Some Great Elysium

I need you to be in a specific mood before reading this post. It’s important. So before you go on reading, I want you to watch this video and listen to this song. Then we’ll talk.

I hope you liked the song. I’ve listened to it 14 times already.

For a long while, I’ve harbored this notion that everybody, in some phase of their life, has a ‘turning point.’ A day, or maybe a month or maybe a year in which things happened that changed you. For better or for worse.

My best friend and I have a code name for this, we like to call it the ‘year.’ Mostly because for both of us it was this one particular year that changed us, completely. So whenever we see somebody in  a ‘pre-year’ phase, we shake our heads and say, ‘Oh he just hasn’t had his ‘year’ yet.’ 

Most of the time, these changes are permanent. This is what hones us as we grow up. This is what gives us our unique personality. This is what makes each one of us different. Anything could trigger this change- One particular incident, a series of incidents, a heavy loss, some serious betrayal, a miracle, serendipity?  Like I said- for better or for worse.

Nevertheless, these changes are important. To some they might be heartbreaking and they might miss the person they were before the change. To some, it would almost seem magical.

These are certain periods in your life that are specifically designed for you to learn from. You might not see it on the surface but they’re here to provide answers to some questions you’ve buried too long. They’re here to give you the absolute truth. They’re here to give you your perspective of things.

This phase is what blurs the wall between  crudity and maturity. Don’t get me wrong, you’re the still the same person, you still enjoy the things you love, it is just your view that changes. It is your way of calibrating the life around you that transforms.

And I’m going to say it again- it is important. This change, if understood and not resisted, might become your greatest teacher. There is no timeline for the ‘year’ to happen. It can happen at any age.

Some people are lucky enough to have it soon. Most of us have it multiple times in our life. I myself have had it twice. But I’m glad every single day it did. It made me the person I am today. Stronger, more empathetic and more headstrong.

Reflect on your life for once, go back and think about the day that changed you.

You did find something, didn’t you?

P.s- As for the song, I don’t exactly know why I shared it particularly with this post. But maybe because in the video you can see the death of their friend transforming all the friends. Just maybe. 

Love always,

Your blogger.

To be posted when you hit 200

Dear Readers,
I hope you all are doing really well and I wish this week is bringing you all the love and luck.

In all honesty, I wrote the above line 3 times and deleted it and then wrote it again because  I have no idea what I was writing.

Why I was writing it? I can give you an answer to that.

Today I hit 200 followers on WordPress and I couldn’t be more grateful and delighted. I still remember when I initiated blogging, I thought nobody would be interested in anything I wrote and that I’d end up ranting about petty things by myself.

But there were different plans for me and as of today I’ve managed to hold up a repository of the most kind-hearted and wonderful 200 people I could assemble. WordPress gave me people I  wish I’d be friends with. The kind of people I wished I could meet in real life. As in person-not just a gravatar image.

Most important of all-I found that there are humans who share my thoughts and feelings and make me realize that I’m not alone in this. There are people out there in the remotest  corners of the world, across vast oceans and seas who understand me and relate to my psyche and make me believe that I’m not insane.

You all wonderful souls have been superfluously kind to me and have helped me nurture and grow into the girl I am today. I’ve learned so much from each one of you and have somehow found little parts of my thoughts in your words-which is a rare phenomena in my life.

Once again, I’m eternally grateful to anyone reading this post, follower or not, to have spared 2 minutes of your time in reading and understand the rambling and rants of this confused, perplexed and a little lost 18 year old.

Thank you all so much.

Love Always,
Aakansha. 🙂

My Love for Army Men but why I’d never Marry one.

-The 14 year old me stands beside an ice-cream truck, relishing each and every stroke of the smooth tantalizing chocolate fudge; giving me a temporary relief from the heat. I’m discussing about the upcoming Biology exam when a large convoy of huge trucks pass us by. I get distracted by the sound and see them heading towards the highway. I stare at them until they vanish in the bent.

I forget about it- I’m 14, seriously what did you expect?

-I’m 15 and I stand next to my mother in the parent-teacher meet. I’m focusing on the critical mistakes in my term paper when a majestic man, wearing his army uniform in full glory, all festooned with various shining medals and badges enters my class, followed by my classmate. I mentally give him a standing ovation.

-I’m 16 and I’m sitting in a cafe and I hear giggles somewhere afar. I glance up and see these two little adorable girls being led by their father who was wearing his army uniform, the two girls fight over who’s gonna order and who’s going to ‘spoon-feed’ their daddy ice-cream as I sit and watch that beautiful family.


