf practice session. It was not all that great. Since I didn't go for 2 weeks, I lost my swing in the air. The balls neither went to high, nor too far, nor straight. I was disappointed. Later on, I decided to work on facebook again. Nobody was online, so I just played a game and started writing songs. And now I have a complete collection of 14 of my own songs!
Next day, holiday? Well, not exactly for the WMAs. We practiced throughout the morning and had loads of fun. At least we got to meet our group friends! Later part of the day was dull for me. I didn't have anything to do. So this is exactly why I thought I'd post something here.
You know, I really didn't think my holidays would be this boring. I want college to start soon and I wish I could meet my best friend, even before that. I miss her.
~ Madhuvanthi
Sunday, October 31, 2010
She laughed and Seema smiled, her parents frowned. Disapproval nearly suffocated them but they endured it all in good grace. It would be over soon. The final call for the Canada bound flight came and her mother pulled her side. “Just tell me where I went wrong,” her mother pleaded, “We could still go back home and forget everything…all of this.” She pulled away disgusted. “Mum, don’t make me question calling you ever once I get there,” she threatened, but softened as tears filled the older woman’s eyes. “I love Seema and I cannot be happy without her,” she repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time and reminded herself that at least her parents had not shut the door in her face like Seema’s and for that she had to be grateful. She now held back tears as she thought of all the fond memories she had shared with her mother, her father, her Bangalore. She walked away from her parents and held Seema’s hand. Seema gave her hand a tight squeeze, she understood as she always had. They walked to the flight together, still holding hands.
-Shruthi
Why I can't write
When I watch a movie, read a book, listen to a song on the radio or see a billboard, a million ideas, questions and abstract thoughts buzz around my head. My natural response is to put them on paper but then I stop. I can’t write.
There are a few very reasonable reasons why I can’t and many more unreasonable ones but I’ll stick to the reasonable ones; of course they may seem unreasonable to you and if they do, I’ll take it you’ve never seriously attempted writing.
The first reason would be that unless I capture the delight of the moment and immediately set down to writing it, it just never happens. Call it laziness if you will, but I’d like to think of it as an artistic inability. A poor excuse in even worse choice of words but then you will have to let it go, because I had the idea of writing this two days ago.
Plagiarism. Just the word is enough to send shivers down any budding writer’s back. I’ll be presumptuous and say everybody who attempts writing have read at least a book or two that has really affected them. When an emigrant can pick up the accent of the nation he goes to after a while, is it really impossible to pick up the style of your favourite author? What separates a bad writer from a good one is that the good one has a style of his own, the great ones seem simply to write like everybody else but add a quirky touch and I’m not talking about the plot. I’m neither good nor great and I wouldn’t want to fall among the bad.
The great writers themselves are a source of agony to me. When I read something that is brilliant I want to cry, irrespective of the mood the piece suggests. It is because I’m not sure I can write anything as good as that. I cannot call myself a writer when these geniuses do too. It just isn’t justified.
Then the case of writer’s block. When nothing inspires and if suddenly a small crack in the wall appears and inspiration does trickle down, the words are all missing. To feel numb and then unable to express what you feel is worse when you know you had the medium to in the first place. I could still spout out nonsense but critics do not look kindly upon a budding writer’s block, even if the critic is your mother and I tell you this from experience.
“Had I been blessed with even limited access to my own mind there would have been no reason to write. I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means.” A quote from Joan Didion’s ‘Why I write’. I don’t think I could have put that across as accurately as she has (look up my third reason again) but i know it is as true for me. When I write I delve into a part of me that has answers; so though I can’t write for all these reasons and more, I know I stoically still will impose my writing, be it in my journal or a blog.
-Shruthi
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
The Dream
i know some of you might be tired of the romantic cliches i've used, but for me some cliches have this eternal irresistible charm. =)
love, apoorva
The Dream
As the night climaxed and Thalia fell into bed, exhausted, and her mind entered a deep stupor, her subconscious awoke, stretching pleasurable, lazily looking forward to her day. She took in the world around her. Thalia's state of mind when she had gone to sleep had been one of weariness but deep satisfaction also. "Well, we're just going to have to fix that, aren't we?" Tatiana murmered, annoyed by the peace of mind surrounding her. Tatiana as a subconscious thrived on loneliness that comes only in the darkest, most cruel hours of the night, and she had to hunt for that in the depths of Thalia's soul while Thalia slept, if she was to have enough energy to wake up the next night.
Tatiana got up and started walking. Every night her surroundings were different, but no matter what they were, she had to wade through dozens of dimensions of thought. Thalia's mind was a jungle of ideas, her soul an ocean of feeling. As Tatiana fought through it all, she enjoyed the hunt for darkness.
