Book Review: "The Krishna Key"

If I had to describe the novel in one word it would be this: Enthralling! This is the first novel by the author, Ashwin Sanghi, that I have read and it makes me want to read the rest of his works. The narration, the immaculate research and details when combined with a thriller of a plot make it a an exciting read.

The story revolves around Dr. Saini, a professor of History, who also happens to be a descendent of the Yadava clan of Krishna. After being labelled the prime suspect in the murder of his friend Dr. Varshaney, an Archaeologist based in Kalibangan, Dr. Saini is out to prove that he is innocent and that there is a bigger conspiracy in which he is merely being set up. His journey to prove his innocence sets him on the quest of the Krishna Key- Krishna's best kept secret. The different signs and symbols, the history and myths of our land, esoteric puzzles, connecting all the dots finally lead him to decipher the truth about the secret.

The plot gets us hooked onto the book from the very beginning to the very end.  It's extremely imaginative and a well researched book that has the ability to make readers almost believe this piece of fiction to be true. There were similarities to Dan Brown's The  Da Vinci Code but that doesn't take away the originality or the thrill of the story one bit. There are enough twists and quite a few jaw-dropping scenes that keep it from becoming predictable and the story as the plot slowly unravels it has a different flow and nature from The Da Vinci Code. The amount of research that has gone into writing this story with such incredible detail is stupendous.

As with any adventure centric plot, the focus throughout the book was on the thrill factor rather than character development .  The main historic personality of the book is Krishna, a charismatic mythological character who played a major role in the epic saga- the Mahabharata. For those without even a passing knowledge of this saga, the snippets about Krishna  in the beginning of the chapters help. It has been simplified by the author for readers who are unaware of Krishna and his role in the Mahabharata.

This book can boast of a dynamic narration, never going off track and keeping the reader engaged in the story from the word go. It is taut and smooth that makes the book such a delight to read.

A thriller that ends on a philosophical note; the end was a bit of an anti-climax. Also there were a few places where shoddy editing and proof-reading crept up but can be ignored if you are as much engrossed in the story as I was.

A mesmerizing read, this book had presented me with the strange aspects of our history and I found myself doing a Google search on most of the myths, some backed up with facts. The links given at the end of the book are very comprehensive and show the amount of research that has been done. Urban legends, age old myths, scientific facts all blended into a masterpiece that is The Krishna Key. Loved it!

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The Skies and their Glory

Early morning snaps and poetry :) Have a fabulous day y'all! 

The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes,

         And his burning plumes outspread,

Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,

         When the morning star shines dead;

As on the jag of a mountain crag,

         Which an earthquake rocks and swings,

An eagle alit one moment may sit

         In the light of its golden wings.

And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,

         Its ardours of rest and of love,

And the crimson pall of eve may fall

         From the depth of Heaven above,

With wings folded I rest, on mine aëry nest,

         As still as a brooding dove.

I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone,

         And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl;

The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim,

         When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.

From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,

         Over a torrent sea,

Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,

         The mountains its columns be.

The triumphal arch through which I march

         With hurricane, fire, and snow,

When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair,

         Is the million-coloured bow;

The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove,

         While the moist Earth was laughing below.

I am the daughter of Earth and Water,

         And the nursling of the Sky;

I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;

         I change, but I cannot die.

For after the rain when with never a stain

         The pavilion of Heaven is bare,

And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams

         Build up the blue dome of air,

I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,

         And out of the caverns of rain,

Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,

         I arise and unbuild it again.

AN: The world is a beautiful place at this time of the day! The poem above is a part of P.B Shelly's The Cloud (stanzas III, V and VI)

Of Divine Sights and Smells

I recently paid a short visit to my farm on the outskirts on the city; what a delightful sight the entire place is during such pleasant weather! After eating some of the freshly plucked  guavas, I got clicking. Sadly, when I reached the fourth shot my battery died on me. Consequences of always being connected to the world :-/

Everywhere I looked I saw lush green mango trees and the wilderness surrounding them. There was a light drizzle of rain, nothing to be bothered by. The whole place looked so beautiful. The sunlight, the after-rain freshness reflecting on everything it had touched.

