Ode to the Smoothie Jar.


I started writing in a journal/diary because I needed to vent. I needed to share my feelings and thoughts and I used to be a child with no friends with parents determined to let that status remain. I was afraid if I talked out loud about the tales in my head, I’d be deemed a moron and judged too harshly for writing fantasies as I grew up in a household where there was no other career imaginable but medicine and there was no concept of computers or internet or even artful hobbies. My sister gifted me a diary in grade 6 and since then I have kept one.

I started blogging for the same reason. And because I read in a quotes book something like someone who doesn’t have his writing read doesn’t write at all, something something I don’t remember it exactly (and google was no help). I totally disagree now and maybe then did too but it got stuck in my head and every time I snuck away somewhere to write I would feel it repeating again and again in my mind. And I remember when i did actually show a story I wrote to someone I valued highly…I got egg in my face. The former (quote) doesn’t bother me anymore but the latter (egg) still does.

But I won’t lie, having your work appreciated is a pretty addictive feeling.

Anyhow. Now that I have passed the peak of sharing and publicizing what I write and feel (and teenage), I have come back to the state of ‘Love thyself’ and I have never felt better in my life. The resentments have passed, emotionally I have matured, I see things better. But it has come with the penalty of exactly this:

“All your life, you have heard yourself denounced, not for your faults, but for your greatest virtues. You have been hated, not for your mistakes, but for your achievements. You have been scorned for all those qualities of character which are your highest pride. You have been called selfish for the courage of acting on your own judgment and bearing sole responsibility for your own life. You have been called arrogant for your independent mind. You have been called cruel for your unyielding integrity. You have been called anti-social for the vision that made you venture upon undiscovered roads.”– Ayn Rand


now what does a smoothie jar have to do with it?

I’m coming to that.

I have been a naive, wide-eyed optimist. Then I went and became a bad, venomous cynic. Now I am dwindling in between with a spectacular blend of sarcasm, doubt and skepticism. But I still believe in all that is good, all that is kind and all that is beautiful. For a realist, I have an unflinching concept and hope for love and happiness.

I pet my uncle’s watchdog the other day, I have known him for 6 years. We have had a strong relationship of sitting together in summer mornings, the only time then it is cooler. I have never seen him as a pet but an acquaintance I respect. I never feed him or whistle at him. I had never pet him but yesterday I did and it felt like a torrent of affection had finally broken through the damned walls I build inside to hold them back. (Wow, that was so sickly clichéd, Imma go rinse my mouth)

Three years ago, there was big jar of mayonnaise in my aunt’s fridge. And it had been there for a couple of hundred years. I finally broke down and told her to throw the wishful monument away because NOBODY IN THIS HOUSE LIKES MAYONNAISE AND THIS IS NOT GOING TO CHANGE. And when she didn’t do that because boy, is my aunt lazy, I went to my uncle and long story short.. I got sentenced to check every medicine and condiment in the house and purge the dead and the expired. What a field day I had. I think her house looks so space-y now that I freed up an extra room and inside of a Trojan horse =D (bad joke, I know.)

I emptied the glass jar, washed it and took a couple of showers to wipe all the smell that was the almighty mayonnaise. But kept the bottle. Soaked it in essence of lilies and formaldehyde to get the label, smell and traces off (I can’t stop with these jokes, feel free to blow your brains out). For three past years, I have used it for so many things. A fairy lights lamp, pen holder etc etc. But none would fit. I would again put it way back in the cupboard (or far under my bed because I break things I can see), dissatisfied. With an internal restlessness that where to put it? What to do with it?. It just wasn’t it’s..purpose(?)..to be a jar for the doodads of my fleeting hobbies..

Until I got into making smoothies.

Have you ever felt..the Click? Like you were at the right time at the right place? Like you were holding perfection in the palm of your hand? Like a perfect pen, a perfect essay, the perfect shoes for the perfect dress, the right pose for the right picture that makes you look rightly 20 pounds lighter =D 10 multiple choice questions right in a row, right book with the right ending just as your stop comes on the bus and the perfect song for the very right situation?

