Weekend diary by Little Wench

Wardrobe malfunction, anyone?

With the office décor shouting out ‘bored’ in deep blue, the Little Wench takes one look around her desk to find one sign of life, at least one crack in the deep blue bubble!
Sighing, Wench almost talks to her laptop, “Oh what I’ll do to have ONE interesting, straight out-of-fiction thing happening, I swear I’ll not complain even if it turns out less than perfect. Just anything, anything out of the monotonous routine!”

And uttering this, she switches off the laptop and goes to the washroom. For funnily enough, this is her ‘escape place’ in the new city that she’s shifted to. As she gets up, she notices someone sitting next to her turning ever so slightly to look at her before quickly turning back to ‘work’.
“Yes, yes, I know. It’s  my favourite kurta!” said the wench in her head while rolling her eyes. She was happy she was perfecting the art of receiving compliments at least when performed in her head. In her head, in fact, sometimes she came across as cocky as it turned awkward in real life.

Few minutes later, staring at herself in the washroom mirror, she said to herself, “Life couldn’t be more boring! God, what would I give to get a tiny-little excitement in life!” leaving the door behind her to snap shut, as soon as she stepped out of the washroom, she realized she heard something croaking to its loudest. No wait, something shrieked. The front-desk guy sitting right in front  of me, staring me in my face. And then I realized whose shriek it was! It was my kurta, stuck between the door and me, tearing at one side all the way up till just the point where breasts begin.

Horror struck her in one split-second while one part of her brain smirked out loud, “Just what you asked! Entertainment. Entertainment. And Entertainment.”

Bordering on Bibliophile *sighs*

Yawning and indulged in her own little monologue in between, Little wench gradually comes to realize that she’s sitting in a bus with people around, all real and not in Ayemenem with Ammu and Rahel and Estha and of course, the God of small things. Nor is she sitting on a cold bench in winter nights at London with Philip Carey and his crippled foot. Cut to the office-
Sorted Colleague 1: So in short, getting on a plane and getting that hotel booked for a week is a luxury! Reading books and stuff is fine, I can always do that with my kindle and ipad what not, but luxury is this!

Wench: Do you know what real luxury is? It’s to have a book, to hold a book, a hard copy of a real classic in your hands that you can touch and feel, along with the text.  It is to have the time and space to enjoy the other world as you flick it over page by page. An e-version kills the book, no matter how convenient it gets!

A 50 bucks-thief~

It’s ridiculously crowded for an averaged sized bus. You don’t want to exploit the faultless, tired 
guys sitting on ladies’ seat, so you turn towards the other side to create a space to stand, only to realize that this upsets the guys even more somehow, as they get embarrassed looking at you, offer you their seat thinking this must be the only reason why you’re a girl and turn toward the other side. And even before you can explain them the situation, their inexplicable embarrassment makes you awkward too and you just find yourself settling down  eventually.

Now, window seat in buses while commuting from a new place is one of my favourite explorations! As you pass a Rs. 50 note to the fellow passenger for the ticket, you do your usual check-list and a quick scan of the stories (people) around you. Headphones are in place, right playlist is on play, the book is on your lap, and you are looking at every person around you with amusement, curiousity and a little hope The auntie who is tired, busy co-ordinating back home and looks like the last time she got her ‘me-time’ was at the gas-booking queue, the balding uncle with a mellow smile who seemingly doesn’t have a complain against anyone, in his life of odd 65 something years and willingly shares the warmth in his smile with you without expecting anything  in return, or the clean (and cute) guy who has a peculiar way of doing everything and you often find yourself checking him out in a very ‘non-checking out’  manner.

Just then, you realize your ticket hasn’t come  yet. Worried, for the T.C might show up anytime especially when you least expect it, you check with the guy. He explains he passed it long back. A lot of people find my story interesting by now, and tell me someone in the passing chain must have thought Rs. 50 was too big an amount to let go and got away at the nearest bus stop with the money. Amused, I politely refuse to believe it and decide to go check myself with the conductor. People stare at me confused as I pass through the huge rush from my first row-seat towards the other end.

