My Trip to the Old World Museum

Old World Museum

Today, I went on a trip to Old World Museum with my dad. After we had our bags and oxygen cylinders examined, we went into the main exhibition building. It was a huge building with wood veneer, which dad said is like fake wood. The ceiling was made of thick plastic polymer which was designed to let in less light to resemble the brightness and temperature of sunlight years back. On the walls were 3D printed plastic animals and plants. The birds were mechanised to move like the real birds. The plants also moved slightly in the breeze generated by the large breeze system which created a small breeze inside the building. But dad told me the birds and trees moved much differently than the replicas. It must have been amazing to see these machines in real life moving from tree to tree, place to place without beings connected to a battery or socket.

I can only imagine how amazing it would have been for people to be able to walk around without carrying such heavy oxygen cylinders and feel the surface of these trees, animals and birds. Next we moved to the Oceanic Exhibition. We saw more machine animals and painted plants and coral reefs. There was even a modern wave machine that made waves on the replica ocean to look like waves on actual oceans back when oceans were still around. Dad used to tell me stories of how he would go to the beach and feel the wind on his face, the sound of waves and seagulls. Me and my friends never believed him. But if it is true, I wish I could see all this and feel ocean waves touch my body as I move through the water and the sound of seagulls soaring in the wind. I remember this one-time dad told me about how seagulls used to glide on the wind and seem to be fixed high in the sky without moving or falling down without any support. I always wondered why all these old people say such lies. Wouldn’t gravity have pulled it down? If rain really fell as often as they say it did, it would have burnt away all the plants and animals because of the acid content as all rains do. How did they play in such harsh conditions in the rain? All the things he said never obeyed the laws of physics or science. I always wonder.

They’re probably lying. But it’s a lie I wish were true now. It seems almost like paradise. We then moved to the Remains Exhibition where we saw real skeletons of animals and birds that used to exist. But they looked so ugly unlike the replicas that have beautiful feathers and skin and eyes and ears. These remains simply have bones. I made friends with one of the exhibits. The plaque said its an animal called a skunk; I call it skeleton skunk. We then moved to the Sports Exhibition where we saw replicas of humans playing on large fields in colourful uniforms with round objects and special sticks without any oxygen cylinders. They also looked much more muscular than humans today. The plaque said they could also run faster, lift heavier objects than today’s humans and even jump. Some could jump very high and would compete in competitions. What a dumb competition? Who cares which of them could jump the highest?

We then moved to the Pets Exhibition where we saw animals that humans had as household pets. They were nothing like my Puppy 15000 or the Kat 50 robots that came with inbuilt commands and could also do calculations and internet searches. The old pets had to be taught to shake hands and speak and couldn’t do half the things the pets of today can. I wonder why people loved dogs and cats and birds so much as pets. They’re so lame. We then moved to the Civilisations Exhibition. This was my favourite. In this hall we saw many different replicas of people of different colours and clothes of different cultures. I also saw an array of exhibits that portrayed what the food back then looked like. Apparently, people ate parts of plants and animals as food. It always grossed me out a little bit though, while that food was definitely more beautiful on the plate than our synthesised hydro food, it was harder to prepare and was sometimes gooey and gross. The hydro food is much simpler. You put it on the plate and pour some water and mix it till it reaches a mushy state and then it’s done. Simple and quick. It also had many flavours. Chicken, Mixed fruits, Salad but my all-time favourite, Chocolate.

Dad told me chocolate was taken from trees in his day and that it tasted much sweeter and richer. I would have liked to try it. I also saw a replica of a man moving awkwardly in a large water reservoir. When I asked dad, he told me that replica was swimming. It’s the act of throwing yourself in a dedicated reservoir and wasting energy in that process to induce pleasure. The people that lived years ago were crazy. Why would you waste energy just to move through still water? Beaches are a different thing, but a pool? Boring. But apparently, they were also very rich. They could afford to get water enough to swim in it. While today even the richest person had to wait for multiple minutes just to get water to drink. Dad also told me that back then desalinated water would come out of the ground and that it flowed out of machines called taps.

I wonder how they transported this much water to all the houses. Must have needed millions of water packs like the ones delivered to our house every day. After the Civilisations Exhibit, we came out of the museum to get ice cream. I always loved ice cream. I love to stand and watch the guy at the stall mix flavours with the synthetic milk cream and Saccharine and then put it in the freezer. It tasted so cold and creamy. After that it was almost dawn, so we decided to head home before the sun came up and fried us with UV rays. Apparently in dad’s time, people went out during the day but after global warming set in and the atmosphere was destroyed, people had to stay in their cubicles during the day. It would have been cool to go out in the sun and waste energy kicking a spherical object with my friends. I can’t wait to reach home and tell them about all that I saw and learnt today

Blog By Arvind K

#16. Travel my Escape


Have you noticed that some people work so hard and save up a lot to travel? Why is travelling the new hype? I can see that travelling really can crave a big hole in your wallet and right from stepping into an aeroplane and back, you are using up everything so quickly that you sometimes don’t notice it.

But travelling is my escape. Yes, its an expensive one but the reason I travel is not because of the thrill for it, in another country, you require a restart in your way in life. The food you eat, the people you meet, the things you do and the history you learn is different from home. Travelling lets you become a new person and its important to break down your shell and let yourself experience what the world beyond your reach has to offer.

I really got into travelling after having an emotional breakdown at 2018 but ever since I started travelling, I came back with more stories to say, more things to do and more reason to perform. Last few months, I went to Iceland, Germany, Italy, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Hungary and Portugal. I am a nature enthusiast and the thrill to find the beauty of what mother nature offers gives me the strength and confidence to keep pushing my boundaries. The goal is not to impress but sometimes, its important to find and live in the moment.

It’s a reward you deserve. Well, you know the saying “You only live Once”, the world is too big to explore but we all run by a sand clock that keeps drawing down the sand grains until everything become to late. I don’t mean to tell you to give up and start travelling. My intention is to help you find purpose while travelling. Like for example, if you were going to an unhappy state of mind. You need to let yourself go from home and jump into the world of uncertainty and curiosity. Through this way, you start picking up the puzzles and figuring out what defines you and find your reasons to smile.


Here is something I want to add, when you travel. Let go of your past. Grab yourself a map from the tourist office and navigate yourself through the city. There is a saying “In order to reconnect, you need to disconnect”. My point is that you need to let go of what holds you back. When you let yourself into the devils of distraction, you miss the good stuff that the place has to offer. You encounter good as well as bad people. But the goal here is to learn to adapt. You are no longer a kid but a mature adult that needs to go through hurdles of difficulties such as language barrier, culture shock, misinterpretation and confusion. But learning to accept them is all part of the travel experience.

