You're alone

You’re going to be alone forever. There is nobody in the world – hear me out- nobody who will be able to understand you completely,nobody who will see eye to eye with you on all matters.

We all have that one favourite book,song,movie,painting. Something that strikes a chord within us. Since I’m a book person,I’ll relate it to books. Think of your favourite book. You know those special lines, the one which make your heart feel complete,the ones you relate to so well that you want to show someone. You get that nagging in your head. Somebody NEEDS to know how you feel and how well its been put across here!

Nobody will understand. Even if you do manage to get someone to read it, all you’re going to get in return is a blank look or a quizzical look asking “so?” or at best a hollow “wow that’s nice”

You’ll want to scream at them, cry out “why hasn’t this impacted you profoundly? Why such an underreaction? This what I’ve just shown you holds one of the keys to my existence. It deserves more from you.”

But you can’t make them feel something they just….don’t.

You’re alone.

Nobody is going to know all about you- every little lane of life you’ve walked through,every thought or feeling you have about people, why certain things make you react a certain way, why you find some people so hard to trust. Nobody is going to know the inside workings of your mind-why you obsess over a drink just because it reminds you of a certain boy, what every reference or personal joke means actually, why you want to appear a certain way in front of some people, what demons have pursued you all your life, why are you pushing everyone away, why do you suddenly need to get away from everything?

You’re alone

There will never be one person who’ll walk in with the solution. Even if it feels like there is, you’ll discover soon enough that you’ve been kidding yourself. Nobody will have a mind that mirrors yours. Nobody will come in magically as the “soulmate” we all aspire to find. Someone perfectly like that does not exist. You have GOT to stop believing in the fairytale that you’re going to find somebody with the answers to every question you have,the same excited smile and spark in eyes you have when something touches you, the urge to navigate the inner reaches of your mind and stay despite everything they find. To quote Mean Girls “Stop trying to make it happen. Its not going to happen”

You’re alone.

The faster you accept it and make peace with it, the easier it will be to cope. It will stop you from dying a little every time you’re misunderstood. Trust me, you’ll have saved yourself a lot of disappointment.

Peace

By Nirmitee Mehta

Being a toughie

“I’m tough” she told him. “Why don’t you believe me?” and was answered by a horrid patronizing laugh which translated into-“A little girly midget like you? Tough? Dafuq are you saying?”

Whenever any of us hears the word tough, we automatically imagine somebody tall with a muscular build. Someone with a no nonsense look on their face and a steely glint in their eyes, ready to set anyone who dares to mess with them in their place. Someone with a deep voice, wearing ripped jeans or leather. Maybe a couple of tattoos and piercings added for good measure. Stereotypical, isn’t it? Don’t you think being tough isn’t all of that? It is a lot more than just being confined to that definition.

It is smiling, being chirpy and not showing any sign of distress despite having had a harrowing day where everything went wrong.

It is getting that steely edge in your voice and demeanor when you are firm in the fact that you won’t take nonsense from anyone or let them manipulate you.

It is taking time to be by yourself so you do not go crazy and lose control of your emotions, hurting people in the process

It is not letting bullies or baseless rumors get to you but sticking around with your head held up high, showing no sign of worry to the world. It is confronting every obstacle in your way head on and not shying away.

It is about conforming to only your ideals about what’s right and not doing something just because the people around you are.

It is about saying no, and saying it as many times as it takes until people finally get your point.

It is about going through with the responsibilities assigned to you without any intention of skiving off just because you can.
It is pouring your soul out into your art and then keeping it on display even when it might be invaded by negativity.

It is marching up to someone and saying, “Can we talk?” after a big fight because you don’t want awkwardness to remain there any longer.

It is being silly and not being afraid to show it.

It is about knowing in your mind that somebody is worth it, worth getting close to despite being warned against it.

It is being so fiercely loyal that you cannot stand to hear a word against your friends, even by other friends.

It is not letting your fears get ahead of you- Going into the kitchen even when you get a cut or burn whenever you do and making yourself like it; thrusting yourself forward in class discussions and projects because you’ve never been there and now you feel an obligation to do in order to evolve as a person and not paying heed to the teacher’s pet reputation you earn along with it.

