Thatha <3

Dear diary,

I called Pintu the other day. I wanted to just talk about the usual stuff like, “how are you?; how’s the weather?; what did you eat?; what are mom & dad doing? etc. He told he was at our aunt’s place and that he has something serious to tell. I immediately thought that it was about some marriage proposal for me that my relatives might have suggested to my parents, or something similar and life-altering. And so, to lighten the mood I jokingly asked if everybody was alive, coz if they are, everything’s alright, right?

My poor brother, usually the master of subtlety, just bluntly replied to my question: “No”. I don’t think my heart or even my brain wanted to let that information sink in, I didn’t know what to say or ask. I just stuttered, “what?…who?”
“Thatha”. “Bhaskar Rao thatha.”

I was at the railway station to get to work. I got onto the train and sat on a seat right next to the door. Right after my brother said those words, there were tears trickling down my cheeks that I did not try to control or stop. I just kept saying that it was not fair and that I didn’t even get to say goodbye to him, and that I even bought a gift for him that I was (and still am) sure that he would have loved, and I cried while talking. I was well aware of the fact that I was in a public place, there might be people watching. But at that point, I only wished someone was caring and daring enough to come offer me a hug and say nothing. I wanted to call someone/anyone to share my pain. I didn’t know whom to call or talk to, as you are just not expected to share your sadness or pain as openly as you would be expected to share happiness; even with close friends sometimes. I just didn’t want to make them uncomfortable or maybe it was just that I knew they would have nothing to say that could console my heart. My chest felt too tight and I felt lonely on a train full of people, all strangers.

I tried calling the restaurant to see if they could arrange for anybody else to cover my shift. But it was too late; at least two hours notice is required for them to be able to arrange for someone else. Meanwhile, I also called my dad asking why he didn’t tell me. I wanted to go home right that second, not the week after. My dad’s response to that was, “…and do what?”; And just like that, the reality of the situation struck me: it has happened; I’m helpless and my thatha was forever gone. The cremation was already done and his ashes would be sprinkled in some religiously significant river, symbolically trying to portray that he is now one with nature…omnipresent.

So, I showed up at work and did not tell anybody anything. I was just focusing on doing my job and not crying. I felt exhausted already and confused as to how to behave in that particular situation. After two hours of consciously practicing numbness, two hours that lasted a little too long, two hours of noticing everything that’s around me that hasn’t been affected to the slightest bit by what I just found out, I only had one thought in my head: “Life goes on as if nothing changed, as if nothing too great was lost and that cannot be right.”

When I could take it no more I told I’d like to leave an hour early. It took just an “Are you ok?” for me to let it all go and weep. Immediately one, two, three bodies of warmth and sympathy engulfed me. I felt blessed that even so far away from home, I had people to lean on too, even if it is but for a few minutes. Later, that night by the time I got home (well, just a room that I think I belong to, temporarily), I did not cry as much as I’d have liked. It was as if my body and mind subconsciously believed that he was now in a better place, with his wife and kids, a lot less bothered by the trivial happenings of the mortal life. My heart was still taking time though.

In the next few days, I wept when I was alone or when a random thought and the consequent realization of his absence hit me – just for a few minutes and then I’m back to carrying on as if nothing happened. *sigh*

I just wish I had one last chance of hugging him and showing off that I’m all grown up and independent just like he wanted me to be. I wanted to see him wear and flaunt the fluffy black bathrobe I got him. And finally, I wish he passed away in his sleep peacefully, without knowing any pain as opposed to a sudden stroke that was in every way least expected.

I think I want to get a tattoo in his memory. My thatha, our (me and my brother) only grandparent figure whose love never diminished with other grandkids adding to the list, who loved us, believed in us and was proud of us even when we didn’t even achieve anything extraordinary. He took us to the nearest store to buy us chocolates or ice-cream even when we thought we were too old for it. And I absolutely hate that I’m writing about him in past tense now.

That’s it for now. I just had to let it all out. Thank you for always being my listening wall and letting me cry.



When I first created this blog, I wanted it to be filled with only good and happy stories. Unfortunately, that’s not how life is and so I’d like to not restrict my writings anymore. This was a diary entry that I wanted to share with the world. Please do comment if you’d like to share your thoughts or experiences.