The city / place welcomes you but its your responsibility to integrate yourself with the what welcomed you. As you are aware, that we humans are learning oriented being that is backed up by learning and experience curves. Let me tell you honestly, at 2016, I went to Paris and it was awful. I had no plan, no idea, I had so much fear and I was in total confusion. My experience was bad because it was my first time and I thought it would be easy to navigate using a Paris Card. Oh, boy. I was wrong. Paris has been the city I lost against and I feel like I could have done better. It was my first time and I didn’t trust myself travelling but I did, and I failed. I wanted to give up and not try again. But that’s when I knew that failing is just another reason to try again. Paris is still one place I will go again and explore properly. I know it’s a beautiful city and called the City of Love, but I never made amends with the city itself.

That’s when I promised myself that every city I go, I will plan, think strategy and do it better than the previous city. And that has been my learning curve, I let myself have bad experience, I let myself fail, I let myself lose money because I wanted to have a positive outlook towards travelling. I keep recording my flaws and mistakes and I look at ways to improve. That’s my thrill of travel.

Now, here is a deadlock. Travelling alone. I did it but its doable but the flaw I see in travelling alone is the will to express. I enjoy travelling with a friend or a family relative because when you are both put in a new environment, your thoughts and action vary from that of your co-traveller and the freedom to express is what makes it fun. Like for example, when travelling with my friend through Dublin, we went restaurant hopping which was so much fun, I tried the Irish and English traditional meals to which I compared them with my familiar Bavarian / Austrian meals that I normally eat. We also talked to each other about the authenticity of the cuisine that we are experience and there was so much sharing of knowledge. Travelling gives you the luxury to compare and being critics of your own word. You have a lot to notice, understand and discover. Travelling alone is not bad, it’s a lot of freedom and quite more adventures. You are own your own and I am sure many backpackers are solo travelers that tour around an area for a very long time and get involved immensely with their surroundings.


My favorite part is the when I scroll through the city during the night. The city comes alive at night, and I know we have clubs, pubs and open events everywhere and I do attend them once a while but what I actually like the most is watching the stars. I sometimes take the time to see how the stars look above me and how we all share the same sky of stars. The sky of stars gives me so much memories. Like the most important people I met in my life, the people that I can consider as game-changers and the ones that were there in the good and bad times, we all sometimes just stared at the stars,  during our fine moments before departure and talked about what the future of life holds for us. And every time I look above, I recollect my thoughts and tell myself the sky of memories that keeps the city night alive and motivates me to keep discovering.

I want to end this blog of to the ones that don’t have to proposition to travel because of various reason. You don’t have to go to the country to find yourself or save up money for a lovely trip. All you need to do is discover your own locality. Let yourself explore the far side of the unknown within your place. Go to the places or the towns near you that you normally wouldn’t go to. Take a change to do a camp in the nearest campsite. Try out a new cuisine that you have never tried before, let your heart find the interest in newness. That’s how I feel in love with nature. I let myself get lost in the forest behind my house in Switzerland and always took the effort to find myself back home by evening. Try out a new recipe of a culture you have been always interested in, try cooking it and see how it turns. I know travelling is defined as an object or a person moving from one place to another through a means. Well, redefine your definition of what travelling is to you. Travelling to me is letting myself go from my comfort bubble and transit myself to another culture/foreign environment that allows me to rebuild my foundation of my understanding/perspective in life. So, I will leave you with this note.

What is travelling to you?

Written by Dochi

#15. How hard it is to say NO!

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Last day a couple of friends and I decided to have lunch from KFC. We tricked the nice innocent friend into standing in the queue (only after making sure that he knew our orders by heart though) and went to sit down. He came back with every possible dip available, ketchup, mayo, garlic paste, name it you got it. That too for all three of us. And not one of us ever use any of these stuffs. We stared at him pointedly without even giving him the occasional relief of blinking until he blurted out “I’m sorry guys. I fell for the dips again”. He further went on to explain that when the nice lady at the counter asked him nicely if he wanted dips, he couldn’t just say no to her like that. Although it seemed like a silly thing then, I later realized it to be something of a more serious problem that many of us introverts face, the difficulty in saying NO to someone.

The hardest thing to say no to is when your friends make plans to go out when all you want is a chill day with your books, cookies, chips and pajamas. Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love hanging out with my friends and I always have an awesome some time whenever I hang out with them. But I don’t know if it’s just a Linnet thing or a universal thing (I’m 99.985% certain that it’s a universal thingy) but on some days the lazybones in me get better of me. But how do I convey this to my friends without hurting their feelings. What if they take this NO to be a subtle hint that I don’t like hanging out with them anymore(all chunkies of mine who’s reading this I love hanging out you ((yes all of you)) and don’t stop inviting me to go out with you even if I say NO twice or thrice in a row).So back to my worrisome brain’s musings.. What if they stop including me in all their future plans? What if they decide to stop talking to me altogether? What if they DUMP me from the position as a best friend? * sobs and blow nose violently *

Enough with the drama. I might have exaggerated the situation a little but still saying a firm NO to plans that involve going out is hard. The trick is to tell them exactly what you want them to know. While “Sorry I rather prefer the company of my books than you guys” would be a rather meanie thing to say “Sorry guys I was really looking forward to today but I’m just not in the mood to go out today. I don’t even have the energy to dress (make 33.3% sad + 33.3% tired + 33.3% innocent expression)”. Okay let me get one thing straight here. I’m not teaching you guys how to manipulate your friends into letting you off the hook for not hanging out with them. Rather I’m telling you all this so that you wouldn’t end up hurting their feelings. Okay so back to the topic how many of you had instances where someone asked you for help with something which you had absolutely no idea on but said yes only so that you wouldn’t sound rude. And ended up making a mess of the whole thing only to regret not having the guts to openly admit your lack of proficiency in the required subject matter.

Or on a sillier note when your little brother comes into your room demanding his rightful share in the packet of hide and seek chocolate cookies which you had skillfully hidden away under your pillow. It’s impossible to say a hard NO to him(or her in case you have a sister) , not because you were enchanted by his large puppy eyes but because you know what will happen if you decide to shut the door at his face.
He will go storming to mom complaining how much of a meanie his big sister is. Mom, far from the impartial judge that she’s supposed to be, has an inclination towards the younger sibling. This is all so frustrating because all you wanted to do was have a packet of nice chocolate chip cookies in peace and was instead brought for trial? Such injustice.

