Dear Aunty in the Bus

Dearest Aunty in the bus,

First of all, I am sorry for my generation. We are rash and brash. We are unapologetic and careless. We are rude and crude. We don't say our please and thank yous and most of all, we don't say 'sorry'.

I am forced to believe that not all of us are like that but most of us, yes, are the stereotypical youth.

I am sorry that the idiot would not offer you his seat even though he seemed pretty able bodied. I am sorry that he didn't even glance at you apologetically when he hit you with his bag. I want to give him the benefit of doubt.

I wish I wasn't standing so that I could offer you a seat. I wish I had walked up to him and asked him to put his feet off the seat. Why didn't I? I am sorry for being apathetic.

It is just as much my fault for not stepping up as it is his for being a complete jackass.

Not anymore, I promise.

From,
Just another brash youth.

What else can I say?

I am just plain tired. Of a lot of things. I feel like cribbing and complaining but I really don't have any concrete to say.

I had a wonderful weekend and I should feel happy and nice right? But no.

My Indiblogger rank fell drastically and I am irritated that I don't blog. Well, that is mainly because I have nothing to say. I miss those days where I used to blog everyday but I mainly miss the fact that I had something to say.

It isn't like shit isn't happening. It has and it has been hitting the fan too. But I just sigh and clean it up and then the next day, more shit hits the fan.

Most days, I feel like a zombie. Go to college and back. That is it.

What more do I want? Isn't this how it is supposed to be? I hated drama when it happened and now, it feels bland.

Trust me, when I say, drama has been happening but I just feel the need to blog about it.

Is this what growing up feels like?

True Friend

Loneliness- you never left my side,

From me you never did hide.

Whether did surge or ebb the tide,

By me you always lied.

Whether alone or not,

Your presence has never been in doubt.

Whether spring or fall,

You have been with me through it all.

Whether a smile or frown,

You have been always around.

Whether life was up or down,

You never did me renoun,

True, whatever turns did life take,

You are a friend unfake.

Then how am I alone, how am I lonely?

Written on Tuesday, October 11, 2005. (I was 17 then) 

Posted for OSI

The way it begins is not the way it ends.

Monday morning blues. Come on who hasn't that awesome Sunday night with friends and then had to wake up at 7am? Sigh. Grumpy.

Some tamasha in the city = bus strike, apparently.

Do we go for that field visit or not? Oh let's just go back to sleep. 1hr of dilly dalling = me frustrated and irritated.

Calls to the professors. Can we cancel going to the NGO? Oh sir, please? It ain't safe outside.

NO.

Ok so we have to go. Let's go? No.

How do we go?

For some weird reason, my classmates are aversive to the trains.

Make some calls. Are trains safe today? Yes.

Screw you. I am going by train. Anyone coming? Of course.

50 mins later, reach there.

Boring lecture in Tamil for 45 mins = Me sleepy and even more irritated.

Prof : R, if you have any questions, you can ask, ma!

Me in my head : I will ask without understanding kya?

Me aloud : No sir, I am fine.

Some time and one tea (with loads of sugar) later, "Ok. Most kids are at school but there are some you can interact with."

Me in the head: Damn. It isn't over kya?

Some more tamil speaking and me grumpier than ever.

R, this boy speaks Hindi.

Oh brilliant (sarcastic)

So, random silly questions.

What is your name?

AjithKumar....The Ultimate Superstar.

Ok. Blah blah...Interaction with other kids.

Bored.

Hey, you can't be a superstar if you can't dance. Dance karoge? (will you dance?)

Nahi. Nahi. (No. No)

Chal be, karna padega (Oh come on, you have to.) [Good thing, my professor doesnt understand my hindi}

Aap karoge to (If you dance with me)

Chal thik hai (Done)

Boy starts dancing to Waka Waka.

Rest of the boys join in.

My class boys join in.

The girls join in.

Boy, in the end, "Aap heroine ho." (pronounced : heroine-knee)

What an end to a horrible day! :)

And btw, we went to Karunalaya and they do some awesomely fantastic work here.

The train that never reached

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 15; the fifteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

"I have been waiting for you, since 30 mins. Where are you?" he said, sounding really irritated.

"I am so sorry. I am just on my way. The train is really slow. Are you still at the station?" I replied, over the din of the train.

"Yes." And he cut the call.

I sensed he was mad at me. I wish this train would go faster. It would take me atleast 15 mins more. As the train was approaching the station, I sent him a text, ' Reaching in 2. Wait near the entrance?"

Reply : "Don't bother. I had a long day. I just want to go home now. You do the same. See you later."

Shit, he was really mad.

As the train began to pull into the station, it suddenly stopped.

It just refused to move. I was getting more and more impatient. I dialled his number. No response. He does that when he is angry. I keep trying.

Text : "Please pick up my calls. I am stuck here. It really aint my fault."

15 minutes.

Train wasn't moving nor was he picking up the call.. Panic.

Phone ringing. Dad.

"Dad, can I call you later? I am stuck in the train."

"Don't you dare get out of there. There is some problem at the station. Just don't get off."

"But Dad, he is waiting for me at the station."

"Shit. Just don't get out. He'll call you. Ok?"

"Ok."

What the hell was happening? The networks were jammed. There was panic in the train.

30 mins later, the train started moving in the opposite direction. What? I just made my way home. Hoping and praying, he had done the same.

All night long, I called and I called. Watched TV all night. Emotion-less. Terrorist attack? Shooting at CST station?

Where the hell was he?

The mind unready to believe something had happened to him. City lockdown.

No, nothing could have happened. He just went home and slept. He is just being oblivious to the world as he usually is.

Phones totally cut. Eyes, stuck to the television.

How do I know he is ok? How the hell do I know?

27hrs later. Eyes still glued. Phones still out. Foodless, waterless, sleepless and maybe even breathless.

I don't know when I fell asleep, but I did. When I woke up, the scene was the station was on TV. Blood everywhere and glass shattered. A chill ran down my spine.

No. No. He said he was leaving. he left.

Door bell. Strengthlessly, I opened the door. There he stood in front of me, with that crooked smile of his.

"Shit, you look like a mess. Where were you? I was waiting." he said.

PS: Almost true story!

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Credits
Image - Alston Station by Wandering Soul
Courtesy - www.deviantart.com via www.blogaton.in