Vodka Shot Cuatro

Broken dreams are like shattered glass, weren't meant to last. 


But I say, thank you broken dreams, for you showed me what I am really meant to be. 


And so I'll go on, stronger and prettier and better.

Photo: http://www.istockphoto.com/stock-photo-6042424-summer.php?st=b9cca96 

A Cricketer Less Ordinary

Being a girl, my cricket frenzy was limited to the looks of the cricketers. At a young age, I collected pictures of cute cricketers from all teams and stuck them in a diary. And that is why, maybe, I could be nobody else’s die hard fan (no offense). It was always Rahul Dravid.

I had no elder brother seeing whom I could see cricket frenzy. My dad wasn’t much of cricket crazy person. There was family friend, much like a sister to me. She was THE fan. She had posters, interviews, pictures, everything you could possibly imagine. Even their birth day dates were the same. I was awed. I read them all and realized that there is something about him. The next SportsStar (Fortnightly Sport Magazine of The Hindu) had a pull out poster of him. I stuck it in my clothes almirah and saw it almost all day daily.

I grew up and continued to admire him albeit with lesser fervor. My fascination for him was well-known among friends and family. During his match in Australia in 2003, where he made the fabulous double century, I was travelling. My younger brother, now slightly aware of the cricket tamasha, teased me throughout the way saying that Dravid will be back to the pavilion at 199. I kept fighting him. That was the kind of trust Dravid placed in us. In 2003, the first time I followed the World Cup was because of him. I was not saddened by the final loss but I was amazed by the way he led the team to the finals. Just brilliant.

In 2007, India suffered a crushing defeat at the World Cup. Our media has forever had the habit of taking a cricketer to Mount Everest and then pulling him completely zameen ke neeche. But Dravid maintained his dignity. He never embarrassed you.

His address at the Bradman Oration in Canberra made us all proud yet again. I read each word of the speech only to be filled with more respect for him.

I can’t comment on the way he played. No analyst there. Though I have seen innumerable jokes on how slow he was. But he took it second by second, it seems – every second speaking for itself. He was used to pressure but the dressing room stories say otherwise. He was The Wall for them too. Indeed, the Mr. Dependable. Never exaggerated his presence, always maintained a subtle appearance. Every time I looked at his picture, I was filled with a sort of calm – this guy is still there.

Now that he’s gone, cricket doesn’t seem so important any more. However much I may dislike IPL, I get to see Dravid in action again. I side with the team he is in – even if that needs me to change loyalties from one team to the other like some fickle minded person. But it’s only Dravid who matters. I watched cricket because of him. And now I won’t watch cricket, because of him being not there.

I sincerely hope to see him in the positive limelight just so that he can continue to remind this generation of Indian cricket’s glorious past. Adios, Jammy. You’ll always be my favoritist. 

photo: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Rahul_Dravid_-_moving_the_field.jpg

Why Twitter is better than Facebook

    1. Firstly, Facebook is a social networking site. Twitter is a micro-blogging site.

2       2. News! Follow at least one news channel/ newspaper/ something’s twitter profile. Also, trending topics give a good amount of information – especially with the new twitter.*

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         3. Gossip. Everyone’s the other person’s friend in Facebook. Bitching cannot be open enough. Twitter is slightly better because, trust me, not all your friends know how to use it and they never bother checking after making an account just for the heck of it.

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         4. You can’t update your status every second (unless you want to incur some major wrath from your friends). You can tweet every nanosecond – your followers will be happy (if you’re sensible, that is).^#

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         5. With 140 characters only, the tendency to babble becomes less.^#

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         6. There are no photo albums titled “MeHhhHh <3”.

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         7. Followers are more important than friends, though slightly less faithful.

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         8. You’re not compelled to reply to every mention.

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         9. News reaches you first, in every form – sarcasm, fact, mockery, and joke. Anything you want.

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        10. You can mention anyone and kick their butts or praise them or do whatever. They won’t notice, they won’t care and if you’re good, you’ll be retweeted!

*  - Most important for those budding journos who hate readin newspapers and like to flip through.

^# - contradictory, but true also. When you want to tweet a lot, you want to sound sensible.

Leftovers

Fragments of your smell in the blanket. Bits of your memories on the sheets. Indifferentiable whispered Iloveyous. Fading feel of your lips against mine. Rising cold realization. Numbing of my mind. Half closed, sleep craving, waiting hollows of eyes. Drying words. Cooling passion and firing up again. Curled toes and trembling fingers. Reminiscence of your breath on my face. Messy hair. Salty thin strings of water from above. Your absence in the presence of your leftovers.

Don't go please.


Or are you gone already?

Freeze

You know when time flies?

I want it to stop.

I want it to breathe.

This is where we belong.

Stop, just stop right here

And see we’re happy.

See we’re smiling in the midst of a few happy tears.

See us love each other like we wanted to.

See us fly but don’t learn.

See us get lost in each other,

And relish the moment.

Cherish us together,

Bring us alive again.

Hold our hands and dance.

Just be, be how we want you to be.

Don’t bring about your end,

Just freeze.  

Smoke

The door opened,

You walked towards me,

Giant steps,

Loud thuds.

I was there,

Soaked in blood,

I lay painless.

You touched me.

You grew on my blood,

Laughed at my tears,

You took my heart in your hand,

Heard its silence and chuckled.

And then you took your steps backwards.

I lifted my hand,

In vain,

I felt dead,

There was no pain,

I was dead.

And then I heard

The last thud

A last chuckle.

You disappeared,

The door closed.

Did You Know Why?

Intoxication, high

Most of the times, you don't know why.

I speak, three wonder creating words,

You smile, I wait for you to be heard.

I see you again,

With a look, same

I speak again

But this time, you don't feign

A smile, you cry

I thought I knew why.

I run my fingers through your hair

Hold you for long, it was only fair

You deserved this,

I didn't know what I'd missed.

I sit down beside you,

Speak words, new.

"You share your dreams, I'll tell you mine,

Together we'll create a dream, make our lives sublime"

You smile at me weakly,

You knew I am beaming,

You shake your head and walk away.

She says she feels sorry and holds your hand,

You wrap your arms around her, not a word you say.

I see you again,

With a look, same

You turn around and so do I,

If only you'd told me,

Why the intoxication, why the high.