this is me!!!!!!!!!!

I have not experienced the whole set of beauty and thrills of the collage of life. However, I am studying this collage and I reckon I am starting to understand it bit by bit. I am a lot fascinated by it.
I had read a lot of books on fictions, memories and fantasies. Sometimes, I get carried away by such books. Once I read a fantasy fiction, there was magic, charms in that book, I was so carried away that I hardly heard mom calling out for me. I won’t be wrong to say that I was actually bewitched by the author. What I wonder is the author’s audacity to fuse the actual air and the fiction air. It’s a fiction but then there are lots of similarities between these two. By air, I mean the prevailing principalities. I am quite positive that the principalities I failed to understand in my own world I learned and understood them by reading books. I’ve been speaking and babbling about books, so of course I love books. And like everybody else, I least like school books.
Keeping books apart, I was saying about the collage of life. I introduced myself a bit while writing about these books. Yes, I am a bit stubborn while reading a book. My personality changes every time I read a book. Sometimes I wonder if I am suffering from MPD, Multiple Personality Disorder….. It will always be a dilemma to me…..this is how I am and I will always be this way!!!

the bond i share with the five ruppee note

I AM THE older of two sisters and we’re a small family of four. A small family is a happy family indeed. But once upon a time, there were five people in our family. I had a younger brother, Ashish, who was four years younger than me. He was very different from me. He was crazy about cricket. He was more into sports than studies. He loved black and I loved white, and that was how different we were. When it came to books, he hated them. It was very easy to make him fall asleep; all I had to do was to just keep a school book in front of him. He would always end up being scolded by our parents. But I would proudly say that he was a great cricket player. If one asked my friends about their favourite cricket players, their answer will be either Sachin or Yuvraj or Brett Lee or some big name but, as for me, my brother is my favourite.
As I sit here on the bench in our garden, looking at beautiful fruits and flowers dancing with the breeze, I wonder if the mesmerised onlooker will ever imagine that this is where our family’s dark moments lie. Deep down, under the roots of the plants growing here. I always spend my evenings here thinking about my brother and how his soul blossoms and dances with the flowers and the plants.
It happened five years ago. He was 10 at that time and I was 14. He would usually go out with the other kids to play cricket in the evenings. But on that warm, sunny December evening, the other kids didn’t take him along. The previous day, his team had lost the game and he had lost his pocket money as well – the losing team had to buy snacks for the winners. Mom and dad were busy that day, so the two of us had lunch together, not realising that it would be our last meal together. I can’t remember him speaking much that day, all I remember is that he asked me for a five rupee note for the next day’s game, which I promised I would lend him. After that, he went outside to practice – playing cricket all alone in the playground near our house pond.

Hours later, dad asked for him but he was nowhere to be seen. Mom and dad started searching for him – the playgrounds, play stations, neighbours’ houses, everywhere they could possibly think he’d go. My younger sister and I tried looking for him at all his frequent hangouts but it was all in vain. Our search caught the neighbourhood’s attention and it gained momentum, lasting for hours. Back at home, mom told everyone that she could see a cricket ball floating in the pond. She was already in tears. Everyone gathered around her, scolding her for thinking such things but agreed to search the pond to convince her that her fear was baseless. One of our neighbours went into the pond. “There is something, I think it’s a body.” The minute she heard it, mom fell down, unconscious. Uncle brought out Ashish. He was already dead. They tried everything, all possible aids to bring him back. I was so confused, tears streamed down my cold face. I didn’t know what was going on, all I knew was that I wouldn’t be seeing my brother anymore. I saw papa cry for the first time that day.
They dressed Ashish up for the funeral. He was looking lovely – smart in his school uniform.
I don’t know how cold he must have felt inside the water in that chilling pond that day in December. Did he die right after falling down there? Did he long for someone to come out of the house and find him? Why didn’t we see that cricket ball at first?
We could have found him earlier and maybe we could have saved him. These are questions which will haunt me and my family forever, questions for which we have no answers. But I’m sure the Almighty will have the answers. Now, all we can do is pray for his soul to rest in peace
Today, again, I sit here in the garden which was a pond five years ago, the pond that took my brother. I have a five rupee note in my pocket that I will give him one day for sure.

when i say i've changed

I am my papa’s girl who loves always being with the family. Now I am very far away from my family…pursuing my btech. I’ve always thought the world is always a castle….a palace for me. it was months after being in the hostel that I changed my mindset….there are lots of people around me and to intermingle well with them you have to compromise a lot…..never have a lot of expectations from them and that way you will always be happy. I was my papa’s princess at home and it was a bit hard for me living up to the new environment…where the people live for themselves …..But then I gradually changed. I cannot complain about it. May be this is one of the curses the evil witch has bestowed on me……to evolve…to change …to take part in the survival of the fittest.
Don’t mistake me for a spoilt child when I say “I am my papa’s princess”…I was brought up among the fairy tales…I was taught about the qualities of a true princess…and that was how I became a princess……and when I say I’ve changed I don’t mean that I am not a princess now….I am still a princess…there in my heart!!!

THE tougher SIDE

here,i chose blue color for a change...till now i was leading a carefree life....i ve always thought of fun,talked of fun...
now i am looking forward for a change....may be i should be more serious now...dats why i chose blue for celebrating a change. i just want to show everyone that a pink pincess like me can be really tough at times....is this the reason for the change??? or may be i ate an apple the bad witch gave me once......
watever the case i am going to show the world....and i ll conquer the whole world.....i ll make the world an easy place for all......learn magic and transform all the evils into beautiful flowers....i ll brew potions to remove all the deadly things which still walk on this earth of ours...may be by that time i ll come back to my carefree life again which is so bubbly and jolly.....

magic slippers

i ve always been fascinated by magic and fairytales....with all those princess and prince.....

once when i was in six standard....i was choosen by my teachers for a play...."cinderella".....it was a dream come true for me.....i practised hard...rehearsed hard....the boy who played the prince was a guy 4rm seven standard and he was damn cute as well......

but darn my luck...how could i get into an accident at that tym....i was not injured much but still i could not make it for the play....the teachers had to find another gal....they practised all over again. though i couldnot be in the play,i helped that gal.....a lot.

The play was a grand success. the audience clapped and cheered....n i was one of them....thats okay. Even though i could not be the drama queen.......i was the backstage princess...and am elated about it....

some spellbinding words...!!!!

1. Obstacles are those frightful things you see when you take your eyes offyour goal.
2. Of all the words of tongue or pen,the saddest are those ........it might have been.
3. LOVE can sometimes be magic. But magic can sometimes........just be an illusion

the fairy dance

The soft stars are shining, The moon is alight, The folk of the forest, Are dancing tonight! Oh swift and gay, Is the song that they sing, They float and sway, As they dance and sing. O seek not to find them, The wee folk so fair; They're shy as the swallow, And swift as the air. If you come, they are gone Like a snowflake in May, Like a breath, like a sigh, They vanish away. (Katherine Davis)

A brief tour to My Fairy Land

Me and My friends

My Fairy Bedroom

My Fairy Palace

The princess of the Fairy Land

This real world is full of artificiality, pain, sorrow everywhere. Being a little girl with little experience to handle all these illusionary 'MAYA', I doubt my existence with me in myself. And, I don't want to live a life without myself in me. This blog is my world of fairies where every good thing happens. This is my world of perfection where there is absence of the slightest sign of sorrow, pain and hunger.

My readers, be a fairy and angel of GOD in my fairy world.

Welcome you all.