Patronize her!!

Can you do me a favor?

Today, when your maid knocks at your door, greet her with a smile. When she enters your home, tell her to sit down.(make sure, she doesn't sit on the floor, arrange a chair for her.)

Bring a glass of water for her - the same glass in which your children drink water and make sure she knows it.

When she is gulping down the water, ask her how she is. Yes, just about herself and not what her husband is up to and if the neighbor is having an affair.

By now, she is extremely surprised and overwhelmed.

It might be the first time, you haven't handled her the list of the chores she has to do that day and you have bothered to talk to her.

Every person has a good and bad day. On bad days, they don't like to work.

Perhaps, she just visited you, and you started to scold her for being late. Had you noticed the red mark on her wrist? Her husband was trying to steal the money for alcohol. You added to her pain. Make sure, you don't do when the next time it happens.

I assure you it will take away nothing from you and she will get something costlier than the money she works for.

© nomeee

What went *WRONG*

We actually went wrong in the Biology class.

When my teacher drew two illegible circles on the blackboard and made a dot in their centres, the boys were controlling their laughter behind their books and the girls were overly embarrassed.

These are her's, one of the boys suggested, pointing his finger at a girl.
No, she doesn't have this big, someone else commented.

Before one more boy could give his opinion, only her school bag was there. We didn't see the girl after the incident. Disguised by our response, my teacher labelled the diagram in a grotesque manner and declared the rest as a homework.

Shouldn't have my teacher made the boy stand in his place and brusquely told him that breasts are just like the other organs of a woman's body and reminded him that he needed it for his bones to be in the correct order?

Maybe, the girl would have gotten some air to breathe; she's too young to bear what she had gone through.

Devastatingly, it's not limited to the Biology class.

When two girls would together take the permission to go to the washroom, boys would get the new topic to discuss.

This girl is in her periods, fingers would rise again.
Don't sit beside her--you'll catch an HIV infection, pieces of advice would be given.

Had only there were awareness programs organised to make them aware of menstruation, boys would have brought chocolates in the place of horrifying judgements.

Today, a writer tried debunking the myth that education can break down the rape culture--in his words--my fingers begged me to write how misleading the idea is.

Education can indeed break down the rape culture if given at the right time and at the right place.

© nomeee

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The girl who had been unmarried since years suddenly becomes an air hostess after applying a fairness cream for few weeks.

The boy who had been unemployed since a long time becomes the CEO of a company after drinking mass gainer.

The moment a woman's hair shines, her husband gets flattered.

To be called a man, you should not have an inflated tummy.

You know your children will stay dumb if they will not add the chocolate powder in their milk.

To graduate from a foreign university, you need to be tall.

Struggling to concentrate for an examination? Wear costly socks.

You do not need a bulletproof jacket to protect yourself, but do not forget to wear a banyan.

If you are not getting the love of your life, wear a branded underwear.

Do not roam the streets after having applied a good deodorant; you can be behind the bars for creating accidents on the roads.

To sell well, you just have to do two things:

1. Make people feel worthless.
2. Make a fool out of them.

That One Person

You meet people. Lots of people. You become friends with some. You become foes with some. And you don't give a fuck about some. And then you meet this one person. The person who transforms your life in an unimaginable way. The person who is an exception to every definition of yours. The person in front of whom you can lay yourself naked(open yourself up). The person who not only touches your body but your soul as well.

You talk to people. Lots of people. You talk to some on a regular basis. You talk to some at times only. And you don't even care to talk to some. And then you talk to this one person. And you want to talk to this one person every second. You don't want to end the conversation. You wish to talk all day long. Yet it doesn't seem to be enough. You never seem to get enough of anything about this person. You want more and more of everything.

You get attracted towards people. Lots of people. You confess to some. You prefer to hide your emotions for some. For some, you realise it is all momentarily. And then, you fall in love with that one person. Mind you, there is a difference between attraction and love. And you love that one person with all your emotions, with all your heart, and with all that is in there(inside you). You never know when all of this happens. You just go with the flow thinking everything to be normal. And when you look back you realise that nothing was normal between you two. Not even from the beginning.

