The Mundane Artist

When I opened my Facebook memories notification dated July 2 nd , I did not expect to find a memory that was of one of my best friends posting about how we were always out on this date, from two years ago. I took a screenshot of it and forwarded it to my best friends. Both of them showcased a desire for that status to still hold true. My best friends and I have been in a long-distance friendship for more than a decade. Yet, we have been best friends for more than a decade too. I shifted to another country ten years ago. Then when I shifted to India for higher studies, I was finally in the same state as them, but alas, not the same city. It was the closest I had been with them for a while, and honestly, I would take this than being in a completely different country, again. Long-distance friendships are hard. I know how dreadful I feel when I leave for college, knowing I will not be able to see these two homo sapiens who fill my life with so much joy for days, weeks or months. ...

"I'll take you to a therapist," said his friend. "I don't need a damn therapist!" he screamed.  "Dude you haven't been out in a month. It's eating you, don't you see?"  "Get out," he said.  "I'm taking you to a therapist tomorrow. Be ready at 4," his friend said before walking out of the door.  "Whatever," he whispered to himself.  ~~~~~ "What the hell man?" screamed a groggy voice.  "Wake up!" his friend shook him, and pulled his blanket off.  "Are you insane? What time is it?" he asked, and grabbed his phone to check the time. "It's 4 in the bloody morning. Are you crazy? Get the hell out of my house, and let me sleep," he shouted.  "Shh, do you want to wake your parents up? I know it's bloody 4 in the morning. I got a C in math, but I can very well read time."  "Oh that's great. So now kind...

The house was booming, With the screams of one and the cries of another,  On an auspicious day.  A ruffle of the hair,  A slap on the back,  A push from the side.  A woman and a man stood in a corner,  Shouting something cryptic, In vain everything went.  A few minutes later,  The celebrations commenced.  The screamer and the crier entered.  The crier was forced to stand in front of the screamer ,  The last thing she wanted Was to see his abhorrent face.  She picked up a thread,  From the decorative plate, And tied it hard, for it to pinch.  They reluctantly looked at each other,  A sarcastic smile on the crier ,  A glorifying smile on the screamer .  The crier turned to put the plate down,  The screamer held a box wrapped in colourful paper,  She turned and, a smile crept up.  They hugged and everything was merry,...

School trips are something that are looked forward to. After the monotonous way of life, you suddenly get an opportunity to visit a place with your friends. All the hotel gossips, the fights, the places, the pictures, every single thing stays with you till the day you die. My trip was just the same, yet different. I joined the German-Oman Exchange Program 2016-2017 with only the thought of meeting new people and getting to know another culture. None of my close friends were going for it, but yet, I was determined to go. Which, let me be honest, wasn’t a bad thing at all. I got introduced to so many new and wonderful souls, all with different talents and backgrounds, and got closer to the known. The country, of course, was beautiful, and the people, just as beautiful. Warm, hospitable, and understanding, is how anyone who has been a part of this Exchange Program through the years, will describe them. Their curiosity about our culture, and our curiosity about their cultur...

I was in grade 3 when I joined Indian School Muscat. I remember setting foot in the school for the first time ever for an entrance exam accompanied by my mother. Entering from one way and exiting from another, confused us greatly. I was 8 years old and yet on the first day of school, I was late. Perhaps, I wasn't used to getting up that early in the morning for school (And I still am not, to be very honest!) I was so fascinated by the ACs in my classroom more than anything else. The welcome was warm and the teachers wonderful. It's been 8 years since that day. Now here I am in Grade 12, the last year of schooling. It's fascinating to know how time flew so fast. Just yesterday I was a small girl of 8 and now I am an adolescent aged 17, in the last year of her school! I still can't believe the fact that in another one year I will be done with school. I had never even thought about this, till I bought my books for grade 12.  Even though I still cuss every morning ...