#10 POETRY 101 REHAB : FRIEND

 

Telepathic communication,
knowing glances,
partners
who don’t judge,
who (actually) give a damn,
who sticks up for you,
voluntarily
getting their hands dirty,
who knows
what to say,
when you feel worthless,
who screams that song
along with you,
and it doesn’t matter
if you both
are out of tune,
partners in crime,
comrade in arms,
that
(real) friend,
knows you better,
than you
know yourself.

 

This week’s Poetry 101 Rehab prompt is, Friend. I would like to dedicate this poem to all those beautiful people, who’ve given me abundant memories, sufficient to last a lifetime. Thank you, my lovely jerkfaces!

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This post is a part of Andy Townend’s Poetry 101 Rehab.

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Those were the best days of my life…

Starting my college life in India was not easy, as I had to shift my base from Dubai to Chennai. It was a phenomenal change for me. Though I could make friends in a heartbeat, I could not fathom the change, I was homesick, missed my high-school friends very much. You know those jokes you crack and only your friends know what it is that you are referring to, I guess I missed that the most. The process of adapting to the environment and the people, well, it was excruciatingly painful to move with the flock. But things did change when I met the right people who made the burning hell fun to blaze in.

I thought I should join in on whatever the hell was going on in the campus and decided to check the Facebook college group page. I found a fellow potter-head (fans of Harry Potter) and started chatting up with her. And guess where I met her after the heart-to-heart about being an ardent Harry Potter fan amongst other things. She was running for a post in the Students’ Union and she had come with her gang of pals to ask for votes in our class. Obviously, I recognized her from her profile picture and that was where we hit off. She was my senior, a psych kid and to top it all off, she had a complicated surname which I conveniently mispronounced almost all the time. So, it was easy to remember this tall lanky figure named Pooja Sathyanarayanan…see what I mean?

Soon, I had established my base in the psych department, and I was spotted there more often than in my very own department (The Commerce Department *puking in a bucket nearby*). Well, I don’t want to get started on that story. I think it does not even deserve to be mentioned. Just know that the Professors and the kids in that department are all a bunch of losers who don’t know how to spell the word fun (except for a handful).

I stopped moping around and hiding behind my hardbound novels to face the music in my second year. It was an endless saga of inter-collegiate festivals where I found my spot in the literary competitions. One of my very first was in the B.S. Abdur Rahman University. It was a memorable day because I had actually participated in the public speaking events for the first time in my college life (like a “spotlight me” moment when Robert Downey Jr. gives a speech). I loved the adrenaline rush in a heated debate or a one minute block and tackle event. It was exhilarating and I never stopped speaking after that. I teamed up with this other junior kid from the psych department for a game of scrabble and we lost. But we bonded over Batman and soppy romance novels and her name is Fahima Mohideen.

What is college life if we don’t make stupid decisions? I decided to try my hand at the students’ union and stood for the post of literary and debating secretary. That is without a doubt the second worst decision in my college life, the first one being Bachelors in Commerce for my under-grad.

I met Lubna in the candidate selection interview and we became inseparable since then. She ended up as the General Secretary and I became the literary and debating secretary. I really could not believe the faith kids had in us. Be it organising inter-departmental or inter-collegiate events, we stuck together, besting our pea-brain of a President. The job requirement was simple really, be at the beck and call of the cultural coordinator and that was the show, baby! Satisfying her was the key to our success. And how can I forget the mandatory ritual of getting coffee and sandwiches from Café Coffee Day with Sahana and Pooja after the end of a major event. I just love the after-math of an event when I soak in the glory of actually having pulled it off! (Could not have done it without you losers!)

The final year was indeed memorable because we did okay. And I would not have been sane if not for these beautiful people I had mentioned previously. Right from the juice shop opposite to our college where they served the best cheese-chilli sandwiches to the Gobi Pakoda stall, we have been there and done it all. Although my favourite stress-buster spot was the Kachha-Mango Vendor who makes my day, EVERYDAY! Honestly, this post feels like a tribute to all these morons who made my college life bearable and amazing at the same time. Now I can proudly say that I graduated from the J.B.A.S College in Chennai and not cringe when I hear my voice. (*insert* those were the best days of my life…)

Special thanks to Arti for extending the invitation to write for this giveaway/contest.

