Lessons of Life (LOL)

Netra's feelings on the 100th post: So this was it. Khyati di was shutting down her blog (at least for a while) and I thought about this a few times. I said to myself that she will soon be busy and won't find enough time. Something inside me told me that this couldn't be happening! Then I convinced myself that she was doing this for her own good and will come back at some point! I want to thank each and everybody who has put in their time to read our blog. And a huge thanks to all of you amazing followers as well! And since this is our 100th and last post I want to say a huge goodbye to everyone! My feelings on the 100th post: Hey! I am so happy to announce that we have just completed our 100 posts. I am doing my 12th class and so would have to leave but I got an amazing crew who can keep resharing my blog! <3 My blog is something that expanded so much for an ordinary girl like me. I never believed or imagined that I could REALLY make something that would affe...

My grandma sat right across the table from me, quite 'healthy' but unfit. I was busy with my textbook for my exam the next day and she was weakly lifting her glasses, shrinking her eyes, looking at the cell phone, maybe trying to call someone. I couldnt pay attention to her as I had a crucial exam the next day which would determine my life chances in the future, but I could see her from the corner of my eye. She called someone No answer. Redailed. No answer. "Is the phone not working?" she asked, being from the generation that trusted their people more than technology. "No, dadi. It is perfectly fine." I said, smiling faintly. She trusted her people and so, believed me without a word, but kept the phone away, anyway. She sat still for a minute and then, reached out for the phone again. After all, she had been busy all her life, like I was at that time. She had to keep herself busy that day too. This time, the phone was answered. I co...

(I poem I wrote as a kid. Have a good laugh!) I wanna write something nice With a bit of spice I wanna write something good About someone's livelihood I wanna weave a story About something that's funny Or maybe something tragic And how about some magic? I wanna use some phrases That go on till many races I wanna give life to my writing With the right words I'm finding Finally I wanna compile it all And write a book, quite small I wanna sweat getting it published I want it to be on everyone's wish list I want it to be proud And stand rest from the crowd I want my loved ones to be happy Who once saw my in the nappy I want my best friend to boast For helping me at any cost I want the people I know To respect me even more I want the world to know when I die But I don't want it to make them cry I want them to be happy for my life and contribution to literature And I never want them to forget my stories even if they forgot my ...

It was raining heavily that day. Fresh breeze and even fresher the moment. I was in my convent school, sitting at the first desk in front of the window. Inside the classroom the teacher was shouting at us all giving us lessons and 'morals' to abide by. Telling us to give away our carefree attitudes and to become worried about our future instead. Losing her mind over how immature and loud 'we' were like she always did. And I just sat there looking at and listening to my true mentor - the rain. How I wish hypocrite humans could give up the act of teaching because they stood nowhere near to the nature who could teach us not where Nelson died, not what the square root of 5 is, not what communism can do to the world, but can teach us to live our lives, liberated from it all. The teacher, went on scolding us, playing her part, giving 'lessons'. But I wish she could just disappear, and if she stopped and listened to my mentor I knew she could. She would no l...

It started in vellore But the legacy continued And on May, 10 1857 Meerut couldn't take it anymore. The Enfield rifles proved To be the "last straw" The sepoys had seen too much To overlook the underlying causes. "Life was taken out Of the body" in Awadh "Hell was let loose Upon the earth" in Calcutta. Witnesses of the worst disasters And their dead brethrens The sepoys were hired To kill their own people. The blood of Indians on their hands And thoughts in their minds of How their family could be killed By one of their own kind. "The white man's burden" Was made heavier by the "Ungrateful sepoys" who Back at home remaining "Servants of the British". No more words of hatred! The "loyal" sepoys of the "masters" Marched out of their miseries Straight to Delhi . Killing Britishers and Defying all court etiquettes They marched towards Bahadur Shah Zadar And firmly...

It was a horrible day, I tell you. I had to walk for so long just to get my torn clothes stitched, and that too in such heat. Daddy could have taken me there but "it would have been better if I walk" and of course he had been "busy" talking to our relatives about my cousin's increment of salary. "You have to progress more then her Khyati okay?" Said my aunt teasing me. When on earth had money become "progress"? Anyway I was just 16 and I had a lot of stuff to do before earning. And giving my clothes up for stitching was one of them. There were many tailors who would sit by the road, but I had to go for a specific one though there was this tailor lady sitting right by the gate of my society, as that specific man would charge less. It was tiring already, till I reached his shop. I told him to keep my clothes and that my dad would come and collect it, and I felt to treat myself for the "herculean" task I had performed. I treated m...