Life Experience

January 3, 2015

The New Year.

I will never get the fuss people make about The New Year.

On New Year’s Eve (which is apparently abbreviated to NYE, I did NOT know that) I decided to spend my entire day with my best friend Rochana and a few others which included her fabulous cousin and my annoying neighbor. I’m usually the girl who has no plans for any sort of occasion. I hardly leave the shadows of my room, and only venture out for food or my laptop charger. So going out for the entire day – roaming the streets, bracing the Mumbai heat and sun, and enjoying the stink of the common air was a real task for a lazy fangirl like me. Everything was laaaaaid back and I remember thinking, this is exactly what I wanted to do when I was in school.

Be free.

But all these feelings aside, I just thought of all the plans we declined and all the plans we tried to make in order to spend the last day of the year perfectly. But was it really that important to make it perfect? Like if you didn’t have a party to go to, did it mean your new year’s eve was lame or shitty. I don’t think so.

It all lies in the perception of things really. And the confidence you have in doing what you believe.

I think a lot of partying notion comes from the fact that it is considered ‘cool’ to do so. I remember a month ago I was planning a New Year’s Eve party just because I didn’t want to look like I didn’t have any cool plans. Also because I thought getting sloshed would be a great idea for the night. But two nights ago, when I did have a NYE party – I didn’t really do any of those things. For one, I realized the party, the drinking was all an act. I wasn’t really excited for a new year. If I was really stoked for an event, these things would make sense to it. Instead after a whole night of partying, I realized I enjoyed more when I wrote down the stuff in my head and edited a long due video.

At midnight, we lit lanterns and set them off into the sky. To find their own way. To take our problems and insecurities far far away. I think I like the idea how people believe a new cycle will help the become better individials. I like that they believe it is still possible to have a do over.

But mostly, as this new year seeps in, I want to tell you that you don’t necessarily need a new year to have a new chance. You always have another chance, you have to have the courage to go look for it even if the 5th of May or the 28th of October. A year new doesn’t mean things are going to change automatically – you have to make the effort. And mostly, this new year should make you understand that you don’t have to do things that you’re uncomfortable it. Yes, you must experience and explore and experiment. But never on the cost of being untrue to yourself.

Phewwww, updating my blog after months took a lot of convincing. But thanks, Namrata, we all read blogs on a Saturday night, just like you do.

Until further inspiration,

Vee.

July 31, 2014

Him.

You have to remember, the first time I saw him, I wasn’t really looking. The second time he was a back up plan. But the moment I actually looked at him, I saw how beautiful he was.

Not in a very conventional sense, but then again you don’t always find boys who look like Chris Evans or Ian Somerhalder. But for me, he was close enough. But I didn’t really know him. I knew OF him from glances, and whispers, and sneaked peaks and gossip that floated around the air of the college.

And maybe that was the first mistake – trying to get to know him.

Because I’m not a pretty girl, in any sense. I’m insecure, and shy, and weird and awkward, and if you think about it everyone is. So why should I be scared of anyone’s judgmental eyes? But I was, and I still am. I didn’t know how act cool around him. My heart would beat a thousand to a moment when I saw him. And most of all I thought I didn’t deserve him.

But the biggest element in the story that I forgot about was him.

Nothing about me mattered to him – I was like a tiny speck in his universe that most of the time lost attention in a span of less than a minute. There were no second glances, no reminisces, no memories in his mind that had my name as their title.
Oh, except the ones that were deemed as ‘That weird Girl.’

Now, a year later I still see him.

His roaring stumble and his definitive eyebrows. I even love the scar-like lines that doom over them. His stature, his hair, the way he walks like a freaking mare. I hate him for making my breath falter, and for making me search for his face through the crowd. And you know what? For all the romanticizing I do, he’s not even the greatest person I know.
He’s a douche who won’t even make the effort to talk to me, because I don’t happen to be the popular person. And he’s an idiot for thinking he’s oh-so-cool even if that occurs subconsciously in his mind.

Let’s just say the person I think he is, isn’t the person he really is.

And boy, in my imagination he’s a lot nicer, and sweeter and more human.

