Be a breaking bad!

Its not 3:25 AM where the noise of that old fan

Sings lullaby to the inside ghosts who widely grin

Teasing you with the painful failures

Punching you with dreadful regrets.



Its the beautiful morning as described in children’s poems,


You envy the toddlers chirping like little birds

With stapled laughter accusing you for growing up instead of cheering up.

You walk on the same lane with bright walls.

Cross the road from where you ran yesterday from the butcher’s claws!

Wondering whether the moving bus or the running trees that makes you sad,

You try to fill the spilling sunshine in your growing void.


Sitting on the window edge, you fear the breezing wind

that gently strokes your troubled face.

as you recently learnt the gentlest voices,

would also spill the cruellest words.

You deaf your ears to the music that the fresh wind carries,

as for you most of the things have become unbearable noises.

The journey is short and obediently you get down,

Though you wish for it to extend till infinity drowns.



It aches to stretch the muscles and smile

For the gesture always made you miserably fail.

You cross the road like a slave sold

Wishing the truck will collide with your head.




Its not the dusky dark corner you sit

With an urge to slit!

But its the apex of the hall

Brimming with faces of gust and gall.

You sit and laugh!


At how your life has become world’s biggest joke!



I know!

You want to scream right there.

Throw chalk or chair and never care!


I  know!

You want to

Break free your loudest wails

That are sealed so long behind locked doors and running taps.



I know!

You want to

Shout straight at their stunned faces

And appreciate them for being best ever assholes!





You sit there with straight back.

Nodding at them with a raised cheek.


You sit there staring at distance,

approving all with a practised silence.




And for that!

For that superpower Darling,

Trust me, you are a stardust!


Trapped in war and drought!


This insane world wrapped in a bubble

That lies through its teeth – “be perfect or your rubble!”


Before you scream “ENOUGH!” Calm down…


Take a scythe, cut those clinging weeds

Reap your strength and sow them as seeds!

Button up.

Roll your sleeves up.

After all you know, life is not a butter cup.



Let only your mirror know you are sad.

For the rest of them, be a breaking bad!






Inevitably Immortal

I literally do know why I feel weird for being sad and almost on the verge of bursting down. I do know why the transformation of a line – “he/she has been back to his/her home” to “his/her body has been taken back to his/her home!!!” strikes at the marrow of my bones! No, they cannot understand. And for the first time I don’t worry about they judging me for being this paradox.


But at times I ask myself why I feel deeply depressed and literally bawl watching the people who kept my TV screen always busy, who always made sure the gossips,controversies and the debates  revolved around them, people who were celebrated, cursed and made their presence remarkable, now, simply DEAD.

But  why.

It is strange that sometimes we were already expecting news of their demise. But the sudden depart feels just too much to take in.  As always the media, the people around us, why even myself think of their virtues and give big shout out only after hearing their departure.

Yeah obviously, this is hardly anything new, as famous personality’s deaths have captivated people and each time someone who is significant but with whom you had no personal connection anyway passes, virtually every social media feed is inundated with expressions of grief and sadness.


A recent demise of an amazing and unmatchable leader who etched his name in the history, whose end seemed to be an end of one whole era made me think about the impact of physical death and eternity. And that chain of thoughts bought back the memories of my deep grievance for the missile man of India and iron butterfly of Tamil Nadu.

It doesn’t matter how old are you, where you come from or what kind of a person you are, when someone die, it feels like a very essential part of this materialistic earth has been stripped away. It is the magnitude of the essentiality that has been taken away, that differs from person to person.


Aiming to be successful, without a reason or motive, is arrogance, because what makes a person think they can be successful, without giving a reason to respect them in the first place?



Being successful means, you have a particular field to be successful in.

Being glorious on the other hand means, you surpass all the boundaries of education, politics, art and entertainment, by living in the hearts of millions of people all around this world. FOREVER.

Being successful is when you die, a national holiday is declared and everyone takes a day off spending it watching movies and hanging out.

Being glorious is, when people refuse to believe the news of your death, and put it off as a rumour for quite a while because they are not ready to face the fact they have lost you!

Yeah! I feel like anyone who has the potential to pick up a particular field and become successful. It requires a very minimal ambition provided the world is flooded with opportunities. SUCCESS! Has become quite a quick and easy task to accomplish. A few years of practice, devotion and few more hours of hardwork(and may be sometimes just money and influence) would fetch anyone,success!


