Lots to tell!

first of all,
R.I.P Nelson Mandela. You are a hero, we will never forget you and always keep your light burning through generations to come....

P.S: i copied it from my fb status....just so you know!

second of all, 
wish you all a very happy diwali, hallowen and any special occasion!

third of all, 
I shifted my house. I lived in G.K 2 for 6 years ie., since I came to delhi but all of a sudden here i am typing on the keyboard to write on my blog (which i dont know how many people actually read, they dont leave any comments sadly) in Kalkaji. You know I liked to watch airplanes go by above my head, I could see the planes from my old house it kind of make me go with them, on an adventure maybe ....now, I can only hear their sounds but not see them, it kind of has an empty feeling to it. But, then at night, I look at the sky and see the stars still hanging there, smiling down at me. It makes me happy, and I see the pole star and it's like it says- you are gonna be okay, this is life.....I am there to watch over you,dont be scared and the fel of hope fills my heart. I will be able to settle down!

fourth of all,
I got to listen to some great songs-burn by ellie goulding, roar and unconditional by katy perry, story of my life by 1 D, Bezerk and Rap god by Eminem, wreking ball by miley cyrus and the like...

fifth of all,
Our school organizes this programme called spic macay. This programme brings together the different art forms of India into one spectrum. Performers come from all over India to showcase their talent in one or the other art.
Our school was chosen as the venue for Kathakali, A beautiful classical dance form of India. I got to volunteer for the programme. Here are some amazing facts I learnt.
A kathakali dancer wears a mask kind of thing around his chin. it is made of drawing sheet stuck together to make it strong. for the paper to stick to the dancers face and not fall off, they use rice powder paste , apply it on their face and stick the paper.just like this

ok I gotta run because mum is getting boinkers over my extra blogging. i will continue with this maybe tommorow maybe next week. till then......well, always believe!

The change

The night is dark,
flames ignite the streets.
I turn and see no one,
but, my shadow following.

The war never grows old,
what grows old is conscience,
tired of torture and bloodshed.

There is hunger rising in me,
And I set ablaze to that soul of mine.
trapped in my chest,
waiting to be free.

The protest,
the resistance,
The revolt grows strong.
Cries of pain are heard,
Screams of anguish ring from every corner.

My heart rips apart my ribs,
And begs me to let go.
My body shakes with frustration,
Sweat turn my body black.

I look at myself,
at the broken mirror.
I have become a dark figure,
with no form, I am shapeless.

I am the shadow,
darkness resides in me.
I am the beast in the society,
I have the demon in me.
I turn around and see no one,
but, shadows following......

Kalyug

It is a bloodbath,
The world has become a battlefield.
It is a war between the evil and the good,
which is not stopping, but,
worsening.

People in the name of religion,
are destroying peace.
and other people,
neutral to what is happening.

People in the streets,
braving the storm,
pushing their right forward,
not letting themselves fall.

The innocent are bound,
to the chains of silence and oppression.
and the so called rulers,
are murdering them one by one.

Education and literacy,
are lost in the sea of misery.
Dreams and freedom,
are caged in old traditions.

We are in the Kalyug,
a time of dark ages,
where the future of the world is purged in darkness,
Waiting................

My dear Grandad.

My grandad, whom we sisters call Dadun (grand father in Bengali), is a moving encyclopedia. He seems to knows everything on Earth, be it the battle of Waterloo or the Mahabharata, the climate in India or China, nothing goes ignored by his wisdom. Someday, I aspire to be like him. He is my greatest inspiration. We share our opinions on different things, He tells me of his experiences in his childhood days and I get transported within his stories and they remain with me. The way he explains things when someone asks him something, that merriment showing in his eyes. I love him. I admire him. I believe in him.

The fight.

The mirror of truth and evil,

Does not let us live in this conservative society.

Eyes peeping through the walls,

Watching us silently.

We cannot dance,

To the music of our own drums.

Invisible hands cover our ears,

For it is a sin for them.

Never the less some try to survive,

Try to ignore the staring eyes,

But for how long?

