First light!

My work is not my life.

My work is not my life.

My work is not my life.

Ok. Maybe i need to get a life. 

Well when i woke up this morning i was thinking about that precisely. Work. And how i was going to finish it. One of my colleagues is always slacking off during project closures…which means i end up doing all of the work. -_- I woke up at 7, but got out of bed at 7:30, steeling myself for the day ahead. Sure enough – she called in sick and i took a long shower to cool off. Like a looooong shower. -_- 

And then it was basically a run against time after that.

Thankfully, the weekend is ahead and i am looking forward to my two days off!


Favorite Quotes…

“Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dream.”
― Paulo Coelho

The song of the dead

I hit rock bottom,

There’s no silver lining,

I’m at a dead end,

Weary of pining.

As I black out,

I slowly stop breathing.

What is this pain?

Maybe it’s my heart that’s bleeding.

There’s an eerie silence,

The song of the dead.

I’ve been humming this tune

Forever, inside of my head.

It’s getting dark and bleak,

I close my eyes.

My soul’s finally free,

As my body dies.


He couldn’t sleep. His head was throbbing and he felt slightly nauseous.

“Never again!” He almost smiled, uttering the famous two words that everyone spoke after a bad hang-over.

Wincing, he reached out for the switch of the bedside lamp.

He swung his feet to the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. It was 4 A.M. He could hear her breathe. What was her name again?? He turned around to look at her face. She was pretty, maybe even beautiful. But he really didn’t give a damn about that.

He got up, took out a robe from the cupboard and headed for the balcony.

The latch of the door opened with a loud click and he looked over his shoulder. She was still asleep. He let out a sigh of relief.

From the twentieth floor of the Grand President Hotel, he could see the city lights and the lights of the ships and boats on the sea. It was a beautiful sight. His gaze moved towards the moon. He fumbled around for a cigarette in the pockets of his robe, his fingers trembling ever so lightly as he lit one.

The moon. The moon light. The cold breeze that was pleasant and painful at the same time.

Everything reminded him of her. And of their first kiss…her soft, eager lips.

Funny that she still crossed his mind. She was long gone. But he missed her. More than he would admit to anyone. He had trained himself not to get attached to anyone, especially not to women. So what went wrong?

A street dog howled somewhere in the distance and he thought he could detect a tinge of….despair…maybe sorrow? Sorrow. It was a familiar feeling. Something which he had been used to till she had entered his life. But he blew it and broke her heart.


A few hours ago he had gone to one of London’s most happening bars. He’d gone there to let off some steam, drink a little..anything to fill up the hollow inside his heart. The stranger in his bed…Melinda? That’s what her name was… she had taken a bar stool next to his and she was alone, tipsy and ready for action.

One thing led to another and there they were, naked in his hotel room, clawing at each other like animals. He wasn’t gentle, she didn’t complain. As his hands went up Melinda’s legs to her thighs, her face flashed in front of his eyes. He stopped for a second and looked into a pair of blue eyes. Blue eyes. Hers were dark brown. Brown and full of mischief, love and warmth.

Snap out of it, he had muttered to himself. He reached out for the lights and switched them off. Maybe he wouldn’t see her face in the dark.


The street dog howled again, shaking him from his reverie. He lit another cigarette.

Where was she? What was she doing? Had she met someone new? The thought of her with someone else was…was…well he didn’t really want to think about it.

He wasn’t good for her. Or so he’d told himself when he had chosen to walk away from her. He wasn’t good for her…but she’d been good for him.

He walked back into the room, dressed quietly, careful not to make any noise. He took a notepad, and scribbled something on it, placing it on the table next to Melinda. The door shut with a soft click behind him.


Melinda woke up in the morning. It was well past noon. She stretched lazily. He was no where to be seen, as expected. Her lips curved up into a wry smile. Her eyes fell on the notepad.

” Feel free to let yourself out”.


In response to this week’s photo challenge...

In a new post specifically created for this challenge, share a picture that says FORWARD to you.

i found some pictures…but this is the one which i have a bit of a soft spot for!

