Liebster Award time!


Here’s my Liebster Award!

A huge, huge, HUGE thank you to Anjana Pradeep for nominating me! You’re the best, Anjaaaaana! ❤
Check out her awesometastic blog here. She’s an amazing writer so all of you should definitely visit her page soon!

Now, here are a few things you need to follow to complete the nomination for this award:

1. Thank the person who nominated you and provide a link to their page(s) in your post.
2. Proudly display the award banner on your page.
3. List eleven facts about yourself.
4. Answer the questions the award-giver asked you and make 11 more for your nominees.
5. List your nominees.

So, 1 and 2 are done! Time for 3! 😀

Hmm, eleven facts about me…

1. I absolutely love insects! I mean, they’re just so damn cute! 😀
2. I can’t live without good food. Food is my soulmate. Please don’t separate the two of us 😛
3. I’m a huge introvert. Put me in a group of new people and watch as I slowly crumble and self-destruct in a corner but ask me to address a group of people and you’ll see me shining like a diamond! 😀
4. I’m a Science student. And diamonds don’t shine. They refract light. 😛
5. I’m a Grammar Nazi. No misspelling or grammatical error escapes my cynicism.
6. I’m a sucker for lame jokes and puns! I bet you did nazi that coming. :’)
7. I want to contribute in some way to society in my life. It might be the smallest thing but I’ll definitely do anything I can.
8. I stick to my beliefs no matter what. You can’t make me do anything that’s against my principles unless you prove to me that I’m grossly wrong. Even then, I might only budge.
9. From the above statement, you can see that I can be quite stubborn at times 😛
10. I LOVE books. You’ll always find me with my nose buried in one. Favourite authors would be Jefferey Deaver, Dan Brown, Khaled Hosseini, Jeffrey Archer and many, many more.
11. I am pro-cotton. I mean, come on. You’ve got to admit that it’s the best material to wear in any and every weather! There’s the problem of ironing though. 😛

It’s time to answer her questions!

1. What inspires you?
The world, literally. Today I’ll be looking at a beautiful painting and I’ll be writing about it or trying to recreate it tomorrow!

2. Your biggest dream?
To become successful in life. I don’t mean successful monetarily. I want to be a good person, a role model.

3. Where do you see yourself in 3 years time?
More college >.<

4. If you were allowed to make ONE miracle happen, what would it be?
Hmm…this is a toughie. But if I absolutely had to choose, I would rid the world of crime against women-be it rape, domestic abuse or foeticide.

5. What are you most insecure about?
I lead a pretty good life, almost perfect, I would say. So I have nothing to be insecure of right now.

6. What are you most secure about?
My closest friends and family. The might give me a good scolding now and then when I deserve it but I know they will be by my side no matter what.

7.What is your take on ‘true love’?
It's real. True love actually happens.

8. If you had to give up one of these two, which one would it be? Reading OR Writing?
That's easy! Definitely, writing. If I can't read my own work, what's the point of writing? 😛

9. Your favourite quote, And why is it special to you?
"At last she makes her choice. She turns around, drops her head and walks toward a horizon she cannot see. After that she does not look back anymore."-And the Mountains Echoed, Khaled Hosseini

I feel this quote is special because it happens to many a person. Many people find themselves facing difficult choices where they sometimes need to take the option that goes against society’s norms and maybe their own principles, just to protect what is most valuable to them.

10. Describe your perspective of life in 3 words.
Vast, green countryside.

11. Who is your favourite disney character? and why? 🙂
Noooooo. You cannot ask me to choose just one. </3 They're all so perfect in their own little ways! ❤

Question time! Here are my questions for you:
1. What is your favourite kind of food?
2. What is the biggest social injustice in this world according to you and why?
3. What is your deepest, darkest secret?
4. What is your biggest fear?
5. If you could change one thing about your life right now, what would you change and why?
6. Friends or family?
7. Have you ever experienced peer pressure? When?
8. Describe the perfect place (real or imaginary).
9. What is your biggest aim in life, your biggest dream?
10. Describe yourself in three words.
11. What are your 5 biggest pet peeves?

Here are my nominations!
1. Seasons of Sahaana
2. Everything Under the Sun
3. Light, Darkness and Life
4. Social Psychopath
5. Pink is the Wildest Colour

Thank you all for the love!
The befuddled mortal ❤


Prompt:Your protagonist is an inanimate object granted sentience by a higher power.