Yes, they were right. And I understood this after getting myself touched/squished/poked through my way to the conductor. Yes, someone thought Rs. 50 was enough an amount to let their conscience go have a smoke a the nearest outlet as they took the money to their pocket. Or maybe, someone thought Rs. 50 was too small an amount to be justified being honest with. Or worse, someone’s life had such abundance of scarcity that it was hugely influenced by the ‘having/not having’ of Rs. 50.

Would i still pass on money next time i am in a bus? Most probably, yes. Would i still be willing to trust people around without thinking once about this incident? Probably no. Not without remembering this. Should i be happy, that i am not one of those unfortunate? Or should i simply feel sad that even  a small 50-rupee note can make you painfully aware of your conscience (or lack of it). 

Having a 'Bad Hair Day' with a 'Yaiyee'

Early Morning! Little Wench and Crazy Horse (known for their ridiculous fights and equally ridiculous cheeky behaviour in an attempt to ridicule it), pasting random nothings in their scrapbook together. 

While Wench’s scrapbook is a messy pile of leaves bound together (and each leaf of different type/shape, mind you!); Horse takes pleasure in calling his favourite plank he found at the shore as his scrapbook (Guys, I swear!)

Wench: So almost four years spent together, and we don’t have one (normal) picture in the entire scrapbook!

Horse: You know what? I just had an idea! Let’s try and look normal, click couple of pictures and get the best one on our scrapbooks.

Wench: YOU had an idea?

Horse: Should I just roll my eyes now, like you do? *makes a face*

Wench: Okay, Okay. Yes, yes, let’s do that!

An hour later…

                            

Wench: You don't even know how to smile!

Horse: Ya man, I know! Been working on it! But I've at least learnt how to stand, which apparently you still haven't!

Wench rolls her eyes

Wench: There, this is the picture you can paste. We look good! Almost normal.

Horse: No, hand me the other one.

Wench: No, this one is better. I swear!

Horse: No, I still want that one. The one where your hair is open. This one has you them tied up!

Wench: That is silly! What sort of difference does it make?

Horse: Well, for me, it does. Now, the one with open hair, please!

Little Wench: But they don’t look good in that one. *Makes a face* I am having a bad hair day.

Crazy Horse: Little Wench! It’s YOUR hair we’re talking about. There is never a good, or a bad hair day for them. They are always better, you see!

And so, the scrapbook pasting is still pending, however, the day is already begun! :)

MADNESS THAT COMES WITH OH-SO-SPLUTTERING RAINS

Jungle Bee: Hey, I like your status. Pretty solid.

Little Wench: I know.

Jungle Bee: Huh? Know what? That I like it? Or that it’s solid?

Little Wench: Means I know that you like my status. I knew that you’d like it even before you read it or I wrote it. Clarity of mind, you see!

Jungle Bee: Is this your normal or is this just because it’s raining today?

For the Wench, there is nothing as purifying as uncalled-for rains! No matter how much the city cribs and complains of the chaos on roads, annoying delays and complicated commuting, there is something about the rains that holds you- as if it cleanses away not just the dirt but all the complexities, baggage and insecurities that lies deep down within on whomsoever it pours.

The jungle bee hates it, but so what? She often argues how she can’t go out and lighten up the jungle with her shiny clothing, but to come to think of it, would you give away the intense aroma, the cigarette that you so badly want to smoke but can’t save from getting wet even under the canopy, the herd of shiny ants moving up the flyover only to realize those are cars, the maddening chaos, the splishy-splash of the puddle potion that gets on you every time a car passes you by… mixed with every waste/sewer/mud one can find on the otherwise hectic roads (Yes, that too!) and the rarest of rare smiles you exchange with all the strangers when caught in the act of I-don’t-have-to-be-adult-all-the-time in the showering rain…yes would you give away all of this to have one of your many air-conditioned, oh-so-normal day?