The Name She Would Never Forget

It was a pleasant day. The day she had her Stats exam. She prepared well for it, with only 2 hours of beauty sleep to get her through the day.

Maya. Aptly named: she is magical and mysterious and charming in her own way. She is everything you wanna see her as and everything you wouldn’t expect. A ball of contradictions: smart yet silly, pretty yet piggy, strong yet emotional.

You can do it Maya.” was her self motivating mantra when she last looked at her face in the mirror right before she left for the class.

3 hours of “awesome exam attempting” later…

In the campus library, looking like a nerdy/studious version of her usual self, exhausted from the exam, and completely ignorant about the fact that she looked very cute while concentrating on her work, she was working on the computer trying to print out some “subject related” stuff.

Then came a hot guy with a cute boyish grin and a soccer bag. He approached her saying…

Hey there! how are you doing?

Ahh…Hi!..I am good. Wassup?

(cutely scratching the back of his head) “The thing is… I forgot my wallet and I need to take a few printouts. Can I, maybe, use you ID card? Please?

Haha sure. Just give me a moment and I’ll be done with my work and then its all yours.

Great. Thanks!

Few minutes of awkward silence later…

(He extended his hand) “My name’s Dion by the way.

Maya.” she said with a self-conscious smile.

On her usual days, she’s always prepared for such situations. But that day was different. She was just planning on being invisible so that she can get her work done as soon as possible, head home and hit the bed.

Dion seemed like he had different plans though. He wanted to spend some time with her. Just because. No overthinking. Just talk to her, have some good time laughing, head home and call it a day.

15 minutes later…after taking all the printouts…

How much do I owe you now?

(with a mix of a poker face and a plastered smile) “You just took two printouts. Let it be. Please.

(Cutely scratching the back of his head again) “haha ok. Thanks.“…”Can I, maybe, buy you a cup of coffee?

By now she had developed a crush on him and was making a conscious effort to look good and sound smart.

(With a raised eyebrow and a smirk) “You don’t have your wallet.

(Pulling his lips to a side, trying not to smile at his own silliness) “Aahhh…right!

Hehe…why don’t I buy you some coffee instead?

Surprised and happy, he agreed and they both went to the coffee shop right outside the Library. Time flew by but seemed like just a blink of an eye. She was content with just knowing about him, while he was happy to have someone who seemed interested in listening to all that he had to say.

After what felt like forever and a millisecond at the same time, she was reminded of reality with exhaustion overcoming her enthusiasm to spend time with him. He offered to walk her back home. With a weak smile she said, “I am too tired to walk. I think I’ll take the bus.

Well, I will ride the bus with you then. If that is ok with you though.” (with his boyish grin still in place)

She did not give him her number, but surely showed him where she lived. She did not promise a next meeting, but was hoping to bump into him again, “by coincidence”. After all, though he’s not got her number, he knew where to find her if he really wants to.

That evening, after retelling the entire incident to her roommate without missing the tiniest of details, she sighed and drifted off to her dreamland with a faint smiled on her face and a name that she knew she would never forget. Dion.

Well, hope you like this cute little story. This is a real story and Maya is none other than my roommate. First, I was jealous of the fact that something so amazing didn’t happened to me so far. However, I was happy for my roommate and so I wrote this to capture this beautiful memory in the best way I could.









I Think Am In Love

Dad, I think am in love.
Do you think you can let it be?

He’s tall, tanned and handsome,
and doesn’t really lack wisdom.

Mom, I think am in love.
Do you think you can let it be?

He says he loves me,
and his family is really sweet to me.

Bro, I think am in love.
Do you think you can let it be?

He’s strong,
and doesn’t really get things wrong.

(now addressing all of them)

I think am in love.
Do you think you can let it be?

For I know he’s the one for me,
and he loves the real me.

I think am in love.
Do you think you can let it be?

He doesn’t know I love him back,
for I do not want to be forced to take my words back.

So, tell me if you’ll let my love be,
because there’s somewhere else I need to be.

For I need to get to him and let him know that…
I think am in love…with him.