The next hardest thing to say NO to is something all Indians would be familiar with. Us Indians have this rich tradition of “Athiti devo bhava” meaning we are known for entertaining guests with great hospitality, treating them as equivalents of God (I might have exaggerated the context a wee bit). Translation: stuffing them with all sorts of delicacies without listening to their cries of “I’m so full aunty. You don’t want to see my stomach explode do you!”. Desserts, Chocolates, ice cream, deep fried spirals, hexagons, spheres and so goes the list. Everything’s happy at first but even after your stomach attains the saturation level there’s no way out of it. Here you are struggling to breathe while aunty makes the re-entry from kitchen with plates of more colorful varieties. You try saying no again but seeing that your cry for mercy is falling into deaf ears your plea again in a whinier tone but no, “you need more flesh on that skeleton, kid” is what you are met with. These aunties may be the sweetest souls, but they have the one-man ability to uproot your carefully formulated diets in a matter of seconds.
Saying no is never easy but sometimes you just won’t have another option. Don’t think of it as anything worse than ripping off a band aid (but then when has ripping off a band aid ever been easy). So, what I’m trying to say is that when a situation demands you to say a hard no to someone or something you’ve got to toughen up and do it whether you like it or not. Like for example when a plateful of cheesy fries are staring at you, begging you to take them in your hands tenderly, lick the cheese off them and to sink your teeth gently into the perfect crispy surface. But no don’t fall for it. Be a strong woman (woman, because I’m talking about myself), look the cheesy fries in the eyes and say “NO CHEESY FRIES. NOT THIS TIME. SORRY “. And pat yourself on the back saying,” there you go that wasn’t so hard was it”, wipe your tears and walk away.

So if you have any stories of similar instances do share guys!

Written by CHIRI

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Lost in Silence

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The days go by, the clocks tick away
the stars hide and emerge, the sun rises and falls,
the seasons pass, and I sit here all night and all day,
reminiscing to the walks we took, the laughs and the calls.

I miss telling you stories, I miss that wonder in your eyes,
I walk the streets that were familiar, now strange,
I visit the same places, I see the same sights,
but without you besides, there’s too much change.

The chair across me sits empty, the swings in stillness,
the mantlepiece half full, the pictures telling an unfinished story,
the garden unkempt, taking over our hand painted fence,
the benches and shady trees missing us, telling new lovers our history.

I wish our time weren’t rationed, I wish I had another life time with you,
I wish we could still lie under the stars, having lost ourselves in the silence,
I wish we could go to all the places we once did and do all that we used to,
but you found your place among the stars, leaving me lost in silence.

What about our bucket list? what about all that we dreamt to be?
It was all so quick, she came and went, she didn’t stay,
she was merely a spark in the darkness of the universe inside me,
but she was the light that guided me, showing me the way.

I’m a mere existence, a man who’s lost meaning,
I’m a lone traveler who’s lost his compass along his path,
I’m a discarded story book with a story missing its ending,
I’m a soul that wanders the earth like a ghostly psychopath.

I had found my pile of gold, I had succeeded in my conquest,
I had found my oasis in the desert, I had reached, my Shangri La,
I had traveled the world, sailed the waves, in the serene and the tempest,
But I can only hear you from the past and talk to you from afar.

The seclusion we reached out for, our plans for reclusion,
the very same serenity that fills me with chaos and torture,
a wish that burdened us, a debt that came without fail, my restitution,
I asked for a silence to spend with you, not for silence from you, my lover.

Poem By Arvind

If for a single second…

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“Maybe we shouldn’t talk as often. Maybe some space will help you move on.” “But even space has something for us to love about, my dear.”

Okay picture this, me and you, we are holding something heavy above our heads. Neither of us can do it alone, but together we can manage. If one of us let’s go, the other dies. That’s where we are. I don’t want you to go, so I don’t let go. You don’t want me to get crushed, so you won’t let go. Whatever the reason, we are trapped in this moment. The worst part is, it is my own doing. Now I can either push you away, saving you, but killing me, or I can let go, killing you. I wanted love. You wanted friendship. Now we are trapped in a situation where either we both come to terms, or one of us takes the shit-storm that’s coming. You see, I’m more than willing to take it, if it saves you, but you wouldn’t let me. Thus, we are in constant conflict. I came to crossroads where I had to choose to let you go or hold on to something that will never happen, and I always chose the same road every time. I wish we could have been more; you wish I would stop wishing that. It’s simply chaos brewing. I do want to move on, but I just don’t want to. Every day I tear myself apart trying to keep our friendship that means so much to you, never for an instant letting you see the cracks and faults that form day by day.

Every day that I talk to you, I fall in love with you more and more, every day I don’t, I miss you more and more. Either way, giving up is impossible. I know I can’t force you to stay with me. But now you force me to shut off my emotions and feelings toward you and just be friends. Why can’t I love you but still be friends? Seeing you as just a friend seems like such a nightmare. You say you feel guilty, because you feel like you’re giving me false hope. Well I feel guilty for falling in love and creating this situation in the first place. There’s a lot of things I’m willing to do to help us both but moving on is not one of them. So please don’t ask me to, I’d hate to have to say no to you

Why can’t I? I don’t know. All I know is that you matter to me far too much for me to just let you go. I can’t bear to lose you. But now we grow distant each day. I told you earlier this was going to happen, but you believed it wouldn’t and that we could still be friends without me having feelings for you. But how can you expect the result to be any different if every time I see you, I still see the same things I fell in love with earlier? How can I move on when all I can think of every time, I see you, is how fucking amazing you are?

I have so many questions, but no answers. I have so many problems but no solutions. But that’s not new. I’ve had that my whole life and I’ve spent my entire life searching for a solution, searching for home, waiting to be understood and I met you. One hour of talking and you’re already completing my sentences. You didn’t just listen, you understood and for those few hours that we talked that day, I felt genuinely happy. You just washed away all my worries like waves on a beach and as soon as you were gone, those worries came back, more potent. I guess that’s what got me addicted to you like a drug. That constant need to have you around. But apart from just taking my worries away, in you, I had found everything I was looking for but so much more.

Now all I can do is stare at that one picture we took together that day and see what I look like, when I’m happy. It’s certainly very different and much better than the face I see in my mirror every day. People ask me how my life could be so perfect. Popular at college, lots of friends, never weak, always laughing, always strong and just happy. If only they knew, that under my strong character is a weak broken heart, under my happiness is an endless ocean of pain and despair, behind every laugh is an attempt at masking the footprints left by tears, behind every friend I make is my search for her in someone else, behind my popularity is the determination to not repeat the same mistakes I’ve already made. I keep trying to be a better me every day, and nothing changes. In the end, I still revisit the same moment repeatedly.

