Posted in ..., Bliss, Changes., Life happenings, randomness, Wha..?

Another Lifetime Away.

It’s seems forever since I last wrote to you. Dear blog, I miss you. I miss the sense of fulfillment I would get from blogging. I miss the happiness and that tiny bulb inside my heart glowing with pleasure, when I was successful in pleasing a person with my blog. I miss sitting a couple of hours online. I miss those days I would simply idly sit around on a rainy afternoon and read just another novel. I miss waking up late and staying awake all night. Oh man, I get nostalgic thinking about that life. That life which existed, it seems, another birth away. Which couldn’t get happier and this day…

This day I’m struggling in everything. It’s like I’m a scrambled egg, and everyone else a serious omelette out there. It’s like am merely an ant and the world is a giant human. Human these days, I swear to god (If it exists. Excuse me, for I’m agnostic.) They seem to be turning in rhesus tribes.

Just sitting and studying all day. That’s what is a life of a 16-years-young  twelfth grader. If only the competition wasn’t so cruel.

If only the ants were treated equally,

and terrorists vanished,

and lions dined on wine,

and life was prettier.

Only then would this tiny world I live in turn into heaven.

Anyways. I’ve wasted your time enough. Let’s just get back to work.

Ciao, Love. Angana.

Posted in Bliss, Changes., Night, randomness, Uncategorized



It’s pitch dark outside. I get out of my comfort zone and step into the reality. The balcony pulls me towards it. It’s like the night wants to make love to me, desperately. It’s hunger, and greed is adorable. I stand there. Still. The extreme silence, making me vulnerable, shaking my ground.

No, I’m not scared. I’m just confused.

Or maybe the big, bad, boldness really does scare me. It makes me rethink my entire point of existence.

It makes me ecstatic. it snaps me back to  earth. It tells me to stop being in cloud-9 and so pretty in pink. The silence is beautifully married to an not so occasional rush of air, flowing through my face, tickling my hair, innocently.

The enormity of the planet shows my nullifying presence. I have my own secret talks to the wind. It’s all surreal and I’m simply left to gasp it all. Yeah. Maybe, its gigantic bear-like actions scares me. But it also makes me fall in love with it, even more.

i have my ‘sweet nothings’ moments with the silence. I cry to the silence, the silence lends me a shoulder, and is a great listener. The silence is just like another buddy. A buddy for life. And this friend is incredibly loyal, and causes no tantrums and breakups.

Men may be from Mars and women from Venus, but silence is our very own. Continue reading “Silence”

Posted in Uncategorized

Another Soulful Mess – Me.

2:24am. Day just started. I’m sitting in my bed. The chime of the clock ticking by. I sat still. Just wondering. About the coming times. The future.

Future. That word. Both excites and scares the heck out of me.

Still fathoming.





Adding up all this = My Life.

This friday.. Just as I realized I’m down:

First response: Ugh. Not again.

Second response: (cheerfully wailing) ” Yay. I’m not pregnant! ”

Hah. Just kidding. xD

Also, my mind is this pretty nuisance of which I sometimes fail to recognise myself.

3:05am. 25% of the test syllabus done.

I very well know the panic mode is next. Interestingly I also seem to know the antidote.

Loud music blasting in my ears and going for a walk during the early hours. ❤

Mind. Soul. Putting to rest now. Time to catch a few hours of sleep before the mystery unveils itself!*-*



Posted in Bliss, Family, Friendship

That guy..

I don’t remember the first sight. Maybe it never was present. But, to me, he means my world. Yes. I admit I take him for granted. But, somewhere down the lane, I also know he does too and that, it is a human nature.

Everyday, when I see him, his beautiful deep brown eyes, and whose boundary is slight bluish. It’s phenomenal. He wakes up at midnight to wake me up, he cares so much for me I could write an entire novel on him. His existence to me makes me feel blessed. He can fight the world for me. I so like that.

I remember every instant, since I got my senses. Those vacation loves. Those “sit to study” loves. Those “Give me space” loves. Every bit and types of loves. I try and analyse. Maybe, time is turning him a bit old. Yet so, his young heart can compete any youth of the country. His love for his work makes me fall in love with him even more. I love it when he is engrossed in that. He is this phantom, who is the most adorable mystery, ever.

Each day, each sunshine, every breath, he is there, I know. With me. Physically or not. He is like my only support system. He is like that banyan tree in an enormous field, which can stay strong even when there is a storm. His presence is like being with almighty. (He is mighty too.)

Enough cheesy truth praises.

Another extreme. He is so short-tempered. Our genes match. He is stubborn. Hah, who knows it better than me? His every harsh words hit me like a knife. He is independent. He craves for knowledge. That genes are in me too. You know, at times this person is so weird I can just not ask myself to accept that I know him. Trying to decipher his thoughts is useless though.