You let go of people. Lots of people. Letting go of some people hurt you. For some, you feel bad and it's all okay after a few days. For some, it doesn't affect you in any way. And then, you have to let go of that one person. And letting go of that person won't hurt you, make you feel bad, or affect you. It will kill you. It will shatter you into pieces. It will torture your soul. And it will break you in a way beyond repair. It will make you question your own identity. It will make you question your own existence. It will make you question the love you have for you. It will make you question everything about you.

Why is it that everything comes down to that one person? Why is it that you can't just be with that person the way you are with others? Why is it that that one person affects you so badly? Why is it that you can't be with that one person? Why is it that that one person can't be yours, for always?

© nomeee

What Else Had I Asked For ?

What else had I asked for except understanding me a little and loving me too much?

You loved me more than anything, but you invariably misunderstood me, and that shoulders me to the dictum that loving and understanding shall be parallel — and the dearth of either makes it cumbersome to stay.

What else had I asked for except a little care and a lot of affection?

You got hurt when I was harmed in any way, but you forgot to heal me, and that makes me believe that silently caring for someone isn't suffice — and you get to show it with your words as well as actions.

What else had I asked for except some importance and plenty of indulgences?

You put me above the rest, but you failed to give stress on the small stuff, and that made me feel unwanted; and when I complained, you thought I'm undervaluing your compassion towards myself.

I know you question yourself in slumber, and you feel worthless at times, but I don't feel less either, but I still believe we will make it until the end because nothing comes complete in this world; we have to add our own pieces — and I'm ready to give all my possessions.

© nomeee

Smile 😀

"Smile, please?" I heard a familiar voice.

With a wide smile, I turned around to see him standing with his brand new One Plus 3.
He was busy capturing my excitement.

It was the first time I saw him really happy in our friendship of 3years.
He always captures things.

Inspiring sun light and raging ocean.
Freezing snow and falling leaves.
The old man in his worn out shoes and the kids in their school uniform.

One day, I asked him, "Why do you capture every single detail you see?"

He smiled, focusing my face for a close-up.
He clicked and showed me my picture, and said, "Look, now you're frozen", he smiled and continued, " Now, that moment in the picture, no one can break your heart, no one can destroy your dreams, no one can snatch your smile."

I smiled wide and said, "Come let us freeze together, then."

That was our best picture of we both together.

After thirty years, now I'm looking at the Portrait on our wall and realised that he was right.

"Photographs freeze the moments."

© nomeee

I'll Miss my School Days

I'll miss my hatred for the morning alarm.
Awaking, brushing, bathing even before crowing of a cock in the farm.
I'll miss my dull school uniform which was worn
Until it was outsized or torn.

I'll miss the morning assembly where we used to stand in a row.
The prayers were sung which were a bit melodious than a crow.
I'll miss, the one arm distance we used to take.
The fun of people on stage we used to make.

I'll miss, the attendance where we shouted: "present ma'am."
The wishes we made to avoid school in case there was a jam.
I'll miss, the break for lunch
Where we used to gather in a bunch.
The canteen which had no good food to eat.
The washroom where friends of different classes used to meet.

I'll miss the bunk where we had no idea what to do and where to go
The person whose response to bunk was always NO.
I'll miss my friends
Being with whom my happiness had no end.
The friends who could fight with anyone.
Even if they didn't have a gun.

I'll miss the period of sports.
The period which was like a princess between beasts in a fort.
I'll miss, the roam where we had no pass.
The whistle which was an alarm to move us back in class.
I'll miss my wait for last period bell.

The dialogue: "Make a Straight circle" PT  Usha used to yell.
I'll miss my way from school to home which I could travel even if my eyes were closed.
Arms swung, Legs moved and the entire body just flowed

© nomeee

Thank God I am Not A Girl

Thank god, I'm not a girl.
Because I know it's hard to be a flower whose spectator is the entire world.
A flower gazed for its shape, size and colour.
A Flower without which the garden would be a bit duller.
A flower with which no one wants to stand head to head.
A flower which everyone wants in their hand.