This one is a really old one. My father’s graduation from the Indian Military Academy (He was second in the entire batch and a sword of honor)…back errr…in the 1970’s? He’s the one with the turban! At this point in his life – i wonder what he must have been thinking…did he know how the next forty odd years would be like? It was a proud moment nevertheless. 


Whenever papa looks at this photo he always gets nostalgic and we kids (well i’m always going to be a kid for him) get to hear about his days growing up – and i always see how he has always moved forward in his life despite all the hardships and obstacles he has gone through – and through it all he has always been excellent in his work and uncompromising in his ethics. :) 


Sera woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. Curled up in a fetal position, she removed her thumb from her mouth and listened carefully.

Her parents were fighting. Again. She heard a scream and sat up in her bed, scared.


She moved to the edge of the bed, her little feet not long enough to touch the ground. She walked to her bedroom door, which was always unlocked as a rule; across the hall to her parents bedroom. Everything was quiet now.

“Mommy?” Her voice was quivering as she knocked on the door.

There was no reply.

She stood there for a minute, wondering what to do. She knew something wasn’t right.

“Mommy!” A little more insistent, she knocked again. She heard someone move towards the door swiftly and took a few steps back, tripping over the mat in the hall.

The door opened. It was her father.

“Daddy, where’s mommy?”

Her father picked her up. “Mommy’s asleep darling, lets go back to bed!”

“But i heard her! I want her!” She started crying.

Her father ignored her and carried her to her room.

” Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” He kissed her on the forehead and smiled. She didn’t like it when he smiled. Because his eyes were always…so cold!

Sera looked at his departing figure and shuddered.


Her mother committed suicide a couple of months later. It was attributed to depression. Her father, too busy with work to care for her, left her with his mother, a kindly widowed lady of 80.


Graduation day.

The ceremony had been painful. Everyone’s parents were there. Even the nerdy Asian girl who was adopted. She was all alone. Her grandmother, too old to venture out on own at 94 was at home. She had baked a cake for her. Hooray.

She looked at her watch.

Todd, her boyfriend was late for their celebratory dinner. She looked down at her shoes and frowned. It was supposed to be a proud day for everyone. But she just felt..indifferent.

” Heeeey, there you are!”

She felt his strong brown arms envelop her in a bear hug. She turned around and smiled.

“I’m sorry i am late!” He looked down at her, with his puppy dog eyes and she felt herself melting. He leaned down to kiss her, with an intensity that always took her breath away. So THIS was what love felt like.

“Forget dinner, lets go someplace else!” She smiled, taking his hand. He grinned and followed. Someone was going to get lucky!


The next summer, they broke up.

He had met someone else. It wasn’t her, it was him. He missed her too much, she understood that – right?

She deleted his mail. And cried.


25 year old Sera looked into the mirror – her eyes wide and round. It was her wedding day. Dave, her fiance had always said that he had fallen in love with her because of her eyes. They always looked so sad. He wanted to make her happy. Make those eyes sparkle.

But he couldn’t.


At 28, she was divorced, alone and pregnant.

She decided not to have the child. It was a decision that always tormented her but she couldn’t handle it, the entire pain all over again.

Where did they go wrong? They both worked long hours in different cities. With little contact and a high degree of stress at work, they drifted apart. She had offered to shift to make the relationship work. But it was too late.


20th September, 2011

Two days before her thirtieth birthday, she woke up in the middle of the night. She sat up in her bed, her heart pounding. She could hear a child crying. This was the third night in a row and she couldn’t take the crying anymore. Something needed to be done. She looked at her watch. It was two in the morning.

Was it Emily Smith, the little girl next door? She was fond of the mousy, brown – haired girl who always gave her a shy smile whenever she walked across their house.

Mr. Smith mostly kept to himself, a gruff, cranky divorcee who had recently shifted next door after his divorce.

She pulled a sweat-shirt on and grabbed her keys and cellphone. On an afterthought she went back to her room and took out her baseball bat.