I guess some people are cursed with too much hope. Hope of a brighter future that stops me from running away from pain and despair. But it seems it only leads to more pain. I guess I’m cursed to walk an endless path of hurt to a destination that will never come. I guess I’m cursed to be too strong to give in to the pain and quit but too weak to ignore the pain and be happy. It seems I’m cursed to simply feel the pain repeatedly and endlessly.

I would never show you any of this even though I know you will understand. I’ve created enough problems for you as it is. But how can I stop loving someone who’s funny and awesome enough to make me happy just by being in the vicinity, but sweet enough to offer to sit and listen to me if I ever wanted to share something with you, or if I simply needed to vent? You claim you’re not perfect, but you don’t see that it’s the combination of your perfections and imperfections I fell in love with. No great painting is painted only with bright colors, no great song was sung only with high notes. No perfect person ever existed but if they did, they wouldn’t be as interesting as the imperfect ones. It’s not that you’re perfect, it’s just that you’re real.

I’ve lost count of the number of days I wished that I could mean as much to you as you mean to me or even half as much. It’s true, unrequited love hurts, but what hurts the most is when you ask me to move on, because I’ve to choose between lying to you, or seeing you storm away annoyed that I refuse to move on. Of course, I would always choose to maintain your trust even if the sight of you storming away hurts more with each step you take. It reminds me each time, that one day, I’ll see that for the last time. I don’t know how I’ll deal with it though. I maybe strong, but every strong person has a weak spot they try to safeguard with the strong demeanor and mine is losing you. I just hope I don’t fall apart in front of you, I would hate to leave that in your conscience. I’ve always been strong, motivated others to be too. But now I think I may be on a path that will strip away all my defenses and tear me apart.

But I guess that’s the way it works. Maybe one day you’ll change your mind, maybe you’ll feel about me tomorrow as I feel about you today. But you see, that’s the thing about tomorrow, it’s always coming but never really arrives. I just hope if that day does come, it’s not too late. I’ve never wished for you to regret anything, and I never will, but sometimes I just wish you would let me be, let me love you the way I do, instead of trying to force me to not. Sometimes I wish you would just accept things the way they are. Sometimes I feel guilty for putting someone as nice as you through this. But in the end, I remember that there’s nothing I can do. I’m as helpless as you are, maybe a bit more. But hey, it was still a privilege, nonetheless. You may not be with me tomorrow, but you’re here today. I’ll never regret that; I’ll never regret meeting you. I’ll only regret not being the friend you wanted me to be, I’ll only regret disappointing you as much as I did.

I don’t know if there’s a life after this one, but if there are any, I just hope that in what could be an infinite lifetimes, there’s at least one where we are together, even if it’s merely for a second. It would be great if I could know what your love feels like for a single second, once in an infinity of lifetimes. A single second where I mean to you more than anyone else. A single second, where I’m genuinely happy. A single second I would forever remember and cherish. A single second that’s too much to ask for. A single second I would give anything to have. If  for a single second…

Written by Arvind

War Scars

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There was once a summer, where I went to spend vacation with my aunt and her son, Well, in my eye, he seem to be more like my close friend whom I share everything with. On a fine day, I accidentally caught my first cousin applying some kind of ointment on his knee. I was curious and concern at the same time, so, I asked about it. He reminded me of an accident that occurred 2 years back, from where he got some those serious scars. His scars made me triggered me to remember the marks on my sisters’ belly which she got from her 9 months pregnancy. Both have imprints on their skin are given by their life. But what surprise me is the difference in the way they analyse those scars. My cousin hopes to rub it off from his body because each time he looked at his knee, those scars brings back those dark and horrific moment before his eyes. But, on the other hand, for my sister it was different. She sees them as the symbols of her endurance. Her ability to sacrifice anything for a long period of 9 months and to give birth to her beautiful baby despite suffering a horrible pain.

Literally everyone on earth do have scars. Either visible or not. Some have scars on their body whereas some have in their heart. Speaking about scars in our heart, I would like to say that words and deeds of others and ours itself can make wounds on the walls of heart. When those wounds remain unhealed, they transform into invisible scars. And these scars are invincible too. Because we won’t forget heartaches so soon. Isn’t it true that we still feel the same rage to someone who insulted us years ago. Isn’t it true that whenever we think of the situations or people who ‘gifted’ us affliction, our heart feels a pang. And It is indeed true that many of us have a sewed up heart…. a heart with patch works.

In fact, no one can escape from getting hurt, and everyone has their own scars. Because life is like a war. Don’t worry, I am not here to speak philosophy. But when I think about life I can’t help myself comparing it to a war. In war we fight with people, in life we fight with situations. In war people face victory and losses whereas in life, people face success and failure. In war loss is inseparable and in life it is unpreventable. In war no one can avoid parting and separation, whereas in life too we can’t avoid them.

But there are some brave soldiers who are gifted with great courage to maintain a curve on their lips even if they are mutilated by war (life). They are filled with spirit, perseverance and an unswerving decision to win fate itself. And they will win. Not because they foresee the actions of their fate…..just because they aren’t afraid of getting hurt. They are very sure that their Shields are not strong enough to defend the deceptions of life. But they just don’t fear to have scars. And these brave individuals both men and women, don’t deceive themselves on what others will think of their scars.
But not everyone is courageous enough let the world know about their scars.

Let me share you my experience know a girl who cut her flesh whenever she is depressed. She is trying to forget those hard thoughts by making her body suffering pain. So, her body is full of scars. But she wears only dresses covering her entire body. She doesn’t want the world to know her problems and she fears what people will think of her if they see her scars. It’s indeed true, that not everyone always keeps a blood-stained blade to self-harm like her. But there is another truth…. that not everyone has gone through a life like hers. Battle fields are different and so is the fight. Some people may face everything with a determined heart. Whereas, others may not have such a strong heart. As, human nature, we try to slip into different alternatives which can be unhealthy to meld our scars and we try to fake the truth that they are fine and brave enough to withstand harsh those life situations. Those unhealthy means can be a blade, alcohol or some kind of drugs.

I don’t support self-harming or drug abuse. But do we ever think about why some people are up to such things??? Because they are afraid to stand up alone…to face realities without supports….and Most importantly they really scared to fall and fail. Hence they end up with dark haunting silhouettes in their life book rather than end up with some scars .