She stumbled and plunged through a soft canpoy, into a radiant space. Sheilding her eyes from the bright lights, she saw a figure approaching. "Katara!" she exclaimed, recognising the subconscious of Thalia's mother. "How are you?"
Katara replied pleasantly, "I'm well, Tatiana dear." They stood together for a few seconds, sheltering themselves from the rainbow of Thalia's mind in the darkness of eachother. Tatiana's eyes radiated shadows into the vibrant tropical atmosphere of the part of Thalia's mind with which she dreamed of her friends. Blinded by memories and echoes of laughter, Tatiana winced. Katara noticed.
"You can control this, Tatiana," she said, gesturing around her. "You have to visualise and then find what you want Thalia to see, what you want to see. That is what she will dream of."
Tatiana thought about this as she pushed on through visions of Thalia and her friends laughing and playing some silly game. The momentary irritation she felt lowered her defences, allowing Thalia's enthusiastic soundtrack to the scene to penetrate her consciousness. As she heard it echoing through Thalia, its rhythm in tune with her heartbeat, Tatiana felt panicked. Thalia's dreams were her creations, and they were becoming stronger. More visions were in the scene now. The love was flowing like blood and wine on the cobblestoned streets of Paris. Tatiana was disgusted by the beauty of it all.
Concentrating on tuning the music off key and blurring the figures Thalia was seeing, Tatiana plunged forward, trying to visualise the environment she wanted to surround Thalia's soul with. As she moved she used her eyes to cast shadows around her, and fight the light and brightness that so often filled Thalia's eyes.
Emerging from the scene, Tatiana knelt to the ground and imagined Thalia close to her. Holding her protectively, Tatiana began to sing. She sang a lullaby Thalia had heard when they were young, which had both terrified Thalia and captivated her to the point of obsession for years. Tatiana sang and sang until Thalia became more solid in her arms and the vibrant colours surrounding Thalia's memories faded, drowning in shadows. She knew that on another level the world was shaking as Thalia's peace of mind shattered and she tossed and turned in her sleep, seeing the person Tatiana had fought so hard to call.
Thalia's demons emerged in a burst of fiery darkness, materializing into the horrible vision that was ripping Thalia's heart to pieces. Tatiana continued to sing as he approached, a hideous, morphed figure with cruel eyes and a tantalizing mouth. He stopped in front of Tatiana, who then stopped singing and got to her feet.
"You don't really look anything like the way she remembers," Tatiana said, smiling coldly at the memory before her. Her eyes glowed red to counter his black ones.
"Her memory of me is tainted," the figure said, but it sounded more like a sneer. "Punishment for my sins," he added sarcastically. "I'm supposed to be feeling remorse."
"But you're beautiful," Tatiana said, her eyes devouring him. "Breaking hearts is an art, not a sin."
The dream grew more definable with the strength of this compliment. "I'm glad at least this part of her still needs to see me."
"Yes," Tatiana agreed, "Now it's your job to keep us entertained until she wakes up..."
love, apoorva
The Dream
As the night climaxed and Thalia fell into bed, exhausted, and her mind entered a deep stupor, her subconscious awoke, stretching pleasurable, lazily looking forward to her day. She took in the world around her. Thalia's state of mind when she had gone to sleep had been one of weariness but deep satisfaction also. "Well, we're just going to have to fix that, aren't we?" Tatiana murmered, annoyed by the peace of mind surrounding her. Tatiana as a subconscious thrived on loneliness that comes only in the darkest, most cruel hours of the night, and she had to hunt for that in the depths of Thalia's soul while Thalia slept, if she was to have enough energy to wake up the next night.
Tatiana got up and started walking. Every night her surroundings were different, but no matter what they were, she had to wade through dozens of dimensions of thought. Thalia's mind was a jungle of ideas, her soul an ocean of feeling. As Tatiana fought through it all, she enjoyed the hunt for darkness.
She stumbled and plunged through a soft canpoy, into a radiant space. Sheilding her eyes from the bright lights, she saw a figure approaching. "Katara!" she exclaimed, recognising the subconscious of Thalia's mother. "How are you?"
Katara replied pleasantly, "I'm well, Tatiana dear." They stood together for a few seconds, sheltering themselves from the rainbow of Thalia's mind in the darkness of eachother. Tatiana's eyes radiated shadows into the vibrant tropical atmosphere of the part of Thalia's mind with which she dreamed of her friends. Blinded by memories and echoes of laughter, Tatiana winced. Katara noticed.
"You can control this, Tatiana," she said, gesturing around her. "You have to visualise and then find what you want Thalia to see, what you want to see. That is what she will dream of."
Tatiana thought about this as she pushed on through visions of Thalia and her friends laughing and playing some silly game. The momentary irritation she felt lowered her defences, allowing Thalia's enthusiastic soundtrack to the scene to penetrate her consciousness. As she heard it echoing through Thalia, its rhythm in tune with her heartbeat, Tatiana felt panicked. Thalia's dreams were her creations, and they were becoming stronger. More visions were in the scene now. The love was flowing like blood and wine on the cobblestoned streets of Paris. Tatiana was disgusted by the beauty of it all.