Hello guys!…I wanted to start the new year with a new post….but it took this long for me to get inspired or rather to get my lazy arse to work 😉 Anyway…here’s wishing you a very happy and healthy and funny and wealthy New Year 2016 😀

Let’s just say this is how I always wanted to tell my family that am in love (somewhat). But I doubt I’d ever fall in love so deeply with a person and keep it to myself until my family agrees.

Anyway, hope you like it. Please do let me know what you think about it. It would also be great if you could share your story as to how you told your parents about your love.  12571433_10205320762273609_399541398_n (1).jpg

Btw…I dunno why I felt that this image needs to be here but I think it just need to be! 😛 …I love her feet!…that’s a friend of mine ;)…lol anyway, Have a great day!…Bye!

Zee ❤

Paris Emergency

Breaking news: Paris shootings – French capital rocked by a series of attacks…attacks in Paris took place in seven locations ( Security sources)…

I just realized that am alive. Am sitting in the cafe doing the same thing that everybody else is doing. Breathing. Doctors and nurses are running around checking to make sure that the wounded are treated. Cops are moving around to make sure “people” are safe. Now, safe from who? other “people”?…oh, the irony of the moment!

I don’t know what to think or feel. I am not wounded physically per say, except for the pain in the left shoulder and a sprained left ankle. I don’t even remember how that happened or what exactly happened in the first place. Or maybe I know what happened, but I refuse to think about it.

I am looking around to see if the few faces that snuggled into my memory over the past few hours are not yet just memories. Like: the chubby baby who was so happy that it almost hurt, the old man who had a wrinkled face but young soulful eyes, the newly wed couple who seemed so much in love that I was seeing if Cupid was around playing his magic, and most importantly i was looking for a face with the most handsome features and talkative eyes.

I am not French. I can’t speak French either. A friend of mine is doing fashion designing here, so I came trying to escape my reality: a reality where I was clueless about what I wanted to do in life, wandering, looking for love, but being too cautious to ever fall in it. I came here trying to find out who I really am…if I were not me, if i gave myself a different name, and if I gave myself permission to just explore and make mistakes, will I be someone very different?

Today is the first day I decided that I would do all that is in my power to just be. Just let things go as they do without me trying too hard to interrupt. I introduced myself as Sky to the handsome face that I am looking and praying for at the moment.

I am frantically walking around and then suddenly he’s there. Adrien. That’s his name. Tears are blurring my vision. In a place away from home, his familiar face and warm eyes are making me feel safe and secure. I just run to him and hold his hand, the same instant that he pulls me into a life threatening hug. This time the tears are of pain from the injuries though. LOL. He pulls me away and asks, “Are you ok?” (in thick French accent) and I say “just kiss me…its an emergency.” ❤

2 years later…

I speak French. I work for an NGO that helps feed and educate refugees. And am married to the man with the most handsome features and talkative eyes! 😉

The incident from 2 years ago has forever changed how I perceive love and life. I’ve come to realize that in life, there is no escaping reality and it is never really as bad as our mind perceives it. I’ve also decided to do all that’s in my power to believe in humanity and work for a better world, to love unconditionally for it may hurt sometimes but it’s always worth it…#peace#humanity#loveindifficulttimes

Hello guys!…this a micro perception of one person’s experience. It’s totally my imagination. I just tried to picture a character (maybe myself) that has experienced the attack first hand. The whole idea was to portray that Love, any-day, is greater than hate. And that the terrorists have failed, coz at the end of the day, such incidents only bring people closer to stand for and protect each other

Life Beyond Regret

What’s the one thing that scares you the most?

There could be several answers to this question. The one that struck my mind first was the word or rather the feeling, regret.

There are many instances in life when we must have felt happy, angry, disappointed, or in love: with ourselves or with the people around.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that a lot of things that I did, a lot of decisions that I took, were indeed due to the fear of regret. I chose subjects that half the population around the world already chose, just so I wont have to regret missing out on the opportunities that they would get; I chose to chase expectations rather than dreams for the fear of regretting and taking sole responsibility for my actions.