Oh God! I'm grateful to be a boy.
Because ever to anyone I don't want to be a toy.
A toy to fulfil desires.
A toy which everyone admires.
A toy which is looked after when it's new.
A toy which is later left to rust in dew.

Thank god, I'm not a girl, I know it's irritating to get messages of ten unknown people in a day.
People who just wanna play and who don't wanna stay.
Thank god, I'm not a girl, I know the sacrifices mothers do.
I'd rather choose to leave this planet if I had to do that too.

My mother was once a girl.
And more than an asset for me, she's a pearl.
If you can't respect her just because of her gender.
At least don't put the words: Girls, I'm inferior and things in a common blender.

Not every girl deserves to be respected.
But there are a few for which it is expected.
I'm a son, I'm a brother, but thank god I'm not a girl

©nomeee

A Story about my Classmate !!

I quietly open the door and try to sneak in. As my almost silent footsteps approach my room, I hear a voice from behind.

“Where were you?”

“Papa, I, uh, I…”

“Come, let’s take a walk,” he says even before I could finish my sentence.

Albeit, I am not even sure if I could have finished my sentence or not. But, papa, it’s late,” I retort. “Come, son. It’s about time we talk,” he says, taking small steps. I follow him.

We come out in the society park. It is empty. Darkness has crept in and silence has set its foot. I can hear mosquitoes buzzing and leaves rustling. A mild wind blows by. I look up in the sky. It is clear of clouds, so unlikely in a rainy season. The moon showers its crescent light on the ground.

“You have turned 19 now and there are things you should know of,” papa says. I nod.

“This point in your life, where you are standing at now, yes, this very point marks the beginning of how and what you are going to become in your life 10 years down the line. This point marks the beginning of you becoming a successful person or not.” He says with seriousness in his voice.

“I know, papa. I will do everything I can to make you and our family proud,” I reply.

“No, son, you should do everything you can to make yourself proud,” he replies.

I think I know what he means. “This age, it’s very distracting. You are going to get attracted to a lot of people. You are gonna wanna try new things. Amidst these, you will have to focus on what you want in your life and what you wish to become. It will be one hell of a difficult ride, but I want you to try anyway. Remember, son, don’t let situation and people influence you. It’s very important in life to have your priorities sorted out. You should know what is important to you and what is not.” He says.

“I understand, papa. I will keep them in mind,” I say.

“Soon enough, you will enter your college life. You have always been fascinated by the idea of college, but here is what you need to know: as fascinating and attractive as it may seem or sound, it is difficult. It will put you through some of your very hard times. At times, you may feel tired and discouraged. But, I want you to know that these are the times that define who you are as a person. These are the times which will help you become the man you want to or distract you from becoming the same. These are the times which will prepare you and mold you into a better or worse version of what you are. Now, what happens to you is what you choose for yourself: better or worse. If you choose the former, then, these are the times which will make you ready for your future endeavors. If you choose the latter, these will take you as far away from your goal as possible. So, face them and embrace them.” I stay silent. I don’t say a word. I just keep on listening to him. I don’t know if I will get this chance again or not.

“From this moment onwards, you are going to fall in love innumerable times just to realize that it wasn’t love all the time. Or maybe, it was? You will be confused. You will be broken. But, that’s okay. That’s completely okay. It’s okay to be confused. If you want surety, be confused first. If you want to be beautiful, be a broken soul first. A broken mirror reflects and scatters light more than a simple mirror. Getting my point?” He asks.

“Yes, papa, I am,” I reply. “I want you to have everything you dream of. I want you to become the person you want to. And on top of everything, I want you to be happy.” He continues. “Thank you, papa.”

“But, do you know the worst part of it all?”

“No, what is it?”

“I won’t be there to see any of it. Or maybe, it is the best part, considering the relationship you and I have been sharing for quite some time,” he says. “Why do you say so, papa? Why won’t you be there? Wouldn’t it make you happy to see me become the man I want to?”

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t say anything. He stays silent. All he does is look at me and smile. “Say something, papa. Why are you silent?” I question. I see him vanishing into thin air. I reach out to grab his arm, but I can’t. It’s like, it’s like how water slips from one’s hand when one tries to hold it. “Papa, wait. Where are you going?” He is gone.