Yes, of course as said in the Kite Runner (by Khalid Hosseini ),scars will make the present to last forever.But scars are what make people who they are.Because they prove that you are much stronger than whatever that tried to destroy you.scars only have the stories of survival and victory. S,o what I want to say my readers is that ,if wounds became scars don’t worry,they are not the fights you loss…but for the fights you won….for you never elope from anything but you just faced it with all your heart.And that’s what matters,you fought back.So, just face the WAR ,soldier !! and courageously end up with SCARS

Written by Guest Writer Zahrana

Ep 4:Damage, Debris and Clear Skies

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In case you missed Ep 3: Caught in the Cataclysm, Click here and Catch up. Also, this is the Last Episode of Rainy Days in Cloudless Minds, Enjoy the Christmas Finale

My troubles started soon after. Most of the moments after her funeral were a blur of emotions and things that probably didn’t happen. Yet I can clearly remember the fall, the underside of the bridge moving further away from me, the flowing water moving closer, open arms ready to receive me, embrace me, wash away my pain, my torture. I fell, slow, serene, not a care in the world of what awaited me at the bottom, I was reminded of the gulls gliding in the sky, their serenity, the salty breeze, the blue skies, her black enchanting eyes, her smile, her.

I remember being hauled out, I remember the hospital ward, I remember my friends and family, they came, they went, nobody stayed, nobody could ease my pain. In the end, I was in a room filled with people who cared about me, and yet I felt so alone. There were many people who cared, but not a single person that understood. There was no Anjali. Next thing I remember, I’m in the ward of a mental institution, the guy that went crazy after his wife died. They pitied me, felt sorry for me, but denied me escape. I hated every second. I just wanted to get back to her, I wanted to go home, my home with a heart, and each second they kept me restrained was one more second to wait before I could see her.

Is she here? Did Anjali come?” I asked the nurse and like the last hundred billion times, I got the same answer. Everyday I would sit wondering why all our plans of spending Christmases, Easters, independence days, any celebrations together had all come to a halt. Did she no longer care? Did she not want to see me again? What did I do? What have I done wrong? Where are you?! Why have you abandoned me to suffer like this? If I did something wrong, I’m sorry! Don’t leave me here like this! Please!

Christmas slowly crept into the wards of the institution. The festivities meant my family would visit me. Or so I’m told, but I don’t recount any visits from a loving family but the staff claims I was visited almost every few months. Of course sometimes I find it hard to tell the difference between family and strangers. But that’s not what bothered me. All around me, I see happy faces, I see wives with teary eyes, the scenes of a patient wait coming to a happy end, I see sons and daughters visiting their fathers and mothers who barely cared. But the one face I waited for everyday never came. I looked behind the Christmas trees decorated with bright lights and colorful decorations, much like the world me and Anjali created in our minds, unbound by limits, empowered by imagination, I searched between the stacks of presents, like when she used to play hide and seek, always the fun little girl no matter how many Christmases passed, I looked out the window at the stars much like the stars we admired, while simply stargazing on the roof of our house, holding hands, merging minds. She was nowhere to be found. I didn’t look forward to the presents, nor did I admire the decorations. I simply sat and waited, holding back tears, taking deep breaths and assuring myself, tomorrow, tomorrow she would come. She has to. Right?

I would write letters daily, letters to her telling her about my day and begging her to come back. She never replied. I drew pictures for her, like I used to at home. I still remember how we painted the walls together. The walls of our home were canvases for our minds. Yet she never came to compliment them nor say they were mediocre and that she can do better. She always loved doing that. It never failed to be amused. Yet, now, she’s not here, all her promises were simply hollow. She promised to live with me forever, but now she left me to suffer. I couldn’t even let her know that Puppy, our golden retriever(She actually named him that), was dead. The doctors had left him in the custody of a nearby animal shelter. He got the best care and I visited him often. The only part of home I still had, the only thing left that still made me feel like I wasn’t completely alone. Now he’s also gone. The staff joined me in a special funeral for him. I still have his collar which Anjali crafted. I have so much and yet nothing. I just wanted to die, that sweet escape of blackness, the calm and quiet transition. It also meant that I could see her again.

Wake up, honey. What’s wrong? Had a bad dream?” Her sparkling eyes loomed a few inches from mine. I sat up on the bed and looked around, we were in our room, Puppy sleeping on the beanbag under the window sill. I felt a huge sigh of relief as I released it had all been a bad dream.

I got up from bed and walked towards the window and stared out at the hill in the distance, the very same hill where we used to sit as kids on a bench under a tree. There was a slightly drizzle that morning, the pitter patter of raindrops on the glass giving the room a serene ambiance. I felt her arms surround me as she hugged me from behind, we stood there listening to the music of the rain, I felt her breath on the back of my neck, I heard the birds chirping outside and the sun slowly rising. Only there was something odd I noticed as she hugged me.

Anjali, how did that ring get there?” I didn’t remember proposing to her other than in the dream but there it was, the very same ring I bought, sitting on her finger. “Ha ha. Very funny. You obviously don’t remember us going to Cannes, you obviously don’t remember taking me to Long beach and then to Paris and proposing on top of the Eiffel tower.” she replied, sarcasm showing clearly in her voice. “But that’s absurd. Why would I ever do that?! You’re terrified of heights!” It wasn’t long before the medications wore off and I
returned to the hospital ward where she didn’t exist, where she was still dead. The reality I was in, was far away from the reality I wanted to be in. I found it harder and harder to differentiate between what’s real, and what’s the effect of my medication

Soon, I learned to cope as I accepted that she was not alive in this reality, but in my reality she always would be and that’s all that mattered.

What? Never seen a human before?” She asked me, “You didn’t listen to a word I said, did you?” “Yeah yeah, I was listening, so the cottage in Italy, and the grapevines and the… Yeah I wasn’t listening.” I ended with an awkward smile as I sat up straight on the bench. I had lost myself in her eyes as I rested my head on her lap, her fingers stroking my hair. We simply laughed about it together and towards the end, we sat there, huddled together, much like on the couch the day I told her about her condition, the day I asked her to marry me, the day I had hidden a golden retriever puppy in the bedroom which pounced on her as soon as she entered.

Every day we would simply sit on that bench, Puppy, running around playing in the puddles of water, me holding her hand, her fingers intertwined in mine, the orange evening sun giving her skin a beautiful orange glow and I was lost in the abyss within those eyes and yet, despite all my attempts I could never recreate her
in my mind, with all her perfect imperfections, her tiny actions, her smile, her eyes, everything simply a crude recreation of blurry memories from a damaged brain. A brain clear of all thought and feelings, but a brain exploding with emotion and images, painful memories, blissful flashbacks, walks down nostalgic paths, holding hands with the past, ignoring the present to an indeterminate future.