Lately, I found myself wondering,…’why did I not fear regret, the other way round?, what if i lose the opportunity to explore my dreams?…what if I lose my identity in the process of impressing others?’, etc. And in this wondering wander, I realized, that it is inevitable, that we may miss some opportunities and mess some of them. But what is important is that we give it our best at the moment and believe in our-self.

Since, at the end of the day, there’s only so much we can do and there’s a lot so much that is out of our control.

So instead of fearing regret the usual way, lets fear it the other way round. (if it makes sense to you 🙂 )

Or better yet, don’t fear anything, and live to make yourself and the people around happy.

Let’s apologize if it’s our mistake; smile at random people while greeting them; try to be humble in our success, and patient in our failures; And finally, let’s just be kind to one another 😉

It’s just one of those random thoughts of mine that I pay attention to and care to elaborate. I hope you liked it. please let me know if you have anything to add to it. 🙂

And ya the last line..’be kind to one another’…is inspired by Ellen Degeneres 😉

Stay blessed and have a great day ahead!…bye! 😀

Desire to want

As a child who loved colour,
I had always been full of vigour.
With my mind made up,
to own the ‘best make up’.

Or should I say, the ‘most make up’?
For even in my dreams, I was all made up.

As a child who loved colour,
I had always been full of vigour.
Was not discouraged by the idea of waiting,
for the belief that all the waiting will be paying.

Until one day I woke up, to find that I was only dreaming,
and was not given what I was yearning.

That child who loved colour,
has now grown to be sober.
For all that happened between then and now,
I lost the desire to want, don’t know how.

May be its the fear of being denied,
of what I, so wishfully desired.

Me and my bother often have random discussions. And one of his ever intriguing topic is about how he seems to want so many things while I don’t seem to want my parents to fulfill any of my desires. Its like, if I want something, I’ll try to get it by myself…or suppress the desire at once.
While thinking about what I want to write next,…I wanted to introspect as to what may be the reason….and this is what came out……and to think about it, there might have been many such desires but my desire to own a huge make up box with all the world’s collection in it, has been the strongest one for a long time. It might seem silly and weird to many….but that’s me!…silly and weird and emotional 😉

Hope you like it. Please make sure to like and comment and share if you think its good 🙂

Love, Zee ❤

He Loves – She Loves

It was a pleasant day. Cool and breezy and slightly cloudy. Its been almost a year since they got married; enough time to get acquainted with each other’s daily routine, likes, dislikes, and random fun facts (like the fact that he likes navy blue the most while she thinks it’s almost the same as black).

Their mornings have always been hasty. Trying hard not to freak out and blame each other about getting late to work; only the waking moment of every morning making it easier to tolerate each other. He spooning her and she holding onto his arm too warm and comfortable to let go. They both do the jobs they like and enjoy doing.

That particular day, he was more stressful and preoccupied than her. Too busy to promise a dinner together. However, he promised himself to work really hard and get back home early and surprise her. On the other hand, she had less work and wanted to use that time to relax or do something fun.

It’s a norm to let each other know if they have any plans of going out or getting home late, etc. However, she thought she’d be home anyway before him, and so didn’t bother to message him that she was going out to watch some movie with her work place friends.

She, along with her friends had a lot of fun watching the movie, having dinner and randomly wandering the streets with funny things to talk about. It was way past 10 in the evening and her phone was dead when she reached home.

He was home by 8:30…too early according to him, but he wanted to please her, surprise her. But she was not home. He instantly checked his phone for any messages that he must have missed. None. He thought she must have gone grocery shopping after work. It was 9:00 when he started wondering what took her so long. By the time it was 10:00, he was code red worried. He called her office, her parents, his parents, certain other friends whom she visits frequently. She was nowhere. His imagination went wild thinking of things that might have happened to her. It only made his anxiety worse.

She was surprised to open the door and find so many people in there. It was her parents, his parents, and her husband, who looked particularly disheveled. For a second she thought someone died. Everybody was on phone asking people about whether they have seen her. She was blank. The moment their eyes landed on her, they rushed into a group hug, asked too many questions for her to understand. All she was looking at was a pair of eyes that were glued to her’s with worry, relief, confusion, anger, all at once.

