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.

Tryst with friendship (extended)

As Abhirup finished his bread sticks and soup, he looked over to Aaban who was still sipping his soup. Abhirup did not want to disturb his stranger friend from enjoying his soup but curiousness clung to his heart and mind like a child clinging on a high branch of the tree, afraid he might fall. So, he asked him anyway, " Where do you live in Delhi?". Aaban looked up at Abhirup's inquisitive eyes. he had thought that Abhirup might stop asking questions after having the soup but alas he had not. He longed to read the new book he had bought waiting for the train at the station but it seemed that maybe he was not destined to read it in the train. Wearily he answered Abhirup anyway, " Kalkaji."."No way. I live in C.R Park. We live quite close to each other. Aaban, I think Destiny had planned our meeting here on the train, Ha! Ha! Ha!", said Abhirup after which he laughed hysterically. 'Destiny, Of course.', thought Aaban. Throughout the train ride they chatted. From family to cricket, from cricket to politics, from politics to film industries, from film industries to daily soaps, from daily soaps to...... and the chat went on and on like two travelers on a never ending road. Suddenly a man wearing a red uniform came into the birth. He asked them as to whether they would have non veg or veg for dinner. Abhirup asked for a non veg meal while Aaban asked for a veg meal. Soon the ticket teller came into their birth for checking their tickets. After he went away Abhirup was going to ask Aaban something when he interrupted, " I don't feel like having meat. I think I am having train sickness." Abhirup asked nothing more. Soon their meal arrived and they ate their fill. After both of them had relieved them from the washroom, they started getting their bed ready to retire for the night. As Abhirup got under his sheets and blankets he looked Aaban who was taking out something from his side bag sitting on his bed. " Thank you for keeping a watch on my bags while I was away. Also thank you for chatting with me. Hope I didn't bore you?", Abhirup said, slowly. " Oh, please don't thank me. It was a pleasure chatting with you. And by the way, even you kept a watchful eye on my bags didn't you?", said Aaban smiling. Abhirup smiled back and said, " You know Aaban, you are a good person.". Saying this he retired for the night leaving Aaban confused.
Aaban had started reading the book which was a good page turner but in the middle somewhere he fell asleep. Suddenly the train jerked with a full force making Aaban fall out of his bed with a loud thud which woke up Abhirup. There was an uneasy calmness that surrounded them. Before Abhirup could help Aaban to his feet, the train made a piercing and irritating noise. It tilted up to 90 degrees and everything went blank.
( Keep reading.......)

Tryst with friendship (cont....)

The plump man got in the birth and put his blue Adidas round rucksack on the seat while pushing his black Skybag underneath the blue seat. He then sat on the opposite seat of Aaban's with a thump, like a sack being thrown on the seat. He took out a blue and white handkerchief from his pocket and started wiping his face after which he spread the sweat soaked handkerchief on his lap. His gaze then slowly turned, as if in a dream, to the stranger sitting opposite him who was staring out of the window as if a poet at a loss of words. He the raised his voice a bit and asked," it is a hot day isn't it?". Aaban looked at him and said," yes, it sure is". " Hi! I am Abhirup, Abhirup Roy. You are?" Abhirup extended his hand in the gesture of a handshake." Oh Hi! I am Aaban Khan", Aaban shook it warmly. " Pleased to meet you Mr Khan.", " Please just call me Aaban.". Abhirup smiled. The train jerked and the started. " So, where are you headed to Mr Kh- I mean Aaban?", Abhirup asked. " Kolkata.", Aaban looked down but tried not to let Abhirup notice his sadness. " Oh! I am going to Kolkata too. I am going to attend my Niece's wedding. What is taking you to Kolkata? Got a wedding to attend too eh?" Abhirup broke into a laugh. " Um, no actually..business.", Aaban turned towards the window. " Oh! and what business are you in Aaban?". " I work with the reliance company.", Aaban said." Oh! you mean Ambani's company? you work under him?", Abhirup's eyes widened. " No, no the Reliance company has many branches it is not necessary that I work under him.", Aaban said, hiding a smile. " Oh yes Of course, silly me". The soup came in after a few minutes with bread sticks and butter. Sipping the hot tomato soup, both of them stared out of the window. Unknown to what lied ahead.
(to be continued again.....)

Short story.

Hi everyone and sorry. Sorry because I couldn't post my short story yesterday. I am sure you will forgive me. Here is one short story I have started writing. It is called - Tryst with friendship. Read on to find what is the story all about and as I had posted earlier the story will be in a continuation so, you can read the next half tomorrow. Feedback's are always welcome and necessary for me so please comment. Thank you.

Tryst with friendship.

Aaban climbed the train. He took out the ticket from his side bag and checked his seat number. Dragging the brown American Tourister behind him he reached the seat number 21. He then lowered his suitcase underneath his seat and sat by the window, relieved. The watch he wore on his left wrist showed 3pm. Tomorrow, at about 8 in the morning he would be with his ammi and abbu. He still remembered the panic on his wife, Aafreen's face when he had come home from his office at about 8:30pm. "What happened Aafreen? why do you look so worried? Is Sultana alright?","Ammijan had called from Kolkata. Abbu, he...","What is it?"," Abbu had a massive heart attack this morning. Ammi called us to inform that this maybe his last......". The words disappeared out of his mind when a man entered the birth. He was quit a plump man and sweat was dripping down from his bald head and covered his face like dew drops on a big red apple. He was talking , rather shouting something in Bengali over his mobile phone. After a while he cut the phone and dug it in his pocket. He smiled at Aaban and said,"Hello". Aaban smiled back at him and then continued staring out of his window.
(To be continued......)

