Sometimes I cannot describe
what I feel towards you,
It’s this love so old like time
yet everyday seems so very new.
You make the sun look brighter
and it keeps getting better every day,
You make my paths greener
and always show me the way.
I don’t where I am
when you are with me,
All I know is, it’s a pretty place
where I have always wanted to be.
With you, every little thing matters
every bit of smile, every bit of care,
Which has together bound
this love, so precious and so very rare.
You have sent oceans of love
into my life, filling it to the brim,
And made it all beautiful
like a wonderful dream.
With you by my side,
my head reaches out to the skies,
But you keep my feet to the ground,
and that gives a sense to my rise.
Love and smiles and joys and fun
was all I ever sought,
They said it was tough, but with you,
that’s all I readily got.
Now the future can’t scare me,
and the past can never sting,
For you’re are my present,
and I believe this is everything.
The hatred of the world,
and their words so cold,
Can never harm me,
as long as I’ve got your hold.
You complete my life,
and we’re one together,
Yes, you’re the other half of my story,
the half that’s better.
And after all these words
I cannot describe this feeling that I live to the
So I take up this chance and say it straight
Girl, I love you, forever and more.
Sometimes I cannot describe
I wrote this long ago and I feel fucking embarrassed about it but since I have grown arrogant I want to feel embarrassed because it kicks the arrogance out of me which is the false and lame reason why I’m posting this. The truth is, I just wanted to post it because it’s my blog and you’re no one to tell me what should I do with it.
So there’s this girl, my huge crush, she’s a college heart-throb, and she is everything a guy would ever need.
She is a great friend of mine since school, we share thoughts & stuff and are pretty close. But she has a boyfriend, and they’re deep in love, at least that’s what she thinks.
I’m crazy for this girl, I love her with all my heart, and still, there’s something in me that attracts me to other girls.
She never considers me more than a good friend and one day, quits talking to me because her boyfriend wants her to. At the same time, she comes to know about some of my crazy relationships that I’ve been hiding from her. This enrages her. It’s like an end for me. To worsen things, I have a clash with her boyfriend.
She breaks all the contact with me.
My days go dull.
Then after months, one fine day, I get a text message from her which says: “Sorry.”
Her boyfriend has dumped her. And she wants to rebuild the friendship she had with me. But she doesn’t trust me anymore, that I love her, because I have hid my past relationships from her.
It’s kind of awkward talking to each other after so long. There’s always a fear in my mind that one wrong word, and I might lose her again.
I develop a hatred towards our conversation and try not to talk to her.
But this can’t happen.
I realize that I love her so much, it hurts somewhere that she doesn’t trust me anymore with the thing that I love her.
I don’t hide a thing from her anymore, never mistreat her.
I’m always ready to do anything that can prove how much I feel for her.
But just this once, I want her to trust me. Just this once, I need a chance.
Just this once, I want her to know that I love her.
Because I do love her.
Embarrass me now, please.
Okay this has been gross and viral. Every kid with the curly beard and cute teen face is telling the world about his ‘class’. I don’t know where did this erupt from all of a sudden but it’s amusing to see these boys using words too heavy for their mouths. So what is a class?
Fact one, class is just not Barney Stinson and class isn’t just a tailored suit. It’s more. It’s made up of manners and etiquettes. Moreover a class essentially requires some morals. It is an aspect through which the society looks at you. If you are the kind of person who wears a Doors t-shirt and says ‘to hell with the society’, class isn’t what you should be bothered about. Staying concerned about yourself, you would create a swag, but not a class. Not at all. Swag is personal, class is social.
A class comes with a package. Class keeps you to your limits. It is a kind of boundary, an invisible one, that restricts you from opening up too much. And everyone cannot have it. Some people are just not made for it. The best thing these people can do is realize it and step back. I mean come on, if you love living young, wild and free, you are just not made to fit in a class. Class is staying reserved. Picture this, you’re at a party and you see this man wearing a good sartorial suit, he looks elegant, talks in a low voice, and throughout the whole party, he drinks just three pegs of whiskey. After a while, he walks out, gets in his shiny car, and drives home. Then you look at him and say, that’s a man of class.