That was the purpose of my jar. And I cherished it. I loved it. I cared for it. I labelled it with my name, just so I would be part of something that was so complete. Just to catch a glimpse of all that is at home with itself and what it does.

Until I left it on the counter last night.

and the maid broke it in the morning before I woke up.

My heart is dead. There is no hope. All is lie.

Fuck you.





I was just going through my drawer and I came across the diary I had when we shifted to the city, I always start a diary with a poem or something, here’s how I started this one

Here’s and example,
From a Butterfly 
Who on a tough, hard rock,
Happy can lie
Friendless and all alone,
On this unsweetened stone
Now let my bed be hard,
No care take I –
I’ll make joy like this,
Small butterfly
Who’s happy heart has power,
To make a stone, a flower

P.s. I didn’t write it

It’s better to burn out than fade away

Ok. I and a bunch of friends got kicked out because we were late for a lecture (but no we actually went on a detour from canteen through the grounds in to the basement =D) not kicked out.. we didn’t go in after we saw the self study class filled with my crazy theetha batch with girls and guys nodding at us treacherously “Undr mut ana!” (Don’t come in!)

So I came to the computer lab. After this I have a PBL class (problem based learning). Then I go back hostel. Grab my bags, call a cab, run down the bus station get my tickets, jump into the bus and back home. It’ll take five hours, blah

Jee. I am so sad..

I mean. I don’t feel like talking to anyone. I don’t feel like making all the crappy jokes I am known for. I don’t wanna go out and have fun. My hand is still blue from the hike. 3 hours of hiking with my worn out shoes and walking all the way back because the first years got lost or what… It was fun! It was so.. damn.. fun. Rain, hail, twisting roads, mountains, the great Mosque, the greenery, the pine corner, the stones… The cup full of ice gola the great expensive restaurant the band the crowd the clamour…Allah.

But then the three weeks of papers

And then I am exhausted

It feels strange. Why am I writing over here? I can just simply fill a page of my journal. I can quietly fade away. Sometimes it feels as if I am one of those goody good side roles in movies. People who are very good but they die before the movie finishes and are barely remembered after the end titles. I don’t wanna have that role. I have my own story. Or rather I want to have my own story, rather than being a part of so many anecdotes. Sigh. Or I’d rather be Mysterious Mr. Quin. But no.. I have a tendency to give people chances to find me. Once, twice.. thrice


Oh never mind. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be

You can’t break what’s already broken..



Forever, and forever, farewell, Cassius! If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; If not, why then this parting was well made


Alright, I went. Had a classic session at the medical college. The people who did my medical aka interview were the nicest doctors I might ever meet. The surgery section, where my medical booklet was to be finally signed, had such a warm doctor and well. There you go. I am Officially a student of a Government Medical College

Now I leave on Sunday. If not, then definitely on Monday. Plus, my tummy has been hurting for two days. And as a result meat has been banned from my house, I never eat stuff again if it causes me a prolonged pain. Given that it is not junk food you know.. =D

Today I am going to, by the Grace of God, pack my stuff away. Probably visit my doctor too. Call my Uncle and Aunts. Sulk. Imma sulk the whole day

For me sulking is keeping my mouth shut and face absolutely expressionless. Why sulking? Yawn, I am so tired I need to restore my energy levels and 90% of my energy goes to my weird expression making and talking.   And mind you, sleeping for about 9 hours hasn’t helped me yet…

I wrote so much in my mind yesterday, But I do not have the energy to post that all travel journal and extended metaphors. It has been a while I wrote a short story too btw..

I think I’ll complete The Vampire Lestat today.



(Title: From Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar )

Thoughts and a Scare

Another day, full of horrors went down. Went to the store bought a HUGE DIARY for myself. Well spent 750 rupees. That is about I dunno.. 9 dollars? But it has a good amount of bulk in it and I can write my capillaries out. Brown. Heavy. But beautiful. Finally I’ll go back to my journal, given that blogging era ticks to an end.

I was thinking, what to put on the first page. My first diary had:

This is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me,– 
The simple news that Nature told, 
With tender majesty. 
Her message is committed 
To hands I cannot see; 
For love of her, sweet countrymen,
Judge tenderly of me!

