In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Talking in Your Sleep.”
Mumbai shows a medley of populations of more or less mixed origin, so bumping into a Southie in an ultra crowded local train is never a rarity. The finest aspect of an indecipherable dialect is, what sounds like a highbrow discussion to others in reality could just be an obscure gibberish chit-chat. High pitched voices like these are inescapable , and being capable of deciphering that directionless tittle-tattle I find no reason to dodge a tad of free entertainment. 😉
Like I mentioned, these conversations oft-times revolve around fruitless scandals about a neighbor or an apparent friend. Once I happened to overhear one such inconsequential but amusing chatter wherein, the woman narrating the event seemed equally surprised while describing the story to the woman who could hardly bat her eyelids while listening to the turn of events in a certain X’s son’s life.
Apparently X’s son used to sneak in his girlfriend and have some pleasure time while no one was around to monitor their activities. This caught his mother’s attention, when she found an unusual strand of dark magenta colored hair in their bedroom. While she was still describing the event repeatedly in every kind of voice grammar supports, and each of the two were summing up their own judgments about every character involved in the plot, exhibiting all the conventional ideas that they have been feeding on since juvenescence in the process. I just couldn’t cease wondering about the actuality of the tale.
How do people extract such melodramatic stories that happen behind closed doors? How could the other woman not doubt the truth behind the tale? from How many pair of ears had this tale been passed? how far might have the story evolved since?
I couldn’t turn around and correct them, so all I did was hit my elbow hard enough for her to realize that she’s been hit yet not tough enough to hurt her. I know it was childish, but at-least her topic of discussion would drift for a while whispered that tiny voice in my head, as I walked away wearing that fresh smirk proudly. Because believe me when I say, it ain’t fun being a victim to other’s story telling skills. 😛
While I struggle to keep my blog alive amidst work and other self created adversaries (laziness – Yes ! I admit:)) .. My mother is in an attempt to maintain her social networking life and toughen my struggle. Well technically that ain’t a problem as the WiFi gives us both a fair proportion of bandwidth to operate.
After the head bugging task of being her user manual throughout her Facebook beginner days.. Now it’s time to get her through the WhatsApp phase and God knows what next! Dealing with her tiny excitements that comes along with her self accomplished discoveries is the only better part.
Well its pretty much like my own fresher struggle. :)😁
1. Your paying your own bills.
Our parent’s wallet had always been a well of endless money supply. Not anymore dudette, you want that pretty dress.. ?Don’t have money?.. .. They show you the way to the ATM! Well thanks Mom – Dad.
2. Everyone’s either married or engaged.
College life was beautiful.. We could run around set our heart on any beautiful creature we have our eyes set on, coy and twirl, round and round while looking totally stupid in an effort to strike a conversation with them. But now that smart ass manager who can play the guitar, sing and code like he was born with a C sharp .. Well that ball is already in someone else’s court!
3. No bunking.
76% attendance used to be so hard to achieve once upon a time. Those days when the most reasonable explanation for missing the day’s lecture used to be blaming the morning sun for not shining bright enough to wake you up or the alarm for going off battery overnight. These reasons could cost you a fortune now.
4. Growing up.
With our senses starting to mend up, we start losing all the false hopes of getting rich overnight, Prince charming kissing us awake, or maybe any other unnaturally delusional circumstance. Because the real world ain’t all that fancy.
All said and done, one fact that doesn’t fade is that now your an independent human being something you’ve always wished to be since the days you were forced to sit and learn those long lessons from your workbook. Now your learning the real lessons of life. Moreover your not married yet! You have lot more to enjoy before you fall into someone else’s court. 😉
Love should be like a bottle of nutella. Eating all that chocolate could do you no more good than a packet of maggi *I hope we all know maggi is a zero nutrient diet* , the sugar content puts you on a diabetes alert, all those calories you were trying to burn are reinvented with extra “fat” toppings. But you crave to lick clean that little bottle from every corner because like people keep saying “.. It’s about priorities” and it had-has-will always be about it. Love is when you crave for it from the bottom of your butterfly-flying stomach.. Love is when you be the idiot, isolating your logical brain to the darkest corner of your skull and redecorate the space with pink hearts prettified all over.. Its when you just know you want it, not only does your mind provoke you.. But every part of your body is demanding you to lick that chocolate syrup and you just can’t get enough of it and each time the little voice from the dark corner tries to fight its way up, the love you get back from the jar deafens the voice on its own.
So people don’t you settle for anyone lesser than a jar of nutella! 😉
.. Because your worth it! 😀 ❤
Some sorrys mean as little as the statutory warnings shown in the corner of the TV screen! 🌚💩😝 *Nobody is paying attention*
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Sweet Little Lies.”
It ain’t true. Of course not. Exceptions – lot of them.
Like for instance from the past one month I’ve been lying to myself that everything’s gonna be alright. I literally try to soak-in the Bob Marley song into my veins to feel the lie from within. But as soon as I reach my office, the office wind dries out all the soaked up motivation from my viens. Like a dash of minus’ negating all the plus’ in me for no reason.
So the peace I get for the while I’m away from this electron emitting channel is a gratitude to the soothing lie that tomorrow ought to be better. 😉
*Says me after a mood-swing* 😛 ™
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Baggage Check.”
This “Baggage Check” badgered me to rewind every dramatic cyclone that has or had bypassed me. But then my major decisions owe an obligation to the smaller winds that touched me silently without making me realize the amount of dirt or flowers it had eroded from my surface. (WOW! That’s heavy! ).
Though things that come under my “major decision” zone is certainly not the usual critical ones. Like I chose not to wear a saree for my Sister’s wedding as I had worn it once before and walked worst than a duck then.