I feel so old right now. It’s been so long since I last properly posted on wordpress that I feel like a stranger to my very own blog and my very own community. I just hope all of you beautiful people are doing well.
IF any of you remember, I was completely engrossed with my finals and was
fully fed up working hard throughout them. Now I’m back to chatter and rant again.
A thought popped up in my head during these finals, that how actually irritating exams are. Especially when you can easily go on a vacation to Miami and come back during the 2-3 centuries long gaps provided in between each paper.
I was craving for some fresh air and fun and these exams hovered around my head like grey clouds; all sinister and sombre.
I’ll just pour all my frustration here, enjoy.
10 things you do during your exams (if you are a student like me. :P)
- You find every single thing in your room interesting EXCEPT for the book resting on your table.
- Every half an hour you check the number of chapters you have to finish.
- You drool over the thought of your days after the exams, but practically do nothing after they finish.
- You imagine yourself graciously accepting the trophy for the college topper with a thunderous applause.
- You get worried sick when your friend is WAY ahead of you in the course.
- You are caught somewhere in the middle. If you spend time in recreation you get worried you’re not studying; when you actually study, you feel you deserve a break.
- You ponder over the intricacies of life and how during this journey one accumulates sheer wisdom and strength from the events occurring and how life unfolds various surprises and how these exams are the one thing you do not want to pursue right now. (Unnecessarily philosophical :P)
- SOMETIMES, you even read the preface or acknowledgement of the book and wonder how successful the author of this book is.
- You’re always paranoid after giving the exam. (I always am.)
- And lastly, you discover various talents in yourself; like how good you are at doodling and making paper boats and calligraphy.
These points may not apply to every student, they’re just an accumulation of some common points that most of the students nod their head on. Take this post as a jumpstart to many more to come.
I hope all of you are doing well, I missed you guys. 🙂
So this is the first time I’m sharing something really personal on this blog. My dear followers, I’d like to introduce you all to my best friend Deeksha. We grew up together since Kindergarten and it’s been 15 long years since we’ve been Best Friends.
Deeksha indeed is an exquisite writer. Her thought process is very mature and moving. I’ve learnt so much from her and her love for literature; writing is one of the countless things that make people call us twins. 🙂
I convinced her to start a blog and even though she hasn’t been able to dedicate much time on it as she, brace yourselves, is an engineering student. So it’s understandable, isn’t it?
But please, all of you who love to read my work, visit this human being’s blog, and give some reviews or healthy criticism. I promise you, you won’t be disappointed. 🙂
With a pen in my hand
I begin to write
But the words in my mind
They just stand and stare in my face and I hold the pen tight
The emptiness hanging inside me is all I have
Loud noises of the vacuum is all I can hear
And the wall in front of me is all I can see
I sit and wait for the words to line
But then it occurs to me that there is no good in feeding on the outside world
When I don’t have the courage to look in my mind
So, desperately I start to search for my feelings
That’s when I remember that they are long gone with my senses
Few words come scribbling down on a page
And that’s all I can take to the stage
With a pen in my hand
I begin to write
It is then I…
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Hey guys, I’d like you all to check out my friend Steve’s lyrical work here.
So last night, I couldn’t sleep… so I started writing a rhyme about “Somedays” but I realized that this poem (that I started) had enough content to be by itself and might I add, this might be one of the best things I’ve ever written. Most people know me by my humor in writing, humor in my comical skits for Facebook (Sorry, you have to be a premium follower for that :P) but I’m also known for being a poetic/rhyming/lyrical genius – yes I can freestyle/rap because that’s how my brain works. My family, friends, and other people who I have shown this kind of writing of mine have loved it! I love wordplay and all of that stuff! Again, a very deep poem and I hope you all are inspired by it to keep going! If you don’t understand some of the “cleverness”, please tell me what you don’t understand!
