Posted in Writeups

Life, as we don’t know it.

It’s been more than a month since I’ve moved to Delhi. After so much planning and thinking, I finally reached this stage of my life. It, finally, is a reality. It should feel amazing, right? Sadly, it doesn’t.

There’s nothing to be blamed although, honestly. I live with some amazing girls. My professors are probably some of the best. I’ve been wanting to do what I am doing since forever. Then what’s wrong? I don’t know. Or maybe I do. I miss home. I’m homesick. Terribly. I don’t even know if it’s just me. The people who came here before me, they didn’t look miserable. They were picture perfect. Exploring Delhi in their first month itself. Happy. Laughing. Just everything was picture perfect. Or do my pictures look like that too? Because the boomerangs I post on Instagram are the ones where Dechenla is being her too-sassy-for-Delhi self. Nobody sees how just ten minutes later, we’re on the floor talking about how life was back at home and barely holding back our tears.

It’s been 41 days since I’ve shifted to Delhi, 39 since I shifted to my PG and 38 days since I started college and no, I’ve still not adjusted. I’m not hopeless. I know I’ll adjust. I already can if I put in more efforts. But in a way, I still want to miss home. Sounds funny, maybe. Nevertheless true.

Delhi is a big place. It has got everything. But it’s not home.

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Sadness has a Face

Sadness has a face; sometimes of a person and sometimes of a place.Different sorrows have different faces. So, when your lover leaves you, you go back to remember your previous lover and how things got messed up with her. You don’t miss her but it is sadness showing up with her face.

Does that make you wonder whose sadness has your face? More importantly, does that boost your ego or only make you hurt deeper?

Picture credits: Google images

Posted in Writeups

Equality(?)

Kuhi and her father were in the midst of an argument. Kuhi, a hardcore feminist, couldn’t accept that her father could see no reason why there is a need for feminism.
“I mean I understand there is still a gender disparity in the rural areas, people still cry over a daughter’s birth but in here? No, young lady, we are past that stage. Have I treated you any less than your brother ever?”
With all honesty, Kuhi could not say ‘yes’ to the question raised by her father. Her father knew that too and so continued without pausing, “Then, your mother and I, both, have been working right since we got married. Isn’t that equality, now?”
Kuhi didn’t like losing arguments, especially when she was correct. However, she held back her answer that while he was having coffee and conversing with his daughter after coming home, his wife, who too came from office, was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

Posted in Writeups

Knight in Shining Armour

I sat on the couch, wondering how I haven’t yet drowned in the sea I was sure my tears should had created by now.
I checked the phone for his texts or any phone calls that I must had missed but there were none. None!

Missed calls

Kuhi (11)
Maa (4)

WhatsApp 

Kuhi (29)

I threw away the phone. One year of being together and he could just go away like that. Without another glance, without a second thought? I know I was being deplorable. There was a time Kuhi and I used to make fun of such characters. But how could I stop these water works?

While I was in my own bubble of misery, I heard some footsteps. It couldn’t be Maa. She isn’t coming home till next Sunday. Was it him? It has to be him. My miserable heart was ready with a pin to burst this bubble of misery. But my eyes couldn’t yet find the courage to look up but even when lowered, they saw a bunch of roses. Yes, he came back.  Of course, he did!

“Bitch! Next time, ditch me like thay and I’m gonna break your head with this bottle”, saying so, she placed the bottle of vodka by the roses.

“Kuhi?”

“Oh! Do you remember Kuhi? I thought your boyfriend- ex, I may ruthlessly and happily too add- of a year and the tragedy of losing him made you forget your best friend of seven years. These roses are for your broken heart and the bottle for me. Now move over your sad skinny ass”, saying so, Kuhi made some space for herself on the couch.

“Told you he was an asshole”, she said. Tactlessly and mercilessly.

My head on her shoulder, though the tears didn’t yet stop but the heart felt less heavy now.

Images credits: Google images


How many times is your best friend by your side when your world seems all dark and twisty? No matter how close we are to our parents, there are just some things we cannot share with them. Or maybe we can but we don’t prefer to. And that’s when our best friends come as knights in shining armour or maybe just a packet of chips or a bottle of vodka.

This post is dedicated to my best friend, Prerna.

My twisted sister.
My partner in crime
My person.

However, just to clear any kind of confusion, this is a work of fiction and has no resemblance with any person, living or dead. (Okay, too much drama xD)



Posted in Writeups

Within Four Walls

The nights never seem to end. Like a tiger, he pounces and jumps, leaving marks all over. Blacks and purples, they don’t vanish when the reds already appear. And in his incessant pounding, the four walls suck off all my ‘no‘s.