~Emily Dickinson

And that was 2006. And my last (fifth diary) had

Yeah I’m a Zombie, aint nobody perfect

Now I think I’lll choose something frost again.. my fourth diary had the poem:

Now close all the windows..


Now to the scary part that made me jump out of my body

I might not get into the hostel of the college so far away from my hometown. It’s killing me deep in. I’m tired already of the problems cropping up from the unknown. Now this

Oh my brain screams

Thoughts and a paragraph

It was a bad day. Because I was off to the Court and there was a lot of stuff to be done and travelling local is a great mess. My mind made it easier for me, but the legs and arms heed no illusion

I am tired. But its soon gonna be over and a whole new set of problems are gonna come my way. Oh, try me

Now a days I post exactly what goes on in my mind. No writing in my mind over the day, no checking the drafts. Just hello hi bye bye…

It’s vacant. The heart the mind. Nothing penetrates. No true feeling comes out… But I force myself to write

I’m going to post something I wrote on 8th May 2009, on the roof of my college (College aka 11th grade)

“How am I hidden from others? I wonder. I wonder can anyone realize how hurt I get when they turn their backs at me? Do they know when they turn away unexpectedly… I break down? Can they wonder ,when someone closer, some good friend, turns away unexpectedly, how unreal I feel? Can they decipher, how my heart bursts with joy when I see my companions laughing because of some silly joke of mine? Do they feel the intensity of my hatred no.. dislike.. when they prick me so knowingly? Can someone, ever, read me? 

For if they could.. I won’t be writing this..

But maybe that’s why, that’s why.. I am hidden so well..”  



When she’s gone. Remember, you once loved her

You can shed tears that she is gone, 
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she’ll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all she’s left.
Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, 
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her only that she is gone,
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind, 
be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what she’d want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on

Sitting alone, looking peaceful.. gives you no good. But do I care what I look like? I am here, with warm humid sea winds ruffling my hair. Do I care what does the world think about me? Do I care if they stare at me, click their tongues impatiently and give those sympathetic remarks? The only thing I knew was that she was gone.. and the world would never be the same..

It has been a month since Audrey died. A month has passed away and yet my heart beat persists. A month has gone by and yet..yet I breathe. I considered ending it and running forward to meet her but I know she’ll lift those disappointed eyes.. Coward. If living in this brooding pain makes me any braver than hey Audrey.. hey I am far more braver than the friend you left behind…

The wind rushes past me and stings my eyes… I stare straight. She lived so much.. she lived her life away with me.. Maybe the people who have to leave early share a lot with us…Giving us so much to hold on later. I remember her.. That oxygen mask clamped to her face and that IV deep into her vessels.. I can see her strapped in that ward.. I can picture her so clearly… how she removed the mask as I came to her, not caring that her breath got uneven. She had looked deep into my eyes.. her gaze filled with apology… filled with uncertain guilt. At that time.. at the time of her leaving to the silent side… She was.. apologizing?

Why.. why Audrey.. I know you never told me about your cancer.. But why did you look at me like that? Why did you, in that broken voice, leave me your diaries..? You know I never was one of those strong people.. You knew me.. You were the one who mended me. And yet you gave me all that stuff I’ll never have the courage to even hold steadily

I miss you. Oh yes. Everything I do.. in every thought I possess, It’s you. People tell me to move on.. What do they mean hah? Forgetting you? I can’t do that. I don’t mourn. I just.. miss you. I don’t ask you back.. I don’t pray for the impossible. I don’t stammer at your mention. I don’t cry for you in front of everyone.. That Joe you liked… he already is out for someone. That brother of yours, gone Audrey. That high school friend you cared so much for.. She didn’t even come on the funeral. Nobody mentions you anymore.. some may remember you. But none like me.. never like me

I don’t know what to say, what to do.. every moment I spent thinking about you gives me air. Gives me strength. As if I am paying you back for all that love you gave me. You know.. I thought we’d be friends forever.. I thought you’d never leave my side..