The heavenly smell of petrichor combined with the smell of the freshness of the leaves and grass all around--divine!

This rose lit up the entire wall, what a perfect shot this was. Roses are overrated for the wrong reasons, and the ones you get in flower shops today are as good as plastic--a disappointment to the sweet smelling flower it really is don't you think?

And then there was...

AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa....!!!!!!! 

Mr.Bug on his move!

Struck by an Arrow: Cupid or Compromise?

As friendship goes, it's an unwritten rule that any topic which captures the whim and fancy of either party will be discussed and scrutinised in depth with every opinion taken into consideration no matter how ludicrous. Quite naturally then, my best friend and I found ourselves engaging in the most varied topics and for a while it's been playing hop-scotch over words like relationships, single life, break-ups, weddings and the much dreaded/awaited of them all; marriage. It all started when her mom made her intention of becoming a mother-in-law within the next year quite clear. 

"You're twenty-three now beta", she said, in a tone that best suits the Indian mother; the combination of a mother's worry with an underlining sense of a subtle reprimand mixed with a hidden agenda of a statement thrown open to be challenged. Must hand it to moms to know how best to get their daughters to divulge any secret affairs.

"If I start looking now then I can find you a nice, good looking, rich guy in a year or so".

My best friend couldn't tell her worried mother that she longed to fall in love with the guy she would eventually be married to. But the stars seemed to keep that at a distance, for the time being at least. And so the proposals started pouring in. The slumbering matchmaking genes are given a double espresso-like boost and the suddenly interested relatives, uncles, aunts, their extended family and their families in turn become a part of the grand scheme of finding you a life partner. These wannabe cupids, who probably wouldn't know what your favourite food is even, spend days and weeks trying to find your perfect match. They bring with them a collection of the best matches they think would be the most apt husbands/wives. You know the type, "... this one has a steel industry to his name", "... this one has a brilliant smile","... oh wait this one's uncle is in the same field as yours!!". 

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A person's entire future being weighed not with how someone IS but what they HAVE, how they LOOK and other such important aspects. Welcome to the world of arranged marriages. The success rate may be sitting pretty high up, right where the manufactures of stars and asteroids sit at their workstation busy with their plans, but I shudder at the very thought of it. How can one decide if they want to spend the rest of their lives with someone based on easy spending and easy smiles? How will any of that decide for you if that match is the right one, if they would stand by you through hell or high seas or if they would choose to run through the catalogue once more and get themselves a brand new partner once the old one starts to wear out? Nothing does. It's appalling how many zillions of women from centuries have been doing this. It's so ingrained in our system that this arrangement is considered normal; a love marriage would mark you as some sort of rebel. You're expected to get married that way. It's been around for ages, they say. And you're expected to follow.

I sought the opinion of someone experienced in this whole marriage business, who's well into her 28th year of marriage. My mom.

She has no qualms about her daughter marrying for love, yes they need to approve of it, she adds and then quickly starts prattling on about the qualities any prospective groom should NOT have. I get her back to the subject on hand. I tell her I never understood as to how someone mentally readies themselves for an arranged marriage? I go on to state very decidedly that it's unimaginable, marrying someone you do not like, leave alone love; marrying a stranger, someone you don't really know! After giving me the usual talk about how it has always been around, she asks me "..how does loving someone prove you know them, love is quite irrational you know. People you love can turn out to be different as well".

People might argue that you never know how any person would turn out. But you'll have to live it to learn it. There might be a possibility that this lurks somewhere in the shadows of the love, waiting to reveal its ugly face but then again, there is a sense of security and oodles of trust that comes from knowing your partner loves you. You don't have it when your marriage is arranged by someone else. She agreed but not one to give up, on she went  "...yes the magnitude of risk is a little lower when you think you know a person enough to marry him, but could you be a 100% sure?" The answer was no.

And so, very smartly my mother continued to justify the whole concept of arranged marriages.

