2015 – The Year It Was

As I sip on the black coffee, rocking back on my heels, on the swing I’m on, in my mind, I’m suddenly blinded by this epiphany that this is the last black coffee of the year 2015 that I’m sipping on. And then I chide myself, muttering what’s the big deal, for I’ll be back here once again, tomorrow & hence that’s nothing to even think about, in the very first place. But the mind, as always, runs riot & goes back to the first day of the year 2015, which is breathing its last, to last just one-two hours more, before it slips away to oblivion. And I’m sharing my #TalesOf2015 with BlogAdda as well.


The year had started on special note, no doubt. I have had the first post-midnight New Year call, from none other than my best friend & of course, I was elated beyond anything. Something to look back upon with nostalgia, now that he’s settled back in his life and well, let’s just say, it’d be a real surprise now if I even occur to his mind to be one of the people to be call. Not that I’m sad, because I’m real happy for him. The boy needed this and he got it. Period. Moreover, he and his friends had made my birthday damn special as well (of course, not to forget the fact that it was AFTER I had made his birthday special). Ah, such days. Excellent fodder for nostalgia.

Speaking of my birthday, I got the biggest gift of my life, when this person I was destined to be sister of, reciprocated my sisterly feelings & accepted to be my brother. ‘Twas the biggest gift of my life, considering I’ve always ached for a brother, since god-knows-when, in the lack of having a brother with blood relations. I can’t even express how I marvel at times, how the heck did I even land up being his sister & still have to pinch myself, only to be reminded of the day when it had actually happened (officially, that is), after I tied the rakhi. He is the person with whom I’ve shared my heart & soul with, who knows my deepest fears, my weaknesses & yet I don’t feel vulnerable or feel cowed by the very fact. The person who has shown me a whole different world, has changed me in & out (for better), has damn well made me cry at times as well, something I rarely do, even on my birthday! I can be at my childish best with him & be the world-wise that I am, simultaneously. He can make me happy & sad, like the flick of his fingers, which should make me mortified, right? But I ain’t! Because long long time ago, I’ve dreamt of these days, the days when I shall be loved in this own frugal way of my brother and I will love my brother in my own soul-stirring way. And I gotta stop here, considering I can write pages on him and yet not be done with him. So here’s to you, Mr. Refused-To-Be-Named. I love you & I’ll continue loving you, till the end of my life. You’re the best thing to happen to me and I’ll look back on all the moments I spent with you when you move away from here.

That epic moment when the brother who swore he'd never take selfies ever, was cornered to take one. Sister Power!

That epic moment when the brother who swore he’d never take selfies ever, was cornered to take one. Sister Power!

Speaking of brothers, there’s another little thing that happen to me & quite unexpectedly at that. What started off as a mere concern on part of me for this little brother (not physically… Oops!), turned into a full-fledged one, when he trumped me one fine day, on asking me to be his big sister. And since then, I’ve been exploiting him, yes literally. From hijacking his phone now & often to expecting him to meet my every demands, to having long talks to doing damn well everything a little brother & a big sister does, our relationship has become strong & I hope it forever remains this strong. (I should feel irritated by the fact my family finds him more adorable than me, but then he is actually cute, so!)

Perfectly shows how doting I am, on him.

Perfectly shows how doting I am, on him.

As a matter of fact, two other people also need to be mentioned, in this gratitude list of mine. See the lovely woman in the picture below? She’s the one, who had left me crying (I almost did, trust me), while she got shifted to another city  due to work. And they say it right, that distance makes you realise how much you love a person & love her I do, head-over-heels, since when I don’t even remember. All I know is, she is rightly called as my ‘didibhai’, a term close to my heart & not even accorded to my blood sisters. Today, I confess, dear lady, if I wouldn’t have been a babe, I’d have married you in a heartbeat, for I love you that much. Stay always this lovely.
And to the person who shares the frame, thank you for all this. You started it all, some 2 years ago, and it all sort of kicked off, because of you. I owe to you for all of this, for the social life of mine & way more.

The dude and the lady. With Me, of course.

The dude and the lady. With Me, of course.