My cheek tickled as she dribbled paint all over my face and down my neck. Paint dripped from her little fingers. Plop plop plop. She sat , quizzically staring at her masterpiece, her hand suspended in mid-air, peering at her work with the utmost concentration. Ouch. I quivered as her thumb came crashing down, jabbing me with such force. The rasping sound of the paper scratching my face was mixed with her lilting laugh. I was happy. Her creation was complete. Her finger painting was ready to be showcased to the world.

He paced the room anxiously, occasionally jotting down an angry word or two on the balance sheet. The nasty jabs and swipes hurt but I knew there was no true love without pain. I silently endured the stabs and relished the moments when he smoothly ran the pen over the paper, tickling me ever so slightly. I sank into memories of the times he wrote beautiful poetry on me, his long strokes strong and confident. He banged his fist down, jolting me back to the present. It hurt but my spirits lifted when he gave a contented sigh at the end of a long, rough night of hard work.

He dug his compass into me, scarring my face, dragging the point to mar my lovely features. He picked up his pencil and doodled on me absent-mindedly, drawing ugly figures of the crude jokes his mind conjured up. It felt like getting an unwanted tattoo but his excited chatter interjected by his laughter made it all better. I was fine as long as he was having fun.

She lovingly stroked the soft feather duster over me, getting every bit of dirt out of my tired frame. She leaned against me for a moment of rest in her busy day, her lower back resting against my edge, her cotton summer dress brushing my legs. Her fingers traced floral patterns, caressing my slight ridges and imperfections, sending electric jolts of pure ecstasy through me. I felt a giddy rush and thanked my stars for making me one of the Chosen Few. Sorcery and enchantments coursed through every fibre and every splinter of my being. I was no ordinary wooden writing desk…

Everyone has a hamartia

Her lilting laugh filled the room, sinking into every crevice of his brain. A sense of happiness enveloped him as he was engulfed in the unfamiliar warmth of utter peace. At that moment, he realised she was The One, no doubts about it.

He looked around the crowded room, searching for the source of that beautiful laugh-timid and shy but self-assured and brazen at the same time. The room was filled with merry-makers but he knew he had to find her or live the rest of his life with the haunting memory of the laughter that could never be stimulated by him. For he knew she was the one he was going to spend the rest of his life with. It would be her body he snuggled up to in the night and her groggy face and bed-hair he would wake up to every morning. She would be the one he allowed to delve deep into his psyche and go on an adventure, finding his deepest and darkest secrets stashed away in unexpected, hidden corners. She was the one he would love completely and with no regrets. He could almost picture her, silhouetted in the Library window, nestled in his arms, curled up with her favourite book, her melodious voice bringing the dead letters to startling life.

He pulled out of his reverie and refocused his attention to the task at hand. He had to find the princess to his knight-the girl who had stolen his heart and caressed it with nothing but the sound of her laughter. He heard that magical laugh again, soft at first but ascending and intensifying until it became a full-blown waterfall from nothing but a meandering rivulet. He jostled through the surge, desperately looking for the damsel he knew would be imprinted in his dreams forever but she seemed to be avoiding him like a shy doe.

Spent and disappointed, he ordered a stiff martini and sank into the only available spot on the soft couch, ready to give up the search and go home. His heart pained with the thought that he would never find that mysterious girl-his mysterious girl. Dejected, he downed his drink in one gulp and rose to leave but something pulled him back, making him scan the crowd one last time. His eyes were instantly drawn to the intricate stained glass french windows. His heart strings tugged and he knew it was her. She was standing with her back to him, her slender fingers moving animatedly, her luscious hair swaying ever so slightly as she moved, trying to make a point.

His heart leapt to his throat as he approached her. He felt under-dressed and inadequate compared to her. Would she like him, he wondered as he came up behind her and mustered all his courage. He tapped her shoulder and she turned around. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever set his eyes upon but there was something wrong. Her black shades looked awkward shielding her eyes, indoors, at half-past nine in the night…


Why is it that we care so much about what other people think about us? In the grand old days, it was about being a prim and proper girl to get the perfect suitor or wearing perfectly tailored suits to grow in business but now, the world suddenly seems to need numbers to give themselves a confidence boost.

How many Facebook friends do I have? How many likes did I get on that picture? Will I get more comments if I pose with my dog or without it? How many followers do I have on Twitter? How many YouTube subscribers, how many page views on WordPress, how many people in my friends circle on G+? Is it really that important? Just sit back for a second and think how this really affects you. Most of those people don’t even know who you are.  Look at all the wonderful people around you. The ones you ignore most-your family, your closest friends, the neighbour’s kid who looks up to you. They’re the ones who are worth caring about, the ones who can really pick you up when you’re feeling off-colour or just plain sad.