There were clear skies, there was rain, there were hailstorms, there were cyclones, tornadoes, droughts, floods, tsunamis, snowfall, there were seasons of blistering cold winters of depression with beautiful snowflakes of flashbacks, there were burning hot summers of heartbreak with brights golden rays of hope, there were uncomfortably humid springs of regret which filled the valleys of my cracked heart with flowers of kisses and hugs from a time past, there were death filled autumn, where splinters of my heart withered away along with leaves of the painful past, paving way for a brighter future

There were rainy days in cloudless minds, after all.

Special note: The above events were the mutterings of a psychologically unstable patient that were noted down by a passionate psychiatrist who claimed to have known the patient since childhood and even loved him at one point, unrequited and unacknowledged. Of course the reliability of these writings is questionable as they could quite simply be the rantings of a madman accused of murdering his wife, of course, it was never proved, or as the story suggests, the sufferings of a passionate lover that lost his loved one. Either way it is your decision, dear reader, as to what you believe. The sketches found attached to the writing were in fact made by the patient himself, the first sketch being the sketch of the girl, Anjali, herself, all made before he descended into madness.
Of course, as a psychiatrist, I didn’t fail to notice that the only clear sketch was the sketch of Anjali, which shows how clearly the patient remembers the face, which leads me to question if there is actually some truth behind these writings. But, that is just my deduction. Merry Christmas.
Dr Rajesh Kumar. 25th December 2016


Thanks to all the readers for being part of this journey and making this Christmas special happen. This series wouldnt be real without the constant love and support we get fro you all. Taking a moment to thank our writer Arvind for lending his talents in fulfilling the Christmas miracle and deserves all the applause in the big stage .I would like to thank the people behind the stage that helped us promote and engage with series, bring in content and pictures, helping us build the foundation and complete this Christmas with a whole heart. once again, Merry Christmas.

Ep 3:Caught in a Cataclysm

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NB: In case you have missed Ep 2: Silence before the Storm, Click here to Read it

Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease or CJD. A brain disease that causes anxiety, memory loss, loss of motor skills and many other problems. In the end, it results in dementia and death. There is no cure found yet. The only thing we can do is make the patient’s life as much easier as possible. It’s such a rare disease, that it affect one person per million per year. Our house could have been a drug dealer’s house for all the containers of Opioids we had which I had to provide Anjali to ease the pain

I always wanted to take Anjali to her dream destinations and do things she always wanted to. Only, I didn’t have a job that let me earn six figures. I was just an engineer. Of course I have been saving up for almost a year now for a vacation where we would do all the things she wanted. It was hard as it was without me having a time constraint of a year. I can’t save her. I knew that. I accepted that. But I couldn’t just let her go without keeping my promise to take her to all the places she wanted. I had merely a couple of months before she would slip into a coma.

Of course, the money was still an issue but I managed to do extra work, do parallel jobs and also get home in time to give her the medications. For over 2 weeks, I struggled, but after seeing her face as we reached Long Beach, it was all worth it. The only problem
was, she never knew, knew that this would be her last vacation, but I had to tell her. I had to make her understand. God give me strength.

Soon, we reached home. It was just in time too, she was getting weaker and weaker. I still hadn’t told her, until one night during dinner, “This headache is killing me.” I reached out to grab her hand. She looked at me, confused. There were times I simply grabbed her hand and made cheesy declarations of love that she used to adore. But I usually had a playful expression on my face, not one that suggested I was about to break apart, like I was just trying to take it all in, her face, her eyes, her smile, her.

What is it?”

“It’s just, there’s something I need to say. I uh…. The thing is…. I…”

“I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. Tell her that she’s dying each second. But I had to. “Look, I don’t know how to say this but… I just… Will you marry me?”

Saying she was surprised was an understatement. She was definitely delighted but she did not expect that. Also, knowing me, she expected something along the lines of romantic music, exotic beach etc etc, not in our dining room, to the sounds of crickets in the garden and I wasn’t even on my knee. She looked at me playfully

“I’ll think about it.” she said with a teasing smile. And then she just hugged me. “If course I’ll marry you, do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?!” I pretended to be happy and that, that was what I planned to say, but inside I was just annoyed that I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. Soon we both were on the couch cuddled together, her head on my shoulders, me stroking her silky black hair.

What is it?” “What?”I know there’s something troubling you. Tell me.” she said, sitting up straight. I looked at her, trying to muster the strength to do it. Her eyes boring into mine. I never failed to get lost in those eyes on a daily basis, but I couldn’t afford to today. “Look, I don’t know how to say this, but I have to before things get any worse. I’m just going to be blunt here.

You… Your condition. Its… bad… Like really bad. The headache, the episodes, the memory loss…. Its a condition that… That has no cure. But it is rare. Like one person per million or something.” I didn’t know what I was saying. I just kept trying to find something to ease the realization. To help her to not simply fall apart. “I guess I really am your one in a million, aren’t I?” A tear rolled down her face following the lines of her forced smile.
I guess it was not her, but me who was going to break down. She was always a strong girl. Even now in the face of death, she’s cracking jokes. It simply makes me fall apart further and further to see her like this. “So, how… How long… Do I have?” Her smile slowly faded. “A year… At max,” I replied. I felt a little better that I had got it out of me, but it was not to last as I saw her battling to keep her composure. We sat there all night, huddled in a blanket on the couch as the gravity of reality dawned on her and me trying to etch as much of her and the feeling of her next to me, into my mind. But our troubles would only begin.

It was as if her mind had split in two. Every day was a battle for her sanity against herself. Bad odds. It wasn’t long before she slipped into a coma. She just laid on the bed, her charismatic and cheery personality, trapped in her own motionless body. Her eyes moved, observing everything. Her ears, trying to pick up every sound. I keep wondering if she even recognized me all those time I sat next to her, wondering if she recognized all her favorite songs I played on her stereo, I wonder if she even remembered the photo of us I placed beside her bed, taken on the day of our wedding. It was a day I will never forget, me in my black tuxedo which she adored, her in a beautiful wedding dress, lying in our bed at our home. It was a small ceremony, only our closest friends and family attended. It was beautiful. Daffodils and wine, a large vanilla cake and of course, black current ice cream. It would have been her dream wedding, if she wasn’t trapped in a dream. A dream that would soon come to an end.