Amidst the chaos… life lives cozily

Traffic jams are nothing new for any city dweller. Nor is the mundane life that wakes up every morning and engulfs over the city. You’re a housewife- you devote your mornings without thinking much to prep for others’ school/office/any-thing-on-earth schedule; you’re a student- the mornings are all about finding the right stuff lost at the wrong time just before you are getting pathetically late for your class; you’re an employee- your weekday mornings are consumed in making it to office on time while making plans for the weekend. And amidst all this chaos, when you see something that is beautifully meaningful, a life affirming presence is felt.

Like the little wench did, this morning! Typically crowded bus on office hours, crossing the borders (Well technically, it’s Delhi/NCR- so yes!) and various stories standing close to her, producing a squirming urge to run away instantly- the pretty girl constantly talking to her boyfriend for a ‘quick’ morning chat; the working auntie who started by asking a ‘little’ space to rest her weak ankle and now sharing shopping tips candidly to fellow passenger, having more than half of the space on the seating area; and the uncle who expertly shuffles between dozing off and secretly staring at you in a typical skeptical way.

And then you saw it. Nothing that lasted more than 5-6 seconds. But the effect was such that you instantly know life is still around, living cozily, turning into a warm smile on your face.

At the underpass, amidst the chaotic traffic, the screaming honking cars and the silent, victimized traffic lights- there is a huge work at play! At the numerous drainpipes embedded in the wall of the underpass on each side, most of the drainpipes have now become sweet, cozy home for birds! While one of them sit and checks the comfort of the so-far-built nest, the other one skilfully collects twigs and pebbles to complete the home!

They seem to pass a look to each other, a look of hope, argument and approval- all at the same time. Some home are already done, with two of them perfectly settled together in the front of that tiny drainpipe- a tiny drainpipe which now holds twigs, pebbles, two birds, and now a home!

What do you think of it?

What do you think of it?

What comes out of it?

In the beginning, it intrigues you

Maybe something completely to disregard

Then takes your fancy upon it,

And goes round and round about it.

Suddenly, a queer thought possesses you

Your desire to get at ease with it without being accustomed

Of pulling strings around you without being attached

Of calling it names without giving it one.

You’re puzzled, you’re intrigued, you’re appalled and yet you’re there

Back and forth, high and low

Slowly, the ‘it’ grows into you,

Eating the life out of you

Rekindling the life of life in you

The fancy has turned to hatred

With vehement passion unleashed


To be finished…

Did I say inner-peace, people?

Do I love her? Of course, I love her! Sylvia Plath- And her concept(s) of inner peace!

I am looking for the right word for my present state of my mind as I write this but on an impromptu notice, ‘Kung-fu Panda 2’ comes to my mind. Watched it last weekend. Again. (Not that I like it that much, I prefer the first one. Any given day!) And the central theme of the movie comes into my head in continuation to what I was mulling over. Inner peace. So what is this inner peace that they talk about? Emphasize so much upon? And do people really place that much of importance upon it in their chaotic-superbusy- daily routine?

I do a lot for my inner peace. Subconsciously. But I do. I think it’s more because inner peace somehow comes as a concluding reminder after every time when despite a very ‘normal’ day, you feel that missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle that completes your heart. The last time when in a party full of your friends and happening people, you still felt zoned out for no reason…or sometimes in the middle of a weekday, wonder if you still love your work the same or it’s just become a means-to-end thing for you, perhaps… Or the time when a happy, in-love couple makes you (re)think if your forever-out-of-the-complex single theory actually works fine!

So what do you do? I try a variety of things, some outright trivial and few deep and intricate. One of my most-frequent (and probably a favourite), is to take up a long walk and talk to myself out in the open when no one can possibly hear you or figure out that you’re self-talking. So last night, in a fit of desperation to seek ‘inner peace’ again, I took up a walk back to the tree-house and indulged in it.