Once the “elders” left, after lecturing about her irresponsible behavior, there was a weird silence in the house. She was waiting for him to scream at her or just look at her, just any reaction at all. Nothing. She decided to break the ice…
“Had dinner?” she asked
“………” he just glared at her, got into the bathroom and slammed the door.
‘Ouch!’ she thought. Not knowing what else to do..she prepared his favorite for dinner.

On the other hand, he didn’t know what to think or feel. Though he was relieved and beyond happy to see her safe, he was also frustrated by the thought that something could have happened. He was angry that she did not inform him before hand and that he couldn’t spend time with her as he planned to.

The shower comforted his nerves and the aroma of food made him acknowledge his hunger. However, he did not want to have it, for she might take it as his forgiveness. So he went straight to bed.

She was feeling really guilty and anxious and sad about the whole situation. She didn’t in the slightest of ways think that her fun-day-out would turn out this way. To add to this, the horror movie is still playing in the back of her head and freaking her out.

They both lay on bed wide awake. He, waiting for her to explain, while she only waited for him to scold or argue with her about her behavior.

Waiting, he went to sleep while, she was brooding and then…drifting, thinking about spirits, ghosts, etc.

Suddenly, he moved around and his hand hit her arm. She shrieked waking him up, alert and alarmed.
“what is it?” he asked
“Nothing…sorry.” she breathed and turned around, away from him.

He put his arm around her and pulled her close to him from behind. He slid his hand under her shirt and started caressing her stomach to comfort her, while he whispered “its ok” and “am here” repeatedly.

Immediately tears welled up in her eyes. Tears of love, of relief, of renewed sense of warmth and security. On an impulse she turned around and kissed him, told him “sorry…I love you”. He in turn pulled her closer and warned her…”don’t you dare go anywhere without letting me know…and I love you more”. With this he kissed her…they made love and felt happy to have known each other a little more, loved each other more.

Hi guys!…i hope you like this tiny story 😉 …please let me know what you think about it 😀

Love, Zee ❤

Le fart story(s) !!!

According to Google, to fart means to
1. ’emit wind from the anus’ (don’t you think “wind” is too strong a word to be used here?..or is it only me?)
2. ‘waste time on silly or trivial things’ (I don’t see how one can put this meaning into use….like,

“hey wassup?!”
“nothing just farting, wassup with you?”

i really dono 😛

As a noun, again according to Google, it can be used to describe a person who is considered boring and contemptible (for example, “old fart”). Now that’s really rude and dirty sounding. -_-

I personally learnt the word a lot later than I’d like. so you might or might not be wondering how I used to refer to “it” earlier….well, there are many synonyms: “releasing gas”, “bomb”, “hydrogen bomb”, etc (why hydrogen you ask?…i think its coz of the loud sound?..i dono)

There was this one guy in class who used to ask “Aaj kisne dhal kaya? (meaning “who ate dhal today?”) the moment there was some weird sound or weird smell. For long I didn’t understand the logic behind it..dhal implies smelly farts?…why only dhal though?…to my extreme horror, I realized…some farts do smell like dhal. (gross!! i know!)

And then there was the holding-your-nose-and-making-puckish-faces thing that used to happen a lot. Well, my point is, I learnt or was rather forced to learn that farts are undesirable for many reasons. However, I also learnt (the hard way round) that farts can be uncontrollable, and very demanding for attention which consequently is embarrassing; again for many reasons.

It happened when I was in 3rd grade, during the final examinations. I wont go into the gory details of the incident but in a gist, what happened was: I farted. Really loud. In the exam hall that was in pin drop silence. With almost everyone knowing the source of the sound. A horrid expression on my face that was trying really hard to make a poker face………and you know the most amusing or rather ridiculous part of the whole thing… was my nerve to lie to the girl sitting next to me that it was not me. I was like “haha what did you just say?…it was not me it was the school staff who just passed by” *face palm* (I know right!!)