-The 18 year old me drives to college and gives pass to an Army truck; laden with handsome army men, their gaze eerily affixed on the road, all mature and dark.

Somewhere inside my heart aches for their families and I take a mental note I’d never marry an Army man. I confess that this decision is for myself. I get crippled in fear thinking that while I’m here ranting on WordPress there is a man on the border putting his life at stake.

I admit, I’m a coward. I’m timid, selfish and hate myself for running away from the pain. I’d rather stay away from an army man than enjoy his company because I’m incapable of surviving the lack of surety for their survival.

Plainly stating, why I’d never marry or get extremely close to a military man is that even though there are thousands of females who are bravely living with the fear of losing their loved ones, I’m not one of them, I won’t be able to bear the distance, the feel that we’re miles apart.

Having long distance is and having long distance with the life of the other partner at stake is a completely different scenario. I don’t know how other women handle it, the constant fear that their partner might not return someday. I shiver at the thought. I’ve always admired these men in shining armor and their reunions with their families fills my heart with so much pain and love.

I could never do that. I don’t have that strength. If in any case I happen to get acquainted with a military man I’d either join the army myself and accompany him to the border or make him quit his job, as simple as that-again I admit, that’s downright selfish. And so I pray I never fall in love or get emotionally close to any military man because they’re the purest form of selflessness and love and again I say, I’m a chicken, I have a weakness for love and I cannot do anything about it other than running away and hoping not to ever face it in my life.

So this for all those brave men out there, armies of every country, soldiers of any race, the very form of courage, valor and humanity, those who’re standing tall and serving without expectations, the very portrait of sheer patriotism- we respect and love you equally.

A wholehearted Thank You to you glorified beings for existing and taking the vow to protect us and your motherland.


Small People; Big Hearts

This post is not against any particular category or race of people, just a mere conclusion from a recent experience. Rather, experiences. I had two of them, both of them contrary to each other.


I had taken a day off from college and was lying clumsily on my couch watching T.V and munching potato chips. Mom had gone to work and there was no one home except for my housemaid who was doing the dishes in the gallery. I don’t know her exact age, but she’s very old, she must be in her 70’s, has a happily married daughter and a proper home. She has been working for us for more than 10 years and has become an integral part of our family. It’s hard for me to picture her any other way. It’s like she has been that way forever. Spectacles drooping on her wrinkly nose, a small, humped and fragile figure neatly wrapped in a saree

The best thing about her; her indestructible ambition. You see, she’s poor, old and weak and she could beg on the streets if she wants to and often we had asked her to maybe quit as she’s old now and take rest but she always, ALWAYS refuses. She says she likes her work and it keeps her busy and gives her income.

But that’s not the only thing great about that lady. Keep reading.

When she finished her work she made her way to the door and asked me to close it after her. I followed and as she was leaving, she picked up a bag she had kept aside, stopped midway and rummaged it’s insides. I watched the scenario thinking she might have forgotten something, when she took out two ripe guavas and offering them to me asked, “Would you like a guava?” and gave me a toothless smile.

I was speechless. No that I hadn’t seen a guava before or I hadn’t been offered a gift before, but this made me struggle for words. At first I thought I should refuse as she already was struggling with poverty and it would be mean to take whatever little she has. But then I thought I’d hurt her even more as she might think that I rejected thinking she was below me or something.

“Sure!” I said as I let out my hands. She gave two of the most ripe and best ones in the 4 she had in the bag, looked at my face with pride and went away.

And I’m not exaggerating or saying it out of empathy but those two were the most amazing guavas I ever had. Sweet, tangy and and full of flavor.


I was making my back from a stationary store. The weather was soothing and I was on foot. As I approached near my place I saw a lady on her balcony negotiating with someone on the ground.

“30! That’s the final offer!”
“Please make it 50 and I’ll mow the entire lawn!”
“30-I said it’s final”
“Okay make it 40?”

“You can go away, I’ll find someone else to do it.”
“”Sahab please, I need the money”
“I said-You can leave!”

I slowed my pace a little to see what was going on. On the balcony of the most sumptuous and one of the biggest houses in my locality stood a woman in her early 40’s. Stern and obstinate with a few loose strands of hair from the neatly tied bun; chiding the person below.

