The Phoenix's Song..

Well, not the revive that replaces your need for starch! Reviving- this blog, the habit of blogging, and my self. That’s the whole idea. It’s been aeons since I found the need to write here- life has taken many a twist and a turn since I last updated here, and the person who wrote on this blog before no longer is the person writing today. Well the identity with which she goes in the real world is still the same (my account isn’t hacked :P), but the person behind that identity- well the old me is no more. Out of all the twists and turns on the road of life, some have been sweet, some bitter, and some bittersweet. From someone who was a total out and out extrovert to an introvert today, the journey has been surprising, to say the least. This afternoon, while on my way to a friend’s place, this blog came calling in my thoughts- and as is my habit, I answered that call. I am now answering, rather. I wistfully thought of all the auto stories that I have missed writing here- all the ...

Short Story: (a meaningless one ) “An angel must’ve saved you!” joked his sister, as she bought light coffee for her brother who had just awoken from coma. “No… It wasn’t an angel, it was my wife.” “Wife? We were here all night Mithun, and your wife did not come here last night. She went home 6 months ago, and she said she won’t come back. Maybe it was her dreams that woke you up, but not the real girl”, said his mother. “NO.. I know the difference between a dream and reality. She was here, right here. I don’t know how she woke me from my coma, that you must ask her” said Mithun, completely convinced that she had come the night before. “Alka is in Pune, not in Kashmir; and even if she were in Kashmir, she wouldn’t come back. No. It was your fault that she left, and I doubt she would ever forgive you” Mithun sighed. How would he ever convince them that if she hadn’t called his name in her own sweet voice, he wouldn’t have woken up? How would he explain the touch of her hand...

This was a post written long, long ago; when I had just finished reading "Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a world that cannot stop talking" Susan Cain is her name. Quiet is her book's name. And whatte book it is. Well, a name is an identity mapping, and it plays a prominent role in how you look at people (this happens at a subconscious level, so many of your reactions might have been plain surprise, and some of you who have consciously changed this subconscious pattern can laud yourselves- for you are the people regarded as open by nature (most of the times). And the reason Quiet is the quite at the main focus of my mind is that homo sapiens inhabit this world, and as humans, each one of you has been labelled an extrovert or an introvert at some point in our lives,and each of you, dear readers, can imagine how you felt the first time someone said to your introverted college self, "Speak up, dear boy. You need to speak to get noticed", or some...

NOTE: This is not an article written by me.This is a conversation I had with my cousin last night, and I don't guarantee you laughs or anything worthwhile, though both of us were in splits the whole time we were texting. SR: What? Are you crazy or drunk? (Well, this was, as you guessed, NOT the first thing she said to me. This was well after we'd spoken a few things which I cannot disclose here, and to my consistently crazy (or as per her, drunk) responses, this was what she said.) (OK, I got permission to add this : The above response was in response to this statement of mine: Now that you both are putting the same dps and all, when are you going to get him to meet the family? :D  And no no, we can't backtrack beyond this, sorry :D) SN: Which one do you think?  SR: Drunk definitely. SN: No amount of getting drunk can fetch you this. It's called Insanity, m'Lady. SR: I totally agree :D       Christmas was one crazy day, can't wait...

I was reading "Inheritance", Eragon's sequel 4 last week, and somewhere in between the story, the protagonist reaches a point where he needs to know his true name to open a vault (I did not say spoiler alert, because I think all of you would've read it way earlier than me, not to mention this is not a spoiler which people would want to kill me for.) --Which reminds me of a very famous spoiler I was at the receiving end of-- In 2005, when Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince had just released, my friends and I stood in the queue from 6a.m to get hold of a copy, so that we'd read it before anyone else did, and so that nobody could spoil it for us. Sadly we had college to attend later, and no, Krupa  and I didn't read novels in class-atleast in 11th std :D ( I think Krupa was preparing for NTSE that time, not entirely sure. :P) So I go to BASE in the evening, and Soumya  enters. The very first thing she says: "Dumbledore dies!". I go ...

There is jubilance in the air (and so are we – we haven’t landed yet :P), and the crowd breaks into applause. I’m surprised that anybody would express their joy for a mere phenomenon of landing, and turn to look at Amit in astonishment. He looks at me like as if their reaction is normal, and I begin to see reason. After a few pictures on the runway, the three of us walk to the bus stop, where we buy tickets to the Termini. The bus ride is unpleasant to the extreme, and I believe that if I had spent a minute longer inside, I would have suffocated to death. Rangit and Amit however, find the bus journey pleasant. I haven’t had lunch and hence hungry (also to the extreme- it’s around 7.30 p.m), when I spot an Indian restaurant and exclaim loudly, “There’s an Indian restaurant here! Let’s go!” *Amit and Rangit’s comments for this will be a spoiler, and hence not included.* We walk in, and Rangit speaks Bengali with the Bangladeshi in the restaurant. One might think we’re taking a stroll...