Sunlight seeps in, and I do my best to cover up the medley of those hues. Button up till the top, long sleeves, whether hot or cold. Even then if another man glances my way, back at home, he makes sure a different kind of red marks my body.

My body.

I almost scoff at that.

 Is it mine really? Seems more like his territory

Featured image source: Google images

Posted in Collabs, Writeups

Controversy

She took to the stage with a tee that read – “MY God is better than yours.” Sides were immediately taken, abuses already slurred.

Controversy reared its ugly head, blinded to the word, ‘Humanity’ on the back.

~collab with Sara


Just a little (unasked) backstory- Controversy was given as the daily promt a few (or has it been more than few already?) days ago. So, I approached Sara to write something on this prompt as the word intrigued me so much but I couldn’t come up with an idea. Long story short, we came up with this and being the lazy asses we are, we’re posting it now. ^-^


Whoops my backstory is longer than our actual story.

Posted in Writeups

Milestone #1 and Announcements

​Hi there! Followers, fellow bloggers and all!

At the outset, I want to give a huge THANK YOU to everyone for making my blog journey so exciting and beautiful. I had just completed my 1 month of finally starting up this blog and this notification from WP made me so happy this morning. 50 followers YAYYY!!! ❤ (stop snickering, you fellows having too many followers to even keep count xD)

Now, another reason for this post is to just let you know that for this half month and the next month, I might be either very less active or not at all active. I’ve got a huge exam on the 7th of May, for which I’m already very less prepared. So, for whoever looks out for my posts (I hope there’s a few from these 50 people :P), I’m sorry.

Anyways, thank you and hurrah!❤

~Kasturee

Posted in Fiction

Letters that I’ll never send

It’s been a long while since I’ve seen you. It’s funny, isn’t it, how we think we have forever within our fists but it escapes like sand? I still have your contact saved but the name is a stranger’s now. I don’t think I’ll ever dial this number ever (no, not even drunk dial it) but I also don’t think my thumb will ever press the delete button.

How do you delete 5 years of your life? How do you delete promises that meant to you more than your own life? And how, for heaven’s sake and maybe hell’s too, do you delete all the bitter words exchanged, the doors slammed, the tears and face stained with kajal, the chain of cigarettes smoked in the aftermath? Although I guess, you did quite a good job in doing so. But then, you were always better than me; better at writing, better at sports. God! I still stick to the fact that your kisses were so much better than mine. So why am I surprised that you are better at cutting me off your life too? I think it’s a play of the word, denial.

People forget voices the fastest. Not the face, not anything else, but the voice. I don’t remember why. I never paid much attention in Science class. Why is it then so difficult for me to forget your laughter? How you’d throw your head back and laugh. I’d rarely ever join with you because I was too busy watching a 7 year old in that 17-year old body. I also haven’t forgotten the sound of your yawn. You’d stretch your hands and yawn so deeply. Soon after, I’d hear you snoring with your mouth slightly open and your hand still over mine.

How did all of that turn to sand?

It became grains of sand- your laughter, my smile, our kisses and park dates, those 3 a.m. conversations where we bared our souls long before we bared our bodies– in a desert. However did that happen?

I lost you. You lost me. But the most terrible thing that happened was how we lost us.

I still don’t wish bad upon you. I’ll never do. And despite everything,  I know you don’t too.

The saddest irony of our lives was, despite being the perfect puzzle pieces that fit together, we didn’t fit. 

In another parallel universe, maybe- just maybe- we do.

Image source: Google Images


P.S.: Today is one month of my blog. Yay! I’m so glad I started this blog and I’m so grateful for the kind of support I’ve gotten from this blogging community. I know people reach far more milestones by their first month but I love the pace I’m going in and i can’t wait to see what more this blogging experience holds for me. :’) 

Lots of love from one blogger to all the rest. ♥

Posted in Writeups

Breaking records

Dear diary,

I lost at the High Jump event, once again. Father was so disappointed that he threw away all his medals; the gold ones too. It is so frustrating. I wish jumping was just as easy as writing. But I’ve decided that I’ll break father’s record tonight.


“Boy jumped from the terrace of his 7-storey apartment, 24m in height”.

Posted in Writeups

Murmuration

murmuration

məːməːˈreɪʃ(ə)n/

noun literary

1rare

a flock of starlings.

Looking through the window, the entire class gasped in awe, as a murmuration coloured the sky in rainbow hues as they flew across it uncaring of the staring eyes.

​​

Source: pininterest

The girl in the back of the room, looked at the classroom and wondered if they would appreciate just as much if they knew one of their classmates too was a part of the spectrum. But with no tinge of courage, she stepped back into her closet.