Concentrating on tuning the music off key and blurring the figures Thalia was seeing, Tatiana plunged forward, trying to visualise the environment she wanted to surround Thalia's soul with. As she moved she used her eyes to cast shadows around her, and fight the light and brightness that so often filled Thalia's eyes.
Emerging from the scene, Tatiana knelt to the ground and imagined Thalia close to her. Holding her protectively, Tatiana began to sing. She sang a lullaby Thalia had heard when they were young, which had both terrified Thalia and captivated her to the point of obsession for years. Tatiana sang and sang until Thalia became more solid in her arms and the vibrant colours surrounding Thalia's memories faded, drowning in shadows. She knew that on another level the world was shaking as Thalia's peace of mind shattered and she tossed and turned in her sleep, seeing the person Tatiana had fought so hard to call.
Thalia's demons emerged in a burst of fiery darkness, materializing into the horrible vision that was ripping Thalia's heart to pieces. Tatiana continued to sing as he approached, a hideous, morphed figure with cruel eyes and a tantalizing mouth. He stopped in front of Tatiana, who then stopped singing and got to her feet.
"You don't really look anything like the way she remembers," Tatiana said, smiling coldly at the memory before her. Her eyes glowed red to counter his black ones.
"Her memory of me is tainted," the figure said, but it sounded more like a sneer. "Punishment for my sins," he added sarcastically. "I'm supposed to be feeling remorse."
"But you're beautiful," Tatiana said, her eyes devouring him. "Breaking hearts is an art, not a sin."
The dream grew more definable with the strength of this compliment. "I'm glad at least this part of her still needs to see me."
"Yes," Tatiana agreed, "Now it's your job to keep us entertained until she wakes up..."
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Few things one most do in a boarding LIFE!
Whatever i write here, let me tell you i have done all of it!
Its super fun!!! Trust Me!!!
1)Make maggi with geyser water at 2 am.
2)Smuggle food into the house illegally.
3)Go to the house mistresses house and ask for food.
4)Watch television beyond curfew.
5)Try origami during prep hours, trust me you learn faster.
6)If you nothing to study during prep, READ through the Dictionary.
7)Try and go out every weekend with the entire house, find exciting things to do so that the teacher does not refuse.
8)Play kabbadi when it rains.
9)In a double bed size bed, try sleeping with 7 people.
10)Open a mini chocolate factory inside your cupboard.
11)At the hour of cupboard check go take a shower if your cupboard is not worth looking at.
12)Call for food from the Dhaba because your bored of the mess food.
13)Watch awards with the entire house sitting in the common room (you cant hear a word of what the host is saying on the tv)
14)watch your batch mates and seniors cry in an emotional movie (every time)
ahh!!!thats all i can remember for now..
Anamica Jain
hmmm....yes its me...
Hi all,
yes as you all very well know how much of a writer i am...
but, there is something i could share...
So here we goo...
I MISS my previous school The Daly College, Indore, i miss my friends, my boarder buddies, my humanities gang, my teachers, my Vice Principal (Mr.Potty), but most of all my school campus and the main building.
I have had the time of my life over there, its something i cant even express.
when i went there, i did not know that i will happen to miss it so much? I wish i did know it then!
Even if i thank all my teachers and my friends like a million of times, i do not think i can give them back what they have given me.
Its like a small world in there, everything just so nice and pleasant, while i was there i wanted to run away with my friends, but towards the end, we started collecting all our memories, clicking pictures, just sitting outside in the garden staring at squirrels play, we wished and prayed we could stay back in there for some more time, but the time has to pass, and so it did.
Our graduation day arrived, we were all very excited, because it was not an ordinary one, it was special, very special. We would be wearing our school formals and dressing up with our blazers with our own college colours for the last time, from Dalians, we would be turning to Old-Dalians now, soon.
We all cried in joy and sorrow, our parents standing there, we hoped we made them proud, gave roses to our favorite teacher. we knew we have troubled them like crazy and they would never want us back, but one thing even they knew, that we would miss them and we did love them at the end of the day.
I cry as i write this, i m not the one who cries so easily, but i have been missing them recently.
A tragedy took place on the 3rd of oct, something that none of us can still get over with, one of our batch mate is no more, he died in a car accident, and the other two friends are in the hospital.
But, one thing we all realized that even though we did not know each other two well, and were just the typical hi-bye friends, we did feel the pain. All of us did, hoping that the other two recover soon. Is this the Dalian feeling? The togetherness? The connection the emotions?
In the end all I would like to say is-I AM PROUD TO BE A DALIAN.
And will always be one.
Anamica Jain
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