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Sienna Rose Murphy. Aaah! We’d finally come up with a name. I glanced inside that tender cradle, to see those lovely luminous eyes. This had become a routine. I couldn’t get enough of that clear night sky in her wide, scintillating eyes. It was as if all of a sudden, everything had changed. My faith in miracles had restored. And after what seemed like a lifetime, I was smiling again. But in all this exuberance, celebration and merry, I will accept, that a thought did strike my mind, no matter how much I denied it. I used to wonder, what will I tell her when she’s old enough and starts to question the obvious. Will she be a rebel, like those kids they show on tv? Pierced, tattooed. Short hair? Coming home late at night and scuttling straight to her room upstairs? A bunch of useless friends with probably no ambition. But one thought shuddered me. What will happen when she seeks for the answers. Answers I know I can’t hide for long. Will she come in terms with us? What if she runs away .. ? I felt a chill down my spine.
16 Years Later.
A cold wind brushed against my hair. My balcony was always a wonderful place to meditate. Harold always had a thing for plants. He’d sometimes tease me that he could marry a plant if he could. Not that I was ever jealous. I always knew he wouldn’t give me away for anything in this entire universe.
He had planted a Jasmine in our garden that had climbed and made it’s way to our balcony. It was a fresh fragrance. Exotic and sweet. It filtered the air around me and after a quite loud and stale hour inside the room, I was rejuvenated again. I decided to go inside as people had started to search for me. It was Sienna’s 16th birthday party.
And it was like magic how time had passed. I’m extremely delightful to say that Sienna didn’t turn out to be the Gothic, drunken teenager I warned myself about. She was a sweetheart. A beautiful brunette with a kind and warm embrace. She was adored by everyone. A lovely girl with no smell of arrogance, rebellion or disrespect for anyone. She left tokens of her cheer wherever she went. Her mellifluous giggles were a treat to people around her.
Sienna was 12 when I discovered what she had in her. I was cleaning her room when I saw one of her notebook’s. She had sketched almost whole of the city. Every building, every fountain on the crossroads. Students of her class, her teacher. EVERY DETAIL. Flowers, birds, and some absolutely impeccable work I couldn’t even understand.
“There you are?! I’ve been searching for you all around!”, said Sienna almost out of breath.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize, I’ve been here for that long”, I said with a slight shrug of guilt.
“That’s all right, it’s almost time to cut the cake, I need you with me Mom. Come’on let’s go”
She took my hand and moved forward, but I stayed. She turned around and was puzzled to see the mixed emotions on my face. “What’s wrong?” I just stared at her with content, fear, love and pride. I couldn’t find the right words but out of God knows which of the trillion emotions, I managed to throw, “You know that we all love you right?”
“Yes! Of course” she said, almost sympathetic but still befuddled. I gave her forehead a brief kiss and we tagged along to the living room with the beautiful, majestic cake!
Sienna didn’t have many friends at school. This fact worried me a lot. Although she persuaded me that she was okay. But I couldn’t come in terms with it. I know I just told you that she was a lively and free-spirited girl, but somehow at school, she was different. Plus, when I had asked her to enroll for the art class, she had very kindly rejected the offer. I couldn’t understand. So I dropped the topic.
Next Morning. Monday, 15th of July.
“Bye Mom” I waved at her putting my car into reverse. I always thought what went on in her mind. Why was she so worried all the time. And it wasn’t just the worry that bothered me. It was something else. Like she was scared of something she was keeping me ignorant from. I parked my car and made my way to the most ugliest place on Earth. SCHOOL. If there’s any place I hated from my heart, it was this godforsaken place. I’ve spent most of my years alone on a bench in the cafeteria or library. I had told mom that I had 2-3 friends at school, but the truth is, I had none. ZERO.
It wasn’t because I couldn’t talk, I just thought these people were the most selfish people on the planet. You see, I have this ME inside my brain, I like to call it “The Observer.” This is my voice that helps me form opinions. I keep observing as I walk to my class. Plastic, skinny girls considering themselves to be the “Hot-Stuff”. Lame guys hitting on these plastic girls. Thinking themselves to the best. Assigning nick-names to people. Well, mine was “Weirdo Sketcher”. Not that it ever bother me. These people were too immature to irritate me anyway. Bullying. Random groups. God! I hated this place.
I came and sat on the last bench. Unpacking my kit to sketch as the class hadn’t started yet. I began to complete the portrait of the Maple tree that caught my eye yesterday.