And most importantly, it is never losing your essence, your soul.

Here’s to being a tough cookie.

By Nirmitee Mehta

What it takes

She revisited that place tonight. Its been months since she was last there, but it feels like she's never left at all because she instantly feels safe and at home there. And then again it could have been years because she's changed so much and so has her life, its hard to remember the person she used to be in minute detail. The hopes, dreams and wishes dissipated with time. It was here that she had said farewell to the fancies of the young her before she stepped onto the threshold of adulthood. Back then she'd been craving something real in life. Living it in her mind in theory was something she'd had enough of. Her heart craved something that would turn the beautiful candy floss that her thoughts were made up of into something more than an illusion-give a more believable base to them.
Today she wishes she'd never looked beyond what she had then. Dissatisfied though she was, she'd been happy in her soul. She still believed in believing, in love, in happy endings, in the fluttering of hearts, of your heart feeling bigger than yourself, in having true feelings towards someone. It was these beliefs that had been her driving force-the sparkle in her eyes, beauty in her life, blush in her cheeks, dance of her limbs.
Right now, right here, that illusion and that she is shattering-it has been for quite some time now, like a glass wall hit by a car in a hurry. So it was with her, she'd been in too much of a hurry for the experiences that she settled for less and in turn got heavily disillusioned.
Every single time that she came here in the almost forgotten age, she'd write letters addressed to nobody in particular, each weaving a tale of her world, incorporating every whim, fantasy, dream, hope, belief. Its to find them that she's returned today, clinging to the last strand of hope which tells her that on reading those letters, some semblance of the lost her will be rediscovered. She scrambles over to the spot next to the willow tree where she'd kept them imprisoned, hidden from the world. Her hands start digging the soil, getting dirt underneath her carefully tended nails, which she does not pay heed to. Its the least of her worries now. One hand pushes back the long hair streaming into her face as the other, clenched in a fist against her heart tries to control its thud as she desperately wishes for the wooden casket enclosing them to remain. She feels a flash of joy as her hand hits wood and the familiar dark brown box with the tiny butterfly carvings appears before her. Her anticipation grows as she opens it and sees the small pile of colored folded sheets of paper. But as she picks one up, this changes into a feeling of dread. Her throat suddenly goes dry and her eyes well up with tears which without notice give way, blurring the words on paper. She can't bear it-her former happiness and optimism might make her feel more alone and lost than ever. What will she do if the largest piece of herself outside her body fails to have the desired impact and instead appears shallow to her? How much will that break her? Will there be anything at all be left after that? No. She can't make herself take this great a risk.
She now stands up, still holding the letters, dusts soil off her knees and skirt and walks into the water until she is calf deep in seawater and then holds them out in her hands till the wind blows them away, depositing them onto the surface of water where they float. Now her dreams are free to take whichever form they want. Now they are unencumbered. All of herself will come back to her when it wants to-when she is ready for it. Though this is not what she'd come here for today, she is more relieved and at peace than she's been for a long time.

By Nirmitee Mehta

Shadows at dusk

A lonely soul with a smiling face, she makes her way through the familiar ways and courtyards which at dusk seem to have gotten a melancholy personality of their own which she embraces, needing at this point of time just that. She appears completely absorbed, lost in a world of her own making, oblivious to the world around, unhearing of words that the music in her ears block out. She seems comfortable alone-not needing, not wanting anyone else. Her gait is non-purposeful, moving at its own pace and her eyes unseeing of anything but the dreams and moments that only they do.

They search the shadows for a like pair belonging to another soul as lonely as hers. Spilling your heart out to another person in the shadows has a fanciful ring attached to it that she with her romantic notions can’t get too much of. Just a little ahead she spots a familiar figure. Alas! Not one she is particularly excited about running into on a night like this. An irksome admirer, whose yearning glances she despite pretending to be blind to, hasn’t missed. She sidetracks him with a couple of niceties and lest he accompany her, hurries on.