And I wish I could say I hated him, but everyone including him knows that I haven’t found a way to get over him yet. Every time I look at another boy, its his face that flashes across the screens. And it’s not his fault or his responsibility. After all this time, I don’t even hold that brilliant smile against him. Because it’s not him, it’s me.

I’m trying to let go. And its not easy. Specially when I have to endure his presence everyday. And my hugest regret isn’t not making him fall in love with me. It is not even being able to be his friend. To see him laugh, to know his vulnerabilities, his favorite songs, what his freaking shoe size is.
And the worse part is he’ll never know what my favorite color is, which quote makes me tick, what food I love to eat because I just love eating, and whether or not I can smile.

He is everything I’ve wanted, everything I’ve seen him to be. But he’ll never be him.

-Vee

July 21, 2014

Sky Full of Stars

In a deep pursuit to find out the hidden meaning of Coldplay’s hit song (and also because I really don’t have the heart to study for tomorrow’s French test) I was beginning to wonder what does the famous lyric ‘In a sky full of stars, I think I see you’ really mean.

It sounds all pretty and poignant, but really, I don’t know what Chris is trying to tell us – if the sky full of stars signifies that there are many, many brilliant people on this planet, but from all of them I only caught your twinkling. And that for me, you scintillate so brightly, you seem like a sky full of stars on your own.

OH WAIT. It looks like I understood the meaning – or at least made sense of it.

A lot of things in life don’t make sense. Like my bestie Ahat moving to another state. It raises so many questions that I wouldn’t have to answer if she were here. And then again, it brings up a lot of opportunities that I wouldn’t have had if she were here. Life as people observe, is darn confusing.

So in other news, yes I know this blog is being updated after several months. For one, I didn’t have the spirit in myself to write anything. Everything looked bleak and shattered and without any promise. You could say I had a bout of depression, but then everyone does. And sometimes people just want to be quiet. I know I did.

Also, I had my CIAs today, (Continuous Internal Assessments, thank you college) and both my papers were really horrible – just in the sense that I knew everything but I didn’t have enough time to jot it down. Which in retrospect is pretty shitty in itself. I definitely want to improve on my language, seeing that the way I type and the way I actually write are two completely different languages.

ALSO, I got a new laptop which is the mistress of all my distractions.

So really I don’t know what this post was all about. I just needed to fill in, post something, and make sure you know I’m still there lurking in the shadows, and most probably falling.

 

Until next time,

Vee.

March 31, 2014

The Direction of Change

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Without finding any need to, I sought to draw what I’d like to tattoo on my skin. Now ya’ll must be thinking, what’s so strange about getting a tattoo or even just thinking about it? Surely, everyone does that. Well, people, I have a fear of getting hurt. It’s more like a phobia than anything else. And the slightest of things scare me…because any one of them can hurt just as bad.

Like change.
If there’s one thing that’s universally constant, it is change.
As people, we’re never the same, even in a span of a day. The past never defines us, just as the present cannot predict our future. I was led into an argument with myself, thus saying, that if we are so inconsistent, doesn’t the entire idea of personality just simply fall apart? Being a student of Psychology, I am forced to believe that humans, individually, do have distinctive ways of behaving and thinking. One might say their actions can change over time, due to the enormity of different pressures, but the original inclination towards those actions come from the primary drives that build up his or her personality.

I don’t wish to sound like a textbook, and that’s not why I am typing. Some years ago, I’d have absolutely put every distance between myself and the book Pride and Prejudice. Written in the turn of the 19th C, ignorant of what the story actually contained, and put off by the tittle, I was sure that this book was a complete no-no for me. And how wrong I was. Let us not lament on that, but on the fact of how our attitudes can change, alter.

In my little experience of seventeen years of living (PHEW) I’ve come to believe that things change more rapidly and much quickly that a blink of the eye, a beating of the heart. If things change in such chaos, how are we to make sense of it before it is too late? I’m exactly like a hermit, only a have mountain of books and a internet connection to keep me alive – but in just that sense, I hate having to leave my room – okay, unless it includes excursion to place of my choice, like Paris – I’m just hateful, to the changes that take place. Like going off to college and making new friends. I was so uncomfortable with that… because I had spent almsot ten years with a set of people who I’d come to love and now I had to go off to an entire new place and begin again. But then, the inevitable passed and I even managed to make friends… amazing ones, too. But as soon as I got home, my school mates were pinning me down to spend time with them! And then the same people who I fond so amiable became the people I didn’t want to spend time with.