There is where glory differs…

Glory cannot be practised, accomplished or attained through any of these. One attains glory, through right actions, good intentions and by using society they live as a platform to give back what they received in hundred folds.


Glory is when you make an entire state and country, feel and grieve deeply at the loss of your death, as much as your blood relations do…



This sudden realisation made me dizzy for I knew, until a few hours ago, that it is stupid of  anyone to glorify death!

I used to strongly despise death and all other side effects it bought with it. Death of course is cruel and also sometimes I think it is completely inappropriate.

But you know what ?! I would DREAM as that great mind advised. I would dream to be immortal in the hearts of billions like you people. I want to LIVE for eternity through my deeds and services. Just like you people.

I used to think immortality is a selfish thought. Desiring to live forever, just simply existing, physically, attempting to stretch the lifespan is a  foolish try!

I realised, influencing the lives of a million people, inspiring an entire generation, becoming an identity of large diverse in an extremely complicated population and to live in their memories forever- that’s when you really become immortal.

Now with a desire to taste eternity, I release myself from the clutches of the grief because of your demise.


The true tribute for such legends is nothing but to remember them and be grateful for their services -forever- you leaders shall rest in peace under the warmth of our hearts …

Days will roll, years shall pass, newbies will come demanding our diversion but dear legends you all will live always  in our smiling reflections.

For now adios amigos…




cherish the SELF…

SHE was not an absolute geek. Yet she wants to be the creator of cool stuffs that only a geek is allowed to do. She wants to be this good person all the time who will welcome people who just give a careless glance with a smile and emphasize her presence in such “sweet” ways. Because she has read, heard and even watched as such people never got into trouble and was almost SAFE from the world’s vicious things or she assumed so.

This was SHE in 200 BC!

She learned those people who are always warm and welcoming never get recognized and at some point of time get completely ignored! She watched quite keenly, the people who has inspired her to be sweet were no longer seemed to be “delicious” themselves! She told herself “something is really amiss with those” and shrugged her shoulder and went to her people who reacted to her sweet gestures until things CHANGED.


The people whom she claimed as her friends were nice but acted so strange in her presence. They replied to her politely but not with that same amicability. When she wanted to be a part of their discussion where words had nothing to do much but a wink, suppressed giggles  and some other animated facial reactions spoke million things, when she questioned about it, they calmly responded her with a “NEVER MIND!” pose and dismissed. At some point she could not withstand being the third wheel in a friendship.


She pondered over herself wondering why suddenly she felt very alone and why she feels too stupid to even discuss it with anyone. She wanted to sort the things out with herself but never really understood anything until the loneliness that she felt burdening turned to a blessing!

She slowly started to learn the “art of survival”. She replicated the gestures of her “once-upon-a-time friends” to every people she met. She started to respond with a simple smile that never reached her eyes and lightened up her face like before, she duplicated that giggle which once confused her. She finally learned the art of making her own masks meticulously for every category of people she was forced to meet! Now she is happy. Happy where being the real you is offensive and giving fake compliments assured safe survival! It was initially ridiculous being this kind of happy. But like others she learnt to watch yet never react but gossip,  weep behind double locked doors and screams shielded by running taps!


After some time, she unfortunately started to think, “ummm…life was not that hard!” she didn’t worry about ignored messages as now she deliberately ignored someone’s. she nodded but never argued as she learnt that some species never ever can be changed. She started acting so sweet but not with the same genuinity that once was her pride possession! she became a bright wizard in pessimism and breathed negativity. She learnt the art of escaping from curious eyes under the spell of “busy for infinity”. She heard their so called “heartbreak” stories and wondered why she never felt such things. The she realized she has dismantled even her heart and safeguarded it with an exquisite MASK in the fear of getting it rusted and cracked easily as it is extremely brittle… as it was designed to be.


But now the manufacture date of those incredible masks expired. Regrettably she didn’t heed attention to that. Now her treasured organs that are unfortunately not made of flesh and blood started troubling her. Suddenly she felt very vulnerable. She feared what people framed about her in their minds (which is of no use nevertheless)started pricking her. She felt that sudden urge to hug the tall pillars and cry fervently. Even the slightest jerk of failures gifted sleepless nights. The FEAR monsters grabbed her hair and played with her confidence until it shattered to several pieces.

