UNTOLD DIARIES #3 ( Smoked Up A F ***ing Life )

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14 November 2015

Yeah  I really adored her. Her off-shoulder dress, that tattoo which goes on her right shoulder blade, her hair tied in a messy bun, her white pale arms wearing those chunks of bracelet. Her walk, just so mesmerizing. Sometimes, I try to be like her. Cool they say. Sexy they name. True to all the adjectives used for her. She is an independent source.

Her biggest weakness, is Weed. Yeah right, she is just so addicted to it. Now, I won’t go on the details of how weed spoils our brain cells, or its a drug or any such thing, cause I never experienced it and I, I mean, I don’t know. I have distanced myself from all these shoddiness I guess.

So, she was pretty much drunk and high on weeds too. And her only escape route was me. So I took her up the stairs, as she held me as tight as she could. Up in my room, she flung herself on my bed and what I thought was a laugh turned into a sob. She was crying. The desired fantasy of every guy, the strongest and boldest one was broken. She called me out, and brought her face near me. Every breath of hers was suffocating me.

“You know, they all want me. But nobody’s there when I want them Nobody comes for me when I am high with fever. I don’t have a family. I mean, I have a mother who doesn’t care for my father, a broken , you know, completely shattered family. No siblings. Just a lone girl, who is desired for her actions. Nobody loves the real me, they love the wild me. I am , I am not like this from the inside. I am not a loser. See, see, I have this tattoo which says, Lonely Life Goes, this symbolizes my f***ing Life. I am not a drunky, I am not a weedy, I am a human. I am Me. I am..”, she stammered and puked as I held her head and hand.

” My coolness hides my agony, my dress hides the cuts and wounds I give myself, my tattoo speaks my mind, but all they see is that I look gorgeous. You my babe, you are forever to stay. Hahaha.. I am a poet, an artist too, I draw my emotions on the canvas of my heart”.

The whole night she cried as she spoke of her devastated state. For once, the most desired girl, seemed just like any other girl, a normal being inflicted with pain. She was not very different from me.

That day, both of us realized that, we need not pretend to be someone else in front of each other. I was a freak, and she was a lone. Both of us were meant to be friends. Our wavelengths, living, thinking, freaking everything were right in unity.

Its been a year now, this stupid girl, she is my best friend. That cigar butt, still held tight, but now its a habit, which I am soon gonna get her out of.  But what has changed is the smile, as she walks with me, wearing that silly bandanna and my yellow frock, which I used to wear about an year ago and be tagged as a wierdo.

“Girl ! where were you all this while. Life is awesome with you. Lets get a new tattoo, which would read, Inspired by a Freak, oops sorry, hope you don’t mind” , she said as we climbed the stairs to my apartment.

“As long as the cigar stays out and away from you, I don’t mind anything”, I said, snatching it away and crushing it.

“Yeah ! Darling, we gonna drink now, enough with weed today” , she grinned idiotically.

As I write this note, she sleeps on my bed with a smile of satisfaction, as if life had given her all she wanted. All this while hiding her pain, she walked with pride to get a life, but once she is high, all this goes in vain. How long can one fake what is not his’s, she just gave me a lesson .

” Before you try living somebody else’s life, know that none’s life is perfect. Problems exist with all, maybe some can hide them too well, but learn to face and tackle them. A friend might just help “

I guess, I just helped her with depression, and she got me a trustworthy company. Mutual one. LOL

UNTOLD DIARIES #2 ( Love Or Lust, Heart or Body, Which One Are You Falling For ? )

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Girl_and_boy_walking_in_nature1

13 November 2015

Today I was going through my Instagram account, when I came across a post which read…

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” Hello mum

First off, I’m sorry for not being a daughter you always wanted me to be. See I’m sorry for all the troubles I caused you. but I am..umm..eloping. With Mark. When you shouted at me last night , about how ashamed you were of me for switching boyfriends like a cheap slut, I realized that you were right. I am not a daughter any mom would have wanted. But you were wrong about Mark. I’ve known him for only a week, but he’s an absolute gem. Maybe I will never contact you again, stay healthy and happy, knowing that I am out of your life. And I will prove that you should never doubt my decisions.