Speaking of the major events, 2015 has been a good year for me, as far as hobbies are concerned. Reading story books, crafts-making, photography… Which reminds me, of the next best thing that happened to me this year. This little, close-knit photographers’ group that I made this year. Taking pride of the fact that I’m the only girl of the 7 member squad, they have seen my weirdo-best. They have been through my moods (even  going to the extent of threatening to add me minute to minute, in case of an  event I happen to leave the group. Which, in fact, is proven. Also, frustrating given that everyone in the group has been made an admin, except Me. Which also makes it cute, but I of course, don’t admit for obvious reasons). In short, they have made me live again, keeping me comfortable to being my honest-and-blunt self, to belonging true to the boyish character that I am of & they supporting me in whatever I am. I can’t thank you all enough. I cannot love you all enough. I cannot tell you all enough how much of a solace you all have been, especially in the bleakness I lead my life in. Thank you. Thank you. And even more thank you.

The Gang.

The Gang.

Academically, well I’m into Masters now & I guess, it’s my call to seriously study now, something I haven’t done ever. But then, it’s not my fault that the story books tempt me like that seductive mistress, unlike academic books which is like this boring, tedious, cranky wife. Sigh! Achievements… Well many. I cracked my first job interviews, gave up on a lucrative job offer in exchange of higher education and almost made it to being an Airforce Officer, till the time destiny thought I should take a break & my dreams as of now remain unfulfilled.

Now the resolutions part. Well, I got a surprise in there & I swear, I myself am surprised as well, for there’s been no year that I haven’t got a single resolution. Yes, you read that right. I got no resolutions this coming year, because I intend to live it. Just be the way I am & crank it up further by doing everything it takes, to make me gasp out of lack of breath & till my muscles scream for a break. I’ll continue falling in love, getting heart-broken & then love some more. Because this world could do with some loving & I especially got no complaints with getting heart-broken, given that, they give me my precious poems. Sounds shrewd? Can’t help! In fact, 2015 has been real kind to me, as far as writing poems are concerned. I’ll continue being everything I am and be some more. I’m sure I’m rambling, but then, that’s because I’m content with myself. Happy with the one I see in the mirror. Content and happy, but not satisfied enough to lay back. Nope, not happening that.

As an ending note, just a few days ago, my phone got a cerebral attack & gave me a coronary, when I found all my writings, chat histories, wiped off, after doing the factory reset which I was forced to. I’m proud that I’ve been holding my composure quite well, as if my life hadn’t just been washed & grinded & hung over. Why? Because I took it up as a positive note. To ring in the new year on a clean slate. To have nothing left behind me. To have nothing to cage me in.

Happy New Year, everyone. Let’s live our life, once more.



Book Review: The Bestseller She Wrote (#BookReview)

41OMsGXJHML._SX338_BO1,204,203,200_Book Details:

Name:  The Bestseller She Wrote

Author: Ravi Subramanian

Genre: Fiction

Publisher: Westland Ltd.

Publication Year: 2015

Number of pages: 391

Price: 295 INR

My rating: 3/5


The Storyline

He was a bestseller. She wanted him to make her one. Paperback king, Aditya Kapoor’s life is straight out of a modern man’s fantasy. His literary stardom is perfectly balanced by a loving wife and a spectacular career. With everything he touches turning to gold, Aditya is on a winning streak.

Shreya Kaushik is a student with a heart full of ambition. Young, beautiful and reckless, Shreya speaks her mind and obsessively chases after what she wants. And what she wants is to be a bestselling author.

What happens when their worlds collide? Is it possible to love two people at the same time? Can real ambition come in the way of blind passion? Can trust once broken, be regained?

Master storyteller Ravi Subramanian, delves into the glitzy world of bestsellers and uncovers a risky dalliance between a superstar novelist and his alluring protege. The Bestseller She Wrote is a combustible cocktail of love, betrayal and redemption.

What worked for me:

“The true test of a good human being is not the number of people who love you, but the number of people who learn how to love, looking at you. You don’t have any enemies, and everyone who comes in contact with you falls in love with you.”

These lines, which are said out aloud by the protagonist Aditya, while his wife Maya was battling with life and death, is just so right and perfect, that this can actually be called the high point of the book, personally for me. The lines are just so touché.

Now the first thing that came to my mind after reading the book was, it is a great coffee table book. While it is most of the times quite leisurely, but even before you realize it, it has picked up a fast pace, especially at the climax when there are colluding circumstances involving the protagonist’s dilemmas and you are left wondering to what extent would the protagonist get embroiled more into murky waters.