She felt peace under the shady dark corners where no one made comment on her every single action. Overthinking became her prime job which blinded her self  worth.  Self-loathing became an undeniable ritual to be strictly followed. When sleep eluded everytime promising calm and peace, before shutting the eyelids blinding light tore her from tranquility. She tore down the honest writings assuming this will never be appreciated by the people who was virtually helping her to hold on.


Her lungs no longer withstanding the negativity chocked every single minute she drew air trying to sustain. She evidenced her soul becoming a refugee in her own body!

She wanted this to end. End immediately otherwise she would be forever trapped in this tormenting oblivion. An excruciating abyss. well. She tried. She tried to mend those masks but their power no longer effective enough to hide her true self. She started playing dumb, a deaf, a handicap altogether…


This somehow saved her energy. She buried herself in books which she once dismissed as unnecessary. She wrote whenever she felt the urge to unleash what she is feeling at that moment and this time she neither neglected it fearing the judgements nor she crumpled and threw it out of frustration. Instead she decided to share with everyone, for everyone, who is practically undergoing the exact anxiety but afraid to accept it.

Because she realized everything worthwhile in life is won through surmounting the associated negative experience. Any attempt to escape the negative, to avoid it or quash it or silence it, only backfires.

The avoidance of suffering is a form of suffering. The avoidance of struggle is a struggle. The denial of failure is a failure. Hiding what is shameful is itself a form of shame. Pain is an inextricable thread in the fabric of life, and to tear it out is not only impossible, but destructive: attempting to tear it out unravels everything else with it.



She realized we all feel bad about feeling bad. We feel guilty for feeling guilty. We get angry about getting angry. We get anxious about feeling anxious. And that’s the answer for this million dollar question, “WHAT’S THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME!?!”

The thing “HOW TO BE HAPPY” is frequently preached and without any knowledge we drag ourselves like a mindless sheep marching towards that mirage! But here’s is what nobody realizes-

The desire for more positive experience is itself a negative experience. And, paradoxically, the acceptance of one’s negative experience is itself a positive experience.” 


     ~ The subtle art of not giving a F***

Now she sighed deeply, smiling inside wondering for the first time how she managed to summarize her life story in two pages…





Father, we are never farther.

I remember it fresh and thick in my bones like it happened just moments ago. I can still feel my heartbeats and lungs taking great effort not to burst out and break down. I still have that stupid sheep smile on my face when I think of that day.

Those are the days I learned to shut my mouth when something I held close was snatched away, I learned to stay still when words hit me so hard that I even forgot to cry. Those are the days  I started to distinguish between humans and snakes practically. Those are the days your daily chants – ” YOU ARE NOT A CHILD ANYMORE “started to make more sense.

Those are the monsoon days I realised you don’t care much about your birthday. Those mild winter winds told me that its my turn now to celebrate you for what you have been and mean to me.

According to you I am nothing more than a stupid child who has her own ways to get what she wants from her grim father. But on that day I made you realise I’m nothing more than like you who is very good at concealing his affection but often fails to shield it from pouring when rare deep touching moments arrive.


Its Saturday that year, the climate was dull and intimate, the same mundane morning that lasted like decades. The day was this according to you. But for me, the day was unusual. The day for which i was preparing things secretly.  The day that I have missed for 15 years. The day I always desire to make it a special occasion in my life.

I have planned and directed in my mind how that evening should be. After you enter, we all would scream happy birthday followed by a little silly song in our animated childish voice, unwrap the cake box and enjoy the awe that rarely visits your face ,make you blow candles and smear the cream all over your moustache that you prided.



I have rehearsed those scenes for a dozen times and tried my best to stay all casual that day.

I forgot to tell you those were the same years I learnt things that we strongly expect to happen won’t turn out to occur the same.

Dad, you entered home with that face. The face that warns us not to make any sound as it would trigger the battle at any moment. Our home was silent, the clock ticked away taking the time that we never could bring back. I was annoyed, sad, frustrated all at once.

After some not-so-usual dinner, done being quiet, I came near your place with a carefully wrapped square box addressed to the best father in the world.

I presented it to you with “HAPPY BIRTHDAY PA” which was almost a whisper. You took that carefully and unwrapped it slowly. With all my mere savings and with mom’s help, I managed to get a fancy diary. I’m aware you loved collecting fancy journals though you wrote very rare. And with that I got a keychain painted in silver bearing your name’s first letter.