"Not everyone falls in love, and by a certain age you need to have a companion by your side".

I open my mouth to protest, but she silences me by saying, "You can disagree all you want, but there comes a time in everyone's life when they need a constant companion, a support system. You need a family, you need to experience having and building a family of your own, and if love hasn't knocked the doors of your life, what is so wrong with arranging for a companion who you would most likely grow to love?  Touché. Very well reasoned.

"It's not like old times", she says, "where the groom and the bride saw each other on the day of their wedding. You can go out and meet him, it'll just be like you have a boyfriend", she says, attempting to hide the hope and excitement in her voice. I smile realising how serious my mom is about this hilarious idea. "You'll get to know him, slowly, just like you would get to know someone you're dating  and then get married". I stop her before she can go any further; what if I keep meeting him, and after a few months realise I can't stand him at all? Then will they be ok if I dump him (which I would without doubt)and find me another boyfriend to marry? I ask her playfully, knowing too well she'd hope I'm joking but yet be annoyed by the idea. She seems to have no answer and true to form  grumbles about how she doesn't understand what's the fuss about, arranged marriages are not all that frightful, no big deal.

"Oh please, mom", I say as I laugh," how would you know, yours is a love marriage!!!". This does it and the topic is closed for further discussions, although I can't help that smug look on my face.

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She married the love of her life, never had to once sit through the torturous awkward meetings with the prospective groom and excited members of his family. Is the risk of getting into a wedlock with a rich good looking guy less than the risk of getting into a wedlock with the love of your life? Those unknown hands your pictures must have been passed on to, for strangers to comment on your looks, right from how your eye-brows arch to how your jaws show when you smile. Opinions from siblings to friends, from gossip-loving aunts to their indulging neighbours.

An advocate of arranged marriages, one such aunt of mine defended the importance given to money and looks; she told me that given a choice a person would want their partner to be good looking and it wasn't shallow. You're compromising, you've agreed to be a part of this set up, so why not have the best looking one at that? And, she continued, money would come and go, but it's better to have enough to not be bothered too much when it does indeed decide to take a vacation from your life. This reasoning hardly proves anything; still superficial and shallow. But in love, neither makes any difference; love transcends them and more. Isn't it always a better and solid reason to marry someone for love than because they have a smile like your favourite actor?

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Whatever the arguments, love will always be a better reason to embark on a lifelong journey with someone; the concept of arranged marriage, a compromise, always comes second. Even then, what makes an arranged marriage between two people a success in its true sense is the love that eventually grows in their hearts for each other. In either case there is but one winner, love.

A/N: This post has managed to crawl all the way from my journal to this blog after finding the same topic, Love Marriage ya Arranged Marriage as a contest on Indiblogger. 

Book Review: "Something Borrowed"

Having read the likes of Sophie Kinsella and Cecelia Ahern when it came to the popular yet frowned upon genre of chick-lit I wanted to venture into deeper waters to find the wonders (or not) of this much enjoyed area of fiction. It didn't take me long to look up  and find a list of renowned authors and their remarkable work, I only had to decide which one to pick.

Right now I have in my book shelf some added names like Jane Green, Marian Keyes, Jennifer Weiner, Jen Lancaster and Emily Giffin to give Kinsella and Cecelia some company.

I started with Emily Giffin's Something Borrowed as the synopsis had me very interested.

Rachel White is a lawyer in NYC who hates her job and is single.., at thirty. She is the quintessential good girl, always playing by the rules somehow never getting what she wants. Darcy, her childhood best friend presents a complete contrast in being an extrovert; a beautiful  and spirited girl who has to have everything her way. It's a love-hate friendship as we see through the story how the simple Rachel puts up with the annoyingly narcissist behaviour of her best friend, never standing up for herself. Always letting Darcy have her way with everything, be that a bag pack or a boy crush. That is until she crosses the big 3 0. After one too many drinks at the birthday party Darcy throws for her, Rachel decides to throw caution to the wind and finds herself spending the night with Dexter; a handsome, amazing guy, her long time friend from law school, and Darcy's fiancé. Yikes!