She walked out into the backyard and looked over the fence into Mr Smith’s house. All the lights were off. She heard a muffled sob and took a deep breath. She jumped over the fence, tumbling a bit awkwardly to the other side, her bat falling noisily to her side. Waiting for a full five minutes before moving,she walked across Mr. Smith’s backyard, to a window which she knew belonged to Emily, since she had babysat her a couple of times, till recently when Mr. Smith told her that he no longer needed her help, thank you very much. The crying had stopped.

The curtains to Emily’s room were drawn. She tried lifting the window. It was open! She pushed it up slowly, careful not to make any noise. She waited for a second and then pushed the curtains aside an inch and gasped out loud at the sight that met her eyes. HE had seen her. She heard him snarl as he dived for the window. She screamed and ran to the other side of the backyard, falling over an old pipe. She reached for the phone in her pocket.

” 911!?!!! I’m speaking from Number 23, Park Street and i am here to report a crime! There’s a little…” She screamed again as she felt Mr. Smith’s hand grab her arm and throw her phone away. A fist smashed against her cheek and she blacked out.


She woke up in the ICU after a week. She had been stabbed three times in her stomach. He had tried to slit her throat but another neighbor, an army veteran armed with a shotgun had come to investigate and blown half of Mr. Smith’s head off.

” He wasn’t a divorcee. His wife had gone missing a couple of years ago….he was a suspect but we could never pin anything on him.”

She looked at the policeman who had come to question her and smiled weakly.

“If it weren’t for you he would have killed the little girl as well. He used to beat her every night!”

She felt tears well up in her eyes.

” Where is Emily?”

” Third Floor, first door on the left, you ain’t fit to see her!” Said the nurse who glared at the policeman who glared back.

Ignoring their protests and wincing slightly, Sera took off her ivy tube and limped over to Emily’s room. She was sleeping, her thumb in her mouth. She had bruises all over her little body.

She looked at the policeman.

“What’ll happen to her?”

” Well…we don’t know yet, but she has no living relatives far as we know!”

She looked down at the child and brushed off a strand off her face. She felt angry and sad. But she had made her decision. She would not let Emily be another Sera.

” I want to adopt her!”


In response to the weekly challenge:

This picture was taken when i was around three years old in Mohali (India). My mom was just about to give me a kiss in the midst of a play/photo taking session.


(At least that’s what she testified when i showed this to her a little while ago) :P.

So Honored to be nominated :D

Well, well this is the purrfect start to February the 14th. :)

My good friend Matticus – that’s him : nominated me just the other day for the Liebster Award. A little bit of research and some confusion has thrown some facts into light:

1. Thank the Liebster Blog Award Presenter on your blog and link back to their blog : here it it, it is a must read:

2. Answer the 11 questions from the nominator, list 11 random facts about yourself and create 11 questions for your nominees. (not sure about the number 11 though)

3. Present the Liebster Blog Award to 11 blogs of 200 followers or less who you feel deserve to be noticed and leave a comment on their blog to let them know they’ve been chosen. (i thought the number was 300? or 2000 – still not sure about this but what the heck!)

4. Copy and Paste the blog award on your blog.

I’m quite flattered to think that someone thought that i was good enough for this so thank you!

As for the questions……here we go.

1.If you were a knight, what would your knightly name be?

I’ll be someone like Joan of Arc but wiser :/ and maybe hotter? But i won’t have a pink armour, don’t worry :D

2. What is your quest? (What is the purpose of your blog? What do you write? What do you get out of it?) I write about my life and things i feel strongly about! A teeny tiny voice in a teeny tiny person :D

3. What is your favorite color? (Seriously just asking about your favorite color.) : Lilac

4. What is the average airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow? (This is sort of a bonus question – Google or Wikipedia might be able to help. I will accept an answer for either the African or European variety.)

I think my brain just died when i read this question. (-_-) Ka -Boom! (wink)

5. What is your favorite Monty Python movie or sketch? And why? (Wink, wink, nudge, nudge…) Hmm not really heard of them over here in India you see :| . The Brits forgot to introduce them to us apparently ;) Oh wait. They’d left us to our devices by then.