It's raining in Delhi!

this is a video where I captured the sound of rain and the on going scene outside our house. hope you like it. I know the prints not good, but can you manage?

Who are you?

My mind says that you are a soul...

Yet, I don’t want to believe it.

I want to believe you are there,

Watching over us.

Or am I wrong?

Is it that we put our faith in you foolishly?

Our trust in you blindly?

Our hopes in you for nothing?

Do you have flesh and warm blood running  in your veins,

Do you know a man’s heart?

His pains, miseries, sorrows, happiness...

Or are you just expert hands,

Making your puppets,

To see them perform on your stage.

Is it that we stare at your eyes blankly?

Or do they say something we don’t understand?

Or try to understand.

Then explain it to us!

Surely but calmly we will come to know....

What is it that pains you so much?

We share our thoughts, our deep fears, our lost dreams...

Are you listening?

Are you there?

You have saved us for in the past, then why not now?

Why do children be orphaned?

And men and women widowed?

Why do our prayers be unheard when you are there .

I want to believe you,

I want to believe in the good in and around us,

But I won’t be able unless I know......

Who are you Oh lord?

A mystery to be unveiled,

Or a secret...never to be disclosed.

Important (for me) notice

Hi everyone. Today it is raining in Delhi and I am just loving it. I don't know if anyone feels like this but I really feel at peace when it rains. It's like it drains out whatever bad deeds you've done and makes you feel better, happier. However, the main thing which I wanted to share with you guys is that I'll be posting some short stories with you and I would really like a feedback as to how it is. I wont be posting it all together but in portions like as in a continuation. I'll be posting my first short story tommorow, a part of it. Hope you like and any feedback is always welcome! 

Walking on India's streets

Walking on India’s streets,

I look all around,

I see a baby crying,

And his mother begging around.

Walking on India’s streets,

I see a man too, spit on our heritage,

With no shame reflecting upon his face.

Walking on India’s streets,

I see a man murdered,

And people who saw it,

Went away and surrendered, to silence.

Walking on India’s streets,

I see a women become victim of eve tease,

And quietly get seized.

But then again, walking on India’s streets,

I see people unite,

Because now, tonight,

People will stand up and fight.

Listen to Mothers call,

People, do not fall

Get up ‘ cause it’s our fight,

Fight for our right’s.

And now, I am proud, proud to be an Indian.

And to be walking on India’s streets.

My first metro ride

Hey ya'll, HA HA. Something surprising happened with me today. I had a metro ride today....... it was sooooooo fun. It was like first we were up and the next moment we were down. We went from Nehru place to Jhandewallan. Superrrrrrr fun. 

Pictures that speak!

I absolutely love the pictures my sister takes. here's one. It was raining in Delhi and we sisters love to sit at home and sip coffee with the rain falling gently in our veranda, she had the camera with her and she just suddenly asked me to put my hand in the rain in a cup form. I did and the picture came out to be beautiful.

this is another one which i love. I'll be posting some other pics too. Till then goodnight.

I am free.....

As I move from darkness, towards your light,

My mind gets enlightened by your knowledge.

My body gets purified by your scent.

I take your vision as mine.

Your taste and smell, my taste and smell.

I am surrendered by your power,

And I see you in me and me in you......

Free at last!

Hey everyone! I am sorry I couldn't write anything in the past few weeks but there is valid reason for it. Actually my exams got over recently and during the exams in fact much before that, my mum restricted me from any entertainment. The only repent I could have from my exams was to listen music. The exams went well. Maths was ok ok then Social studies was awesome!(actually it is my favorite subject so..:) ) after that English was awesome too followed by Hindi which also went awesome and the most scary subject of all ( after maths) ie; science went surprisingly good. And after so many days of tension and stress, now I am free.
I started reading Eragon which turned out to be a good page turner. My sister came home yesterday and I feel AWESOME!

The broken Kite

The broken kite

Unleashed from little hands,

The broken kite soared high.

High up in the sky,

Where no one could reach it.

With bright vibrant colour’s,

The kite was guided by the winds,

Where a whole new world awaited,

Untouched by evil.

After a long time,

The kite tasted freedom,

And savored it.

It savored each moment,

Of it’s now new life.

It could now fly like it wished,

Not be someone’s puppet!

This was his present, to be free……

That was his past, to be caged.

And it went towards its future,

Unknown to what lies ahead.

But it had to come down someday,

It had to fall

Because the winds grew jealous,

Of the broken kite happiness.

So the winds grew strong,

Overcome by envy,

And pierced through the kites heart.

Silencing it forever……

But the story does not end here my friend,

For every story has a happy end.

The kite twirled and danced in pain and fell on a little boy’s roof,

Awaiting it’s end.

The little boy mended it and made the kite new again,

And now, with bright vibrant colours,

The broken kite flew again.

About me!

Hi! I am Rishira. I am not going to let out a long boring introduction, just a few thing you would need to know a bout me. I am a simple girl from a Bengali family which is very culturally sound. I write poems, compose songs of my own, day dream, read novels and am presently writing a novel. I dont know if you would like my posts, or even read my blog, but I'll do all I can to make you smile. I dont promise, but I can assure you. Thank you.