Do those numbers really signify what you’re worth? Does that encompass who you are or at least manage to portray you in some way? Scratch the ‘you’. I’m pretty much the same but we’re really getting in over our heads in this. Is it really worth ignoring the people who love you most just in an attention-seeking frenzy that amounts to pretty much nothing in the end? You don’t need a like here or a comment there to boost your self-confidence. You’ve got a dazzling personality of your own and even if you don’t see that yourself from time to time, you sure can count on all those lovely people around you to lift your spirits right away and make you realise the true jewel you really are.

We’ve all complained about that one friend or that secret crush or the high school jock who always seems to ignore our attentions and just pretend like we’re not there. Just pause and think of all the people you are doing that to right now because you need to devote your time to bettering your tumblr page. I’m not saying you’re a bad person but it’s about time we prioritised and realised who or what actually matter in our lives. Do the numbers matter or do the people? They really deserve a chance, don’t you think?


Dear mother,

One of the most painful feelings is when a parent, especially a mother, loses her baby. It doesn’t matter if her child was stillborn, 7 years old or 70, it was still her child, her creation. A piece of her soul lived in her wonderful creation. Her child was like her horcrux. A part of her died when her child moved on to a better place, leaving this sorry world behind.

I was wondering about this the other day and I just felt the urgent need to pen down my thoughts and this is what I ended up coming up with. And to all you mothers out there, don’t give up, keep going, because that is exactly what your child would have expected of you. Wherever he or she is, they’re looking down on you, looking for a chance to point at you, swell their chests with pride and say-“That beautiful woman you see there? Yes, she is my mother, the best mother in the whole wide world.”


Two striking eyes that will never see this beautiful world,
A pair of lungs that will never breathe,
A little nose that will never suck in the sweet scent of Autumn,
And two little feet that will never feel the ground beneath.

A brilliant brain that will never be put to use,
Two hands tipped with fingers that can never feel,
Skin that can never sense the raindrops caressing it,
A child that has been dealt an unfair deal.

A set of nails that will never be cut,
A head of coal-black hair that will never be brushed,
Two ears that can never hear her father’s call,
A little voice that is forever hushed.

She looked down at her tiny baby,
Wanting to see a heaving chest,
Her ears yearned to hear the baby’s cries,
But her heart knew she had failed the test.

For the baby lay nestled in the arms of Death,
Never would she feed at her mother’s breast,
Never would she cry or laugh without a care,
For she lay still, against her mother pressed.

Her soul had flown before she could feel the warmth,
The warmth of her mother’s endless love,
Her life had been snuffed out, her little heart was still,
For now she resided in the Heavens above.


She woke up with the tears to match her fears
Surrounded by blackness constricting.
Her forehead sweating, her surroundings offsetting,
She listened to the splatter of rain.

She crawled from her bed, filled with dread
Of the world waiting outside,
She remembered her lover, Satan undercover
And felt dread turn into hate.

She felt him near, his smile, more a sneer
Flashing from the blank wall,
He was nothing but a phantasm, leaving a deep chasm,
In the depths of her soul.

She emerged stiff, And caught a whiff
Of the sweet scent of Autumn
But the fragrance smelt fake, made her head ache
And her resolve hardened.

She trudged the road, by the river that flowed
Right down to his house,
Her naked skin gleamed, as the wind streamed,
Along her contoured body.

She reached his abode, with confidence she strode,
Through the corridors familiar.
She reached his bedroom, their passion’s womb
And saw him there aslumber.

He stirred in his sleep as up she creeped,
Right up to his limpid body,
She stroked his face as she closed the space
Between his lips and hers.

His eyes flew open, his sleep now broken
As he stared at her pale face,
She held him tight and he knew tonight
Would be the last of his days.

Her fangs went deep, putting him to sleep,
To never rise again,
Out she went, with no repent,
And reached the graveyard near.

She climbed back in, to her bed within,
Six feet under the ground,
Her final deed satisfied her need
And let her rest in peace.


Tears rolled down his cheeks
As he anticipated his future.
The red and blue lights reflected off his face,
The sirens blaring.
But it wasn’t the police he was scared of
It was his brothers, the Family.
The shame of betrayal washed over him.
He had been the cowardly weak link.
He didn’t as much as flinch when he felt the cold steel touch his temple.
He turned to face the Father, the all powerful
He said a short prayer
But before he could say ‘Amen’,