I was in conversation with my best friend today, and the general theme was how our lives generally suck and this year was the worst ever. A little background on that I’m in class 12th, the final year of my school life and in a few months I write the All India secondary something something. Essentially write the marching orders for the rest of my life. So yeah my parents, my school teachers my milk man etc are all very chill. NOT. Which just makes me want to rewind to the times when I didn’t have this pressure on my head.

And it’s not like I don’t like this pressure, it’s nice but it’s ALSO WAY TOO MUCH. How much do you expect a 17 year old to handle. Boys, Miley Cyrus, Master Chef Junior blah blah blah and remain perfect all the time. GOSH. It’s weird you know.

Going back to theme, I love-d being a teenager, wrote about it being my Salad days and stuff but suddenly it seems so so hounding. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m looking forward to what’s on the other side of my tests or maybe it’s the fact that Dix Sept is really trouble some.

To sum up, My golden days weren’t my childhood, aren’t my adolescence and may just be my adulthood.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Golden Age.”

Friend it

We all have that one eccentric relative who always says and does the strangest things. In your family, who’s that person, and what is it that earned him/her that reputation?

So, because I live in a nuclear family with uncles and aunties, cousin brother and sister all over the world and I barely get to see them I’d like to interpret this post and dedicate it to a very very dear friend of mine Anmol.

anmol and me

In class there are people who will distract me and get me to fail the rest of the school year. My best friends, my better halves, my chink chamelis.

One of them is Anmol. You know certain people when they open their mouth to speak pure music comes out, because they be so beautiful sounding? Anmol is like that. Except when she speaks its pure sass. So much so you’d like to bottle it up and use it in your next blog post.

because urban dictionary is the tumblr thing to do right now. ( i swear im such a useless teenager)

 

And the fact is she is the most focused of us four. So in the time the other two and I would speak about unicorn poop as glitter she’d finish her work and be ready to give her inputs (which would be unanimously agreed to).

(Lets like throw the grammar books out of the window today okay)

Honestly, if you have something to like share you’d share it with Anmol. Not because she would be a shoulder to cry on but more because she’d like kick you and tell you to get your life back together.
And that’s why I love you Anmol. You may not be the eccentric one but you are the perfect one.

and you are unique. Just like your names says.

Forever confused,

Sitara

Cousin It

Ready, Set, Done (daily prompt)

Today, write about anything — but you must write for exactly ten minutes, no more, no less.

You walk past, I see,

A lot of memories come back to me..

Of rolling in the grass, swinging in the trees,

Of making piles of leaves that blew with wind.

And then it hits me, again and again,

Why can’t we be children again.

Young and free, no worry or care,

Life being just a simple dare.

Why can’t we just sway with the breeze,

No exams, no stress, just the trees and us.

Pigeons to feed, chips to eat,

And the general happy trend.

Why can’t we be everything at once,

Or what we want to be all our life.

Young and free with no care and worry,

Just the sunny sun and little bunnies.

PINGBACK- http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/ready-set-done/

Absolute Beauty (Daily Prompt challenge)

We’ve all heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Do you agree? is all beauty contingent on a subjective point of view?

I have a sad obsession with beauty pageants. They stand for what I will never be, tall (okay I’m 5’ 10” but), thin, pretty, clear skinned (notice how I didn’t say fair even thought that’s what sells in India’s pageants) and perfect in heels (if I could walk properly in trainers my day would be made).

“I’m not pretty, I’m beautiful.”

I sadly forget where I read this quote but it has had a deep profound impact on me. The two words, pretty and beautiful, so different but yet so similar.

The meaning for these two words according to the oxford dictionary is

Pretty- (Of a person, especially a woman or child) attractive in a delicate way without being truly beautiful:

a pretty little girl with an engaging grin

Beautiful- Pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically:

beautiful poetry a beautiful young woman

After I read that I was in shock, I always that pretty was physically pretty and beautiful, pretty from inside, from where it matters from the heart. Looks like I should just go sit in a corner and cry.

But then getting back to the question what is pretty? What is beautiful?

Isn’t beauty who you are a person and how many life’s you touch? Isn’t beauty in the eye of the beholder. Isn’t beauty only skin deep. Personally I’m of the view that beauty is the prettiness you add to the world, to the life’s you touch, the smiles you trigger. Giving beauty a name is difficult there is beauty in all of us it just needs to be triggered.

Forever confused,

Sitara

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/absolute-beauty/

Curve Balls (daily prompt challenge)

When was the last time you were completely stumped by a question, a request, or a situation you found yourself in? How did you handle it?

So couple of days ago I had quick errand to run at 10 in the night. Delhi is famously known to not be safe for girls and honestly I actually could understand why.

It was 10 in the night,

No street light .

And I found myself alone in the streets,

With strange men walking, talking and laughing.

Fear was second nature to me,

All I could see was darkness.

No car in sight,

And yet I walked in the street.

Notebook in hand,

Something’s had to be experienced first hand.

And so I reached my destination,

And readied myself for the return journey.

I told myself I was brave, that it could be done,

I had walked on those so many times before.

And so I thought, on the walk back,

Were women really that weak.

Streets in the night, With no street light,

Why were they unconquered territory?

Women are brave, smart and strong,

This seemed like Latin to me.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/curve-balls/