He isn’t with me anymore. My eyes are filled with tears. I can’t see him anywhere. It hurts. “Papa…pa…” I wake up with a scream and teary eyes, only to find him staring at me…from the photo hung on the wall.

© nomeee

Dont make him feel incomplete

Do not make him feel insufficient. The moment he starts to think that he's not enough, he stops taking efforts as well. This sounds illogical because when you are unable to provide something to someone, you try harder and not stop trying at all. However, in that case, you still have a little more left to give, but in his, he already empties himself before expecting something in return - and that's no less than your happiness.

"You're everything I need and want." Say it once a week.

He won't respond when you'll say it, but he'll feel accomplished. You'll see him treating you like a Queen. He wants you the way a vagabond wants a mere glimpse of the shore. He needs you. Perhaps like our eyes need tears - to stand abreast. You might think he's insecure, and he envies abysmally, but you don't see what resides in his bosom - the fear - which only manages to increase by the passage of time. He says hurtful words and several times makes you shed tears - your soul gets damaged - and you want to go away somewhere, but he doesn't stay happy either. It's inevitable. He's imperfect. If he heals you, he'll break you as well.

No matter what happens, stand by his side. Appreciate his efforts. Be well aware of the things which please him and which displease  - and if that's too much to ask for, then rethink.

© nomeee

It Started With A Follow

10th Oct’16. 11:30 pm “Sir, can I follow you on your Facebook handle?” “On one condition.” “What is that?” “Only if you stop calling me Sir.” The two of them witnessed their first conversation, albeit randomly, on a Facebook writing page. It's so surprising how you meet people on the internet and the two of you click so instantly, and sometimes it takes a lifetime to click with a person you have been seeing everyday in your real life. Strange, isn't it? And that's exactly what had happened to them. They had just clicked, even though they were like the two sides of a river. She was an emotional being while he would never show his emotions. She was a dreamer while he was a realist. The only thing common between them was that none of them were in love. 15th Oct’16. 3:03 a.m. “Let's meet.” “Sure.” “When will you be free?” “Um, I have classes from Monday. And I have to go to the Church on Sunday.” “Today?” “So, today.” Both of them blurted out 'today’ at the same time. This was the day when they had first met. 15th Oct’16. 1:30 pm. Sorry, I am late. Saying this, she gave me a hug and then we started roaming around Connought Place. When I had looked at her, the first thing I noticed was her smile, how withered it was, and how hard she was trying to hide it. The next thing I saw was a girl, in all her ache and a heartbreak, standing next to me, trying her best to convey the world that smile that she hadn't fallen in love...let alone be a heart-broken. While we walked, we talked about anything and everything but books and TV series. “When we will meet, promise me, promise me that you won't talk about books and TV series.” This is what she had said before our meeting, and I was just following the orders. We wandered in Connought Place for around half an hour until we finally found the CCD nearby N-block where she had to collect her certificate from. Most of the time, she did most of the talking and I? Well, I was just listening to her as she spoke. She told me how uncertain she was of the time when she would finish her graduation, how she wanted to go to France and couldn't for some reasons, and how afraid she was if her parents happened to ask her about marriage. And I did nothing but listen to her. Sometimes, people just want to be listened to. They don't want your advice. They don't want anything. Just lend them your ears. That's all. Nothing more. 15th Oct’16. 3:30 pm We sat in the cafeteria of Alliance Française, sipping coke and eating white sauce chicken pasta. We were still talking. Technically, she was the one still talking. She told me how she hated that particular teacher who would often lash out on students who missed her classes. “Thank you for bringing me here. I have finally found a place where I can get good and cheap food,” I giggled. “First, you don't talk. And when you do, this is what you say! You are so bad,” she grinned. I laughed off. It was almost 6 and the cafeteria was about to close. We were the only two sitting. The sun had almost set and the darkness had stepped in. “What is your story?” she asked me suddenly. “Um, uh, I don't have any.” I answered, stammering. She didn't say anything but nodded. “Hey, let's go to Indian Habitat Centre. We'll sit there for some time and then we will go,” she said. As we were about to cross the road, she stopped and said, “I don't know how to cross the road.” I held her hand in mine and walked to the other side of the road, our hands still entwined. After a while, we reached IHC. While we were sitting, I asked her, “You want to tell me what happened with you?” Even before she could finish telling her side of the story, my hand was on her shoulder and her head resting on mine. No sooner, our lips had met. I could feel the tension in the moment and top of that, I could feel what was going on inside of her. After a while, we parted our lips. We sat for some more time there, in silence. As we got up to leave, she said, “Promise me you will write about this day.” “I promise,” I replied. Today, as I write about that day and think of it, I realise, by the end of that day, we were left with nothing in common. The tragedy of that beautiful day was that, she fell in love again and I? Well, I didn't, again. ©nomeee