She finds herself being attracted to and falling for a guy she should run from; what with her being the maid of honour for their wedding that's to take place in only a few months. Everything changes when Dex confesses his true feelings to Rachel. What follows is their secret affair that is considered a relationship since they both are in love, except for the tiny bit of him being already engaged. To her best friend.

Rachel is a girl we would all like; simple, plain and with a sweet disposition who truly loves Dex. I would hate my protagonist to be one, but Rachel is a doormat. The way she leaves the fate of her love life and friendship in the hands of Dex, and is ready to live with whatever he decides made sure I wouldn't include her in my list of favourite female protagonists.

The characterization of Darcy makes it very difficult to like or sympathise with her. Darcy's selfish and shallow character makes us root for Rachel, who has always been in the shadow of her effervescent best friend. She's a very trying character, annoyingly self-absorbed . She walks the planet like she owns it, believes everyone to be a puppet in her hands. Although there were times when you could tell that she has a good heart deep down, you soon realize it's way too deep to wager and probably lost for good. I happen to know a few people who resemble her so much that it was evident she would find no sympathy from me.

Giffin surely has the ability to take what we normally would look down upon, infidelity, betrayal etc and romanticize it. One of the characters puts it aptly when she says the world is not that black-and-white. The world has no moral absolutes. It's a good story, with relatable characters and a skewed yet likeable plot. Light, fun yet smart, this book is a complex and engrossing narrative about friendship.

On the whole, a good addition to the my women's fiction list. I haven't got around to reading the sequel, Something Blue, it's still sulking in my book shelf so I better be good and finish it.

An Exasperated English Language Enthusiast

I hate having to admit it, but as I look at my phone, my laptop-- I know that I am a part of the 'short-form' generation, the text-speak generation. A feeling of immense distaste runs through me when I come across sentences and words (at least they're supposed to be) so carelessly thrown around these days. And that happens a lot. All I have to do is open my Facebook home page, post after post, almost every feed reminds me that we're in the midst of an epidemic. One that seems to be worsening with time.

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Not to sound like an exaggerated reactionary but it pains me to see these misdemeanours against the English language. It's like the Slang-demons are waging a war, eating the language (quite literally, don't you think?) and here's the bad news-- they're winning. Every single time you nonchalantly 'go abt ur day', every time 'u hav a gud tym', every one of those occasions where 'there, their and they're' are forever lost in 'der'-- all those times this beautiful language dies a little. *shudders* What is the world coming to?

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Mistakes do happen; those nasty errors creep right past our keen eyes and we err, Lord knows I've made so many errors myself. But how can you defend deliberate distortion of any language. Instant messaging is a major contributor to this downfall. While it would be somewhat pardonable to 'tweet' your thoughts with a character limitation of 140, any other platform is not.

Colloquial and informal correspondences as such are disturbingly influential and before we know it, we're drowning in grammar gaffes and unspeakable spelling crimes, both of which are omnipresent. Our society seems to be blasé and blithe about the quality of our language and with the younger generation already captivated by the means of these ills, they are much more inclined to follow right through to the dark side.

In today's busy world, I agree that there are more important things to be reckoned with. But this doesn't mean that such blatant disregard for the English language should be encouraged or let it slip away unheeded. Easier might translate to faster, but just because you can doesn't mean you should. There's always a certain beauty about quality that gains more appreciation.

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Without language we would be nothing short of what Professor McGonagall would call, a babbling bunch of baboons. That's reason enough to keep the glory of this marvellous language (or any language for that matter) intact and rescue it from this pitiable condition. You don't need to be a language purist, just keep it clean and right.

I'm reminded of what Professor Higgins had to say in 'Pygmalion'; he said, " there even are places where English completely disappears; in America they haven't used it for years." Oh my dear, dear Professor Henry Higgins, you would be appalled to see what has become of it today, oh the horrors to behold!

Signing off with a desperate message.

Ex, Why, Friends?

