What Gives You Strength?

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.               ~ Robert Frost

When I was in the 5th grade , I first read The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost. Though I can't speak for others I think can safely say the most of the children in class read it just like any other poem but for the first time I could feel something stirring in my soul like Frost himself had whispered those deep lines into my ears.I think that is when I realised the raw power of words.Because at that moment I realised that none of it mattered, that I was 10 years old, that I was Indian and my first language wasn't English.Because I understood, I understood what he was trying to say, I understood the language of lost oppurtunities better than I should have. And every time I read those life-altering words I feel that same passion fire up in my soul and it will never change, maybe it might mature but never change because everytime I read those lines it gives me the strength to write about what I love, to survive in this ever-changing world, to be me.

Cut not........

Before reading this, let me make it clear that I do NOT encourage cutting or any self-inflicted violence or violence at all, And I do not practice any form of self-inflicted violence especially cutting.
               There is a reason you never hear someone say, "I wish I could go back to my teen years." and if you have heard someone say it, trust  me they don't mean it.And its not that everyone's teenage years suck, some I'm sure escaped unscathed but teen  to me lately means oppression and pressure.
               I'm not naming ANY names over here, so don't  hold your breath but I do know a few stories where people have cut themselves because in their own word, they feel "worthless". Worthless according to whom, might I ask? A few plastic-y, popular girls who might not adore you? A friend who has moved on?A heartbreak?
                          For the former I say, the popular girls either don't know you or don't like you so screw them and celebrate because you won't be in their clutches anytime soon, that is a horrible excuse to hurt yourself.And if a friend moves on, of course you will miss them, they were your buddies and it might hurt like hell but everything happens for a reason so, move on too. Love them for they were by your side but don't hate them for they probably had to do right by them too.Heartbreak? If any can make you believe that you are worthless then , honey you need to build up your self-esteem because what doesn't kill you makes you stronger!
                         But no matter how much one preaches, people, especially girls, often cut themselves and sooner or later it becomes an addiction for them, the slightest thing can set them off. They're just girls, they just wanted to be looked in the eye and be told that they are appreciated. But how often does that happen in High School?
                  Medically, if you cut yourself too deep, then the chance of infection becomes higher. You could die if you lost too much blood! I wouldn't know exactly what triggers cutting but I have read enough to understand that it is just plain wrong and if anyone tries to popularize it, please! That is plain pathetic and dangerous.
                                   
             You know, those who cut may think that they are beaten up old pick-up trucks and a few scratches couldn't harm them much but in all honesty, they are brand-new Maseratis and even a few scratches can take away that shine.......

There's a chance for everyone.

When I was a kid ( now I'm a teenager, yeah!) I used to read these books -  Goosebumps and in some special editions, R.L. Stine would write an incident on a page and at the bottom he'd say " Go to page 13  to enter the mummy's tomb." or " Go to page 43 to fight the cyborg." And you were left with a very definite choice.... meet the mummy and not the kind to offer lemonade or go against all your instincts and fight with a human-machine. It was simple definite and though you were going to die anyway in the end, you made the choice.
          Lately, I have been thinking about chances, kind of like in Goosebumps. Maybe you go to a sing-along and you unleash your singing prowess and it just so happens that a big-shot music producer signs you on or you go to a sing along, hide in a corner, pray no one calls you on, drink cranberry juice and miss any opportunity at all. Life doesn't give out obvious choices but like it or not, every step we take towards a place could very well seal our fate.
         What if Nirbhaya (the gang-rape victim) had gone to a different bus stop or what if she had taken an auto? We can't control our fates but then who controls us or does anyone? Is there some kind of invisible, giant puppeteer holding all the strings, entwining our paths?Or maybe we make our own destinies, maybe every step we take is all because of us but what if , just like in those Goosebumps special editions even though we make those little choices that get us from one place to another, we always end up the same way?
                          So like I wrote earlier, maybe that you got signed on by a music producer because you sang at a sing-along or you hid from the stage and missed the chance, well, what if you got a little tipsy when you went home and uploaded a video of your cover of Jessie J's "Price Tag" and got spotted by a record label?
    So, I think I've gone around in a circle and confused everyone but what I want to say is that if it's meant to be then it's meant to be. If its meant for you then you'll get there some day!

Understand me. Understand me not.

