Sun, Sand, Stars and Dreams

The chronicles of a misfit Indian teen


October 2013


Because being happy is the best thing one can wish for.

That moment when you do/see something awesome, is something to cherish forever.

If only everyone could accept others as they are, the world could be a better place.

The hope that tomorrow will definitely be better, is what makes us continue living.

To believe in oneself, to believe that ‘I can do it!’

What would life be, if there wasn’t love?


This post was inspired by The Daily Post’s Prompt


The mists of mystery

The classmate:
I glanced up at the girl who had just sauntered in like she owned the place. She walked straight towards the second-last row, and occupied the corner-most place, adjacent to the wall of the class room. She opened a textbook and concentrated on it. She never spoke much to anyone. She was one of the two daughters of a rich politician and a renowned artist. She thought she was too high-and-mighty to even talk to us, lowly creatures. The freak.
I glanced at her with barely concealed disgust. She managed to project out an expensive and sophisticated air, even in the school uniform, with her expensive Armani jacket even in the summer, Cartier watch, diamond-studded platinum earrings, shoes from Lanvin and a bag from Hermes.
She might have as well had a board with flashing neon lights on her forehead proclaiming, “I’m filthy rich!”
I hated her and I think most of my classmates did. It wasn’t because of what she said or did, it was because of what she didn’t say or do or maybe because most people were envious of her.

The teacher:
I couldn’t help glancing at the girl in the corner, who was completely engrossed in her textbook, even though I’d given the class a free hour. Most of the students were chattering excitedly about the program held at school the previous day, but I’d noticed that she was absent for it.
I couldn’t help but think about her. I had never seen her speaking to anyone, or anyone speaking to her. It was like she didn’t exist for most of them.
Even many of my colleagues thought her to be a stuck-up rich snob, but I wasn’t convinced. I was sure that there was more to her than what met the eye.

I groaned. Yet another day. These days I dreaded waking up. I hoped that one of these days, I would just not wake up, but I don’t think that it is possible.
I hate my school, my class, the teachers, my family, my life. Everything.
I find no point in living, because it is just the same boring existence everyday.
When do my parents even have time for me? My father is busy with elections, party, office, controlling the country, yada yada, that I think that last time he spoke to me was almost a month back.
My mother is holed-up in her studio most of the time.
My elder sister is addicted to drugs and sex, but my parents think that she is the perfect daughter and I’m just the unwanted tag-along. I snorted.
I don’t have a nice family. Fine. How about friends? Friends, you say? I forgot what that word even was.
All those classmates spoke to me only if they needed something done because of my father’s connections, and if they realised that it wouldn’t work out, they forgot me again.
I don’t even remember the last time I smiled, let alone laughed.
Oh don’t worry, it’s the same thing every time.
In fact it happens every time that it’s almost boring.
Tenderly, I pushed up the sleeve of my Armani jacket, which I hated, yet wore it even in the summer, only to hide the years of scarring. I brought my arm up and held the cool metal surface of the blade against the skin. I closed my eyes, and slashed.

This post was written for The Weekly Writing Challenge

That place called home.

I’m one of those types. The ones who believe that,”Home is where the heart is”, because it doesn’t matter where you live, it is more like who.
A better response might be that I don’t know where home for me is.
Yup. That’s right.
From the time I could remember, and even before that, I was always moving around.
For the first few years of my life, it was moving around with my mum, (which I don’t really remember, it is just mostly old photos and stories my mum told me) from Chennai, India, to London, Cairo, Dubai and then finally, to Riyadh, when I was around four, because my father got a permanent job there.
From then on, I’ve lived in that same place, only going somewhere for a rare vacation. That too, mostly to India.
They say that if you live in a place, long enough, you will start to feel a special attachment to it.
I like it here, away from all those prying relatives, back in India.
But, feeling a special attachment, I don’t know.
Sometimes, I want my senior year to end soon, so I could go back to India and start college (and a new chapter of my life) there.
At other times, I don’t want to leave this. Ever. Because it is really hard to leave a place where you’ve lived for the major part of your life. (More than 12 years in my case.)