Maybe…..just maybe she’ll encounter that person who has filled her thoughts for the past few weeks and that moment will break away the intriguing shell to reveal the person she is so keen to know. Maybe, just looking for a kindred spirit, any kindred spirit is her reason for walking alone and not thinking as she believes.

What she seeks now is comfort, the kind one gets from having someone with you to share just whatever uneasiness you have, that even a mere acquaintance becomes special to you because you’ve given a part of yourself to keep safe and that is what will join you together notwithstanding time and distance. This tie will bring a smile to your face when you think of that person.

She now finds herself nearing the corner she has claimed as her own- a quiet landing off the main street looking over the river. A place with a calming view and sound of water that helps her think and organize her thoughts. The words of the heroine in one of her favorite books come to mind- This is her Smultronställe. It means wild strawberry place in Swedish. Only it isn’t literally that. It is any place that is absolutely private and your own. A place like this is special, it’s the most special place there is. A place where life is….an epiphany. You can bring other people here. But never ever somebody you don’t love.

In her mind’s eye, she now sees an acquaintance strolling down the street. Spotting her lone figure, he slows down before casually standing before her, asking what she’s doing sitting by herself. And as she holds her breath, the moment she’s wanted emerges behind her eyes. And as she waits for it to unfold before her in life itself, she takes her notebook out of her bag, turns to a blank page and begins writing.

By Nirmitee Mehta

Between the lines

She was pure, unsullied, naïve.

He was worldly wise, the “bad boy”, the player.

She was persecuted- the one everyone picked on.

He was influential, he controlled the waters there.

She found him obnoxious.

Her thoughts never crossed his mind.

Mutual friends got their paths to cross once.

She found him good natured and friendly.

He found her funny.

The ice had broken.

He started talking to her electronically.

She responded.

He was amused.

She was intrigued.

They spoke all day once.

She spilled her guts out to him and let him in, inside her life and mind.

He seemed sympathetic and told her he’d take care of it.

She began looking forward to their virtual conversations.

One time they left the digital haven to meet up in the real world. A flurry of rumours encircled them and their equation was misconstrued.

She shrugged it off as idle talk and continued texting with the same fervor.

He stopped replying as much.

She expected response.

He’d somehow stopped giving it.

She stalked his facebook profile as girls do.

She was aware of his presence always when he was nearby.

He did not show any outward sign of change or discontent.

He did not acknowledge her- no looks, no words.

She is afraid of talking to him in public.

She imagines situations where they would be thrown together and imagines how their conversation would go.

He couldn’t really care less.

She always falls for boys of this breed.

He will never know what it is like to love a girl like her.

She knows she should just forget about it all.

He hardly thinks of her.

She does not want to fall for him.

He never will.

By Nirmitee Mehta

Emerging from dark chasms

“Do you know the last time I felt joy? Chuck had brought me into his darkness for so long, I've forgotten what that felt like”

“You may not be aware of it but it’s not all light and bright in here. There are some places devoid of even a hint of sparkle”

- Blair Waldorf (Gossip Girl)

Her darkness came from the people around her. She left her old life and came here- came here for more. She came happy and happy she believed she would be for the time she was here.

She didn’t think it to be any fault of hers. Why the people around her had suddenly started behaving differently. All that she could think of was her having gotten close to a single person. For centuries, those a little separate from the others, those not a part of the herd have been viewed with suspicion.

She however did not do anything that would warrant such behavior. To all of them she was nothing but polite, cordial, warm, if a little distant, something that came from her lifelong insecurity when faced with a group of people. The rest of them started by inching away from them and then they were shunned from the group. She can’t remember exactly when the hate started. She’d never seen anything like it earlier. A sunshine protected soul always, never before had such behavior assailed her. The hate comments reverberating in the air all around her were hard enough to take. In the wake of this she drew the only person she was close to, closer still, making in haste and at a bad moment, a choice she would regret, not only by going into something she wasn’t ready for, but also making way for more hate coming her way along with a lot more isolation when that person suddenly removed himself from it all, leaving her— in a mess she’d gotten into primarily because of him- to face the heat by herself.