He is this hot pakora during rainy days, and that crazy sun of June.

He is just the best dad in the “History of best dads.”

Gosh, I love you so much !(I just realized 😛 )




Posted in Bliss, Events, randomness


So. Weesh. Great start.


Ever thought why we have created the entire concept of the existence of
some sort of superpower, who we term god? I don't exactly understand the 
concept, so, on the safer side, I term myself agnostic.
Yet so, that somehow doesn't seem to sort out the messed up questions 
inside my mind. So, I peep out. (to the golden river and lash greenary, 
the crystal clear sky.)
Oblivion to nature. Taking the surrounding we live in for granted. Funny
Not so. This guy from my psychology class is filthy rich. My mum says it's
wrong to comment on other's wealth, though.
Even so, this poor poor bastard gets everything he needs wants.
The hottest girl in school is his girlfriend. He's got cool homies.
Party and hangouts are in his automatic daily routine. (Brushing and 
writing are mine, they cost nothing. Hm.) I always take pride to stay 
rational. But, somewhere, that moment, after the school bell rang, a tingly
feeling of a mixture of jealousy, sadness and helplessness came upon me.

I couldn't help but think, I could give anything to get that life he takes
for granted. I don't even meet my friends off school, often, forget late 
night parties.The entire hour after that I just kept fathoming his luck.
My mind whirled. I felt insecure. Poor.
I went on to think about his homies. All I knew then was to wish I had 
that life.
I walked down the hall of the library, lost in thoughts, and sort of 
bumped. About nothing really. I needed some inspiration. (Superwoman.)
I needed somebody to tell me to stop feeling this bad about it all. I
dragged myself to a self help reader's column. 
Casually staring at the rows of 'Chicken soup for the soul' books I pulled 
out one out of habit.
Washing my eyes through the pages, I turned to stop at a story named
'Poor Tiffany'
Believe in such insane coincidences?
It was a story about a girl tiffany, who was exactly like that guy.
Metaphorically, the writer of the story, was a girl like me, too.

Life isn't all about money. I realized. 
I started to feel normal again.
Gained my pace. Hustling harder. 

Hm. Some old piece. Love life. 

Posted in Bliss, Mind

Heart laid out.

When I give up english, I'm shaky rather than secure. I'm weak. 
Before I became a writer, I lacked a clear, precise identity. It was 
through writing that I was able to feel fulfilled. 
What does it mean, for a writer, to write without her own authority?
Can I call myself an author if I don't feel authoritative?
How is it possible, that when I write 
I feel both freed and confined, constricted. 

Why does the imperfect, spare new voice attract me?
Why does poverty satisfy me?
What does it meant to give up a palace to live practically on the streets,
a shelter, so fragile.
Maybe because from the creativity point of view there is nothing so 
dangerous as security.

I wonder what the relationship is between freedom and limits.
I wonder how a prison can resemble a paradise.
I wish for something else, something I probably shouldn't wish for.
But I think that the need to write always comes from desperation,
along with hope.

I know that one should have a thorough knowledge of the language one 
writes in. I know that I lack true mastery. I know that my writing is
something premature, reckless, always approximate.
I'd like to apologize. I'd like to explain the source of this impulse of

Why do I write? To investigate the mystery of existence. To tolerate myself.
To get closure to everything that is outside of me.

If I want to understand what moves me, what confuses me, what pains me - 
everything that makes me react, in short - I have to put it into wards.

Writing is my only way of absorbing and organizing life. Otherwise it would
terrify me, it would upset me too much. What passes without being put into
words, without being transformed and, in a certain sense, purified by the 
crucible of writing, has no meaning to me. Only words that endure seem real.
They have a power, a  value superior to us

Given that I try to decipher everything through writing, may be writing in
english is simply my way of learning the language in a more profound, more
stimulating way. If I didn't write, if I didn't work with words, I wouldn't 
feel that I'm present on the earth.

What does a word mean? And a life? In the end, it seems to me, the same
thing. Just as a word can have many dimensions, many nuances, great 
complexity, so, too, can a person, a life. Language is the mirror, the 
principal metaphor.

Because ultimately the meaning of a word, like that of a person, is
boundless, ineffable.

Thank you from the pith of my heart, Jhumpa Lahiri.

Posted in Bliss, Changes., Mind

Settling Down..

New people, yet again.
Cold and humble inside.
Determined to face it all,
with a smile,
and wash away the blues.

A week passed,
Everything has changed.
Yet really, nothing has.
Puzzling, yet it is the truth,
Give it a break. 'Life's good.'

With time, nothing ever
ever really not changes,
(It all does.)
It's all about perception,
'Just smile.'

A month passed,
Everything on the right 
track, yet really,
Nothing is. (It's all fine.)
Really, just smile.