This post is a part of the ‘My College Diary’ contest held by travel blog My Yatra Diary in collaboration with Collegedunia.com 

I would like to tag Pooja Sathyanarayanan, Fahima Mohideen and Swati Shenoy to write for this contest.

Girls’ Night Out (#9 W.O.W)



Sophie blew on her bubblegum pink nail polish and admired every inch of it. She had done a pretty good job on her nails and could not help but self high-five.  Abigail and Janet were supposed to ring her doorbell about forty-five minutes ago and there was still no sign of them. She was almost bit her stunningly painted nails in anticipation. If those brick-heads don’t turn up in another ten minutes, then I am going to watch that Hobbit movie all by myself and drown myself in Benedict Cumberbatch’s voice. Just when she was whining to herself about the unreliability of her two best friends, her doorbell cringed in pain. I am going to kill these two idiots, they come late and now they are planning on breaking my doorbell! She twisted the doorknob and glared at her untimely visitors.

“You show up forty-five minutes late and you plan to antagonize my patience by breaking the doorbell! Well, I got news for you two, it’s certainly working!” She yelled in their faces.

“You don’t have to seal the deal with the spraying of your saliva, Soph.” Abigail said as she wiped her face with a tissue. “Not to mention ruining our make-up.” Janet muttered.

“What was that, J?” Sophie was shooting daggers at her.

“I said, let’s go, right Abbey?” She glanced at Abigail with hope.

“I will pull the car out of the parking. You guys wait on the side-walk.” Abigail walked towards the car and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Shotgun!” Sophie called out to Janet and got into the front seat with Abigail on the wheels.

“You cheered up pretty quickly, for a girl who could burn us through the roof with those scary eyes.” Janet whined as she buckled the seatbelt intact.
Abigail looked at Janet through the rear-view mirror and grinned at her.

“We are going to listen to Benedict Cumberbatch talk like a dragon in about twenty minutes. She is bound to bounce like a ping pong ball if given the opportunity!” She said.

“It is going to be AWESOME!” Sophie squealed.


***

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

We were the Queens! (#DovefaceTest)

There were a thousand doubts in the accountancy class, a million pranks waiting to sprout up into the air. We were the notorious two-some who would spare a single soul in the entire school, from the janitor to the Headmistress, we made fun of them all. Sometimes they even cried out in pain, running out of the class, clinging onto their dear lives. We were the queens of mimicry and witches who weaved laughter even in the most boring classes of all. Putting on a show for the class was easy as cheese cake and we could make them laugh in a matter of seconds. 

Oh yes, I remember it all, assemblies, parties, classes, sports practice and even exams. She was there for me when I needed her the most, and I her. The symbiotic chemistry we shared was known to all and the juniors were in fascination and always rushed to us, especially during the break time in the corridor. I remember the crazy and spicy mango chips topped off with the Capri Sonne orange juice, our favorite break time snack! And I also remember how one of us took the privilege of licking the insides of the chips packet too.
Innocent as hell, not giving a damn to what the others thought of us, we used to be Queens or at least felt like one.

But there were times when I was unsure of myself, and Sana always held me hand and told me that we would overcome it, no matter what happens! And that was what happened when the Annual farewell party was coming up. It used to be a big deal and I never did parties right, it was never my thing. But I had to go as it was my very last party in high-school before we all graduated and parted ways. I was nervous and ripped my hair out thinking about how I was going to look and what I was going to wear. I had picked out an outfit eventually, but it something was missing. Something was definitely missing. I called up one of my best friends, the one style perfectionist whom I could trust with my life. 

I was not the confident type, especially when it came to looking good and going to a party. I am usually very aloof about dressing up and Sana is quite possibly the one stop solution to all my problems. I called her up the night before the party and fretted about how I was going to look in the party. My hair is the worst thing on my body and I was distressed about the way it sticks out in different directions, just like Simba’s hair from the Lion King.

She urged me to bathe my hair with the Dove Shampoo the very same night and apply the conditioner as well and I followed suit. It indeed felt like smooth satin strings slipping off my shoulders. It felt like silky curls and smelled just about right! So that was taken care of and I was contented.

I awoke in the morning and stared into the mirror. I was not persuaded by the image that stared back at me, not yet. I called up Sana and had a long chat with her about my make up and hair, AGAIN! But she never swayed from telling my what to do and what not. I love her for all the things that we used to do together, dear god, we never spared ANYONE!