I still remember the goosebumps you got and your slow swallows to digest that lump in your throat. As you opened the diary, i heard the choke when you read,

Appa thank you so much for being the best dad.  I’ll try my best to make you proud every single fatherly moment of your life. Though I’m not a kid anymore, as you say, we will never be farther father. Thank you for everything you have been to me.

Happy birthday Appa…

After a long silence and deep sighs, you mumbled thank you, with your eyes still down rereading those meagre but honest words hiding those wet eyelashes!


Some uncomfortable minutes lapsed and I ended it with my thunder like laughter carefully guarding that wet cheeks from being exposed. Because such deep moments and sentiments are very difficult to handle for awkward people like us.

Years rolled, grey hairs started to turn white, medical checkups are made permanent, tablet boxes occupied our tables, smart phones ruled our medium of communication.


We argued,sulked,fought,screamed and silenced yet its like nothing has changed. Yes! I have grown to an adult. Yes! you have grown old.(how you hate it!) But it all seems like an endless circle of events repeating itself after steady intervals.

Father, you let me to evolve, solve, fall pathetically, rise grudgingly and fight back with the resolve I inherited.


I thought you tried to cut down my wings but I now realise you were training it for a better, safe and long flight.

1b93f196d950f07edb8626f11dad4ee9.jpgI sometimes thought you caged me, but its not long before I realised you were teaching me to break the barriers and fly high without falling for false things.


Father,you didn’t prepare me for the man I belong to. Instead, you prepared me for this huge world that belonged to me.

Father and daughter’s relationship are special, unexplainable and still an enigma. Dad, our bond is yet another treasured one adding mystery to that puzzle.


True heroes never go unsung. We daughters will sing your song through all our deeds at every stage of our life. To all fathers who protected us at many circumstances, thank you for making us to feel like princess. We promise before the time we meet our princes, we will make you very proud kings whose crown shall never touch the ground.


Let pride shall make your chest puff up even at your old age. (Oops! Don’t take it an offense!)

To all those motherly fathers and fatherly mothers,



Dad, you might never know ever that I wrote a post about you but I know you still keep that keychain and diary as new as I have presented that day hidden and treasured under your belongings. You made me realise not just one day is enough to celebrate father’s unconditional affection. We daughters can never get enough of Father’s love.

Father – A simple man behind every woman’s phenomenal success!



My dreams with added PRESERVATIVES.






“Nice but isn’t the dream scene is kinda an ancient idea?” Director asked. “Ancient pieces are antique pieces sir” I was smiling with a glimpse of pride in my eyes and when my glance averted I saw my mother with pursed lips. WARNING bell alarmed in my head! But what she’s doing here in the shooting spot???

“I’m never waking you up again!” I hear her scoffing and suddenly I felt too hot. It started sweating and that made my eyes pop open and finally i realised she performed that wicked ritual of switching off the fan which she thought a wonderful trick to get me out of my bed!


“Where am I?” drowsy me hissed. “Stop acting and quoting the famous line every person at hangover mutters! You never  know what that poison even smell like. Now if you don’t get ready, better prepare for  consequences.”

“I’ll try to act frightened tomorrow” I mocked my seventh sense before getting up to start my mundane morning!

But that dream of me being an assistant director suggesting scene sequences to Mr.Manirathnam kept myself so refreshed and cheerful throughout that day. And how I wish I would dream amazing things every night like that.


Dreaming is a form of mental activity, different from waking thought, that occurs during sleep is what they stated.  But hey doesn’t that sound too monotonous?

Dreams meant to me as an amazing, awe filling, hilarious, adventurous, spinechilling  and addicting realistic movie that is jumbled which has no editor to sort it out that helps the viewer to make any sense out of it! Well, some seriously disturbing and tragic scenes  are deliberately categorised as nightmares!



We never know how powerful those dreams are which sometimes influence our routine life and thoughts more than we anticipated. They might either lit up our spirit or sink our whole day in depression expecting bad stuffs to happen!

For instance, I had this weird dream that nearly murdered me! Let me narrate what i remember.

There’s water. Water everywhere I turn (I found I was literally turning my neck left and right wildly in sleep after I felt that pain at neck joint bones was real!) flowing out of my…. washing machine (!!)Screenshot_2018-06-04-15-50-21.png


standing on a mountain that has doors where it leads to my bedroom          (That’s INSANE!). I found my little brother swimming on the sink laughing hysterically. (wait my brother became a Lilliputian?) Even in my dreams he never cease to annoy me! Ignoring him was the only thing I could relate to my real life.