Which brings us to the second most amazing thing of this book, who would be the culprit’s identity. It was actually hard to guess the culprit, for nowhere in the story can the culprit be seen to do any slip-ups, which might have given a hint to the reader about his identity, unless of course, revealed at the climax by the protagonist himself.

I would want to make a special reference to the wife of the protagonist, Mrs. Maya Kapoor, whose character, I felt, was beautifully etched by the author. Her determination, her self-respect, her courage, her resilience, is something every woman can sure be expected to look up to. In fact, in today’s times, Maya Kapoor is someone who I think, can really serve as an inspirational figure.

What did not work:

The first thing that would catch the reader’s thrill, is the little tagline on the very front cover, saying, “Soon to be a motion picture”, and one can totally relate it to be one of those recent irritating trend of Bollywood movies, harping on the themes of love, betrayal and redemption. Not something some serious reader would want to have a read of.

The second thing would be the mockery of the very title of the book itself. There is little emphasis on the contents of the bestseller that the character Shreya writes, in fact you’d think it has been used rather as a mere prop to an entirely different story altogether, than what the title intends to portray.

Then there is this in-your-face fact that it is a one-time read. As I have aforementioned already, it is a coffee table, which can be over and done away with, in just one sitting. The story doesn’t really hook you or keep you grasped till the end. At one point, you feel there are some unnecessary events added just to add some cheap thrill to the story, but perhaps the author might have seen some intention behind ‘em which I personally, clearly failed to realize.

Drum-roll: Overall Verdict

For readers who are looking for some time-pass, but a bit quality time-pass, this book is recommended for those sections of readers. It is perhaps just level-head or maybe one to two points up the level of books Chetan Bhagat writes, so of course, it’s a better one comparatively.  For the readers who are looking for a serious thriller, there’s this red flag I’d be waving at you. Read at your own risk (of both time and patience). Oops, may I add, your hard-earned money too.


I am reviewing ‘The Bestseller She Wrote’ by Ravi Subramanian as a part of the biggest Book Review Program for Indian Bloggers. Participate now to get free books!

Quest For Him


‘Tis that time of the year again,
When we all bid farewell,
To the months that we lived.
For the months we will live,
For the year, on its way to ring in.

But for the woman whom you left,
Without a hint or the slightest trace,
It would again be a year,
Where you won’t be there.
And she’ll have to make do,
For she loved you and cannot but continue to.

I don’t know how I found myself,
To end up being that very woman.
But we both had found love in the wrong place,
The sheer difference now being, I couldn’t leave you,
As easily as you could to me.

I still remember you in my Gaiman,
I still feel you in my Marquez.
Still infatuated with you in my Ishiguro,
I soak you in all of the world’s poetry.

I remember you in my books,
I remember you in my poems.
I gasp & try to cling on to you, in bits & pieces,
Which seem to be fading away slowly with time.
While I look on helplessly,
At the waves crashing on the shores of memories.

It’s going to be Christmas soon,
And my eyes would again renew their tireless search.
For sometimes I believe I’ll find you right there, waiting,
When I shall turn back on the street.
Like that shadowy presence which seeks to soothe my being.

You, with a smile lingering on your lips,
Hands inside your jackets and a smug posture.
You, standing against the christmassy night lights,
With those eyes that seem to leave me bereft,
Of my skin and soul and the atoms I’m made of.

I wish I could see you again,
See you looking at me through the afternoon rays,
Saying words that all but fade,
Leaving me with just you.
Only you, my definition of existence for that moment.

I wish I could hear your voice again,
And try not to gasp of how they made my heart thud.
You spoke a language that I understood not,
Yet I knew you, seemed to have always known you,
Inside and out, of the pages of your life.

I wish I could slay those demons,
Which came to trouble you every night.
They could might as well complement my own,
If that meant I could hold you again tight,
While the moon looked on, envious of our union.

There are so many things,
That I wish I could make happen.
Like I wish I could banter with you,
And keep the promise to not become angry after you.
I wish I could meet you again,
For there couldn’t be any force in this world, to hold me back.
For I promise I would, come what may, this time.

If only you came back, from wherever you are,
If only I could touch you again.
If only I could hear you call out my name,
If only I could live you again.

But I know all these are futile,
That you probably were just an illusion.
But maybe I can keep you alive,
In my memories, in my prayers.
Then it might be that you’ll come back.

For one fine day, I know you would.
You’ll have to, for me and my love.