Now, what did you really observe in here? Yeah, you saw the suit, the whiskey and the shiny car. What you missed is the quantity. How much whiskey did he sip? Three pegs. How did he exit the party? On his own feet. Makes sense now? Maybe he wanted to drink a little more, maybe he wanted to pour a whole Jack Daniels down his throat and talk loudly about his secrets and sing silly party songs, but the point is he didn’t. He didn’t do any of it. That’s the line between class and no class. No matter what you feel like doing, if you want to maintain your class, you have to limit yourself.
Otherwise it’s very obvious. If a man goes 10 pegs down, he will puke on his suit and fall on the floor. Would you call that a class then? That’s what I’m talking about. People admire class because it is tough to maintain. When men fail to do something, they price those who can do it. That’s the very prime reason why we love imitating Barney Stinson.
And yet, class has to be original. It needs to be there inside you. Every little thing you do has got to justify it. Run behind a flock of chicks and you’d spoil it all. Class is having one woman and staying loyal to her. Class is respecting her and respecting yourself. But if she puts a leash on you and drags you by it and you still continue being with her, you aren’t displaying a class, you are just being one little petty man who has swallowed his pride. Class is not a style, it is more of an attitude. It is how you look at things, how you deal with people and how content you are with all that at the end of the day.
And if you believe you have all this inside you, there is just this last thing you have got to do now, know what I’m saying?
Eighteen years have passed by,
Making you laugh, and sometimes cry.
Time flies so quick
When you just begin to learn,
What it’s like to love and yearn.
And that is fate’s devilish trick.
And yet I see how you have been able
To keep up with time’s pace and stay so stable.
For a very few know
To not drift away,
When youth as a tempest is in a sway.
A tempest that will always only grow.
Growing older will demand this much,
Its doing things you always did and such,
Yet with a little more sense.
Growing older isn’t as bad
As you call it and get mad.
And I’m sure you’ll see that hence.
We never grow in weeks and months and years,
As much as we grow between smiles and sighs and tears.
So open your heart and pour it out,
For that’s how you should greet,
The man who can sweep you off your feet.
And once you do, he’ll pour his, I can say without a doubt.
That’s enough wisdom for an age so young and tender,
So to a girl, so pretty and slender,
I send my wish,
In all honesty I hope you live, love and laugh
And when the cake is cut you get smeared with a half!
A very happy birthday to you, miss!!
She stood near the deserted bus-stop looking for signs of human intervention. It was already almost midnight and at an hour like this, there were very little chances that someone would get off a bus. She was aware that no one would understand her motive of being there at such an hour and and anyone would be surprised or rather scared to see her standing at a deserted place like this. It was dark and the moon hid behind the huge tree that shadowed the bus-stop. Under such circumstances, she could have easily walked up to someone and asked for money and she knew she would get it easily for no one would want to invite a trouble of an unusual kind at a time as now.
But in her heart, she knew that she wouldn’t do anything of that sort because she didn’t want to beg. There were days when she used to make a lot of money just on the mere demand of it, but looking at people’s reactions while taking it, she had learnt that if it did anything to her, it disgraced her. It had occurred to her that she was as healthy and in as good spirits as was anyone else. Yes, in some ways, she was special, but she had never thought that it would thwart her efforts to live like another working person. And so, it was decided – she would look for a job.
Right since the morning, she had been at places, met many people and asked them if they had a job for her, only to get a sardonic ‘no’. No one seemed to see this honest wish for her. Everywhere she went, she was mocked and driven away, some people even offered her money, but that was that. There was no job. This routine had continued for many days and today, it had been no different. There was an intense, sharp bout of pain about her whole body due to the many kilometers she had walked but this agony of her body was overshadowed by another feeling that had risen like a giant within her. She was hungry. All the money that she had been offered and that she had rejected throughout the day flashed in her head and for that one moment, she regretted her decision. But the next instance, the fierce force of Mars stood up again and she whispered her thought to herself, “I will keep trying. I know what is to be done now.”