Then walking few steps forward, i was shocked and shattered to see my favorite dress soaked getting its way out of my cupboard . I try to grab it and save but I can’t reach it. Suddenly my brother cries for help since the sink turned into what it seemed like water-tornado. But at the other end my dress is getting away from me.


Tough situation right!  But I’m a strong woman in making quick clever decisions. (lying people will go to hell) Yeah I chose my favorite dazzling but currently soaked dress over my crying brother. Stop! don’t you dare call me a psycho! Even in dreams my subconscious is aware that he knew to swim.

PS: how can I forget that he saved me while I lost my grip and sank for 5 seconds and made a scene like I’ll die during that visit to some water body in my eleventh grade!!!


My dress is a poor thing which needs actual help right?! So when I made my way to cupboard with great difficulty and when i opened it I found… Myself!

Myself wearing that dress and sitting on a shelf with my hair loose ( I’m blessed with parched untamed curly hair! So imagine how scary i would have looked) and jaws open with some green color Candy on my tongue (half eaten I suppose) but eyes closed (thank god!). What? Am I ??

D.E.A.D I heard some voice whispering…

I was running. Like a freak. At one stage I confirmed I’m the incarnation of the flash of this planet. (Flash fans we’ll deal this matter privately.) But in just an eye blink, I slipped in my toilet ( what the hell!) and went into the hole becoming maller and smaller at every swirl…!




I woke up with damp cheeks, red eyes and soaked pillows covers. I sobbed softly even after that dream and finding it was still dawn I returned back to sleep!

I do know whether I can call it a nightmare or just an adventurous dream that gave me goosebumps. Because every detail of my washing machine, bedroom and even toilet was accurate. I never have seen myself this scary so far. May be the only perk I got out of this creepy visuals was seeing myself from other’s perspective. (Don’t smile, I was just trying sarcasm on myself)

So how dreams get so realistic? How just less than 10 minutes sequels can be this much influencing and disturbing? And above all, what big sin I made to have such an embarrassing dream?


Wait! Do you expect me to tell you that I browsed and searched to find answers for all this WH questions and show off? Sorry! I never tried though I wanted to. I’m procrastination Queen ruling my far stretched land majestically bearing the name lazy where sloths live wearing leathar(gic)coats!


But eventually I shared this dream with my family who just paid no heed saying it was all probably because I was watching too many psycho killer movies and making a scrap book of disaster management and “LOVE” my brother too much! (Got an idea where my exceptional sarcasm skills came from?)

However they were half true. I read thriller novels and my imagination of those scenes fascinated me. So yes! I was doing my project for social science on tsunami. So yes! But hey isn’t it mandatory for a girl to love his adorable younger brother. Too much pressure. So that too was right!

Life was peaceful aftermath until I happen to read an article with a scary title “prophetic dreams“…

*Wayward witches from Macbeth buzz  around my head like flies*


This is what the scary part I came across: In a prophetic dream, you see the future through your dream. God why???


How? Just how just a single sentence can bring life to all those old wounds? Ew! I never want to roll like a ball to sit in my cupboard that too wearing my favorite well ironed dress!

Noooo! I don’t want to disappear in a toilet flush! YUCK.


So how I can make sure this is going to happen? And how can I escape from it? I don’t want my crime novels , horror movies and my food, sleep and mobile using habits (my mother will find her way finally to these. I swear!) to be the scapegoats. So this time I ostracised myself from my queendom and searched for the solution to my recklessness.

Fortunately I found it before they push me into rehabilitation centre where I should have been locked up even before because of ENGINEERING (well! We will discuss it later) what I found is:

It is difficult to determine that a dream is prophetic because we can only confirm such a dream after it has taken place. Even then, we only hear of the success stories.(those are fictions in my case! *SWAG emoticon*) .There are so many other dreams that do not come true.(ahh! This is what I died to hear).


Thus, prophetic dream may just be mere coincidences.(wait what??!)….

Since I have successfully accomplished my search and got what i want to hear (forget the last line) I was sleeping peacefully. Until i got the visuals of harry potter flying on that blue whale from that dangerous game. And something like when I wait for my food to come at a hotel, noodles coming out of the ground and crawl into my nose!!! ( I kicked my brother in sleep when I had this dream and from that night on he’s maintaining distance with me! May be I might have kicked him so hard where is shouldn’t have!!!)