She maintains a brave front in front of the rabblement. She smiles more often now. People with no idea what’s going on think it means she’s completely happy there- the sound of her laugh echoes the valley. If they only caught her off guard at a moment of desperation when her mind and her eyes feel dead. She remains stoic, ignoring the verbal and literal trash being thrown her way, pretending to the world that it doesn’t affect her one bit, wondering all the time how long can this charade go on? When will the cruelty end? Nobody but she knows how deep the wounds of laughter at her expense and pleasure in her misery go. How much they affect a person’s psyche and how long the damage can last.

But she’s decided that she will not let any of that affect her. She’s got way too much sunshine inside her for that. She’s convinced herself that from now on, petty people like that will have absolutely no power over her emotions. She just has too much more in her life for some pathetic sociopaths to take away. Aside from the haters, she has so much to live for, so many dreams, so much love to give to those only willing to take. She does not need them- does not need their opinion or approval on how she conducts herself and her choices in leading her life.

All they are is jealous of her. All they want to do is reduce her sparkle and steal her smile away because they can’t handle it. They “pluck her feathers before she can fly” because they envy her charisma and cannot bear to see someone have it all. They underestimate her and fail to comprehend that her spirit is uncrushable. She does not and will not break easily. She channels her memories of laughter here. She has people who know who she is and who she’s always been to cheer her on. Support from unexpected sources and from people in the very same place as her gives her the will to remain as she is and not buckle over. She takes a vindictive pleasure in the haters’ efforts to be as good as her and failing miserably. Other than that bit of contempt that she allows herself feel, she will not pay attention to any of their trash because that is how inconsequential they are in her life.

Times like this are just steep rocky slopes on her way to her pinnacle where the shine she gives off, will draw the world in. She will get through this because she can- I believe with all my heart and soul that she can and for merely having the strength for it, I am so so proud of you!

Maybe if we just don't talk about them, it'll just go away

By Nirmitee Mehta

Living up to ourselves

Years ago, on a bright, sunny day, I remember the six year old version solemnly promising to herself as she sat  on the swing, pondering on the greater things in life,that she would ‘never ever’ in her life,stoop to using ‘bad words’ like ‘mad’, ‘stupid’ and ‘idiot’.Despite her efforts, she did eventually break that promise and used those very words as well as ones far worse. Now to me, they’re just words like so many others I use on a normal basis. Even so, every now and then, I get a little uncomfortable wondering what the young me would think of me when I do so and whether I’m disappointing her.

I shudder at the thought of putting on black nail polish because just about 3 years ago I found it grotesque and ugly. I told every person who listened that I’d never be seen with it on. Wearing it now would be betraying my younger self, wouldn’t it?

Every once in a while[or more often than that] I do a lot of stupid stuff and say things that are a wee bit dumb. I make mistakes every day of my life. After that I laugh at myself about it. Right now I’ve given my future self complete license to be as stupid as possible and later laugh long and hard about it.I can't stop wondering though, what about the younger me?Wouldn’t she feel rather indignant about being laughed at, even if its by herself? As far as she is concerned, I’m a foreign person-someone she doesn't know at all because she has obviously changed a lot growing up, and she could not have foreseen that coming since time and experiences change all of us and we can do nothing to control it. We all change a little every day of our lives.Some words,thoughts and emotions which are so important and epiphanic at the time of their becoming, irretrievably slip out of your mind like a wispy breeze when you and your state of mind changes.

Can we ever be sure of doing the right things at the right time so as not to regret them later?Can I ever know if I’m betraying my younger self or would she be okay with me talking freely about her? Or would she resent me for it? How will I ever know? All I can do is hope she is as cool as I remember her to be xD

For the most part,on the inside-in my mind, heart and soul I think I've grown up to be someone I would have wanted to become and liked. Why, for all you know, if i somehow could meet my younger self, I could have  a girl crush on me now ;)

By Nirmitee Mehta

We Talk #3:The Moth and the Flame

Nirmitee: You're the moth and I'm the flame

Radha: oooh

Nirmitee: I love this line....I didn't understand the context when I first heard it

but now I like:)

Radha: lol you're an idiot

Nirmitee: usually songs talk about you being attracted to someone.But moths are attracted to flame and the other person is the moth and they're attracted to you so its different isn't it?