Picture this. You've been in love. No not the fast track version of it. The genuine (here's hoping you do understand 'genuine'), old school notion of love. When you know and adore everything about the other person. Flaws and all. Or maybe you overlook the annoying details because what you're holding on to is more important. Throw in unfavorable circumstances, immaturity, wrong decisions (whatever the reason), and you find yourself out of the safety net you called a relationship. You're single in a world that views you as either a threat (yes you ladies, talking to you) or someone unattainable.  Whatever else the consequences, you and your charming single self find out that this is how the world is. The world is full of people who've been someone's ex. Almost every single one of us. Since the degrees of separation have considerably been brought down thanks to our uber -social lifestyles, here's a thought, can you be friends with your ex?

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I'm not talking the 'hi-bye-couldn't care less-but-cordial-on-your-face' friendship. We all acquire some skills of pretence when it comes to being acquaintances. I mean a real, deep friendship. By ex I don't mean some guy/girl  you've spent the night 'dirty dancing' with, or someone you 'casually dated', or had a fling with, or whatever else there is that qualifies your definition of an ex. We're talking a full-fledged relationship. Sharing your highs and lows, your insecurities and fortes with someone who actually knows you without the 'make-up' on.

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Each person has their own way of dealing with breakups. Some go on the defensive, some shoot daggers of outright hatred, some jump into the solace of another, and some accept the fact that what's done is done. Personally I think ill will never did any good. You might hate the person who has caused your heartache, you might hate their very existence. But who does all this ill will affect? You! You're so consumed by the grief of the past, of the 'could've and the should've' of it all. Lesson number one (and the only one that actually really matters for all I know): Let go. It's that simple. And yet we keep exhausting our brains for answers, we torture ourselves with the 'why's'. Simple doesn't somehow fit the bill, could it be that easy? Newsflash: It is; we complicate things. You want an answer but are not ready to accept that all that needs to be done is for you to let go; not for the other person, not for anyone else, but for you. Every decision you make should serve your purpose of being happy. It's that simple. And believe it or not, once you stop running after it, it'll come to you; the answers you seek.

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To those who ask if someone as important and close can be a friend. One way to find out, try it. Trial and error has been the answer for most of the gruelling questions bopping around. You're low and your friends cheer you up. You're mad and your friends keep you sane, you fail and your friends treat you like royalty, you screw up and they never utter the words 'I told you so', they know your silliest most embarrassing secrets and would never tell, when explanations are not needed and acceptance is the ruling word; yes, we survive because we have them. This person who knew you best, who you once loved, but are over it (be clear about this one), might just turn out to be one of them. It's a two way street, as someone told me. They'd be as close as you would want them to be. It's healthy to have someone knowing you in and out, in your life, if not as the significant other, as a friend (who honestly mean a whole lot more). Or at the very least try working on it. There's a strange sense of security that friendship offers that no relationship does. (To those who can be friends with your partners, you've no idea how lucky you are).

Not all, but some (for those who have an endless list) and surely that one ex who actually KNOWS you, deserves a chance to be that friend. Provided, and this is very important, that they put in the effort and BE that person you want to have in your life. Really BE that friend and not just yap about it. It's easy to talk alright, but when it comes down to the nitty-gritty, the actual acting-on-their-words part of it, that's when you know if it's worth a shot.

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Be that as it may, feelings (ughh yes that word again), real and genuine, don't just vanish into thin air with the words 'it's over'. It's how you grow out of it that matters. Feelings of resentment only pull you down, never let you move forward. Embrace the good times, let go of the hurt and anger. You can be highhanded and say you don't need that person; remember he/she was the one you've shared some of your happiest memories with. So if either one is willing to make an effort, to stay in each other's life as an ever supporting friend, give it a chance, don't disregard it as unnecessary rubbish because sometimes it isn't. Everything is a process of learning. Give it a go. That does not mean offering them the 'close friend' crown on a silver platter without them working on making their place in your life as a friend. That's just inviting disaster. 