I have dreamt of a figure wearing the mask from SCREAM series cutting my nails with his lunatic weapon(????!), and another one where my friend threatening me to watch game of thrones and when I refused my mother handed over a dead (oh! How I wish!) cockroach to her to make me obey my friend! (Cruel world)


There’s no specific connection between any of these things but I’m fascinated by my neurons’ fearsome creativity. (But bro, WHY ME?!)

Things didn’t stop there itself. I had this dream where dinosaur and I were friends but I should kill her like LARA CRAFT (damn! *blushing*) as she stole my most treasured hand kerchief and lied to me that she didn’t. (Disloyalty deserve death!)


From all these and many more amazing and hair raising dreams  which I most of the times forgot after waking up, my favorite was this:


I was running. Yes just running. But wait I’m feeling a weight on my head and some heat. I smell my favorite something. But wait what’s my favorite smell? Its tea aroma right?! CRAAAP!

I was running balancing a tea cup on my head and someone is scream a warning that my head would blow off if I let that mug to fall on the ground! I try very hard to keep my balance. Oh my god. Please I don’t want my beautiful (huh?!) head to blow off just like that. But hey its falling, failing my balance. Failing. Falling. Failing. Falling…



[I heard Dr.Wells yelling Run Barry run in between! ( Seriously?) Or was that bagh milka bagh?? ]


My reflex is amazing that I caught it with my toe. I’m a genius!




I woke up with my heart in my mouth. I’m now a headless girl. Well, Virtually!

But the voice warned my head would blow off only if I let it fall to the ground! But I managed to catch it with my toes. Cheating! Cheating! Cheating! Must be my brother’s curse while I cheated giving him just a Munch whereas I looted big silk from fridge!

KARMA is a w(–)itch!

I closed  my eyes and tried to reconnect with that specific “tea cup” dream channel again. But we know what happens when we very desperately want something.

*sad melodramatic love failure violin music plays*


And I went to sleep only to get woken up by my mom after what its seemed like just 10 seconds and that was the exact minute I was enjoying discussion about some dream scene with my idol as a blooming promising (!) film director. (Bad timing mom!)



So when those conventional people advise – “The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams” they don’t know not all those dreams are beautiful as they claim to.

So what I suggest is, its completely genuine in desiring to have a dream getting a Hogwarts letter today night but don’t freak out when Voldemort himself delivers it tomorrow morning! Instead transform yourself  to a powerful wizard and fight back.


Because both the god and demon is within us but its up to our intellect to be a devil (what we are) under God’s (what we claim to) disguise and have try to have those “happily ever after”endings…


Dream like you already accomplished what you desire and in that way you can nullify the intensity of those insane nightmares that threatens your desire to dream…

For example, I’m gonna dream today night like I have become a popular favorite blog writer (wink-wink) who is still afraid of flush toilets! (*zipped mouth*)


After all, accepting your shortcomings is synonym to overcoming your fears and failures and eventually  grabbing your destined success blanket right?!







Until another nightmare, bye…









Screwed up!

Just felt like writing a small draft being consequentially inspired by myself. Because its said

when thoughts come to your mind, don’t let them go without a warm welcome in your blog”






        This draft is not intended to make oneself feel threatened since the writing self is already doomed and that’s why she’s writing this. This draft does not encourage skepticism.

I know after reading this you want to show your professionalism but its not advised to try out anywhere or anytime!


Promise yourself that you’ll be man of your word

Uninstall all social networking apps 

Block those call spamming pests

Pray the almighty to shower 

Strength and power

Feel like a hopeless archeologist

Dig out books that looks as new as your yoga mat

Heave a deep sigh

Breathe in

Breathe out 


Until it strikes why you are breathing in and out 

In the middle of terrible night

Open the book with hope

Hum some random song

Shut up realising 

Its that stupid advertisement tune

Decide to feed yourself couple of morsel

End up emptying the entire bowl!

Practise eye exercise 

Slap yourself to focus

Clean dirt from your miniature nails

Blow out that strands of hair from your forehead

Bring it out down intentionally 

Blow it up again

Try to make hair curls with your pen

End up making messy knots

Suppress a developing yawn

Wipe your blurring tear filled pathetic eyes

Allow yourself to give a yawn once 


Only this tenth time…

Only this ‘N’th time




Sleep well on hefty well bounded nightmares!



The END of MY story begins…

To be continued

Meet you in hell



Stay tuned…





Until good morning… Bubye