My skin was so parched and begged for moisture, and I knew just the food that would lighten it up perfectly. Being a Dove user since I was twelve years old, I knew that my face needed the cream bar to beautify it. And that did it, it was the most exquisite surface to start my make-up on, and Bam, I was done. It paid off, my skin was like the piano keys that yearned to be stroked.
My hope was renewed and so was my confidence, all thanks to my best friend. They always believe in you the most when the others lose hope on you, take you by the hand and tell you it’s okay to break a heel, yet be cool about it. Gush about the boys and the hottest celebrities we used to go wacko about. Life used to be so uncomplicated and beautiful, and it will be, as long as we have our besties watching out for us.

*You scratch my back and I scratch yours!*

The above post is written for the Guessing game with my Friend contest powered by Dove and Indiblogger

R.O.F.L! – ‘Those were the best days of my life!’ (#1 W.O.W)



‘Oh, when I look back now

That summer seemed to last forever
And if I had the choice
Yeah, I’d always wanna be there
Those were the best days of my life…’

My phone rang, buzzing with the ‘Summer of ’69’ tune. In case you are wondering why my phone buzzed with that ringtone, well, here’s the truth. My mom loves Bryan Adams and she keeps changing my ringtone to her favorite songs and hums to them from the kitchen. Yes, that’s my mom and that’s how she works. It was Amee (Ameena), my best friend from school. I love to have phone conversations with her because there would always be something to squeal about (mostly Benedict Cumberbatch). I moved to India about two years ago to complete my under-grad and Amee and I made it a point to chat at least once a week. It almost always never worked out as both  of us would be way busy with Uni, but we made time for one another, even tweeted the time we would be online so we could Skype at night.



“Hey, Amee! What’s up?” I said animatedly.  

“Hey back! Nothing much, just watching the latest season of MasterChef.” I knew she was drooling over the delectable food on T.V. 

“Oh crap. I have to catch up, haven’t watched it in a while.” I said, slurping to myself.

“Speaking of food, do you remember the common lunch during the special classes, in that unoccupied classroom opposite to our homeroom?” She said with laughter in her tone.

“Oh my god, yes! And how Aysha and I weren’t allowed near the serving area. Bah..What a shame!” I whined on the other end.

“We would not have had enough food to eat if that ever happened.” She sounded pretty serious then, it choked me up with laughter. It is true, Aysha and I were foodies for life.

“Someone always forgot the paper plates and we had lunch on foil papers and lids of the lunch box. God. Will we ever relive those moments?!” I said, reminiscing the past.

“Don’t forget the vacant stares we received from the passersby who peeked in through the window and the innumerable sighs.”

“Oh yeah, crazy days man, I want them back. I was really glad that we got on to the P.E teacher’s good books because of the frequent orders we placed from her restaurant. Fried rice, butter chicken, gobi manchurian…you name it, she got it!” I was practically drooling then.

“The best part was when we fought for the last chicken piece or that one spoon of dessert. No one enjoyed special class like us, Ha Ha Ha.”

“Yeah. And the eleven us used to be giddy after that heavy lunch and we always slept through Accoutancy class, with Batgirl’s (Nickname for the accountancy teacher) head prodding from one end to another.” I pissed myself laughing, thinking about the good old days.

“Sana never failed to entertain us with her impressions of Batgirl. God, I wanna relive those moments again, it’s like projecting right in front of my eyes.” Amee exclaimed.

“Amee, we should flick Dumbledore’s pensive and shove our memories onto it, and revisit it over and over again.” I sounded determined.

“I want Hermione’s time-turner. I have always wanted one, it would make things easier.” She sighed.

“Hmm..yes it would. By the way, why did you call, man?” I almost forgot what was the whole point of her calling me in the first place, as we drifted on a journey down the memory lane.

“Damn yeah, guess I just doped on our awesomeness back then, eh?”

“Ha Ha Ha, and why wouldn’t you!”

“Okay Okay, meet up on Friday, at 2:30 pm, lunch at my place. You are coming and I don’t want no for an answer.” She said with gripping firmness.

“Do I have a choice?” 

“No you don’t, so get your ass into my house on Friday. Period. Buhbayee.”
And I was left to listen to the dial tone of my phone.



Those were the best days of my life!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda