The Nightingale.

It was the worst day of my life.
French class was the best place to ease my frustration. I sat on the last bench, quiet, with my eyes and fist clenched shut. Then a figure sat beside me. I had to look up only for a fraction of a second before the whole story and a river of tears came flowing out.

An incident I swore I won't speak to anyone about, I told her. When I was done, I felt no regret, no fear. Because I knew she wouldn't tell. I knew she wouldn't let anyone know what a pathetic condition she had found me in. She never tried to console me once, in fact, she very easily stated the pure simplicity of the situation. It instantly made me feel better. It was she, who made me realize that sympathy in the form of pity was the worst thing you could offer to someone in trouble.

The kindest heart I have ever come across. She was always there, beside me when I needed her most. No, I never showered her with praise, or flattered her, or called her my best friend. She was still there.

I often felt angry about things that have been unfair to me. I tend to say bitter things about the people I care about, and later it subjects me to a sleepless night. She stopped me from doing that. She always told me to let go, and nobody's perfect. There exists a backbiter in everyone, some great person had said. I can't even imagine how it feels to have been proven wrong. 

I have seen her face glow, with happiness and delight, each time some less fortunate child got a new toy when we went for Social Services together. I have listened to her simple requests and refusals at doing something extravagant for her, and have admired her each time for it. I have tried hard to learn some of her best qualities, her attitude and character, and have failed miserably every time.

Right now, while most friends would be on the verge of tears with happiness, she's just going to be shaking her head in disapproval, because she would just think that all this was unnecessary and pompous and showy, and above all, untrue. After all, I've portrayed her as an angel. I was giving her compliments I didn't mean, just to make her happy. That itself was a heinous crime for her.

Saanchi Agarwal, my Florence Nightingale.

Yes. She's allowed to disapprove and blush all she wants. But its her birthday today, and it was the perfect excuse for me to tell her how much I think of her. How lovely it is to tell her about the marvelous books I've read. Above all, how wonderful it is to have her as a friend.

I'm not comparing you to someone utterly and overly saintly. I'm doing that because you are my Nightingale. You see, you came up to me with utmost cautiousness, with just the right amount of tenderness and firmness to make me stop cursing myself, with a lantern of hope shining brightly from you.

Happy Birthday, Saanchi. Because you deserve each and every bit of this. And also because you've always wanted to read my blog. And also because I really love you. :) 

A Swirly Sweet Lollipop

I distinctly remember myself when I came here. Wire rimmed, metal spectacles, anorexic in a bad way, dark circles, sunken cheeks and zero percent of what I am today. For a change, I was a quiet little child who used to sit into her room all day, reading some book, in a dark blue skirt or tunic. Now, I talk so openly its often offensive.
Here is why, I am that way.

I had always longed for a park.

Sweet, fresh air, soft grass, rides and lots and lots of friends. It was a dream. So when Papa got transferred to Kolkata, all my sadness evaporated as soon as I heard there was a park.
I didn't have many friends. I wasn't very social. Lucknow was a crowded, messed up city, where my life solely existed in trips between my grandparent's houses. It was relatives here and there, and none of the fun stuff.

I was in this really weird school, and hell, was it traumatizing. Despite having a large population, mainly consisting of Muslims, Lucknow did a lot to damage my self esteem. These girls, who believed in a different kind of God, kept saying things about what I do dirty and what I do wrong. We were very small then. I'm sure she has grown into a mature, responsible teen with an open mind, and she doesn't go around saying things like that anymore. I hope.

I often look back and regret not retorting, actually telling them how logical my religion was, the way I enlighten all my friends today. CMS Aliganj was definitely a good school in many ways, and will always be an integral part of my grooming, but I sometimes wish they had done more "to educate children and endeavor to unleash their potential" , the way it was so pompously written in the school prospectus. I wish they taught children that every individual is worth attention and thought, and people always believe for a reason, however bizarre it may be. 

When I shifted into Udita, I thought I'd slip away unseen. But someone had seen me.
Anamika and her family stood there, on their doorstep, watching us. Neighbors didn't play much role in my life. They were always too annoying, excessively girly or boyish to a fault. I had no idea how much fun I would be having.

From the first day I came over to her house to the last time recently when I've watched a movie with her, both of us have changed a lot. 
The the sweet little girl who used to twist the chains of a child's swing, and spin around in glee now came over to my house every single year. Now my brother was her brother. I still remember our highly awkward first Rakshabandhan. Silently tying rakhi to Jon, we then stood inches apart from each other in the lobby. Then my mom appeared from somewhere with a bag. My brother ran up to each of us, handing us something.

It was one of those giant, round lollipops. The sticky ones which never seem to end. I recall staring at all the swirly colors in terror. How will I finish that without gaining a calorie or too?
What I hadn't noticed was that Anamika had already hugged her lollipop and Jon, and was dancing with joy. She went home very happy, and I got a hug too. 

She has helped me open up to a degree I would've never been able to reach. She was my first, proper friend who has fought for me, with me, laughed at me, with me, as well as being my only companion who was solemn about the injured butterflies I used to save in the park. ( I think you can guess why this paragraph is buttercup yellow)

 My boldness and all I have today is  because of the endless debates we have. The skill of explaining things to people,which I have been terribly arrogant about lately, is only because its so much fun to teach her things I know, and give her my easier-said-than-done advice. The only difference is that years ago it was about what dress to wear and today its about her love life.

I never thank her. I'm the kind of person who doesn't write her a tbh, or a fill in the blank thingy on Facebook, or a description. She always whines. What she doesn't know is that I'm scared people will block me from their Newsfeed after reading..... Iliad 2, probably.