Afterwards, while getting idiotically happy about having that extra money that I incidentally saved from auto by walking, tumbled upon a street-side stall of nariyal-pani and spent the saved money to sip nariyal-pani while sitting next to the vendor on the footpath. Now nariyal pani is not only a reminder of healthy diet but also one of my all-time-mood-lifters. And sitting there on the footpath, watching cars pass by, gleaming lights of traffic with the shining board of my tree house calling- I realized every issue looked trivial as long as I chose to walk on my own pace and do things as they made sense to mee. They don’t have to be high on the (society)law-abiding terms, but they have to be up there on your own belief system. And peace begins to find its way to you.

And so reveling in this theory, I smiled as I saw a birdy couple sincerely collecting the twigs together to make their new nest, reached my tree-house, had some magic potion, roamed around late windy night in nothing but what I could call a beachsuit; and talked some more to myself before I cozied up to sleep in my new-found temporary inner peace.

     

             - The Little Wench 

And it's the flavour of Apricity...

As random as it can get, today the little wench’s blog is going to be about something she has always ‘not liked’ (not ‘hated’) but now slowly, is falling in love with. Winters have never been her favourite, for the jungle gets even colder, and like Bella, she too has this appalling sympathy towards anything cold.

After all, why should you like winters? They make you lazy, they make you cold, they make you late for everything, and they make you have that urge to get cozy and cuddle up. Not that cuddling or getting cozy is bad. Or being lazy for that matter. But the gloom winters sets in the tone, in the air, that is something that makes it abhorrent.

Or so I thought until she started seeing winters from magical lamb’s point of view. (In case, I never remembered to mention about him, he’s the most persistent character in the wench’s life- adorable yet irritating fellow!)

Coming back to the present, the wench’s new private section in her work area has made her realize and appreciate the beauty of this new word she’s learnt. A-p-r-i-c-i-t-y. The corner seat location-isolating from mundane routine aroud, the life-affirming flush green plant on the desk (not the artificial one, btw), the yellow-orange tint on the glass pane, the ‘relax theory’ teaching pigs strolling in the dumping area; and the warmth from bright sun soaking in your skin and your mood. And seeing wench’s past record of ‘attraction criteria’, can you really blame her for slowly falling in love with the mean winters?

P.S: Just an afterthought, but still, are winters really a good time to fall in love with someone? Or worse? Tell mee why!

Breaking news from the Jungle...

 So what could be the best thing other than gossiping about some scandal/affair/speculation?
Simple! Listening/reading to someone else gossiping about it! 

Thought the city people too should know what my whole jungle is engrossed in talking about these days...

P.S: Since the protagonist (or should I say, the victim) here is a dear friend of mine, I would be grateful if any of the city people could share some valuable gossip on it!

Love
and loads of love
The Little Wench

 CLIPPING:

                                                MIDNIGHT TIMES

                                                                        We narrate the stories you want to believe.

Thursday, 21 December, 2012

Hogwarts

                                   Magic-boy Eragon miffed with mystery

December 21 got a latest addition to its list of credentials this evening when a shocking theft occurred at the much-hyped birthday bash organized for Eragon at Hogwarts. Reportedly, someone sneaked in during the party and stole an unopened birthday present from the pinnacle of birthday gifts arranged by Eragon’s famous dragon Saphhira especially for media display in the backyard.

Sources revealed the unopened present had a brand new i-pod exclusively autographed by the Prince of Persia himself, which was replaced with a sac of baby tarantula eggs by the thief, to the surprise of many. Eragon is devastated with the event and has taken an oath to not open any other present till he finds out the thief.

The guest list comprised of all the A-listers in the industry including the likes of Wolverine, Megamind, Hannah Montana and Harry Potter himself. Delhi police has been called in especially for this assignment and they are taking all the invited guests as their potential suspect at the moment. However, insiders suggest that it’s no one else but the otherwise ‘too-good-to-be-true’ vampire, Edward Cullen, who used his super speed to steal the i-pod for Bella Swan. The suspicion grows even stronger with last week’s media confession by Bella about how much she craves for that special signature-edition i-pod.

