titsay
Kiana Khansmith
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ojovivo
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
One Nice Bug Per Day
Game of Thrones Daily
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
d e v o n
Misplaced Lens Cap
Love Begins
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
noise dept.
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Cosmic Funnies
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Discoholic 🪩
$LAYYYTER
Show & Tell
izzy's playlists!
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@theminditch
Twinge.
Twinge. http://wp.me/s3RTmm-twinge
Have you ever paused in the middle of a footstep and felt an unbearable sadness creeping up from behind?
In the time it takes for you to place your foot on the ground to complete your stride the sadness falls instep, accompanying you till such time as it pleases. This sadness is transient yet its element of surprise is as consistent as the pain you’ll feel if a brick was thrown at you and did not…
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Not That Girl.
In class tenth I bought a notebook. We all did. It was the ‘slam’ diary; blank pages meant to be filled by people who knew you or those whose opinion you cared about—mainly your crush.
This notebook of mine was passed around and almost everybody I knew wrote in it. If I did a word search, the most common would be ‘cool’ and ‘attitude’. Neither complements the other. They appear separately. The…
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Peace.
“All I want is the taste that your lips allow.”
There is a certain unreal peace that blankets the world at 6 am. It is quiet.
Remnants of the night can be seen in the way clouds cling to the ground; not wanting to leave the surfaces that give them shape.
The knowledge of their impending and unavoidable departure makes the ground ache, it makes the clouds prolong each second. But they do not cling…
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Big Red Flowers.
We were posted at Bangalore, now the weirdly spelled Bengaluru, in 1998. The last year of me being the only apple of my parents’ eyes.
I studied in a convent school – St.Louid’s. Class KG. The walk from my home to the bus-stop was almost a kilometre. Beautiful trees lined the roads on one side and houses on the other. The narrow lane was covered with fallen leaves and big red flowers, the petals…
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Dressing Rooms.
A lot can be told about a man if one observes his behaviour outside a dressing room. A lot more is told by observing how he reacts when the door opens.
A woman takes to the dressing room three types of clothes:
1. Clothes she knows she will fit in and hence buy
2. Clothes she hopes she will fit in but probably won’t
3. Clothes she thinks will make her look sexy but she cannot pull them off
These…
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404: Epiphany Not Found.
It is 8 pm.
You walk away from your college building, straightening your shoulders as the dreary weight of misery lessens with each step towards the bus stop. You wrap your muffler around you in tight coils so that not one particle of the blasting cold wind touches your delicate skin. It still does. Damn, the shivers.
The conversation between your friends is a distant drone in the background of…
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Of Boxes and Shapes.
If you got your first computer somewhere between 1999-2002, you’d recollect a box-like screen saver which changed shapes.
It was a perfectly medium-sized, multi-coloured cube. Its edges faded to softness only to spin around and become clearly defined again. The cube bounced off from one end of the screen to the other, twirling like a dancer whose costume was unravelling to reveal a different…
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Splinters.
Your words escape from the shackles your mind created.The mind just wants to protect you, it has itself on the look out for potential shrapnel that could come hurtling at the speed of sigh.
Or was it the heart? The heart locks itself inside seemingly impenetrable walls made of bitter emotions; sweetness and innocence are lie bound within.
But those two manage to escape.
How they escape, look. Not…
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W.
Why?
Why do you pin hopes on someone, waste endless hours fantasizing about multiple scenarios and then feel utterly disappointed when nothing materializes? What is mystery behind the allure of what-ifs?
You think you’ve been presented with a rope to climb out of the abyss you were in turns out to be an oiled sliver of your own imagination that you can never hold onto.
Reality never mixes with…
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V.
I think every word starting with the letter ‘V’ has a certain authoritative ring to it.
For today, my word is ‘void’.
Rhonda Byrne’s ‘The Secret’ teaches one to be thankful for everything that makes us happy, to be happy without external agencies making us so and to smile even if a little part of your soul is chipped off each day. See, that’s the thing. These pieces are tiny, their loss goes…
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Times School Journalism
BREAKING NEWS: CBI Director Ranjit Sinha says: ‘I do not agree but accept the decision of the SC’
TOP STORIES:
Ranjit Sinha Says ‘CBI is playing a game’ after Supreme Court’s order
Nandita Menon
New Delhi: CBI Director Ranjit Sinha says that though he has accepted the verdict he is going to take the legal recourse against it. He says that he will try and prove that the court has taken a…
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The Blog is Dead. Or is it?
The Blog is Dead. Or is it?
Surprise surprise.
This course has sucked the words out of me. I reach home so absolutely tired, moving fingers in coordination to the eyes on the keyboard too seems a herculean task.
There was once life
trapped between qwerty.
Every night she set life free,
through the words of her imagination.
Her thoughts were hers to choose,
they were like the wind
free-flowing.
Now, they’re just air
a…
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To Pressing!
I forgot my blog’s birthday.
I barely post now.
Comments are waiting to be seen and replied to.
Not a good thing, is it?
Well, the journalism course is consuming all my time. It is like a newly born child who wakes up at one am in the night, wailing and shrieking.The mother doesn’t mind tending to her baby’s needs. Well, maybe sometime she does, but mostly it’s love driven. The same is with me.
I…
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Feminist, be one.
F E M I N I S T
The word glittered in a gigantic storey high font on the VMA stage. Before it stood Beyonce; sexy and confident. The very embodiment of femininity proclaimed to be a proud feminist too. She sang ‘Flawless’ with the word blazing behind her, 14 million viewers sat watching. The word blacked out, but its vision remained imprinted. She owned the word on stage that night. Beyonce’s…
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Journalism.
My journalism course started on 22nd July.
Three weeks and I think I am in love.
Every minute of every day is spent soaking in the knowledge that flows free from people who are the embodiment of amazing.
There is fun even in being dead tired.
There is fun in doing what you want.
Go, have fun.
P.S: I’ll be posting my assignments here for public decimation and review. Soon.
How have you all…
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Blues.
Meh.
Blue is colour so misunderstood and misrepresented. It is a happy colour.
Monday blues.
Birthday blues.
Morning blues.
Why not use black instead? It already represents mourning and death, might as well take on the job of championing random bouts of sadness.
There are so many topics I could be blogging about, damn.
Also, is going from a birthday zealot to someone who feels “blue” at the…
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Eyes.
Eyes. http://wp.me/s3RTmm-eyes
He taught me how to read people’s eyes,
to look deep into their souls
to look beyond the surface of their smiles,
to reach in and see that levels existed
in people’s minds.
He taught me that thoughts and actions
were seldom the same.
What appears and what is perceived
are different; what a shame
that we don’t see this.
He said that neither words
nor actions reveal ; a man’s
silence shows strength…
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