A few weeks later, on a bright sunny day, the sparrows danced in the sky, the beautiful fluffy clouds glided along the blue sky. The cool breeze whistling past the trees, the smell of daffodils from our garden, the voices of cheerful children playing, vehicles zooming by. It was a perfect sunny day and I was in my room putting my black tuxedo on. I looked towards our bed, which shone in the golden sunlight. Empty.

I would never forget the day I kissed her forehead one last time. I just felt so devastated. Every day I saw her suffer, I watched helplessly. Her last days were simply suffering, but I only hope she finds peace wherever she goes and will wait for me on a bench under a tree on a hill. Waiting for me to sneak up on her and kiss her neck, daffodils hidden behind my back.

Of course, life wasn’t done yet. You see, my suffering had only reached halfway. The other half didn’t waste any time getting to me. Luckily, I wouldn’t really understand most of the rest of my life.

Of course, it’s just an assumption


Rainy days in Cloudless minds.

“What? Never seen a human before?” She asked, turning to me, “You didn’t listen to a word I said, did you?”
“Yeah yeah, I was listening, so the cottage in Italy, and the grapevines and the… Yeah I wasn’t listening.” I ended with an awkward smile as I sat up straight on the bench.

Come back on Christmas to find out what happens at the end of the Series @ Ep 4: Damage, Debris & Clear Skies.

EP 2: Silence before the storm.

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N.B : In case you missed EP 1 Where it all began: Dont worry, click here

Life was always challenging for us, but we both loved a challenge. Me and her were inseparable and undefeatable. We would deal with every problem with the motto, what doesn’t kill us, simply gives us another chance to risk our lives. I know, I know, insane duo. The word insane is something people always described us with but with all the things happening lately, I feel it might pertain more to Anjali and not in a humorous way. It all started a few months ago.

How do I look?” she asked, dressed in a beautiful emerald green dress. She always looked spectacular in green. “Enchanting,” I replied, finding it difficult to take my eyes of her. Soon, we were in the car and on our way. “Dr Rajesh Kumar weds Ms Smitha Venu. You know, I can’t believe they’re getting married. I mean, they were always in love and all, but it only feels like yesterday when they were sitting right in front of us, cracking jokes and all of us getting in trouble together. Speaking of which, are you simply going to take me to other people’s marriages or are we ever gonna get married?” she said turning to me with her arms folded, slightly exasperated. I had veered away from the topic of marriage.

I mean, there’s nothing I wanted more than to spend a lifetime with this girl, but I felt my life needed to be more stable before I can have a family. She on the other hand was just waiting for me to get on my knees and propose at some exotic location with romantic music playing in the background. Full on classic love story. Dealing with this was hard as it is, without all of my friends getting married, making her even more annoyed. One guy even went that extra mile and had a son. He had a frigging kid! I swear, if I get my hands on him, well, I’ll probably let go and apologize. But you get the picture.

I had quite a hard time trying to reason with her but ultimately decided it’s best to change the topic. We soon reached the venue. It was a grand function with a DJ party, bar, expensive cars, large buffets, you name it. It was also on an island near the coast with a small mansion in the center. We had a great time, but things started to change when I saw Anjali walking towards the pier. There was something odd about the way she walked. Her pace was slow and somewhat wobbly. She seemed to be losing control. As I got to her, she turned around, “Aah, there you are. I was wondering where the waiter was, can you find my fiance, he’s there somewhere in the crowd wearing a black tuxedo and a weird red bow tie.”

Very funny Anjali, but you’re not supposed to be here. This pier is off limits.”

I proceeded to pull her away from the edge. “How dare you?! Get your hands off me! Who do you think you are?! Wait till my fiancé gets here.” I wasn’t new to her pranks but this time it was different. She seemed so serious and angry. She just didn’t recognize me. I couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening. She started moving towards the car and I followed. Once she was there, she turned around, “Whoa you startled me. I was looking for you. There was this waiter who came to me while I was at the pier. He started getting all… What’s wrong?” She noticed my face of confusion. I had no idea what was happening. I couldn’t believe this woman was my Anjali. But there she was standing in front of me, looking just like her, down to her unmistakable posture and the tiny actions that were a signature of her.

We reached home, and I carried her to the bedroom. She had fainted soon after what happened on the pier. It was the first time she had an episode like that. Also, her depression was getting worse. She was always this positive source of light in my dark and murky universe. Now she’s so depressed it almost fills the room she is in. She didn’t seem like the girl I fell in love with, more like a corrupted and unrealistic recreation of her. Day by day, her condition got worse and worse, but every time I took her to multiple experts, they would give her medicines that did absolutely nothing. It was unbearable. To see the girl that just wouldn’t accept defeat, now simply a convoluted mixture of random memories and episodes of memory loss, depression and anxiety.

I had noticed a change in her behavior much earlier, but I simply guessed it was her occasional depression sessions where she suddenly gets depressed and then soon goes back to normal, only this had lasted days which was abnormal. I even caught her talking to absolutely no one in the bedroom. She simply stared at the wall and talked about me, sometimes she was talking to me, only I was not where she seemed to think I was. It started to creep me out. After the pier incident I started noticing her physical changes. She had a hard time walking. Her motor skills were almost non-existent sometimes. Most of the time she would walk as if there was nothing wrong, but at other times, she could barely stand up. Occasionally, she would talk like usual but sometimes, out of nowhere, she would forget who I was, and start attacking me and call out my name for help. She seemed to have memory issues. I had her diagnosed with yet another psychiatrist, a leading expert and a close friend of ours, Dr Rajesh Kumar, but he said he’s going to need to study her further and requested that we visit him on a regular basis.

What’s happening? Where are you taking me?” She was in her normal state but remembered nothing of the previous 12 visits to the psychiatrist. She even forgot her name a few times. It was getting serious. The psychiatrist got into contact with some of his more experienced colleagues and they were all examining her.

I was waiting outside, unable to bare the suspense. The clocks seemed to have stopped, for each hour dragged on till it felt like I had sat there for years. The world simply stopped. Nothing mattered to me anymore. I wanted to know what’s wrong with my Anjali, but no one would say a word. Soon the experts came out of their office and sat down with me. My friend put a hand on my shoulder with a comforting smile, “We’re lucky her condition was discovered as early as it was. But…” To be honest, I didn’t really pay much attention to what he said. All that I could think of was the condition she was diagnosed with. My world fell apart in that very instant.