Meanwhile, as a token of compensation, Dumbledore, Principal of Hogwarts, has declared to cast a spell on the tarantula eggs that would hatch singing spiders to belt out latest rock and roll tunes for Eragon until the thief is found.

Other compensations too, are pouring in. “Eva..Eva..Wall-E-make-special-gift…Eragon…Eva,” said, Wall-E, one of the guests present in the party. When asked to comment, Barack Obama, President, United States of America, retorted, “Had Eragon chosen America instead of Hogwarts as his venue, nothing disgraceful would have happened. I’m more than willing to lend our special forces if needed by Hogwarts.”

‘GROWN UP’ OR NOT: WHY GROW UP???

Lying in her bed, random at her best, the wench is trying to come up with something significant for the day (Oh, did I forget to tell you the wench has renounced her ever-busy post as the Communication Manager for the Jungle?). As colors come to butterfly, the urge to dream comes to the wench and she gets her magic pencil and fatso register (being the technology-repellant that she is) and gets on to write the latest story just when the Dragon Chipkali rushes in!

Her puffy eyes and drained face spells trouble, or rather an epic tragedy so to say. Now, it’s of no surprise to anyone how finicky Dragon Chipkali is about her nails (more on her broken nail story later!), but I don’t see a single chipped nail- there they were, beautifully painted with vibrant colors and a pretty picture as always.

No, that's not how she looks! Well, not exactly!

“Maggie,” she painfully starts (That’s what she likes to call the Wench), and with every time she repeats the name, the distress in her voice is turning into sobs- getting louder with every “Maggie”. Turn the pages two days back and you couldn’t have found a person more mature and rational as her across the jungle or city; for that matter- even the likes of Contemplative Duck or my loving friend, the Psycho Bard.

She hugged the wench tightly and then of course, the story revealed itself accompanied with violent cries to the amusement of everyone. (I know three paras down the line, you’re still confused what’s the connection with the title. Well, patience, my friend!)

Ten minutes down the line, a huge grin occupies Wench’s face as Dragon Chipkali finishes her story. What charms her the most is the stark comparison produced between her usual mature self and this seeking-for-attention, and yet adorable baby!

But on a second thought, is it not with all of us? We all claim of being ‘grown-up’ as we all call it and breathe, live, react in a particular pattern that screams the ‘grown-up’ tag. And let’s accept it, we all love to flaunt it!

Right from particular preferences in the kind of things you say to the way you react (even the not-so-pleasant ones), ‘mature’ (or acceptable, should I say?) remains the key.

But isn’t it that deep down, each one of us is actually a baby out there- an adorable but unreasonably demanding baby who refuses to give up to logic and all those ‘codes’ that act as your maturity-meter? That baby who is waiting to be soothed, pampered and taken care of. It craves to be heard no matter how trivial the topic maybe, for it concerns him nonetheless.

But the baby is afraid of most of the people he knows and lives with, some of whom even happen to be an integral part of their life. And that baby doesn’t come out in front of anyone but only to whom he’s intimate with, he can freely exist with. 

Feel free to let that baby be himself. ‘Grown-up’, unlike a tag as perceived presently, is more of a state of mind, a continuous process that continues till your life does.

MEANWHILE, here goes Dragon Chipkali’s story that started this whole blog in the first place… J

While coming back from the South West part of the forest from her work (She runs her super-famous bakery there, ever been there?) last night, in a hurry as always, she took a fatfat (shared auto for ignorants) to home.

Two stops later, a grumpy, fat fellow squeezes in the seat next to her- much to her irritation. In addition to that, his continuous humming of heavenly Himesh Reshammiya’s songs while impartially distributing his time between chewing gums and scratching his partly bald head- taking her to a different level of serenity.