Love Katie ;

The note that was now in her family’s mailbox replayed itself in her mind, as she sat there numb. Physically numb. The ropes were cutting into her wrists and ankles as Mark tightened the ropes  with his evil grin on. ”

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So this post itself highlights on how, our generation is way too forward with true love, love at first sight and all those stupid stuff. It actually takes time to know a person, to get in terms with their wave lengths, to acknowledge the company they provide you with.

But, what I think must now be bothering Katie is, how her mom had loved her even after all her flaws, and she deserted her love, for a week old guy, who of course doesn’t seem in love with her. Some would say well deserved, but no ! the girl cannot be blamed completely. It all lies in the lesson our parents give us during growing years. Now you may say that, who obeys them after a certain age. But the truth is, if you have ever got any of those lessons in your life, they would always prick your conscience when you move towards committing a wrong task. It would always stop you from wrongs, given that a parent has had a very strong influence in a child’s overall development in a good way, the will power overtakes the bad conscience , and you find yourself taking the right path in life.

Lust has overtaken Love nowadays, its the body that is desired rather than the heart. Maybe that is the reason, why rich people get hooked with beauties. Anyways, that’s none of our concern. The concern lies with the strength in our family, the bond, the upbringing, the attention and the family atmosphere. No family is perfect, its how well the situations are handled, which makes up a True Family.

Take time to rethink your decisions, whether you are right, or you are lusted .

“A Family is not made, its Built out of Affection, Consumed is not Love but Lust, Won is the Heart, not the Body “

UNTOLD DIARIES #1 ( A Girl’s Memories Of Diwali )

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diwali_kandil

11 November 2015

It’s Diwali yet again. I remember, as a kid  I sat down with mom and we soaked the earthen clay diya’s in water, one night in advance. It was a real task, taking cotton balls and sliding them between palms to make them into wicks. Dad would clean the big stand which held around 30 diya’s at a time and I would then run around with a bottle of mustard oil specially ordered in liters for the special occasion, to fill all the diya’s up to the brim. My next favorite in row was, when dad climbed a stool to fix those fairy lights and ordered  me to switch them on and off as he checked for the loose connections. Mishtu aunty, our tenant would help make sweets as Ma would make a paste of rice and draw the Rangoli (Alpona), in our Bengali style. I would take the leftover paste and draw all abstract arts in corners where the diya’s were to be placed. By this time, all gifts would be packed and tied with satin laces, pasting name tags ” To whomever, HAPPY DIWALI, prosperous year” ,and all that stuff. There were phone calls, dry fruits, crockery and all sources of happiness to receive. The cashew nuts were the ones always missing from the box, as I would gobble up hand full of them, the moment they arrived and I guess I now  have the reason behind my flab and love handles.

The serials on TV , I swear become more colorful during this season, with pretty attires, colorful decorations ,happy story line and everybody in celebration mood. They raise a common man’s expectations from the festival. It seems overly jolly and okay, if I honestly confess then, as a kid I always thought that I would stay all donned up, wearing beautiful bangles and colorful lehenga’s and burn firecrackers and we would have family photographs. Basically I am too much into photos and selfies. But real life is a bit, Ok!  a bit more different.

Earlier the rooms were cleaned and my books neatly stacked. So neatly, that I wasn’t able to spot them when needed.  Curtains, cushion covers and bed sheets all replaced by new designs. Basically the house glowed as if, all new. Then we would go to nearby pandal’s, to see the idol of Kali Ma, yeah we Bengali’s pray her along with Ganesh Ji and Lakshmi Ma on this very day. Then after returning, I burst crackers with friends and we ate all good food and tan-ta-na… the festival went pretty well. Now, we have grown up, so has the celebration aged in our house. The festival isn’t as bright as before.

But these memories so clear,leaves me with a smile as I light the wax filled diyas, switch on the twinkling fairy lights which run across whole of the verandah. The feeling of celebration almost same, the difference still somewhere deep down in my heart, aches. Its been over years, we celebrated Diwali that well.The serials still rise in me the hope of a colorful Diwali in future. I still have that wish of dressing up pretty and look at my own house decorated and glowing like a big bright diya, as I stand with a firecracker in hand, being clicked with my near and dear ones.

” Life is never like the ones shown in soaps, its how we look at it, makes a festival more Bright and Enjoyable “