I decided to take a walk to help me deal with the issue. My mind was exploding with thoughts, memories, her laughter, her face, her smile. I even remembered the cake sitting in my car. It was her birthday. But today was supposed to be more than just her birthday. If it weren’t for her sudden loss of consciousness, I would have taken her on a trip to a nearby hill where we used to sit on a bench beneath a tree since we were kids. A bench on which I sat, trying to convince myself it’s not just a nightmare. After smoking a few cigarettes, which I usually don’t do, I got up and walked back to the psychiatrist’s office. The rain, thunder and lightning that raged that evening never bothered me as I slowly walked back to the hospital. The image of the ring I left on that bench on the hill in my thoughts, the ring which would have hopefully rested on her hand. Soon my mind came back to her and the psychiatrist’s words, the condition she was suffering from.

It’s funny how three words can unhinge your entire world in a single instant.


Rainy days in Cloudless minds.

I reached out to grab her hand. She looked at me, confused. There were times I simply grabbed her hand and made cheesy declarations of love that she used to adore. But I usually had a playful expression on my face, not one that suggested I was about to break apart, like I was just trying to take it all in, her face, her eyes, her smile, her.
“What is it?”

Come back next Saturday to figure what he has planned to say to her.

EP 1: Where it All Began

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Wow. Bet ya 50 bucks, I can reach the waves before you,” she said as we arrived. I reached into my pocket and handed her a 50 dollar note. “Seriously?!” She exclaimed. She walked towards the beach, untying her hair. She always loved beaches. After a few minutes of wading about in the waves she walked towards me. “Hey, aren’t you going to join me at… Wait don’t! My hair sucks!” She shouted over the waves as I took a photo.

It was a beautiful sunny day in May at Long Beach, Cannes, France. With its beautiful blue skies, ebony clouds and chocolate brown sands, overlooked by the glimmering glass covered buildings bordering the beach, there’s no surprise it was her dream destination. Soon, we were walking the streets, looking at a variety of sights, the old and new style buildings, the scents, the food, the music, the sounds, truly an experience of a lifetime. But for Anjali, it would be so much more than just a dream destination.

We had an amazing day at the Cannes film festival. We took tonnes of photos of moments we would never want to forget. Funnily enough, all my moments with her were ones I would never want to forget. This trip made me even more adamant to notice and remember as much of her as possible, her perfections and imperfections coming together to create someone so unreal.

Soon we sat down in a small restaurant overlooking the sea. I still remember the gulls cruising in the wind, calm and serene, not a care in the world. I longed for that state of nirvana my entire life and now she was sitting across from me, slurping lime juice. She made it a point to make as much noise as she could, for she knew it irritated me. SLURRRPPPP SLLLUUURRRPPPP. UHHHHHGGGGGGG

The sun slowly slipped below the horizon and she turned to me, “You know, I’ve always wanted a house in a place like this. A small cottage, somewhere on the coast. Salty winds, blue skies, a small garden with grapevines and daffodils. A pet golden retriever too. We’ll name him Puppy, so no matter how old he grows, he’ll still be our Puppy.” She was the best thing that ever happened to me. I simply sat there smiling and commenting on her ideas, but deep down, with each word she said, I fell further apart.

You know, this vacation would have been perfect if not for these blasted coughs,” she complained as she looked longingly at the ice cream stall across the street. She always ate this purple, black current flavor which I despised. She would paste a little on her face and say, “Look, I’m Thanos.” She could make me laugh, without even trying. Me? I’m not much of a comedian. I’m just a somewhat shy, reserved individual who doesn’t talk much but has a dash of sarcasm and an existent humor sense. I do enjoy jokes, just not the type to crack one.

Then again there is the rare moment I do crack one. Keyword being RARE. In fact, there was this one time back in high-school, the physics teacher spotted me sleeping in class and asked me to prove that path of motion of a projectile is parabolic. I think the word she used was Trajectory. Anyways, I stand up and toss an eraser across the room. I guess my teacher wasn’t a fan of humor, cause I found myself standing guard the classroom door. Outstanding student. It would have been a bit more bearable if I could walk around or something, but here in India (I don’t know how many other places this kind of torture is prevalent), you had to stand outside the classroom door till the class was over after which the teacher will decide either to let you in or something worse.

Just as I thought I was gonna die of boredom, I spotted Anjali making faces at me from our bench in the back. It wasn’t long before she joined me in standing guard. You should have seen her face as she walked out, guilt ridden as she walked past the teacher, but as soon as she crossed her, rolled her eyes at me, “I had enough of her anyway.”

Of course, all this was before we fell in love. It was a beautiful story. I met her at a cultural event at my school where I was catching up with a friend of mine and his buddies from another school who had come to attend the event. This is when a group of girls came there, and we all started talking. In the crowd, I noticed this one girl, very VERY pretty and wanted to go talk to her. I had spotted this girl the moment she first came to school. She was a new student. I never really knew how exactly start a conversation with her. But now, seeing my opportunity, I made my way towards her through the chaos. Of course, it wasn’t easy as I thought, because she never stayed at one place and soon I gave up. A few minutes late, my buddy and his gang left. That’s when one of the girls started talking to me and all of us decided to have milkshakes. We sat down at a bench and were talking but soon the girl next to me, got up and the pretty one took her place. “Hi, I’m Anjali. You?”

Things just started from there. Me and her were simply perfect for each other. We completed each other’s sentences, had similar tastes and she was a fan of my drawings and I was a fan of her… well… I was a fan of Her. It wasn’t long before I asked her out, but I wasn’t too hopeful. She was one of the most popular girls and had scores of guys behind her. What did surprise me is when she agreed to go on a date. I still remember how we walked down a small street next to the beach having ice-cream. Bliss.

It was absolutely perfect in every way. All my friends were constantly bugging me to take them out to celebrate my success. It was a memorable day when I introduced her to my friends who pretended to not know we were a couple and when a confused Anjali explained to them, they enacted a very dramatic scene of warning Anjali from making a mistake that she would regret for the rest of her life. I assure you, those idiots went all the way. One girl even faked tears in the corner for the ‘late’ Anjali. Talk about reliable buddies.

In the end we were hysterical thinking about all the antics those idiots got up to on that day and all the crazy things all of us did together. The good old days. She was my partner in crime and crisis. We still laugh out loud over all those beautiful memories

If only I could laugh as wholeheartedly as she did.


Rainy days in Cloudless minds.

The story doesn’t end there. Here’s a small excerpt from the next chapter.

It was her birthday. But today was supposed to be more than just her birthday. If it weren’t for her sudden loss of consciousness, I would have taken her on a trip to a nearby hill where we used to sit on a bench beneath a tree since we were kids. A bench on which I sat, trying to convince myself it’s not just a nightmare.

Where does the dream turn into a nightmare and why?

Click here to read Ep 2: Silence Before the Storm