Sun, Sand, Stars and Dreams

The chronicles of a misfit Indian teen


May 2013

Grandpa, you are missed.

Yesterday, all I felt like doing was, curl up in my bed and pretend to sleep.
But, my mum had other ideas. She dragged me out of bed and sent me to school, where I spent the entire day in my constantly deepening pit of misery.
The grade 12 results of my seniors were announced yesterday, with many of them receiving super-awesome marks and percentages.
And as soon as I reached home, my parents continued asking me whether I’ll get that good grades next year. My parents’ super-high expectations of me, and the fear and anxiety that I may not make it and end of disappointing them, are everyday issues for me.
But, it makes me long for my maternal grandfather.
And on May 27, the longing is even stronger. For, this 27 of May marked 16 years since he left this world.
Is it possible to love and miss someone you never met before, you might wonder.
But, it is. My maternal grandfather breathed his last approximately a month before I was born, but I’ve always felt a special attachment to him.
And hearing my mum and other relatives speak about him, I’ve felt a special kind of kinship towards him.
He was a great man, a scholarly individual, whose greatest joy was to spend time with his nose buried in a book. He was also a calm and kind-hearted man, who rarely got angry and never raised his voice. He was also a liberal, broad-minded and forward-thinking person, which made him all the more loved as an academician and a former Education Secretary of an Indian state.
He was also modest and never flaunted his authority.

Though I was never lucky to meet him, I’ve always wondered how my life would be with him here.
Probably, he would have supported my decisions, especially career choice, as it was his career too. Unlike my parents, who still think I’m not mature enough to take my own decisions. But, I’m sure about that one decision and have always been.

And lastly, Grandpa, even though it has been years since you left us, you are never forgotten. There isn’t even one day that you aren’t missed.
May your soul rest in peace.

P.S. Why does creativity and emotion always strike at the most inappropriate times? It is night already and I have to prepare for the finals of the English Debate of my senior year which is held tomorrow in my school. And, I have a math test as well and I’ve done nothing. :/


Fact or fiction: When fiction turns to reality

So, yes, I know I haven’t posted much these days. I apologise. But, senior year seems to be getting more and more hectic as each day passes.
Well, I will not bore you by droning on about school.
Anyway, so it’s like this.
I’d been writing a novel, in secret, I should add.
And no, I did not finish it yet. Though, I have no idea when I might do that. What with my incurable habit of procrastination.
But, it was this quite normal story about a school girl and the day to day issues she faces. I did add some of my own experiences in it, but the main character was rather special.
She was the daughter of high-ranking foreign diplomat. She travelled around with her father each time he got a transfer, and they were filthy rich. She was rather intelligent as well, and she seemed to have everything.
At least that’s what everyone thought.
My story was about her perspective, the problems she faced, the major one being her mother’s death, being bullied relentlessly even before she could get over it.
And that is just the start.
But, this post isn’t about my attempt at novel-writing either.
Well, I’ll better get to the point.
This character of my novel has come to life.
No, not in the Pinocchio-like way.
There was this new girl who got put into my class. And her story is almost the same. Except for a few variations here and there. Her father is a high-ranking diplomat too and she’d travelled around a lot too. And her mother’s ill and had to have a surgery.
They are super-rich and the girl still faces a lot of adjustment problems.
Plus, she’s also faced a few of the situations I’d put my character through, in my novel.
It seems somewhat supernatural and other-worldly for me. Like a type of déjà vu.
And the sad part is that all of the above is true.

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