Radha: lol

you're still an idiot

Nirmitee: Because you're the moth attracted to me,the flame?

Radha:hmmm I think its the otherway round

I'm the flame

Nirmitee: nononononono I wanna be flame......

Radha: be carefull little moth you'll burn if you get too close

Nirmitee: I'm flame itself,I can't get burnt

Radha: hmm then maybe I should stay away.....been singed one too many times...and the warning comes too late

Nirmitee: no...lets both be flames

Radha: then we can play together

Nirmitee: and we can be orange and red and yellow and give off that special scented candle scent

Radha: and burn when we don't like someone and be envied by everyone

Nirmitee: and we illuminate the people we love with a beatiful radiance

Radha: with warmth and love so we might be the hearth saving protecting

:)

By Radha and Nirmitee

The Edge of Sorrow's Blade

          In 10^th grade we did a poem in school called “The Soul's Prayer” which talked about a person wanting to experience every joy, every sorrow- every single emotion that life can mete out.

                   “Spare me no bliss, no pang of strife

                    Withhold no gift of grief [I crave]”

          Why, I wondered then, as did most of my classmates, would anyone ask for so much pain? If you are going to receive what you ask for in full measure, why not just ask for the happy bits and live a complacent life?

          I wondered much the like when I heard a song  where a line went

                   “…And when I’m at the edge of sorrow’s blade

                     Show me how a heart breaks”

          I pondered over the meaning of this line, each successive time I heard the song and my views on it changed gradually, from finding the songwriter raving mad to being more and more intrigued and enamored by the melancholy in the line. Call me a mush but any song lyrics or poignant lines in a book that talk about hearts breaking move me to an almost teary state. Somewhere along the way I’ve starting wanting to feel those very emotions I read and hear of. I don’t know if I’m just being morbid when I think so, but tragedy and the utter……despondency you read about or see depicted in films is rather attractive at times. It draws me into its soul and sifts through my mind until I can no longer think straight.

          Every so often, I think all of us sit with earphones on, listening to a sad song, reflecting on the poignancy in the words, making a music video in our mind about the situation, around it and the part you play in the tragic melodrama.

          Maybe the reason why pain, sorrow, heartache-all of them, fascinate us so much is because all of us want to see how far we can all go, how strong we can prove ourselves to be, until what point will we be capable of going before falling completely apart.

          But we never really will know how much we can bear and how strong we are until we face it, will we? The human spirit never fails to surprise its keepers.A line from the book "PS-I love you" really shows you how, when Holly tells her sister Ciara-If your husband died, you would cope if you had to. There’s nothing brave about it, there’s no choice involved.

          And that’s the way it is, whatever pain that’s meted out to us in life, you learn to cope with it if you have to. Because there’s no choice involved. And because survival is our primary instinct. So really, pain should not scare us that much at all…


-Nirmitee Mehta

Of sweet talking and sweet eating

Chahita: Hi lovely
Nirmitee: Hey sweet pea <3


Chahita: My chocolate cupcake
Nirmitee: My sugarplum

Chahita:My honeybun

Nirmitee:My muffin

Chahita: My strawberry pie

Nirmitee: My apple pie

                  My dairymilk :-P

Chahita: My MOD donut <3 

Nirmitee: My lemon tart

Chahita: My chocolate chip cookie

Nirmitee: My maple syrup covered waffle

              <3

              My nutella crepe

Chahita: My chocolate syrup covered pancake

             My cheese fondue

Nirmitee: My brandy cream cookie

               My vodka pizza :-P

Chahita: Teehee :-P

             My chocolate bomb

             My tiramisu

Nirmitee: *giggle*

Chahita: My Ferrero Rocher cakeeeeeeeee

Nirmitee: My caramel custard

              My cheeeeeeeeeesecake

Chahita: My lindt chocolate :-P

Nirmitee: My chocolate croissant

              My garam garam jalebi <3

Chahita: My roshogulla ;)

A generation of tech-addicts

          Here I was at the Venetian in Macau and instead of paying attention to the exquisite sights and sounds of the hotel, considered to be one of the most magnificent in the world, I was ill at ease, frustrated without reason and wanting time to go by a little faster. It was the same a few days later in the vibrant, pulsing city of Hong Kong, brimming with new things to see, take in and capture in my memory as well as in my camera, where instead of doing just that I listened to the nagging feeling in my head that was telling me about the number of notifications on facebook, mentions of twitter, bbms, whatsapps and text messages I was presumably getting that very moment. I was partly justified on my birthday when I was curious to see how eloquent and creative my friends would get with wallposts along with the customary greetings from most of my friend list.