True to her nature, she elbowed him (Ouchh!) while pretending to be innocent (she’s pretty good at that!). The fatso did get miffed but said nothing.

On her way back, however, she figured however the tragic deed that had happened only when her siblings couldn’t stop their laughter on seeing her.

The fatso, intentionally or maybe with all the innocence possible, gave Dragon Chipkali a small parting gift- the gum he was so dedicatedly chewing all the way, nicely glued to her side parting of her long, thick mane. And the inevitable result, chopping off the glued portion, of course, could not get the better of her.

Tragedy, it was. R.I.P that side lock; that once belonged to her beautiful mane! 

P.S: (No, seriously!)

The girl with 'Kohl-defined' eyes

I once heard somewhere that a person's writing is a reflection of one's state of mind. Well if this holds truth, I don't see this blog going anywhere... no seriously! On normal scenarios, am a normal girl of 20(technically speaking on the no-man's-land between explicit teenage and implicit adulthood) who somehow manages to muddle between her work and world around. There is nothing extraordinary happening in my life that I would like to talk about but I try and unfold the enigmatic part in every mundane routine of life.

Cut to present- Head bend on a sheet of paper, and scribbling on the same sheet for past 2hours…am partly upset part blank and can't get myself to even one certain topic (let alone finishing it and it’s...)... trinn...trinn!!!

It's my cell...my girl- friend's call!

Five minutes down and am writing on a new piece of paper with a 'newer' speed. I feel good and a boost of positive energy which am ready to splash on others through my writing. I even know what am finally gonna talk about in my first (well 2nd after a break of almost a year) 'chat' with you. What happened to me..? Well, I just have had my recharge!

Each and every of us have this recharge facility where you get your fill up done and get ready to deal with anything and everything with a bang. No, am not talking about the recharge you do for your cell weirdo......Am talking about the recharge you do for yourself (mind-body-soul) through various means that keep your HAPPINESS & POSITIVITY tank full enough to put you above every tough assignment's deadline, unsuccesful love-life, recently dumped friend's soppy tales, soon-to-finish pocket money or your cranky boss' demands. 

It works for almost everything and helps you spread the feel to others around as well till it reaches its danger level and asks for a recharge again. Sans recharge you're just a normal human being who reacts normally to everything around. You're happy when something good happens, you're upset when something doesn't work out. But once recharged, and you're up high to face (Read save) the world.

Now, the obvious question that comes to mind after reading this half-illumination-half-gibberish is, where does this recharge come from? Well, like love- its aspects vary from person to person, but the aspects remain the same (Sorryy… that was just to add the heavy impact to it!)

What I basically mean is, your recharge is nothing but people/things in your life that matter a lot to you...who are capable of having an EFFECT on you so to say. 

Consider this- you just bad-start your day with a fight with your parents, only to be kicked out of class for turning up late. And now, sitting on the lone porch when you thought nothing good could happen, suddenly your girl shows up and as she indulges in your world you realize she has a wonderfully soothing effect on you. While for a friend of mine, a recharge is done every time she and her father sit over a couple of drinks together and discuss all their problems (It’s ironical that once they get drunk, the problems seldom appear like problems!). Now picture this:

Playing your favourite song on guitar.

Having a heart-to-heart talk with your closest yet most irritating friend.

Going out alone, and spending some quality time with oneself.

An unplanned run to some unexplored place over the weekend.

Visiting the good old place you once used to hang out at more than anything else, with nothing but a couple of beers and a bunch of idiot friends.

Talking over phone to someone special you’re not in touch with now.

Or for that matter, sometimes even a Hot choco fudge for some people can bring miraculous recharge! *pretends to be unaware*. Only, it works different way for different people. These are one of the few options that suits different people so as to get their respective recharge. 

Sit back, give your brain some rest and ask your heart- What thing/person has that kind of effect on you to be your recharge? I might have listed yours…or for that matter, missed for some. But the bottom line remains the same- your recharge makes the day for you and the people around. And whether you like the concept or not, it’s highly infectious!