So you wanna know how me and my farts are doing these days? Well, over the years I have mastered the technique of controlling. If that doesn’t work…I try clenching really hard so that there is at least no sound when I fart…and so people don’t really know who farted at the end of the day.

what?!!…you cant blame me…its only that am speaking up about such tiny important problems that our society is facing today, while many others ignore it. Am sure a few decades ago farting wasn’t as big an issue as it seems to be today. 😉 happy farting!!

Love, Zee ❤

I cried….and then i was happy

I generally don’t like to cry in front of others. ‘That’s because i want to portray the picture of a strong woman who is in control of the situation’. Well, that’s not the actual reason. When I was much younger, I remember nagging my dad and crying while asking him to buy me something (ironically I don’t really remember what I was crying so much for) which he refused to buy. He further got irritated and told “First, STOP crying. It’s the one thing that irritates me the most”.

I’d always been a daddy’s girl. He’s the one person I always wanted to impress; the one person I always wanted on my team. So, I stopped crying. More precisely, I stopped letting anyone see me cry. Especially my father. Not that he would say or do anything but to show that I will not do anything to irritate or hurt him.

I cried a lot for various reasons: silly, serious, unknown…I gave myself permission to cry but not in front of my dad.

As I grew i sensed that we were drifting apart. Not in a serious way but in million tiny ways that seemed so big and serious only to me. First, he stopped buttoning up my shirt for me and asked me to take help from my mom instead. He then started taking my brother out a lot instead of me. It hurt more this time. When I asked my mom she told that just like me and mom grew close, dad and my brother did…boys-boys and girls-girls. I dint like that, but I sure loved my mom’s company too. When puberty hit me, i dint really feel bothered by anything else except my own ‘personal’ changes.

But I always stayed close to my dad. Somehow his silence seemed to understand and Support me a lot more than n number of comforting words. I could freely express my views and debate about a lot of things. And that’s a great feeling. Even my brother and mother seem to feel this bond of ours. However, It was never that I loved my mom any less or he loved my bro any less. I always believed that ‘we are a family of handsome and loving people’ 😉

Recently, my dad seemed preoccupied and…low. It worried all of us: me, bro, mom. One night, I sat in the living room ready to ask and talk and let it all out. You see, talking solves a lot of issues but often we tend to overlook the fact that talking in itself is a BIG issue.

I had my opening lines ready; I played and replayed the situation in my head to make my points..and blah blah blah 😛 .I was kind of hyperventilating with the anticipation. Finally, once I was sure that he acknowledged my presence with a glance…I let it all out. And what came out was just my crying…and talking…together.

He dint flinch as I half expected and half dreaded him to. He rather looked worried. It wasn’t like a loooong talk…it hardly lasted for 30-45 minutes. Once I was satisfied that there was nothing wrong I made sure to let him know that his happiness mattered to us and that its important that we discuss stuff with each other instead of brooding alone.

Then, I told “am going to sleep now. Good night.” and went to my room and cried into the pillow. This time out of relief that nothing was wrong, happiness that I was able to “talk”, lightness of a burden being lifted off, and of sooo many other feelings and not one of which was sadness. :’)

It was so liberating that after a point of time, when the tears stopped, I tried to cry some more just to see if it’d make me feel any more better….it didn’t work though 😛 I rather feel asleep with a weird smile on my face.

Try and see if it works for you people too 😀

Love, Zee. ❤

In Rain..

In rain you walked in through the doors,
and then my hands forgot to do the chores.
Like a teenage girl I giggled,
while my stomach did the funny wiggle.

In rain you held my hand,
which sucked me like a quicksand.
My heart no longer felt mine,
with thoughts of you even while I dine.

In rain we promised to love each other,
and wished for no other.
In love we grew together,
with love that seemed forever.

In rain we went up,
and in rain we went down,
and in rain we survived,
with rain as the testimonial.

In rain I loved you more,
for the memories it bore.
It held my sorrows and my happiness.
my dreams and desires.

In rain i wish to die,
in your arms,
In rain i wish to survive,
in your heart forever.

Well, I love rain and it rained just yesterday at my place. A great inspiration for writing. The poem’s kinda spontaneous so hope you like it. Please feel free to comment below and let me know what you think about it. Also please like & share, it would mean a lot to me

Hope it made you smile or thoughtful.. 🙂

love, Zee. ❤