           Why all this antsyness? Why the scrambling to check for free wireless access on my cell phone? Why the anger at the hotels we stayed at for not offering Wi-Fi free of cost for guests so I could calm my nerves (SUCH misers I tell you!!) Why do my parents keep berating me for being a tech addict? Surely not!

          Surely I’m not the only one. I just like being connected and being in touch, right? I just like talking to my buds each night and tell them about my day. Shouldn’t I be completely justified in doing that seeing that if I don’t tell them ASAP I’ll forget later, not just to tell them but also in my head, creating a void in my memory.

          Coming back to my original point, why is it so impossible for so many of us to live in peace without having to be obsessive compulsive about our electronic lives? How is it that, if asked what we wouldn’t be able to imagine our lives without, most of us answer cell phone or laptop? Every time I pass a water body or a hole in the ground, I instinctively hold my phone closer and tighter in my hand, unable to imagine what I’d do if it fell down. How did we start letting small boxes of plastic, metal and silicon or whatever it is they’re made of dictate so much of our lives?

          This isn’t one of those superior sounding anti-facebook, anti-technology posts, there are enough of those around and I’d be one to talk, not even being able to deactivate my facebook account for a week in an attempt to study for exams unlike a friend who deactivates her account every time she’s bored. I just want to ask why we absolutely have to be connected at all times. Why can’t we do without just for a few days?

By Nirmitee Mehta

NOTE: This post may or may not have been exaggerated, depending on how desperate it makes me sound ;)

Take me to Vienna

8811 kms.

          If I drive without stopping even once, Google maps assures me that I will reach Vienna in 4 days and 20 hours. This is one trip I’d go on in a heartbeat because Vienna is the city that holds the key to my heart.

          I started thinking of Vienna as more than just another of the many cities that populate the world when I started reading Eva Ibbotson. My love for her writing translated into a bigger love for a city I’d never seen, such was the power of her words and love for the city. Back when I first read about it, visiting Vienna was just a far away dream, out of reach for me, maybe because it isn’t on the “must see” lists of most people, it just made a place for itself on my bucket list.

          Then about 2 years ago when I decided to go on exchange and looked at a list of all the places we’d be visiting on the Eurotour, my dream of visiting this Hapsburg capital, this city of love and music did not seem as far fetched and without it, I began counting the days till I’d be there.

          Was it the rushing back of the knowledge of places I’d read about as memories from a distant life? Or was it the pure joy of actually realizing a wish or dream come true? Or was it our wonderful tour guide whose narrations about the places we saw bringing them back to life? I don’t know what it was but any of them or all of them combined to present before me a golden day, the kind of whose memories when thought back on later in life make you sigh contentedly.

          Looking up at the statue of Maria Theresa, the empress “who made Austria great”, on either side of which the Museum of Art History and Museum of Natural history respectively are situated, I could almost see Ruth from “A Morning Gift” visiting both of them throughout her childhood and returning to the Museum of Natural History when years later to seek asylum from the Nazis. I saw her again when we were shown a typical Viennese house built around a courtyard with a tree in the centre just as hers was and imagined it having been hers.

          I saw Ellen from “A Song for Summer” when we went to Demel’s famous Kaffeehaus where she’d enjoyed Vienna’s best coffee and éclairs. I saw her going to watch a Rosenkavalier gala at the State Opera or the Staatsoper when I was at the same place, going to watch La Boheme.

          Nearby I imagined Tessa from “Magic Flutes” at the Klostern theatre working for the International Opera Company without pay simply because she wanted to serve music.