Change is weird. But in the moment after change has occurred, it seems normal – like everything is the way it was supposed to be. And through out our lives – we go through ample of these moments. Moments that seem perfect. That should last forever. That should never be messed with. But these moments are not the constants – it is change.

And Us.

My tattoo drawn above, fails to symbolize everything that is important in my life. (Because then I’d have to get a big tattoo for that and that’s a lot of pain, so NO) But it does portray three things: 1. The triangle stands for Delta, in Math which is also used to symbolize Change. Change that occurs ‘infinitely.’ 2. The inverted triangle stands for Divergence in Math. Which also happens to be the title of my favorite book (Divergent) It is to remind me that sometimes, being different can be alarming. Because being different doesn’t only mean you can be better than somebody, it also can mean that you are lesser in certain aspects than somebody. And that not everybody is going to see things the way you do – and that’s okay. 3. BE, which of course as you know, is the present tense of being. Always live in the present. You can do the worrying part of life, if you must. But also make sure you do the day dreaming part of it, too.

 

-Vee
(It’s been such a long time since I’ve actually expressed something. This felt good.)

October 29, 2013

Big Dreams, No Means.

I have never really been the decisive one.
Whether that’s to say what I’ll have for dinner or which subjects I want to study in Uni.
This can partly be traced to the fact that I’m always lazy and shove in the most convenient decision of them all, that will include me not shifting my bottom off the sofa.
However, since the only activity I want to do in abundance is the mental one, I can say that lying on the couch has given me sufficient time to just think.

As a fourth grader I would steal chalks from the school and conduct my own class with invisible students in my house.
That was also a way of learning my lessons, because I mostly taught my class what I had myself learnt in school that day.
So, of course I got an A grade, but more than that – I had this major dream of becoming a teacher.

But just as we change, so do our ambitions. Watching Kate Beckett kick ass on tv as an eight grader, I told my mum I wanted to become a Homicide Detective. For the NYPD.
Yes, she nodded back to me. That was totally happening.

Another year down the lane, I realized that I really liked Science. And everyone was sure I’d become a doctor or something when I grow up. When I acquired the highest marks in it for my final school year, my mother and grandma had it hammering how good it would be to become a physiotherapist.
Also, because apparently I gave really good massages.

Not very recently, I realized what I liked doing the most – Writing.
I saw that writing wasn’t something I had just taken up due to random boredom.
I used to write poems for the church bulletin way back as a kid. And I also had incomplete stories depicting the caravan adventures of my friends (who lived in my building) and me, named as the ‘Spectacular Six – Caravan Gangsters.’
Not to forget, how I tried to replicate a Nancy Drew book.

So the thing is.. what I want to do, keeps changing incessantly.
Today I might love writing.
But every time I watch MasterChef Australia, I desperately wish I could cook.

And then when I see Theo James (which is kinda always, coz I keep staring at his picture) I dream of becoming an actress, because that’s the only way I can meet him.
But obviously, I can’t act for nuts. Or for money, either.

Yes, in my lifetime I want to become a variety of things. I have so many dreams to fulfill and looking back at the person I am right now – it all seems impossible.
I mean, how am I supposed to be a best selling writer or write a script for the movies? Who’s gonna read me?
And I don’t have much of an option to go study in a film school or actually learn to shoot a gun, right now.
And I definitely can’t be a Hannah Montana today.

Even though I want to.

The bottom line is to try. In a small, minuscule way, so be it. Because everyone has to start somewhere, even if it is building castles in the air. It is one brick at a time.
This post, like all my others, is also a try, it is a brick.
I wish each one of you to go on and plaster those bricks of yours.
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-Vee

September 10, 2013

Rated A for Adolescents.

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Hello there. As you can read the sign^ the following post is meant only for those above the age of 18. Others wishing to read should do so under adult supervision.
Oh. Okay. I was just kidding. All this comes from a girl who’s running her sixteenth year.