Below on her ramp, I saw an old man in ragged clothes and a pleading face. His hands were black from filth and he looked up with expectations and maybe some income. He looked tired and had drooping shoulders covered in a worn out white cloth.

After the lady asked him to leave, she went inside with a scowl. The man lowered his gaze in disappointment, got on his rusted bicycle and rode away.

I don’t even know how to put it. These two incidents happened on the same day. It’s like God was trying to teach me something. An invaluable lesson;something we don’t realize in everyday lives. I’m guessing you must have got an idea of what I’m about to say.

I know that lady from the magnificent house and I also know she’s perhaps one of the richest people in our locality. Now I don’t know what goes on inside her house or how the situations are, but I didn’t see any harm in giving that man a 50 Rupee note considering the line of cars she had parked in her driveway. And it’s not like the man was begging, he was rendering a service in return.

I’m pretty sure giving away a mere 50 rupee note wouldn’t have changed anything in her life; but it sure as hell would have made the poor man’s day. The thing that bugged me was, if you ask all these people, all these artificial, successful snobs what all they have achieved in life, I assure you they will all quote their achievements one by one with inevitable pride and a high nose. But when it comes to helping the needy and the poor, no one has a dime.

Ask yourself, when was the last time you were returning from the Supermarket with a bag of oranges and gave two of them to a beggar or someone needy? Have you? If yes, then you’re a wonderful person and have a very big and a kind heart. If not, then you need to reevaluate your actions.

My maid didn’t think twice even though I have everything and could buy guavas any day. Now I don’t find any reason for having second thoughts.



Picture Courtesy:

One was a Book Thief. The Other Stole the Sky.

If you read the title and you know where it is from then you’re awesome and you have my love.

If you’re going to read one blog post today, I request you all let this tiny post be the one. There’s a reason for this, you’ll discover later in the post and believe you me it’s worth it. This post is BOTH for the readers/non-readers.

For the rest unfortunate people, before I begin this post, one thing you should know.

You’re all going to die.

Brutal, I know but hey these are not my words. These are “death’s” words as said in this incredible piece of fiction that sweeps me away no matter how many times I read it called The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. 

Why I love this book?

It’s not just a piece of young-adult fiction comprising of a boy and girl-one terminally ill and the other weeping over the tragedy of his expected demise like it is the case with the current series of books that are sweeping the bookshelves these days. Yes, I mean it. I won’t name the books but if you’re aware you might be knowing it yourself.

I understand the inexorable need for strong emotions and stories that leave you in a puddle of tears, but it’s one thing writing about deep, profound emotions and it’s another thing playing with them to win people’s hearts. I feel like these authors are using people’s soft spots for gaining best-sellers.  Anyway, I’m not here to talk about that.

But this book, these rectangular pieces of paper studded with magical words narrating an extraordinary story is an astounding piece of literature. I’m not here to give a book review, I’m just here to tell you all the few things I learnt from this book and why you must read this post further.

Our protagonist Liesel Meminger is a nine year old girl who is forced to live with her foster parents as she was a communist and her mother was taken away by the Germans. Set in Germany in 1939 before and during the escalation of the World War II the story vividly portrays Liesel’s journey in her new foster home in Molching with her foster parents.

Her young, yet short-lived so called German boyfriend ‘Rudy Steiner’ and her deep, and beautiful friendship with the Jew that her parents hide in their basement, one character that apart from others, I fell deeply in love with,  Max Vandenburg. Max teaches Liesel the real meaning of friendship, how small sacrifices can sometimes save lives.

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It’s not a fairy-tale, it is a deeply moving story of bravery and valor when situations demand it. Of friendship which is the greatest gift of all, about first crushes and how we never get over them-but most important of all, how we must treasure all that we have-before the inevitable death hits us all.

The interesting thing about this book is, the entire story is narrated by death itself. Death claims that it never met someone as interesting and as intriguing as Liesel when he first saw her while fetching her brother’s soul (the brother dies on the way to Molching) and decides to narrate Liesel’s story from the book she writes in the end about her life at Molching.

Death has very interesting perceptions about humans:-

“I’m always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugliness and their beauty and I wonder how the same thing can be both”

“While 10,000 souls hid their head in fear and trembled, one Jew thanked the Gods for the stars that blessed his eyes.”

Trust me these two quotes said by death are just an iota of the brilliance of this novel.

Things Liesel and I have in common and the virtues I believe every woman needs to imbibe:

  1. Bravery
  2. Curiosity
  3. Knowing the importance friendship
  4. Reading
  5. Never giving up on your dreams.
  6. Ambition

And many more.