How long can you sing your song?

Knowing that soon it will be buried.

Then a lone brave stands,

Breaking her chains with hands,

To fight against all odds,

 To ignite the flame lurking in her heart.

She wanted to burn the eyes that see,

Wanted to cut those hands of he,

Wanted to raise her voice against,

Before it was suppressed .

But they knew not the spark it had brought,

That turned the flame into a fire,

Burning in the hearts of people.

For her they could see the light.

For her they could go ahead fight.

For her the eyes vanished out of sight.

I salute you, the goddess of power,

Who is in every woman,

And bow my head in respect.

You are the strength of us,

You made us unite,

To fight against the evil eyes.

An apology letter

Hello everyone and terribly sorry. Sorry I could not write in the past week. I was on a pretty tight schedule with the school opening and all, homework's then my theater workshop. It was tiring and by the end of the day, I would just fall on my bed longing for a deep good night's sleep. I have finished reading Eragon, it was a nice book and I am on to it's next part which is Eldest. Oh! and also I am sorry for the mistakes I have made in the short story. I know there are many and it's just full of them.
I am also deeply saddened by the bombings that occurred in Boston and Bangalore . May everyone get well soon and those who lost their lives in this unfortunate massacre, may you rest in peace. To all those who lost their dear one's, may god be with you. And, don't lose hope, because somewhere inside you your heart is still throbbing with that pain and you have to give it it's justice.

Tryst with friendship ( the ultimate end)

Aaban's eyes opened to find Abhirup sitting on a bed reading a newspaper. He was not wearing his usual clothes but seemed to be wearing hospital type clothes, the one which a patient wears. When Aaban tried to get up, a piercing pain shot through his head and he shouted with pain. Abhirup quickly put his head down and called out to the doctor and began stroking Aaban's hair, trying to soothe him down. When the doctor cam he checked Aaban's pulse and asked him how he was feeling. Aaban told that he wanted to get up but couldn't due to the anguishing pain inside his head. The doctor helped him sit on his bed and gave him a pain killer. He assured Aaban of him getting well soon and left him. Aaban remembered the night before but could not understand how he had got here. Before Aaban could ask anything to Abhirup, he answered, " Thank God you are alive. Do you know that small glass pieces had perforated into your head. The doctor's had to surgically htake out the glass. I have only minor injuries on my head but, my arm's broken.". He showed Aaban his arm. " How long have we been here?", asked Aaban. " For quite some time. The doctors here are very good. They say they will shift us to some nearby hospital in a matter of time.", answered Abhirup, looking sadly at his broken arm. " No. I don't have much time. I have to be in Kolkata for Abbu. I have to-". " What are you saying Aaban? are you in your right senses? should I call the doctor?". Aaban had not told Abhirup the true reason for going to Kolkata. He felt guilty. He told Abhirup everything that had happened, that he feared was going to happen. He buried his face and started crying. Abhirup felt immense sympathy for him, deep in his heart he never wished the train had derailed and Aaban would have been by his fathers side. Suddenly an idea struck him. He made Aaban stand up and gave him a walking stick kept beside his bed. " I forgot to tell you, you have fractured your knee". As they were moving out, a nurse caught them. " Oh, nothing Ma'am. Just out for some fresh air.", said Abhirup. The nurse left them. They started walking at a slow pace at first and then picked it up when they were not within the site of the medical camp. Soon Abhirup found a rickshaw puller and then helped Aaban climb the rickshaw. " What are you doing? ", asked a confused Aaban. " You need to be with your family rather than in this medical camp. I will explain the doctors of your absence. Surely they would understand. This place is called Bordhoman. it is near to Kolkata. A one hour ride and you've reached. Don't worry about your belongings, I will make sure you get it. I have saved my number in your mobile phone, when you reach Kolkata, give me a call. Have a safe journey, dear brother.", Abhirup had tears in his eyes. Aaban leaned forward and hugged him, " Good bye brother and thank you.". The rickshaw puller started his rickshaw while Abhirup stood there, waving his brother Good Bye.

THE END.