Restricted viewing. Rated Adult.
What’s up with all this, Vee?

I was truly hyped up when I found out that my favorite novel was turning into a movie! I jumped and screamed and rolled over my back on the floor and- Uhm, yeah you get the picture.
And this is what happens to entire fandom once they find out the book’s becoming a movie. You begin to wonder whether the cast will be alright? Will they stick to the book? Will they be up to the mark and to your expectations? Will they be able to capture every essence, emotion and detail that you’ve treasured?

And as if all these questions didn’t drive me up the wall enough. I had yet, another one – Will I be allowed to view the movie?

I understand rating movies such as ‘We’re the Miller’s’ as A.
I don’t much get the sense in rating movies such as ‘The Mortal Instruments’ as Restricted though.
I mean, I take to read this book, give it a shot, maybe even like the story. Not a bit, but a lot. I read the sequels, die with the end of each novel, console myself in the corner of my room, saying it’s not a trilogy, but a thousandoligy, and it’s not the end, just like Harry’s never really going back to Privet Drive, and will be back at Hogwarts in no time. And I believe so.
Because, yes I’m a bookie.
I hear the news that, the book, the very same book I love, is turning into a movie and I’m ecstatic, because it’s like renewing a piece of my soul and I wait excitedly for the movie.
Until.
Until I realize it’s rated A.

Cause my parents totally want to take me for a movie and sit through two hours of something they don’t wanna watch.

I think the real beef lies in the country I live in. Those people in whichever department that regulates the screening contents and which movie is A or not, think that ‘Hey, let’s scrutinize the Hollywood movies and if there’s even a tad violence or making out, we’ll rate it A.’
I really wouldn’t have a problem with this – because I’ll try to see it as an effort to keep us from not watching what is inappropriate.
Except, that these movies you do rate A – they’re taken from Young Adult Novels. YA translating to Adolescents. Teenagers. Aging from 13 to 18. In other words, those who are not adults and not children and are in between.
So, we do know what we’re about to watch cause we’ve already read the books, thank you very much.
But I’ll give in. Okay, you’re really concerned about us and yada yada yada.

Not much worry when you rate almost all Hindi movies an U? Open to the entire public?
Because definitely, that ravenous ‘item’ number is suitable to view. To watch the ‘hero’ and ‘heroine’ make out every five seconds is alright. To see them frolicking in the pouring rain and see through clothes is okay. And allowing me to watch a movie that has at least three deaths, and unaccounted killing, stabbing, shooting will not leave me scarred for him.

Okay, tell me which part of this joke I didn’t get.

Cause I see a little justice due here.

Not that we’re spot on for those.

And then, there are those of you who’d say, “Chill out.” Because by complaining about the A rated movies I do get to watch under the pretext of them being Universal, I’m renouncing the little movies I’m entitled to.
And yes, I might go to watch ‘Yeh Jawani Hai Diwani,’ spill my entire pocket money on it, cry, laugh, sway a little with Ranbir Kapoor’s flirty dialogues and even say that I kind of enjoyed the movie, even though in some ways it was a stereotypical and expected. But that does not mean I accept what these people do.

Because I will be thoroughly disappointed if Divergent is rated A. And I will be flustered if I have to watch it on my computer screen.

Then again.
Very few things stop adolescents from doing the things they wanna do.
The things We wanna do.
Especially letters like A and R.

-Vee

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September 2, 2013

Messed Up

“She was a sweetheart,” my grandma said, this morning. “I’d always want to read about her in the newspaper.”

I wince as I realize who she is talking about.
We all liked her, once upon a time. Wanted to be like her, sing like her. Live the best of both worlds.
Where has she disappeared?

Grown up, people say.
Is this, I ask, the way she chose to grow up?

I don’t really think so. I’m not here to criticize Miley, or say where she’s gone wrong and that I expected better. She was one of those people I looked up to, a long time ago. And I’m not going to patronize her by saying, she let me down or any of that sort.
In fact, I’m pretty sure half of America is happy she finally showed her true colors and like the meme’s on Facebook say: Disney kids always turn whores (Cue Lindsay Lohan, Vanessa Hudgens, Amanda Bynes, etc) – And well, the other half of America, is sourly disappointed, and only support her because they’re in denial to see anything other than the girl who used to be Hannah Montana.