“Wow, that’s some really cool stuff” I almost dropped my pencil and stumbled upon my table. I looked up to see a tall red-head with amazing brown eyes. “You know, you really should put this on display”
“yeah, thanks.” I replied, confused and a little nervous I don’t know why. “I’m Dean.” He sat down on the table next to me.
It dawned upon me, that I hadn’t seen this guy before. “You’re new here?”
“Yeah. Actually I got transferred from Carolina. You know. New Place. New Apartment. Moving on and stuff.” I noticed a slight discomfort in his voice. So I quickly changed the topic. “So ..you made any new friends?”, I asked hesitantly. “No, you’re actually the first.” I found a slight relief and pride to be his “First Friend” although I have no frikin idea why. “Yeah, you’re my first friend too.”
“Wait .. For how long you’ve been studying here?” , he asked with an element of surprise that was expected.
“Since Kindergarten?” I tried a failed attempt to hide my awkwardness. “What? You have NO FRIENDS and you’ve been here since 15 years?”
“That’s..well..WEIRD”, he said with a slight amusement.
“Yeah, people usually call me that.”
I’m so glad our conversation was put to an end by the history class. As soon as the bell rang, within seconds I found myself rushing back home in my car. Daring not to bump into Dean.
That night, my mother was constantly forcing me to take part in the Annual Art Fest organised by my school. And like every time, I was refusing. But I noticed this was something she really wanted me to do. Recklessly, I enrolled myself on our college website. The competition wasn’t until Friday, and I had a whole week. I started sketching my heart out. I don’t think I told you this before, but there’s a reason I never showed my work to people around me. I think they’ll never understand the true beauty of it. The peace it gives me inside. The cool and calm I breathe through my soul. I unburden myself through my sketches. Through this, I connect with myself. And a mere applause and monetary rewards will NEVER be able to balance it’s worth for me. I completed 15 sketches in 1 week. And while I stood on stage with a dead silence in the hall I looked above, beside, below but never in front.
As I returned home proudly with the winning trophy, I wondered if Dean was in the crowd. But the thought wavered away as soon as I reached my place. My mom hugged me but somehow, she didn’t seem as delighted as I thought she’d be. “Sit down, Sienna.” I couldn’t understand. “I think it’s high time we tell you the truth.” She looked exhausted, helpless. I had no idea what was in store for me.
“You’re not our daughter, Sienna.”
For a fraction of second, I thought I’d misheard. But she meant it. I hadn’t been more scared and surprised in my life. “You’re kidding right?” I said. Expecting her to change her answer.
“Do you possibly think I would?” she said with a lump in her throat.
I felt nauseous. I couldn’t breathe. I was numb with complete disbelief. “And you’re telling me this..NOW?!”
“We were just waiting for the right time”
“And you thought, NOW was a good time?!!”, I yelled at her shaking her a bit.
That was it. I couldn’t think of anything else. A part of me knew it wasn’t her fault. But a part of me hated her for separating me from my real parents. I couldn’t endure this hysteria. I had to get back my posture. I burst open the door and staggered my way out. I could imagine my helpless mother behind me. I chose not to look back. I sat on the over-bridge. Alone. Tears drifting down my face, warming my cheeks.
“You know you really shouldn’t be here all by yourself.” I recognized that voice. It was Dean! I was too weak and vulnerable to ask him how he got here. “I went to your place to congratulate you. Your mom told me I’d find you here.”
“So, I know this is personal, but you’re mad at your mom, for what?”
“She lied to me!!??”
“Okay, but did you consider it even once, that why she did it. Did you not notice that in all these years you couldn’t have a single doubt, that’s how much she loved you. She has supported you just like every mother should. She has done all her duties towards you. She told you the truth when you were mature enough. You should think this through before making a final decision. But as for now, you should go home. It’s cold ..and dark.and well..I’m hungry”
I went home and saw my mother waiting for me by the fireplace. And sat down near her. There was a silence, not an awkward one. But a rather warm silence.