Me and My superpowers: Which one is yours…??

                                   

                         Awerite..atlast, I had to succumb to it. No one paid any heed to it while I kept screaming my guts out that am just not good at it. But here I am, writing my first blog ever. Reason..? I personally feel am just way too subjective as a writer, and so don’t really like being pointed out at my sensibilities (Oi…that doesn’t mean am not open to any kind of criticism…err..kind of!!). Anyhow, now that am up to it, I’ll make sure am at my extreme subjective best…the people who read it need not necessarily like it, or appreciate it (Everyone is free to express his/her thoughts you see!). But this is how am going to proceed, regardless. So here I scoot *Rolling drums and bass sound for the effect please!!*

                                    As a child, I was a super-enthu kid who was always into dreaming *Morning/day/eve dreaming- whatever you like to call it*, so much that at times the feebly fine line between my reality and my illusion would blur. If am an alien child with superpowers *Thanks to Superman, X-men and other freaky movies*, plants talking their hearts out to me, or our very own Chanda Mama following me wherever I went *Awerite awerite…I know that was foolish* were few of the results of that co-existence. Fortunately/Unfortunately, this inevitable habit still exists. And one thing that I constantly dream and wonder about is, if we all have some whacko yet distinct, veiled, supernatural power to us..to each one of us; or if we are just another common replica of a filthy-selfishly common species called humans.

                                    I always felt, and still feel that each one of us, no matter howsoever clueless and careless about life we may be; our life grants us an insight about something or the other *Read superpower*, some sixth sense as they say which you stay unaware of until that Supreme power chooses to come up with a situation that makes you get in touch with that powerful, noble inner self, often termed by people around you as your ‘Persona’ or ‘charm’. Whether you realize that gift or not, is up to you.

                                     Sit back and think for a while, can you think of a friend of yours whose gentility and genuineness for all shines through everything he/she does, or someone you know who’s infamous for his/her straightforwardness *although loved for the same by you all the more*, someone you came across on a busy day, but still couldn’t help but get touched by his honesty, or the ability to enforce his/her TRUST in people so effortlessly. All these people you just thought of are one of those lucky ones who are in touch with their gift life bestowed upon them. Some of you yourselves might find it fitting the bill with you as well.

 If you can see a person’s pains through his/her smile…

Or if you’re like my weirdo friend who belongs to this “Ultra positive” species and never gives up…

If you have a tendency of standing up for nothing but the truth…even if it means losing out…

Or you have the incorrigible strength to point out, and even more, to accept your own mistake…

If you have that unconditional patience and support for your friends whenever they deserve it the least but need it the most…

Or if you’re one of those special ones who have a calming, a serene effect on all around you and are good at listening to their agonies with undue patience…

And last but not the least, if you are suffering from “I DON’T TAKE SHIT" attitude causing you complications in your professional/personal life…

                                    If you think you have any of the above listed disorders or anything similar to that, don’t panic *Since the worst part about these gifts is that they seemingly tend to make your life tougher for you. It’s hard to be good you see*. It’s your gift, and you should feel exclusively privileged that some way or the other you’re able to use it.

                                    I know this still isn’t making sense to some, but I can promise it will, once you stop blabbering your logic into everything, and listen to your plain, irrational heart for a while (you see, a whole lot of things start making more sense to you the moment you stop analyzing and trying to find sense behind everything). Uhh, sorry, I digress a lot…but then, the good part is that I retrace back to my roots as well..sooner or later. So, we were talking about gifts, weren’t we?

                                    Take out some Q.T *Quality time for ignorant* for yourself, give your brain a rest, and ask your heart- what’s your superpower…what’s your gift…Life is short, so find out your gift before it gets too late to be utilized..and change *Read “Save”* the world around youJ

(P.s: If any of you happens to have any superpower I don’t know or mentioned of, or had a revelation and finally found yours, do mention it here... Would love to hear it.)