And as for love, if you haven't already found it, it will come, all in good time; until then what best you could do is value the time and people you've shared it with, that's the beauty of letting go. It lets you have the best part of the people who've affected you. It's your decision, your conscious effort to have a wholesome life. That means not just the perfect family, or just a fulfilling love life or just the deepest friendship but all of it together, in harmony; you balance them. And acceptance of your feelings  for those who stand by you no matter what, who protect you no matter what, who love that silliness quotient in you and that one person who made you get the jitters, is how you have the best of all. 

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Most importantly know that as long as you have yourself you're safe. It might be a HUGE mistake, this trial might lead to a big error, but when you act upon it you know. And isn't it always better to have a life of 'oh-well's' than 'what if's'?

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AN: Images via Google Images.

The Art of Subtle Deceit

This post is to celebrate the twisted tongue of the story teller in all its glory. I've come to learn that words are powerful, more effective than the action being described through them or the reason and purport of it. That's forgotten or more accurately veiled and hence successfully manipulated into being something totally different altogether by the very words that plant them in your vision. You might see the thing/event/situation that is being described and yet you're not. What you see is what you hear, what you're being told about that situation/event/person etc which can be far from the truth. How best to convey this lies in the hands of the one with the words, the artful narrator.

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I have had the good fortune of coming across some very talented specimen in this particular area. They convey the message alright but through their well practiced art of deceiving, the truth is overshadowed and what we take in are those very cleverly used words and tones spewing from these misleading mouths. I bow down to them, these great gurus of slyness and  trickery, these experts of craftiness. Entangled in the web of truthful lies are their friends, acquaintances and enemies alike; and almost always these masters of manipulation come out unscathed. I envy the confidence these confusion creators have, to look friends in the eye and lie, laugh and claim to love. Their convincing powers are not to be undermined, for that's how they have their entire world wrapped around their fingers, almost always.

I say almost, for time and a certain chain of events shed light on their shady undercover operations and unravel the layers of pretences, to finally reveal the person beneath, the real deal. It's like seeing your favourite celebrity sans make-up (do a double-take to reconfirm it's them?). The rest of the world is still enticed, ever hungry for the 'entertaining' lies being fed to them, lapping onto every word with the faith of the greatest believer, drowning in the depths of the falsity and falling forever in the endless abyss of the constructed perception. Don't mistake these deceiving doyens for the misinformed and their misinformation for any mistaken false witness. They very well know things as and how they are, they're just interested in making the world believe their version of it (with the halo shining on their head, the sun rising behind them, sprouting angel wings etc., get the picture?) A word here, a sentence there and their job's done. The seeds of confusions, doubts are planted that then lead to belief. Our mind works on the information laced with their opinions. And ta-da, thus forms our decided opinion...a horribly skewed perception of reality.

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Kudos to people who go through every day of their lives living a lie and convincing others of the same. Cheers to being shrewd and cunning in the most pleasing manner. Know that for some unfortunate few, your game's up and now they see through you, but rejoice, we appreciate your utter disregard for human sensibility and our intelligence, your antics slowly but surely provide us with a lot of entertainment. I enjoy being lied to when I know, inside my head I'm laughing my guts out at your sheer incompetence to stick to the truth. And I'll let you in on a secret, I'm guilty in most cases of egging you on. Oh how I enjoy it, two can play this game plus I'm always curious to the lengths that you go to sound interesting, convincing or whatever your motive is. It's highly amusing to see how wild your imagination runs. You remind me of the naked king who strut around his kingdom with an unmatched pride and conceit due to his 'magnificent clothes'. In your case, if not the whole city, a few sure as hell know a nonexistent cloth when they see your royal highness' precious bits a tad bit clearly and FYI we don't like being mooned.

You remain who you are, a person with a thousand affectations.

AN: Images via Google Images

Two’s Company

It was 4 years ago when Simba walked into my life, he was 40 days that cute little fur-ball (Read more about him here). Today when I see him my heart swells with love and pride for I haven't seen a dog as soft natured and adorable as him. I may be biased but that's the general opinion. He has a personality of his own. And a very endearing one too. There isn't one person, adult or child, who doesn't love him. He has managed to make even the most indifferent and terrified one's to fall for him with his funny antics and an irresistible charm.