The screeching sound of a bus braked her thoughts. She looked up and saw the two big headlights of a bus getting bigger and bigger. She gulped. Maybe someone would get down here, she thought, and before she could happily realise it, the bus halted at the bus-stop noisily and a man jumped down from it. As the bus moved away, she called him in a hoarse voice, “Sahib….”
The man was a little surprised and scared for he hadn’t seen her. As he turned towards her, she walked closer to him. In the moon-light, he could see a fix-feet tall lady with rough features smiling at him. He took a step backwards and reached for his wallet.
“Go away, don’t come near me!!” he shrieked.
And the hijra (eunuch) said, “Sahib, I’ll do it like a lollipop, behind that tree sahib, please.”
Like two million brainless fops, Neha believes that whatever Kim Kardashian did for the Paper Mag a few days ago was ‘great’. In her own words: “Kim K is breaking us free from the conventional manner of showing a woman’s body – always clad in something. She is celebrating her body and this ougt to be followed.”
I always thought I’ve got the dumbest girlfriend in the world but when I saw my facebook and twitter home pages, I knew I was wrong. Look around on the internet and you’ll see twenty thousand six hundred and forty five other girls who are saying equally dumb things. All this talk is culmulating to celebrating a woman’s body which is, in other words, showing the derriere to the camera. Of course the girls out there aren’t exactly doing what Kim Kardashian did, but if Kim Kardashian is a T-Rex, these girls are being lizards. That is, they’re posing for photos on similar lines and they’re using the ‘celebrate your body’ and other such hashtags to tell the world that nothing is wrong with such a skin show. Well, in fact, nothing is. I cannot tell you to not show your body because it’s your body and your curves and you have all the liberty to cover it in a fifteen-feet burqua or exhibit it all your life. So if you want to show your body no matter what, you can go back to whatever you were doing because this isn’t for you. But if you’re influenced to any magnitude by the ‘celebrate your body’ punch and you’re under a notion that it is a revolutionary idea and you want to pose naked just to be a part of it, you’re dead wrong.
Look, Kim Kardashian or Keira Knightley or any model who shows her boobs to ‘celebrate the body’ or to ‘celebrate the nudity’ gets a fucking paycheque for that. They are models. Wearing a swimsuit or baring it all and posing for the camera is there job, celebrating the body isn’t. It’s just the fucking caption. That’s why if you try showing off some of your curves on the internet, you won’t be appreciated by anyone but a few guys from your facebook friends list who haven’t had sex for eight months straight.
So here is the deal: You are just another normal girl who has a college degree to pursue and your boobs aren’t going to take you anywhere. Nor are your tits. It isn’t an asset you posess. So stop trying to use it to your advantage by putting up it’s photos.
Of course, if you want to be a model, it’s really something. Work for it. Get a portfolio done, get all the other tits-bits (no pun intended) necessary for becoming a model done and do it like you’d do the cashier’s job at the grocer’s shop or for that matter like you’d do any other job – seriously.
But remember, there is nothing like ‘celebrating a body’. Atleast not this way:
And if celebrating your body is the only thing you want to do, begin having one daily bath and two daily meals for that poor thing. Might be quite a celebration.
One little green thing
God once made,
Which can make throats sore
and turn eyes red.
But it has a magic
that can take you to the top,
On a wonderful ride of joy
which will never really stop.
This feeling it gives
is by far the best,
Helping you out of the abyss
making you crest.
It holds the mind
with a grip so strong,
Makes things slow
and you know life’s long.
Love sways and you know
there is nothing such as bad,
For every bitch seems weak
and none can make you mad.
There’s a kind of strength
that you get with the high,
It tells you to not give a fuck
to anything that stays under this sky.
And the girl who broke your heart
seems so very nice,
‘Cause then you know, Karma will sack her,
and she’ll be paying for her vice.
This state of mind
that helps you fly,
Stays like a friend
never letting you cry.
A little green thing
God once made,
this good Kush
when for happiness you prayed.