The final question is this: “Where is home for you?”
And my answer to that would be,”I don’t really know. Although presently, I think that it might be Riyadh.”

This post was inspired by The Daily Post Prompt

P. S. I know that this was a rather vague post, and totally different from my usual style of posting.
It was just that I was having varied thoughts the previous night, and just feeling generally nostalgic.

P. P. S. I apologise for any spelling/grammatical errors that might have occurred, I wasn’t feeling the best today. I’ll edit it soon. Probably.

Promo Post #2:, tailor-made travel packages in India, India’s 4th largest online travel portal has launched a new feature for booking custom packages to your favourite destinations.
It offers various packages depending on what you like and what you want.
It has quite a good mobile site as well.
Mustseeindia is one amazing site, perfect for any kind of traveller around India.
Do check it out and let me know your experience with them!
Until next time!

P. S. I’ve supplied the link to my father’s assistant and he assured me that he’ll try using this site, the next time we need to travel to India. Let’s see how that goes.

Promo Post #1: Lauren Kate’s new book, “Teardrop”

Lauren Kate, the best-selling author of the “Fallen” series, is now writing a new book named “Teardrop”.
The trailer for this book can be viewed here:
From what I could gather from the trailer, the book seems interesting, although I haven’t yet gotten to read the “Fallen” series.
But, please do check out the link!
Until next time,

Good or bad: There is no definite boundary!

Just this last Thursday, I had a sort of sudden revelation or an epiphany of sorts.
It was just this.
We cannot classify everyone as either totally good or totally bad. Or, as Sirius Black put it, “We’ve all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we chose to act on. That’s who we truly are.” ( Yay! A Harry Potter reference!)

So, on Wednesday, I was feeling down. We had a programme-like thing at school, sometime way towards the end of October.
And I wanted to audition for the speeches. But, the teacher-in-charge of it, just told me that I wasn’t presentable enough to appear in front of the audience and also that I apparently had too soft a voice and told me that I was to be assigned to some backstage duties.

I was fuming. How could she just tell me off like that! I mean, she never heard me speak in front of an audience. Then how could she know whether I was good or bad at it?
About presentable, did she mean that I wasn’t good-looking? Fine, I have really unmanageably bushy hair and a chubby face. So what? What mattered more, talent for public speaking or just looking pretty but being afraid of the audience?
I know that I can speak quite adequately in front an audience. I don’t get nervous and fidgety.
And about my voice. Normally, I have a soft voice. (Unless I yell) I know that and I can’t change it and I don’t want to change it either. I even remember that once, my French teacher in Year 10, had told me that my voice was so sweet that she wouldn’t get bored of listening to it, even if I was talking nonsense for ages. But, that might have also been because she was so absolutely sweet.

But, what hurt me most was that the teacher who actually told me all this, was someone I actually thought was nice, good, someone I thought I respected and liked.

Then, the next day, a Thursday was yet another day of surprises.
There was this another teacher, who was generally thought to be weird, moody and irritable. Since it was the last class before the weekend, she said that she wasn’t going to teach because she felt tired.
Hesitantly, I asked her that I didn’t get a few questions in calculus and asked her if she could please explain it to me.
And she actually explained quite a few questions in calculus and cleared my doubts and even explained some more extra questions.
And the even more strange part was that, when I thanked her for actually explaining it so well to me, she smiled so widely and told me that I was quite smart and also to not let anyone else lower my self-confidence.
Note that this was one teacher who was almost always bitter, and someone who was disliked by many.
I still don’t know what to think about those two episodes.
But, whatever it was, the second one made my day! :’)

Edit: This post was supposed to be published around two days back. But, due to my lack of knowledge about the new WordPress app for iOS 7, I muddled it up and it got published as a password-protected file.
And I didn’t know how to change it.
So, I deleted that post and reposted it again today. 🙂

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