It's been a while since I wanted to get him another dog for company. It's heart breaking to leave him and go anywhere, his sad eyes don't help either. And even if it's for a mere 5 minutes that any of us step out, when we return we have to face the onslaught of complaints and whining accompanied most of the times with tears and tantrums. I heard of dogs getting depressed due to loneliness. I never thought I'd actually see one.


So now, after all these months, one fine Sunday, my parents and I drove down to a Kennel to pick up a pup. The sight that welcomed me there was a pleasant one. I was greeted by a variety of dogs and their litter made me wish I could have them all ,so friendly and so healthy! I couldn't help but notice how well groomed and healthy every dog there was. I fell in love over and over with the huge St. Bernards (which to my Mom's great surprise were really just a year old), the dashing Golden Retrievers and many others all of whom were oh so well behaved. We were then introduced to 6 tiny hyper active Golden Retriever pups, I noticed that one of them was tinier than the rest, a bit lanky if I may say so. We wanted a female preferably with a dark coat so that left us to choose between two and the scrawny pup was one of them. My Dad and the owner of the Kennel thought we ought to take the healthy pup. The decision was up to me. And I knew. My new family member, my Diva, the little scrawny imp who now is on a mission to ruin my Mom's carpets, Simba's tail (It's hilarious watching her jump, grab hold of his tail by her teeth and refuse to let go) and his toys (again, he's such a darling about it) and my Dad's sleep. Oh joy!

End of An Era

It finally came to an end. All the relatives had gone back to the familiar routines at their respective homes, all the friends had gone back, albeit a bit grudgingly, to the different cities they'd flown down from. The house was filled with flowers and an alarming amount of sweets, a bit too much for its 3 inhabitants. The years of waiting, the months of preparations, the countless arguments over the seemingly trifle details had all paid off.

After finishing the pending works, Mom, Dad and I sat down in the living room. It was eerily quiet after a fortnight of non-stop activity; it seemed off somehow. Exhaustion was finally catching up and my parents resigned to rest, for a week as I would find out later. And I, tired like I've never been before, couldn't get to go upstairs where the bedrooms were. There was a horrible feeling of a void so big and permanent it made me numb as it struck me with all its force.

I was not going to be alone. I had my parents. But I wouldn't have someone to wake up in the nights for a mid-night snack, or to have idle chitchat with, someone who I could share a wardrobe with, someone who apart from me would leave an annoying mess in my bedroom, who I could snuggle next to when reminded of a scary ghost story (*embarrassed*), whose opinion was always asked for when confronted with the decisions of attire, food, outings, makeup, shoes etc. So in a way, a major way, I was going to be alone, much more than I realised.

I realize now how big a part my sister played in my life. Twenty three years of living together and one day she decides to get married and leave- I claimed to be the happiest with this development during our fights, when the sentimental sister phase (which are VERY rare) I'd bawl like a baby. But nothing prepared me for what I'd feel when the truth of it actually hit, when I was sitting in the living room of my house alone, too distraught to go to our rooms upstairs which were (much to the distress of my mom) left as they had been the previous day, the day before the wedding, when we had one last crazy night with friends and the bride-to-be.

I had to learn to live without my sister. Sounds simple, I bet most of you'll might even find it amusing or ridiculous. I wish I could too. It isn't like we didn't have our share of fights, some of them really ugly, there were times when we hated each other vehemently, there were times when we both wished, in the heat of the moment, we could be the only daughter, but these couldn't last long enough to change how we really feel. I love my sister, warts and all, and that's all there is to it. (I might deny this and give a very sophisticated and calm lecture, in my true style, when I'm mad at her again).

So here I was, with a heavy heart, a messy bedroom and my sisters entire wardrobe as mine (Yay?).

To be continued...


Picture: Scribbled on my S-memo and uploaded via Lightbox.