Maybe, I can justify her actions, not approve of them though, by quoting her in a recent news article, “I messed up. I have so many freaking issues.”
If you really do take a break from criticizing, and hating, maybe if you try to understand what others go through, and see yourself in their situations, maybe you’d have a different thing to say altogether.
We all see celebrities as… well, ‘Stars’ – loads of money, can buy what they, they have that perfect figure, not to forget a flawless face, they’re famous and followed and loved and to them everything is a matter of snapping their fingers.
But isn’t this thinking a very biased approach?
I mean, how many of you would like to have the paparazzi outside your house 24/7 or would like to go shopping, but would have to disguise yourself? And even if you have the courage to walk on the streets like the star you are, who’s to guarantee you won’t come home all bruised and hurt?

I’m not saying that the way Miley danced at the VMA’s is acceptable, we’re all disgusted by that, yes.
But her life has always been public. When she had a diamond ring on her wedding finger, when she chopped her hair off… Like any other celebrity we know all of that, the moment it’s spotted – So, should this really come as a surprise?
I think everyone has a limit after which they break… and for some stupid reason, I think this is how Miley is broken. Maybe it’s because she’s exposed to a lot of fame, and too much freedom without her parents correcting her – but these reasons shouldn’t bother us , because don’t we all mess up in life?

Remember the worst screw up you had. The biggest mistake you made.
And think how you’d feel if this messed up scenario was known to the entire world.
Would you have them judging you?

Miley’s situation was just a wake up call to me, to say, that people mess up all the time – worse than she could. And just because she happens to be this so-called ‘Star’ doesn’t mean we judge her under a different pretext. We can’t expect an actor or singer to be a role model cause no one can lead an ideal life – there will always be celebrities who make mistakes, known and unknown. And the only thing we can do is accept it.

So, in the end. I’m not telling you whether you should like Miley Cyrus or not. I personally don’t care. I simply want to tell you that commenting on a famous personality is a waste of time, your singular opinions don’t affect them specially since they don’t know you exist. But, again, why would you want to be one of those people who always points a finger forgetting there are three pointing back at you?

-Vee

August 26, 2013

Damsels in Distress

Oii! Guys!
Here’s another article I wrote for my college magazine.
I hope y’all like it!

“Rajesh! Kidhar ho tum*? I’m locked in this god forsaken room,” I speak into the phone. The darn signals played well enough for me to hear him say he’s on his way. He tells me to hold on… in this musty old room? Yeah right. I don’t know why I agreed to solve this murder case with him. And now, one of the suspects has trapped me here! Till he takes his own sweet time to rescue me, let me have a little chat with you. What should we talk about?
Ah. Here’s one.

Behind every successful man, is a woman correcting him that it’s “Wingardium LeviOsa” not “LevioSA.”

I had been forced to watch this serial ‘Diya aur baati hum’ with my mother getting teary after every dialogue the female lead character mutters. Wait… Did I just say ‘Lead’ character? Wait… Did I say ‘Female’? –Surely, this must be a sob story about a poor ill-fortuned girl who’s rescued by a handsome, doing-good-forever boy.

It took me 24 whole minutes, and two commercial breaks to realize that our story scripts have changed from the tradition ‘helpless girl and handsome boy’ to ‘independent girl and guy sidekicks.’ Knights in shining armors were so yesterday, even Disney princesses don’t drool over them anymore. Hello Katniss Everdeen, and likes of her, who fight in an arena, win the Hunger Games, save the guy and protect their family. Damsels are no more pitied, but are a symbol of rebellion.

Yawn… All this talking is getting me exhausted. Where is that Rajesh? Never mind. I’ll just get out of here, by myself.

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-Vee

*This translates as “Where are you?”

August 15, 2013

Cloak of Invisibility.

First of all.
I’m sorry. Very much.
I know I haven’t posted a single word in a hoard of days and that’s partly because I’m lazy… Sleep deprived, loaded with projects I don’t wanna do, helping out with my college festival and hungry.