In the entire book Liesel steals books at different occasions, yet our hearts do not turn hostile due to thievery but pity and admire the poor soul for her exorbitant urge to learn. In the beginning, she couldn’t write her name, towards the end she writes her own book. That’s what determination is.

Liesel will always be on top of the list when it comes to my favorite fiction characters. She’s the girl I could relate myself to in every aspect. I saw in her my deep love for reading and friendship and family and my intense desire to write a book someday. 🙂

Note: To my friends who aren’t avid readers, there’s a movie adaptation of the book which is not equally but almost as good as the book. One movie you should watch. In case you need further motivation to watch, here’s the trailer of the movie:

Watch it and if you’re a mature and an enlightened soul, you’ll have one of the best 135 minutes of your life.

“If your eyes could speak, what would they say?”

Goodness gracious I love this book.

Rudy: “You’re stealing books, why?”

Liesel: “When life robs you, sometimes you have to rob it back.” 🙂



You can imagine how powerful this book/movie is that I’m desperately pleading you all to read/watch it.

And yes, another small request, my friend Akash has recently resumed his blogging. He was dormant before but now has stepped back in. If you all could spare a minute and visit his blog.


Have a great day you all. ❤

Leave Yourself Alone.

It was a state of utter confusion and havoc for Jenny. She ran like a whirlwind across her room from her closet to her drawer, crossing her bed over a thousand times. “Oh God, Oh God!!”  cried the 17 year old brunette. Numerous colors could be seen on her bed. Different fabrics. Like a rainbow. An expensive rainbow, of course. These were the countless dresses she had tried and rejected. One made her look short, one made her look rotund and apparently one’s color didn’t match her hair. Prom was in an hour and according to her she still didn’t have nothing to wear, which sounded ironical keeping in mind the tornado of dresses on her bed.
Mom could hear the shrieks and cries and “Oh God I’m so screwed!!” from the kitchen down below. She took a deep breath while making tea for Grandma. It was hard for her to understand what was wrong with the peach silk dress aunt Anna had bought her. It looked lovely on her.
“YES!” came a cry from upstairs. Mom almost dropped the tea-pot, startled. Grandma didn’t say anything. After half an hour, Jenny came running downstairs. “Mom, how do I look?” Is the mascara okay? “Do you think I look fat?’ Are these shoes going well with this dress?” She ran and looked in the mirror near the dining cupboard. “I think I should put a little more lip-gloss? Or is it fine?”
“Honey, you look okay,” said mom “You don’t need to be so conscious about yourself.” She looked tired and a little sympathetic, as if she was through this mood swing before. Grandma was watching the whole drama sipping her warm tea.
“You don’t understand mom”, said Jenny. “I think I may be granted permission to the VIP booth in this dress”, she said tossing her hair, as if it made any difference.
“For God’s sake, Leave Yourself Alone!” blurted Grandma, loosing her patience.
Both Mom and Jenny were quiet. This sudden outburst was very rare in grandma’s withering age. Jenny quietly made her way to the door, fully aware of what grandma meant.

Now, the purpose of this story is solely focussed on girls like Jenny who are increasing in threatening numbers. I don’t understand the need to gain perfection. Why are girls so worried about how they look, ALL THE TIME? I understand the need to dress well. I encourage girls to flaunt. But when I see people doubting themselves, I feel bad. And I feel the current domination of internet over teenagers is a very important reason behind this.


I saw this picture on the internet recently and it disturbed me intensely. Girls should know that sometimes it’s okay to be not okay. Just like the grandma said, ‘Stop bothering and doubting yourself, Leave Yourself Alone!’
It’s okay if your hair isn’t the way YOU want it to be, but it might look perfect. You may think those jeans enhance your thighs but they might just fit impeccably! Do not mould yourself according to the society, be who you are. You might have an entirely different view of the world. Stop starving yourself in order to ‘Fit In.’ Being healthy and fit is one thing, but to fast and quit food and water and air and earth! That’s insane! Those who love you will adore you even if you have too many freckles or your eye-liner is smudged. Don’t let your waist size decide whether you’re ‘Worth’ or not. YOU ARE. Period! So next time you look in the mirror,

10153989_625833804165405_8974103328670390195_nBecause you know,

“You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there’s still going to be somebody who hates peaches.”

― Dita Von Teese