          My Vienna special moments were mostly an amalgamation of what I remembered from the lives of Ruth, Ellen and Tessa. Maybe that’s because knowing them, having reading them over 15 times each I’ve started carrying parts of them inside me and in this incredible city I became a part of them as they of me and learnt what they knew all their lives living there. Maybe now it’s hard to tell where their memories end and where mine start.

          The one special discovery that I have a claim over in this city is of a little side street called Blutgasse or Blood alley which I immediately stored away for melodramatic moments in future stories.

          Even after all this there is still so much that I have to go back to this city to see and to do- see the Spanish Riding school with the Lippizaner horses, sit on the Prater Giant wheel in the Prater park, take a walk along the Danube, catch a glimpse of the river Wien after which the city is named.

So Vienna my love, take me to Vienna

-Nirmitee Mehta

Just a Girl Crush baby! ;)

Movie star

Model

Or just another older person you’re acquainted with.

          Throughout our childhood,we girls[or atleast I did and presume for the rest] have phases where we half revere half idolize girls older than us who seem to have it all and are the person we think we want to be.Pretty-always pretty and cool as hell.

All of them coming under the completely platonic term girl crush.

          A few years ago,I’d watch this show called Remix on TV where this character named Tia absolutely epitomized the word floozy wearing itsy bitsy dresses and with her blond behavior. But somehow I liked all of those pretty dresses and dainty mannerisms that everyone else found exasperating. 
*girl crush alert*

           Once when I was 12 and my extended family came to visit, I took an instant liking to one of the girls who was probably 5-7 years older than me. She was thin, pretty and wore glasses like Blair Waldorf[my current girl crush :P] does headbands. That day while going back after lunch when everyone was deciding how best to fit the people in the car on the way back,she suggested that the 2 of us sit together in the front. I went and sat next to her nonchalantly but I was grinning on the inside. To a bookish, rather nerdy 12 year old it meant,"She knows I exist. That is so awesome.Maybe I’m a teensy bit cool on the inside :P". Yes it made me feel awesome. Yes it made my day :D

          I’ve been thinking about this because I’ve noticed that a girl who goes to my dance class has a girl crush on me

• Over 5 years younger than me ✔
• Always smiles at me ✔
• Comes up to say hi to me at the beginning of every class ✔
• Chatters about stuff that’s “cool” ✔
• Says bye to me before leaving,sometimes even ignoring my friends ✔

          My friends tease me incessantly about her having eyes just for me, but I encourage it anyway, perhaps because I remember times when id want my girl crushes to stop and note my existence.

And so the cycle goes on……

*giggleblush*


-Nirmitee Mehta

Behind the Quill

               “Rita Skeeter reached into her crocodile bag and drew out a long acid green quill and a roll of parchment…”.That quill, known as the quick quotes quill, transformed a normal sentence like “Testing...my name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter” into “Attractive, blond Rita Skeeter, forty three, whose savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations”. This rather self obsessed quill that had a knack for spouting out eloquent sentences fascinated me ever since I first encountered it in ‘Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire’.

          Getting one, albeit a non magical one, was a rather serendipitious moment for me. Here I’d like to share it with all you quill dreams readers.

          During the course of my exchange program I went on a lot of tours. At this time last year I was on a Eurotour with over 50 other exchange students. It was on the Italian leg of the tour when we visited the beautiful city of Siena that I first encountered the quill. I was browsing through the shops for souvenirs and when in a stationary store I stopped in my tracks when I spotted it…the most beautiful pen I had ever seen. I stood admiring it for a few minutes and then rushed to share this find with my friend Volimte.We ooh-ed and aah-ed over the simple beauty of the quill before deciding that we could not go without having it for ourselves. She bought a green one and I a lovely deep pink one. For the rest of the day I was bursting with joy[no exaggeration] reveling in the bliss of having bought the most beautiful pen in the world.

          The next morning when I was looking through my things in my bag, I couldn’t find it but quickly put it down to the fact that I’d perhaps forgotten it in the bus the previous night and figured it would turn up when we got back on the bus for the day’s journey. It did not despite my searching long and hard and I spent the entire day distraught and worried about having lost it so soon.