“You know you were just a little baby when we found you.” she said, her eyes fixed upon the fireplace. “You were so beautiful.” she closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her wrinkled skin. “We were having a normal walk on the beach when we saw a small little thing rolled in white cloth under a bamboo tree. When we went near it we found you lying there. We were surprised as to how could someone leave a baby at an odd and dangerous place like this. You were so weak. And undernourished. We took you home and took care of you. We made you healthy.
I wasn’t blessed with a child of my own so I took immense care of you. Treating you like my own. When you were healthy enough we went to the childcare community to send you where you belong. But no whereabouts could be found about your family. So we decided to adopt you. I swear to you Sienna, there’s no one in this world I love more than you. I nurtured you and always thought of you as my own. And even if you choose to walk away from me today, I will accept it, because I don’t want to imprison you. And if leaving us makes you happy then I’ll let you go.”
I listened to every word. Remorse. Guilt. My eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m not going anywhere Mom.”
So, this is Me. I’m Sienna Rose Murphy. Proud daughter of Jane and Harold Murphy. I sketch stuff that I like. I have a best friend/crush named Dean. I have started making friends now and I find that it’s not that bad. I love all the few friends I’ve made. But there’s no one in this world I value and love more than my parents. And yes, I sketch quite often now and my works are displayed in the local carnival every spring.
She was a simple, down-to-earth girl, as they put it. Prettiest smile, with rich locks of curly hair, and big brown eyes. Always ahead of her class, yet humble and helpful to everyone. Not forgetting to mention, she had an amazing hold on vocabulary.
People also used to call her “Perfect” sometimes. She did not have the gleam to make boys fall head over heels for her or receiving flowers and chocolates on her every blink, but she had something different in her personality. Something that very few could understand.Very few could notice.
You must have created a flawless portrait if this girl till now. Well, why wouldn’t you?
She was my school mate. I didn’t know her that well, but knew her enough to tell you the above traits.
I’m not sure whether she was studying with me since kindergarten, but it was in one of our Morning Assembly Debates when I first heard her. By her confidence and the way she spoke I realised and soon witnessed that our house would win this time,and it did.
Years passed, I forgot about her, and before I even realised I was in the final year of my school.
Standing in our usual morning assembly’s, I heard a familiar voice on the mike. I peeked slightly above the line and there she was. Once again the same confidence, the same beam of self esteem in her eyes, and once again, the winner.
It so happened that during our final year we started to talk, well, a little.
But although I barely knew her, I noticed a change in her. The sweatshirt-jeans-shoes girl had now transformed into a dress-heels-bags girl. The way she spoke was different. That over-acting, that unnecessary giggles. I don’t know if I’m being fair or that I know her enough to judge her, but she seemed different.
She wanted to be Amongst the crowd. She wanted to be Accepted. And most important of all, she wanted more. Sadly, she did not realise she had everything already.
Why was she becoming that way? Why did that sweet-gorgeous girl transform into this plastic barbie/model?
I think we all go through a phase like this. When we change, because the society wants us to change.
The society moulds us into these uneven pots of clay, that are dried and baked in the heat of desperation, peer-pressure, anger, dissatisfaction, anxiety and the list goes on. It’s like an exam. A test of who we are and if we can hold onto that.
The purpose of this post was not to bring to light the change in this girl I mentioned earlier, she chose what she wanted.
But to spread this simple voice that says, you’ll be worth a million, if you stay who you are. and you’ll be just like another sheep in the herd if you, well, WORK HARD to be ACCEPTED in the herd. The magic lies in the fact that you hold on tight in this bumpy ride, and in the process of this self-evaluation, not lose yourself and skip the very reality of who you are.
-You can be funny and kind or funny and cruel. The second one is easier, but the first one is worth it.
-Dip the french fry in the Frosty. Go on, try it.
-Habit is a powerful force we forget about until it’s turned against us. Be careful which ones you create.
-You will remember the most embarrassing crap you do in your life forever and in perfect clarity. Everyone else will remember the kindest things you do. It all comes out in the wash.
-If you’re doing a remote podcast, it’s worth it to record audio locally and mix it together. Trust me on this one.
-You’re the only one who can let go of your grudges. It’s worth it, I promise. They’re not doing you any good.
-Doing the good, brave, kind things can feel silly if you let your internal critic get in the way. Reminder: No…
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