Yes.

But here I am!
Taking off all the dirt and mud accumulated on my untouched Word Press and battling one back pain at a time.

Today, I want to talk to you about something really special.
It’s one of the three that form the Deathly Hallows, who greeted death like an old friend.
Yes, dear Muggles, I’m talking about the Cloak of Invisibility.

Now, now, I know you ordinary mudbloods are wondering of what use this post might be… after all, you obviously cannot perform magic. But fear thou shan’t because what I am typing here is just for the likes of you… and me.

Maybe I just come from a small place, an area where everyone you pass is known to you, and while you ride your cycle to your French tuition, you’d have to take your ear plugs off at least 7 times and say, “Hello aunty.” “Good evening, there.” “Hey, what’s up.” -and so I always knew what it felt like to be known.

Over a year and a half, entering college has changed a lot in my life. I don’t really roam about in my small town that often enough; college consisting of 6 hours itself. And with travelling and homework, I really don’t have time to spend with anything that’s familiar. The part I do get to interact with, is, no jokes here, utterly unaccustomed to.

I was always used to people knowing me, smiling at me, talking to me the entire while. I knew stories that begun with, “Remember that time…” and I would have a list of embarrassing memories to associate with people.
And then. POOF! Some Slytherin waved their wand and all that was gone. I don’t really admit I miss my old friends, or old life because change is inevitable and sometimes exciting and inviting too. But off late, I’m been too.. uhm… Invisible.

Maybe it’s just because I drank the wrong polyjuice portion and turned into a cat… and no one really notices a cat.. But I have a better theory about it.
I’ve been gifted with The Cloak Of Invisibility.

I do feel left out sometimes. I’m not the kind of person who stays quiet all the while, who looks depressed as if her third cousin from her mother’s side was just knocked out in a quidditch game.  But I am turning into one. Guess that’s because all the friends I made.. already have ‘best’ friends for themselves. And where does that leave me? Under a cloak eavesdropping on Draco.
It’s hard – this power the cloak has. And for me, it’s feels like it can’t be removed from my back. I feel like the person in the background, just a blur. The being who is not thought about idly, unless you have an assignment that’s due and I’m the only person who can help. Or the last person you can think who’d help you. Yes, that’s the way I put it, I’m the last person who’d cross your mind. Though I’m stuck in thoughts of random college mates who’d never dream about me in their wildest hours.

And then, when I think about it again… isn’t that okay?
I mean, being invisible… is … Okay. I wouldn’t ever hear dirty rumors spread about me. People wouldn’t judge me because I wouldn’t really exist… and.. and.. Okay, that’s it, those are all the pluses I have.

So yeah, I don’t like where I am right now.. Maybe it’s will get better.
But till the better comes to best, I’ll be clinging on to this garment.
Shadowing you, with this cloak of invisibility.

 

-Vee

 

August 5, 2013

Of Being a Part & Expectations.

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It’s here!
In just one week I’ll be a part of one of the biggest college fests in my city!

“Every day. I explore. I make a choice. I share. I grow. I soar. I am myself.
I break free.
This is your time.
Think. Feel. Do. Be. But please… Zara Hatke.”
Malhar 2013

The theme of this year is ‘Zara Hatke’ whose literal translation could be – ‘A little differently.’

Malhar is entirely made possible by the students of this brilliant college. But simply saying that St. Xavier’s is an amazing institution is not enough. I believe, it becomes only what the students of the college are. It goes without implication that I’ve seen and met and befriended some of the smartest, loveliest and most wonderful people here. And without the effort, hard work, without their thoughts and ideas, their will and goal to strive and succeed, without their enthusiasm, Malhar would not be a pinch of what it is today.

I’m really proud to be in the department that writes for the official paper of Malhar – Raga.
Being just a student attending college here, drives people up with madness when the Malhar season approaches. One particular corridor is lined up with department posters – Admin, Hospitality, Fine Arts, Souvenirs, Finance, P.R, ETC, to name a few, and details of applications are put up.
I find the application part daunting and helpful, both, because just like college, it prepares us for the worst case scenario – not getting accepted into a department of your choice, or complete rejection. AND the best thing that can happen – Making Malhar come to life doing what YOU do best.
Either way, you do learn to write an application letter!