6. How much do you hate lists? (You can answer this question any way you like: comparison, a picture representation, with a list, a number on a scale (out of 5 out of 10 out of 42), etc…)

I like lists – i make a to – do list everyday. Helps me to keep a track of things else my mind starts to wander. Like just now…

7. If you were a woodchuck, how much wood would you chuck? (See question 6 for suggestions on acceptable answers.) 

Enough to chuck away some wood. O.o. go figure :D

8. If you could be any character from TV or film, who would you be and why? (Moe from the Simpsons so you could own your own bar? Princess Leia from Star Wars because she looks good and knows how to fight? Or Beatrix A Kiddo from Kill Bill for that matter? Indiana Jones because he is awesome? etc…)

Ah i would be Bones from the sitcom bones because she is smart, pretty and can kick ass!

And now for the nominations from my side: (Not sure how many followers all of them have)

And my questions for them are:

1. Do you believe in the big bang theory?

2. What’s your favorite song?

3. Does writing make you happy?

4. Which is your best blogpost ever? Paste a link!

5. Do you think this Q&A game is lame? Hehe

Ok i’ll stop at 5 cos even i’m not sure about the rules!


And now i’m going to sleep because i have a lot of work!

Happy Valentine’s day everyone!

My mug is MY mug :|

I am not a stingy person. Come on, i am a Punjabi and Punjabi’s are supposed to have big hearts. Right? Yes, we are big when it comes to the temper department as well.

And yes, i believe in sharing. Or rather, i was forced to since i have an elder sibling. Which meant whatever i  wanted was also coveted by him. Oh well. I guess that’s what siblings are for. Especially the older ones. Who love taking stuff away from you and act all innocent when you yell “mommmmmmmmyyyy”!!


 This brings me something of immense importance.

 My mug.

 Or rather, the mug that i have in office. When i joined i was told that we could keep our personal mugs in the office pantry and use them. Awesommme. I have this really cool yellow mug with Count Dracula (may he rest in peace) made on it. And the first thing which i do every day is to sip the awful coffee that only the ten gazliion years old coffee machine in our office can produce.

Imagine my surprise one day when i noticed this certain gentleman from my office sipping coffee from my MUG? 

 If looks could have killed he would have died many times by now. And he’s not even a cat.

 Anyhow, i went and whined to my colleagues who just smirked, brushing this off as one of my many eccentricities. All was well. Till it happened again. And again…and like ten times more.

I went and complained to the admin lady who also smirked like i was half mad. Well even if i was so WHAT? Its my mug!

The tenth time that i complained she stopped smirking and put up a poster in the office which said that the mugs were for personal use only. See? Perseverence pays off. *Gloats*

 But MR – BIG – GRUBBY – HANDS still had his hands on my yellow cup. 

 My boss told me to just go and tell him. But whenever i saw him, he was always in a god damn group. So i kept shut and hid the mug in the drawer under my desk. 

 Till yesterday morning when i saw it in his hands again.Now yesterday morning i was not in one of my chirpy moods. I had an argument with ten thousand auto drivers, god damn them all (bismillah etc etc) as none of them wanted to drive me to office. Anyhow, once i reached office i noticed that Count Dracula was looking rather miserable in his big, fat, unclean hands with untrimmed nails (oh yes, i notice all of these random things). And i went straight up to him. And re- claimed my mug.

On retrospect i think i scared him a bit.

But my mug is my mug. :|

Despicable Me : Memorable Quotes

Agnes: Will you read us a bedtime story?
Gru: No.
Agnes: Pretty please?
Gru: The physical appearance of the please makes no difference.


Agnes: He’s so fluffy, I’m gonna die!


I love this movie. For those of you who have not seen it…well….what’s wrong with you???!!!!!!

If you don’t fall in love with Agnes…i’ll change my name! :| (Please don’t make me do that BTW).