I'm angry. Not grumpy angry, spewing foul words angry. angry at certain administrative figures otherwise known as morons of the highest order.They try to do what they think is right for us, like they even know us, like they even have the slightest idea of what we deal with in our daily adolescent lives.They force the problems they faced when they were teens (probably a few hundred years ago) and try to think of us as miniature avatars of them. Well, I've got news for them - WE ARE NOT. Today's fast - paced, goal-driven cut throat lives have a vastly different effect on us than it had on them. They might be trying to help but they aren't doing a very good job of it. They shuffle us and our friends with the mere excuse that "you will make new friends"....seriously make new friends have you seen the world lately? Look closer, there are more cliques and status quo-s  then you can count on your fingers and life isn't a rendition of High School Musical..no it is more of a slightly happy version of Nightmare on Elm Street.
                                                It is so freaking hard for anyone to understand us teens, and there has got to be a reason,right? Clear your heads full with memories of YOUR teenage times and open your eyes to ours without judgement and maybe you'll have a chance to understand. But seriously, who even cares about some rant of a furious teenager on the internet after they found out how they were being placed in a totally different class from their friends?
 Signing off
I Seriously Don't Care.

Survival of the Stationary...

I haven't posted anything for a very, very long time and I guess that gave me perspective instead of using this site as a virtual and very public substitute for a diary. I went on a trip to Central India with my friends, I found a love for debating and passed the eight grade.
I think for this post I'll just focus on the foremost. So, for the first time in my short life my parents sent me on this trip with my school to Gwalior, Orccha and Jhansi.I had to take care of myself which in itself wasn't that much of a big deal, some crappy food, long, winding hours on the road driving from one dusty, hot place to another but I'm just grumbling here, there were real pros too.......being with friends and bunking with them is definitely not boring and all those silly little pranks that one plays when there are only two adults on the hotel floor were played to the max!
                 We went to these really ancient forts which used to house an array of princesses, queens, kings, some evil, some decent but they all fought and you could see the signs of all those tumultuous, never ending wars showing on the once pretty palaces. Those sapphires and emeralds so laid with so much care and effort were mercilessly looted from the walls of the queen's palace and in the basement of the Gwalior fort once used to have eight swing sets for the kings eight queens but the later emperors ransacked the lush, extravagant room and turned it into the very opposite intent with which it was built, a torture chamber.
                And almost in every town we went and every old site we saw, the untamed wilderness had crept into the finely manicured gardens of Aurangzeb's age, there were bare rooms with little, empty slots were we're told that diamonds used to lay.The walls had turned yellow, wolves and dogs had taken a habit to strolling across those stately courtyards but despite it all, those enormous, aged monuments had survived war after war, famine and drought alike, those dome topped historical beauties had a way of poking through the wild trees and shrubs as if telling you that 'It doesn't matter what you put around me or in me , I have survived mare than a few centuries and I'll find a way to survive the next few.'
               I think they will. 

Friends....what would I do without them?

Its kind of hard to really explain what friendship is. Over the years man bonded with each other through some pretty tough times, whether it be fighting off dinosaurs together or huddling for warmth during the Ice Age, we've stood by each other.It doesn't matter if you've known them for 5 minutes or since you were in diapers...a friend is a friend.I heard this quote once -

             "Friendship is like peeing in your pants, it feels warm and fuzzy but only others can see it."

Kinda gross but true!And I think friendship really grows when you stick up for each other.They can be embarrassing for sure but what matters is they stick by you through thick and thin.

                 I lost touch with most of my friends during winter break and I was pleasantly reminded when a really good friend shared this blog, who virtually no one reads and every time another close friend reads my blog and tells me that its good,I feel reassured and I think that everyone needs friends, doesn't have to be someone your age, doesn't have to be the same gender, hell, doesn't have to be human! Get a dog(because they rock!) or a cat! but someone to grow and learn with, to fight and make up with...its all a part of life and if you don't have some one to call your "person"...then get one before its too late because speaking from experience they rock.

  P.S. -This is for all of my wonderful friends who support regardless of well, anything! I couldn't write this without you guys.

Remembering A Hero.

I don't know her name. Nobody did. But that won't stop the whole country from remembering her as the braveheart who indirectly awakened the whole country of India to the common women's plight. They say that every 20 minutes a women gets raped in India.If that isn't scary I don't know what is.
                  Women have been raped for a long time but when the Delhi braveheart got raped in a bus and thrown outside on the road with her companion for an hour, India raised its voice.Everyone, whether it be the youth or the more older generation, raised their long forgotten voice and protested against the rape of India's daughters.
             I wonder, if she had even thought about the possibility? The possibility that when she boarded an empty bus with her male companion that she would be raped by  6 men and that this would cause one of the most biggest uprises in India. She probably didn't, no one did but regardless it happened and a few days back India's young braveheart was fighting for her life in a Delhi hospital , she was airlifted to Singapore  but after numerous surgeries and so much strain, she died but not before giving her statement and having the devils responsible arrested.
         Protests still  rage on and they may die soon this young lone warrior will live on in every Indian's hearts as an icon of courage because the kind of troubles she had are by no circumstances ordinary and she was strong till the end.
R.I.P.