Our friendship is exactly like that lollipop. That sticky, irritating sweetness keeps us together like glue, and the swirly streams of color are what each one of us has woven within it. You know the best part? Its round. It has no spiteful edges and jealous corners, and let me tell all those people who are envious of our friendship one last thing:

Its going to be a long, long time before we both finish this lollipop. 

Because Doing Random Things Can Just Be Fun.

It was a long, long time ago, when I was living out one of the best days of my school life. It was the last day of Class 7 before the vacations, and there was no better way to end it than by the board decoration competition the season bought.
Class 7B was easily the best class I ever had, and that day we were doing what we did best - Work as a team. From all the nerds to the loafers, the bright to the pretty, were all working together in rhythm. Have you ever visited a craft exhibit?

I was fortunate enough to visit one, actually. I'm not a huge fan of art, but the moment I entered the place, I was mesmerized. Tiny little children were running around carrying dozens of papier mache masks, the aroma of fresh acrylic paint, sawdust changed to fairy dust as it floated around in the sunlight, and above all, the busy and animated atmosphere.No one was bothered what the other was doing, as if clones dazzled by their hobby's charisma. 

My class was somewhat like that, today. People running around and talking to someone they never had before, yelling, screaming, joy and happiness. And of course, the omnipresent, I-don't-care-as-long-as-I'm-not-in-trouble, teacher. It was a Sir in my case.
He was getting incredibly restless. I think he was developing a complex about how well our class was doing or something, because that minute he called me and told me to go check on his class, 8J, who was also supposed to be doing the board. 
I left with a heavy heart, weighed down with reluctance. But now when I think of it, It lights up with happiness.
It was as if 8J existed in a parallel universe from 7B. It was empty, with exception of two guys and a girl.

Pinaki!

Pinaki, that Narmada house prefect whose name I had heard so many times during Investiture practice.
Then the comedy of the situation I couldn't hold within me any longer. I spilled my guts on why I was really here.
They laughed when they heard that their poor class teacher was having a mini heart attack worrying about his board. I left with a broad smile on my face.

Somewhere later on in life, I came across Pinaki again, on somebody's status update on Facebook. I sent a friend request. She accepted. It was then that I realized from my Newsfeed that she had actually left the school.
After maybe an year, I complimented her One Tree Hill Ask.fm cover. She did the same, though I bet it wasn't politeness because mine was a hot guy's. No one hates Nathan Fillion.

This whole thing. Sending her a request when I didn't even know her, something my mom might kill me for, the compliment, laughing at our mutual teacher, was so completely random. If I had wanted, I could have turned away from 8J, mumbling some excuse. I could have ignored Pinaki on that update. I might have just mentally saluted that OTH cover. But I did what I did. And here's what happened.
In a few months, she got a willing biography writer and I got one of the most wonderful friends I have ever befriended. Pinaki is a lot of things, and a great conversationalist is one of them.
If people read this sometime, which I doubt they would, please don't bombard her Fb box with friend requests. She isn't very kind to anonymous people.
Don't take her case. Because only I can do that. Same applies for writing a sappy blog post on her.
She absolutely ADORES Little Mix...and me. :P, So don't insult us unless you want some broken bones.

And above all don't be afraid to do unfamiliar, strange stuff. Because doing random things can get you a lot of places.  Because doing random things can just be fun.

The Water's Always Changing....

"The water's always changing, always flowing, but people, I guess, can't live like that"
-Pocahontas, yet another Disney wonder.

Your life starts as a patch of mud, rocky, uneven, impure, unsure. Time, acting upon it as a  flowing river, softens it, breaks it down, into a smooth, level land, where you and all the people you care about can build happiness together. 

Wounds do go away. Time heals them, but like everything life does for you, it doesn't leave you with any promise or reassurance. Nope. That's something which tests your heart and its power, to trust and forget. Most of us aren't really strong enough to do that.

When something, hell, add any noun in front of "some", which you hold dear to you is taken away from you, or worse still, you are the one responsible for all the destruction you've bought upon them, it takes way more than " Its okay, nothing you can do" to help creep out of the corner you've hidden yourself in. So to all my dear friends, I know you do it out of the purity of your heart, but don't try to console anyone when they let out a torrent of tears on a torrid day. Believe me, sympathy is the worse thing you can offer.

In my opinion, which I was free to express when I last checked, Walt Disney has been THE greatest creator of fiction ever born. Every character that takes shape from the folds of his imagination entraps a portion of his soul, his emotions in it. Be it Aurora longing for freedom, Belle's defiance to protect someone you love, or even Anna, being repeatedly shut out. It was he, who gave every little princess a Charming to dream about, even if girls have started seeing Charmings in every tramp they come across, but that's really not the point. 
The human who inspired setting your mind free, belief in yourself, individuality.

So when someone asked me to abandon all that i'm good at to concentrate on something I'm not, I decided to say no, because you'll always see people that are better than you at things you aren't, you'll just never realize all the things you can do best. Even if there is enough on my CV already. 

Times have already leaped ahead, but alas, (if people even use that anymore), we haven't. We still live in that century where doctor or engineer is everything, artist, musician is fail, A girl with short hair and T-shirt and jeans is a GUY, and you just aren't meant to be who you are anymore. Shape yourself according to the family friend's children. Because even though there is a 90% chance you might turn out to be a prodigy, an enigma, you shouldn't care, because the society is going to brainwash you to just consider the 10% chance of failure.

The water's always changing, always flowing, but I guess people can't live that way.