People come and tell me that oh babe any teenager can write such poems and stories and I always reply in silence. I want to tell them no I want to shout that what Writing means to me. it is not a hobby. This is what I live for. Pouring out my feelings on paper is my remedy. I write about that blind girl who wants to study but she cannot. But again as they say.

On Parting Words and Syllables not Uttered. That led me to you. Dutch Courage, a planned fate. And the wrong side of passion. What I perceived as love. But you fathomed into annihilation. The wordsmith of my journey. For I mistook the chapter. To be the entire story. For I never got my happy ending.

Twenty three, sucking dry bottles after bottles of beer and devouring relationships, I sat alone in a bar enjoying solace. Bangalore is a city of young people with open minds I assume, contrary to the country we live in. Yet being a young woman, I was always greeted with glaring eyes of older men, sitting where I am. Questioning their morals, I forget my own sins, destroying relations after relations for the sake of my career and success.

But somewhere, slowly things are falling into place. Its just that it takes time and patience is what needed.

As is evident, I am no longer active on this blog. And will be posting my work there. I would love it if you could take a look. The glowing, yellow orb that.