          Later at night one of my friends came to my room. He’d heard me talk about losing it and immediately thought back to the stuff he had found while on bus cleaning duty. He’d gone back to look through the stuff and having found the quill, came looking for me right after. I squealed and couldn’t thank him enough. It was so gratifying to get it back.

          I thought back to this memory the other day when I wrote with it for the very first time[yes a year after buying it].you see, I couldn’t find a cartridge that would fit in so I chose the old fashioned route and dipped it into an inkpot, writing the way it was meant to be written with.

          And sometimes, that’s all you need to start writing………..

By Nirmitee Mehta

A Feeling called Serendipity

          The dictionary describes serendipity as an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident. What it does not do, however is describe the feeling behind it, the excitement when you’ve made a serendipitical[new word. I made] discovery and the joy it gives to you .How long after its over, you can look back to that golden moment where it seemed like time was standing still just for you, because that’s part of the magic of serendipity, it does not rush. The moment arrives gradually and takes its time leaving you to go to someone else who needs that bit of magic.

          Incidentally how the quill came into being in the blog name and symbol is also a story involving serendipity but I’ll dedicate an entire post to just that another time.

          The idea of doing a blog post about serendipity came to me the other day when I stumbled upon a blog called Green ink that had an interesting book-related quote on the upper right hand corner that got me thinking.[FYI :Book People=Awesome. Always].So then I read a couple of her posts getting completely mesmerized in them.. Then I stopped an started reading from the very first post and stalked the blog for a few days until I was done reading them all :D

          What captivated me was the easy writing style that was clear yet dreamy…the fact that it was so well written and there were so many things written about. I’ve found a blog doppelganger who gets why I love showers anytime of the day and loves hummus as much as I do among so many other things.

          You know how in books or movies, characters find the most amazing places out of the blue? For the die hard “How I met your mother” fans, how Marshall comes across the best burger in NYC shortly after moving to the city? I had a similarly themed experience one afternoon when I was touring Berlin. My friend Sharkanada and I were wandering through the streets, taking more photos than we’d ever want to look through later when we spotted it, the chocolate shop from heaven. Calling it just a shop however would be an understatement and an insult. Hundreds of varieties and forms of chocolates. Huge chocolate monuments-of the Titanic, the Brandenburg Gate, the Berlin bear, the Reichstag building sculpted out of the most mouthwatering chocolate[or schockolade as Germans call it] ever!

The first floor held another surprise-one in the form of a chocolate restaurant where we indulged in the best hot chocolate in Berlin and in large portions of chocolate desserts.

Though I returned there twice after that, those visits didn’t have the special feeling the first one did, when we found it inadvertently and spent a perfect afternoon.

          Moments of serendipity, I think are a lot like love, you don’t go looking for them, it is when you stop looking that you find them in the most unexpected places.

-By Nirmitee

We Talk #1 - Nirmitee And Chahita

Nirmitee: I'm confused :-S
See everyone says stop looking for love,stop asking for love and then
love will find you
But the secret* says that you have to ask for the things you really
want....which one of them is true?
[*The Secret is a book we're reading, by Rhonda Byrne, the central idea of which is that our thoughts attract things in our lives.]

Chahita: I have no answer to that...this whole idea of Love is so complicated
I guess you shouldn't exactly look for love but you should never give up on hope

Nirmitee: But what should you be thinking? So far I've only come up with-im not
looking but please let me find love :P

Chahita: You know what....

Nirmitee: Tell me?

Chahita: There are so many contradictory statements made by all these famous people
One person says live life like there's no tomorrow
While another one says plan for the future otherwise everything will
go haywire :P
You just have to choose a side, really

Nirmitee: So basically every advice u get is worthless coz there's some other
successful person who's done the opposite?you just have to choose
what's right for you...

Chahita: Yes exactly!
It all depends on you in the end
Every single thing happening in your life is because of you...

Nirmitee: It makes life all the more confusing....yet more fun because there's
no absolutely correct way

Chahita: So true...

Nirmitee: You can ham up as much stuff as u want to..