Tag Archives: random

Yessir, it’s that time of the year when…

1. Coffee industries benefit the most.

2. Electricity bills break records

3. Talk is cheap

4. FB is filled with suicidal statuses

5. Idiotic shit takes over.

 

Yes people, we’re now giving the 1st semester end examination. And because “Medium is the message” (batch 2014, you know what I mean :D), it also insinuates that we have successfully survived one semester in a college that believes in assignments till death (like hang till death).

So we managed to survive the following:

1. Assignments

2. Class tests

3. Deadlines

4. The coastal clean up (okay I swear we could have DIEED there!)

5. ASSIGNMENTS!???

6. home sickness

7. death due to some people acting completely asshole-ish (yes that’s right. Please take note)

8. misplacing hard drives and laptops.

9. er. Assignments? (we did like 3899388 of them! Must give them their due no?)

10. falling down Panchgani’s cliffs (?)

 

Got Journalism & news reporting in the 1st half and audio visual communications in the 2nd.

I’m tired and I reaaaaaaaaaally just wanna go back home. This place sucks. And between feeling completely lost at sea and EXTREMELY lonely to absolutely homesick, exams are just the cherry on top. I don’t know how long I wanna do this. I don’t wanna talk to no one because some time or the other they all turn out to be bloody fake.

Also, I just happen to realise something. And as all good journalists do, here’s what I have to say regarding the “Metallica vs Delhi/Gurgaon” post.

1. Yes, after re reading, it did sound drenched with racism. -.- I don’t propogate that. But recounting the fact that my experience with EVERY Delhiite i’ve met has been very much the same, it has lead me to believe that they all are the same. And being a Mumbaikar, I think we, the youth of Delhi and Mumbai are BORN with an innate hatred for each other. I think i’m gonna start learning how to appreciate cultural and regional differences. NO that still does not mean I retract anything said by me on that blog post.

2. India is a democracy the last time I checked. There’s this teeny weeny clause that exists in the constitution that SOME of us gifted with a voice (keyboad) to opine use, to speak to the world. It’s called “Right to freedom of speech”. This goes out for those who wanted answers for rhetorical questions for random shit like, “Hello? Who give you the right to write such badass things haan? HOW DAREEEE you say somethings like these when you were not actually present there?”. Bhaiyaji, Indian Constitution is what you need to look up. Padh le naa okay?

3. There were amazing people who wrote to me saying, “YOU WANNA BECOME JOURNALISM? You’ll probably sleep around like Barkha Dutta”. My dear uneducated friend, it’s Barkha Dutt :) Also, please don’t poke your snotty running nose into my sexual life unless you’re a crazy ole hag or is defined by joblessness.

4. I definitely did mean to offend many people I wanted to offend since a long time. But yes, as pointed out to me by many, I’d like to acknowledge DNA’s fault in this too. I’m sorry I did not mention it before O.o

 

AND THAT’S ALL FOLKS! I think I must get back to studying.

In other news, was told by someone in college that she loves my blog and that it was very distracting (and something else but I could not hear the rest thanks to some random dude going, “Ehhhh padke nahi aaya main. Meri phatne waali hain” right beside me) :) eee thankyou so much :D It made me feel all happy and bollywood emo (over emo I think is the right term) (and good, knowing that someone out there still reads this shyyt :D). And I wanted to scream and hug and what not because excess coffee does that to you and also when someone says that to you when you’ve lost all hope in your own gift of the Gab as they call it. But exams -____-

 

I have been asking this question alot to people and would love some interesting response from y’all.

Do you like the taste of water my dear readers?

 

Signing offff.

ALLLL the love and happiness :D

Blood and Ice <3

 

 

PS: Excuse my french. I wrote this rant in 5 minutes.

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Of bloodless rains..

This was wrong. Everything was wrong. The bed? It didn’t smell like hers. And she couldn’t remember why. Things spun out of her frontal lobe and her memory failed her.

“Goddamn”.

And then it all came back to her when she saw him.

It rained yesterday. Did they have rain sex?

She wouldn’t know, would she? But then again, she did.

He and his mother had another brawl again last night. A huge one this time. What the hell was she doing there in his house? She left him over a year ago! She just cannot walk in and out of his life as if in a theme park man?! What the fuck?!

So his mother noticed everyone but not her own daughter she had always neglected? What kind of a mother was she? Did she feel the need to sleep with yet another man after a divorce and a re marriage?

 “His temper”, she reminisced with a little smile. “Always gets the best of him”.

It was still raining when he came back. He was fucking angry and she knew it. He punched the wall, feeling utterly angry, disgusted and sick at the same time.

“It’s okay! It’s okay baby, it’s okay.” She held his face in her hands and made him look at her. She kept telling him that it was okay.

Anger turned into passion soon and he kissed her, pulling her close to him. He kissed her feeling angry and hurt at the same time. He hated everything and he kissed her in hate. He hated his mother, his father, his sister and he hated her the most. But he kissed her and she kissed him back.

Anger took it’s physical form and what they did not make love that night because it was imperative in the absurdest sense & seemed fitting. They made love bearing  pain, anger, sadness, resentment and hatred in heart. Time ceased to exist as a dimension in their world and they endlessly lost themselves to each other .

She saw him standing there, his hair messed up, torn jeans and over sized tee that did nothing to show off his toned abs with his car keys in his hand. And he looked at her the way he always did, the way she last remembered seeing him before he left her. He didn’t smile, no & he wasn’t condescending. But she knew that look.

“It’s been a year”, he said.

“And I still can’t forget you”, she said, reciting the line verbatum from the conversation she thought she would have with him if such a thing ever happened. 

As she put on her white tee and denim shorts with the rain pouring outside her blood rusted window, she reminded herself to buy fresh lillies for his grave.

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