A Biased View

So I've noticed, and I'm sure you have too, how my blog has no real (or maybe way too little) information about me. It's all mostly a collection of vague poems, deep emotions and disturbing recollections. The reason for the exclusion of my life adventures from this blog is not insane paranoia about my private life, but the general lack of happening events that my life presents. Now that I'm on an intern in Canada for the summers, I thought I'd make this blog a little more personal, and let all you (if there are any) people get a glance at what I hope will be a happening and tale-worthy part of my life. Leaving any space is always quite hard. However, this last semester was like an iron club in pendulum motion, and every time I stood up, it hit me back down, periodically. Bashed and beaten by this semester, the approaching date of departure for my intern happened to be a date I wished upon myself faster, and hence as life is generally known to do, came crawling sl

A newborn me was welcomed by the world not with broad daylight, I came in crying and squealing at the velvety, dark night, As a 5 year old me sat beneath the star-lit sky, crying for a dog, The moon saw my despondent face, and offered me a hug, As the 7 year old me fractured her toe, and couldn't fall asleep, The stars saw me sitting quiet, and didn't let me weep, When 9 year old me won her first prize, and was jumping up and down, The moon and the stars seemed to become the prettiest white crown, When the 11 year old me went adventurous for her first camping event, The dark canopy over my head protected me everywhere I went, When a 15 year old sleepless me felt life wasn't going her way, The darkest night before the dawn, promised a better day, As a 17 year old me sat excited, waiting to be an adult, The sunset and the fall of dark, made my first birthday wishes felt, Now a 20 year old me looks dazed, upon the beauty of the night,

There was a time when I'd do anything for you, When I'd trade my sleep, just so you slept without jostles, When I'd say anything I could, just to make you smile, When all my air had, were beautiful castles, That was the time when a single smile from you, Was enough to brighten my darkened day, When just to see the light of your face once, My whole life's aspirations at stake I'd lay, Then I felt the change, the cold, don't know if you felt it too, A pull from somewhere a little far, from somewhere between me and you, I went on to hold new hands and make new dreams, Held on, as some old ones came at the seams, But through all of the new as I walked here and there, I kept one thing in my mind throughout, No matter where the pulls of growing up took me, I'd keep you within my sight, without doubt, But for a second when once I looked away, To dream dreams of happiness, of freedom, of beauty, In that second some pull made you disappear, Wa

Since school days, I have been asked about my favourite hobbies. It always used to be reading, I remember. I used to be engrossed in books, lost in a faraway land, oblivious to the real world around me, hunger, sleep and other such attention-seekers ignored. It was more often than not that my mom would find me sitting in one place, in one attitude for hours at stretch, irritable if disturbed. Books were my drugs and I was badly hooked. To the words, the ideas, the world they painted. I couldn’t get enough.  I'd stay up complete nights, with a torch in hand under my blanket, and solve mysteries with Fatty, Beth and all their friends, or go to school with Darrell, Gwendoline and all of their friends, or visit the Faraway Tree with all it's inhabitants. My birthday gifts were novels and even when not my birthday, most of my purchases were novels. Fiction, non fiction, romance, thriller, mystery- you name it and I’d tried it. Then I came to college and started watching a lot

Safe in the knowledge, or so it seemed, That things lasted, she happily dreamed, Of the day he'd come back, the day he'd call, Of the day he'd embrace her, and call her his doll, Every birthday of his, she'd make a card, Plaster it on his wall, pristine white paint scarred, Every anniversary of theirs, she'd decorate the house, In the hopes it brought back her long lost spouse. Little did she know, in a village, in a faraway land, Was a prisoner of war, with no right hand, Learning to write with his left, an alphabet a night, For the days brought torture, and his never ending fight, Every birthday of hers, a tree he secretly planted, In the hope that some clean air to her he granted, Every anniversary of theirs, a word more he wrote, In the hope that one day, she'd read all he spoke.

Just one more time, she promises herself, Takes a deep breath and pours it in, I hide myself in the dark shadows, That cover her whole, below the chin. I watch as she slowly loses her senses, Watch as she relinquishes it all, She soon has a smile on her face, As her balance too, takes the fall. Spread eagled as she lies on the floor, Her face and hair messed up so bad, She lets out a small laugh of joy, That says despite it all, she's glad. "I've just found you again, so please don't leave, I again smell that smell I smelt on your sleeve, I can see and feel and touch you again, Oh, and that maddening, excruciating pain, Of you having left, having gone is gone, I feel like my many pieces are again one, I can now see all that I've wanted to see, And we are now what I want us to be, Stay, Oh stay, please say that stay you will, Stay, for I haven't yet had my fill." Hearing her mumble and speak in her dream, I smile, d