Except I am confused, I am tired. I wake up early in the morning and work till late. I don’t try to run from your memories. I don’t try to busy my thoughts to block you away. You left a gaping hole in my life.. And I don’t want it to be occupied.. I don’t want anybody now, friend.. You are gone and I am still breathing…

My eyes well up as I understand again that she won’t come back, she can’t peek in. I don’t care if I am a boy.. I don’t care if anyone sees me. Hot tears gush down my face and I grab her grey diary tight to my chest. The wind howls and the tide wets my bare feet.. Love is far deeper than we possibly take it to be…Love is pure. Love is innocent. It’s enough to live this life with it’s ups and downs… But she isn’t here to share it anymore… She isn’t here to give it anymore…

Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone

Tales of two : Just Audrey

I wasn’t going to pretend she never existed. I wasn’t going to act as if nothing had changed. I wasn’t going to try to move on. That part was gone yes.. But it will never be lost. She will remain there. She will stay. And things would never be the same. I will never be the same

You mind if I sit here?

Curt nod. I don’t care if you sit here or there or anywhere. I don’t care if you rob me off and run away. I don’t care if you are here to talk me out of my condition. She was gone and the world was still holding together.

I’m Claudia. I’m Audrey’s friend from junior school. 
She’s dead
Um.. I heard. I am sorry

Sorry? Oh yes I was sorry too. Sorry that I never bought her a pizza myself… something she used to taunt me every Friday. Sorry I never answered so many texts. Sorry I was not there when she breathed her last. I was sorry. So sorry.

Did she.. did she still play tennis?
Nay. She gave up when she sprained her ankle last year.
She used to look hilarious.. Jumping up and down like a moron.
Haha I know… we all used to make fun of that.
I heard you were her best friend?
Na.. I could never be one..

I swallowed. Yes, I could never be her best… I never woke up all night on phone to give her company. I never sat with her the way she did… Absorbing all my misery from me.. Absorbing my sorrow. No I could never be like her. I could not lighten up an environment with a simple smile, by a simple comment. I could never give up my happiness for someone else’s. I could never brag like her. Laugh like her. Conceal like her.

I came here yesterday and was hoping to meet her, then I just asked from the office and they well told me uh..
You were her friend in the junior school.. why meet her now..
She was my friend ever since she saved me from a detention. Just came along here.. and I remembered the girl who used to have a clash with the maths teacher. She is not the kind of person you forget easily…
I know.. I know..

Ironical.. So ironical.. Dipped in grief I am quoting Wordsworth.. I can hear her voice in me. Reading the poem gravely. Then I had just plugged my ears and had babbled. But now I understand.. She knew it then..

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:
A violet by a mossy stone
 Half hidden from the eye!
–Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!

People come and go. Yes. Nobody is bound to us forever. But some people just.. stay in our memories for ages..maybe throughout our life. They might not be with us for a long time… they might not be the best people in the world but it is that gravity of their persona keeping them alive. Everybody is bound to vanish one day, either from the periphery of our imagination or from the essence of our memories. It is the rule of Nature. Nothing is to stay forever. Nothing gold can stay…

It is her now. I never thought I’ll lose her like this. I loved her like my sister… she loved me like her brother. And now she’s gone. She’ll never call again.. Bickering about her exam. She’ll never lecture me to work. She’ll never pout and roll her eyes.. waiting for me to apologize.. She’ll never send an offline again… It was over. I wish she had once… for once told me she had little time left.

The girl left me sitting there.. and I was grateful. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to tell Audrey I was alone. I will always be lonely now. I wish I had told her once that I loved her. But she knew it I know… She had left me her diaries.. Her last one clutched in my hand. I was her umbrella. I was her guardian angel she said…

I’ll always look up at her. It was the life she lived. A life full of sacrifices and love. She had given it all. She had made a place in hearts of so many people. And there were many who hated her. I had always been the one lurking behind.. She went on.. I hurt her a lot. She had been hurt enough. But she meant a lot to me… ha now I confess… I wish she had a life. A better one. I used to taunt her about godfather and godmother thing and she used to bounce like a kid. Oh gosh.. I can see her so clearly…

I clutched the diary even harder.. Someday when I get stronger.. I’ll open it. But at the moment. It was all pain. It was all torture. Without my healer.. I was pieces. I was jagged. The lamp had shattered. And Oh The light was lost….