The foyer and hallways are filled with half heard conversations, “What did you apply for?” and “Did you get in?” Not to forget, remarks about the cute OCs or OGs (Organizer-in-Charge & Organizer) of various departments.
Malhar orientation videos are other things that make you fall in love with this fest.
And exhaust your replay button too.

This year, I had three departments in mind : Raga, ETC (Entertainment, Theater & Contests) and LA (Literary Arts)
And even though we could apply for a maximum of three departments, I ended up sending a letter only to Raga.
Rejection scares me like not playing up a girl scares Barney Stinson.
I know. HORRIBLE.
I was too nervous, too dumb, too scared or just too lazy to answer the questions asked by ETC and LA.
So I decided one letter to Raga is enough for me… after all, I did write well, and I did come up with a kick-ass short story! Hello?
And I kept rejoicing and flaunting my decision to get in solely into Raga… while I secretly panicked I hadn’t been selected.
After days of depression, waiting and eating… I FINALLY GOT A PHONE CALL!
I was in!

*Sings “I’m Raga and I know it!”*

My OC and OG’s are purely awesome – Fabiola, Abisha, Fawzia, Cynthia, Alaric, Terence and Prthvir.
For a first time – I really think I selected the right place to be and couldn’t ask for better heads to look up to. They’re really fun people and honestly, even though I wish to experiment and try out for other departments in the years to come, Raga will have a special place in my heart. Always. And it will be partly because of my heads.
And my team-mates: Chinmayi, Nia, Soumya and Ahat.
Raga made me think of ideas I normally wouldn’t dream of. It made me strain my creativity into pouring words and thoughts and fathomed an entire new world to me. I know, sometimes I’m not good enough a writer, but Raga shows me that everyone has a chance, everyone is given an opportunity, and it was so kind to be receiving it. I know there’s room for improvement and I hope to be a shining example of Raga, one day.
Also, this is the place where my official writing journey starts.
*sees her name in print and jumps in joy*

MALHAR 😀

You never know how huge a fest can be until you become a part of it.
AND Malhar is as big as it can get.
Last year, being simply an audience I wasn’t able to comprehend the value of such an enormous platform that has been given to over 50 colleges in and outside my city.
And I think it’s mainly because I did nothing, and I saw nothing during the initial, final and crucial stages of Malhar.
Malhar in simple terms is a competition.
But it’s the mother of competitions.
You have – dance, all styles. Street dance. Singing, acapella. Band event, in vernacular languages too. Writing, quizzes, computer gaming events, events based on physical endurance, others on intellectual capabilities, both combined. On the spot comedy, mimicry. Art, drawing, music, lyrics -NAME IT – it’s here.
Aha, I’ll tempt you by saying, there are also different workshops including tasting chocolates and cheeses and what not!
Another part of Malhar is the contingent, of course. Those who take part in the events, that we ‘Volunteers’ (Yes! That’s what we are called *Le Hunger Games reference*) organize.
I wouldn’t know about this side of Malhar, obviously. But I’ve heard there’s a similar fire and smokey background to it as well, not to mention over hundreds of nervous participants and over-whelming buckets of talent.

From this year’s Malhar, I really don’t know what to expect.
I’m thoroughly excited!
I can’t wait to wear the personalized tee that has the logo of Malhar ’13 (Picture above) and says “Raga – Volunteer” and enter the not very high security gate (which by the way, are students only, but they know to run their rules – so don’t mess with ’em)
And I’ll love the thoughts of the audience who will come to watch and look at us Volunteers in our different colored tees (Each department has a different color) and be mystified by the thought that the entire three day celebration was put up by us!

And if it isn’t obvious enough, I’d like to thank each and every person who puts in an effort to make these days the best days of Malhar. Because without you I don’t think it would be possible.

So, I’ll sign off, now.
Hope I left you with a faint idea of the excitement that fills my veins and will be here in a few days.
I find it difficult to put into words what happiness this is to me.
To be a part of something this huge is a privilege.

If Malhar is anything, to me it’s bonding:)

-Vee