Yes i am weak

"I know you are weak," She said to me, "and it is okay to be." For a moment, I felt stronger. Her words strengthened me. They were pure and truthful. I think if we let people's weakness breathe into them for a while, they would turn into their strength. At least they wouldn't feel ashamed of themselves and most probably they will be fixed again. Mislead motivation only adds up to the burden and do more damage than it fixes. Thou shall set them free into their skin. I believe brokenness in real is the manifestation of strength. ©nomeee

The stranger-turned-familiar-turned-stranger.

To, The stranger-turned-familiar-turned-stranger. You never expected me to write this, did you? But, here I am, with this piece, in the hope we might alter the equation, again. We accidentally bumped into each other, and it was one of those few times when I wasn’t afraid of the word “accident.” I wish for such more accidents. Or wait, do I? It was a beautiful accident, nevertheless. For once, you allowed me to sneak into your life and I, into mine. Unfortunately, things were confined to sneaking only. It never made to “enter.” I peeped into your life through the small window you had carved for me. You seemed like an angel with broken wings. You seemed like an ocean filled with mystery and secrets. I wanted to unravel all those mysteries and secrets. With this hope, I dived into you. But I never made it to the bottom? How could I? Buoyancy played its role well. Physics never fails to amuse me. You seemed cold from outside but deep inside – just like every other ocean out there – you were warm and soft, carrying a beautiful and amazing world – or adventurous, maybe? Who knows? I wanted to know more about you: What is your favourite food? Which restaurant do you like the most? Do you, like me, end up ordering the same food all over again, or you try new dishes every time you visit that particular restaurant? Do you like coffee or tea? Do you love the feeling when you walk on an empty road late in the night, and the wind suddenly strolls past you, hitting against your face? But, I never got the answers to these questions. [If you’re reading this, know that I will wait for your answers.] We ended even before we had started. They say, “Whatever happens, happens for good.” But, did we end for a greater good? If you know or figure out the answer, do let me know. You were like a gust of wind, came and strolled past me. In between, I experienced some adrenaline rush. You were like a wave of sea, touched me and vanished. Yours, The stranger-who-remained-a-stranger © nomeee

An artist

There's a boy in my class who was steadfast in drawing a straight line without using a scale. We all were jealous of him. Someone would say he's mastered the art of drawing lines with continuous practice. Many would tell he's inherited it from his mother who was a Physics teacher. He's my good friend. We would meet quite frequently where I'd, everytime, see if he's working on to improve his skills, but he'd be hardly found doing so. There's an evening when I couldn't stop myself from asking his secret to which he said there's none. I fathom believed him. He insisted, yet I couldn't reckon his answer. I couldn't comprehend why he said never ever a wise artist reveals what his key of making art is — he just shows and left me under the mango tree. After few days I understood why he said and it's not my intelligence but his hint. When he'd be happy, he'd draw shorter lines as compared to when he'd be sad and I learned it's melancholy which drives every artist to its art. Perhaps, that's why a female pigeon sings melodies as her children get eaten by a hawk. © nomeee

An apple pie

"Why don't you take a bite?" He asked, seeing her look longingly at the apple pie. "Mom says it will add calories around my waist and I wouldn't get a good guy," she said, digging at her bowl of boiled veggies.

"The number of calories the cake has, is the possibility of you, finding the guy of your choice and the number of calories your salad has, is the possibility of me finding a guy, let alone the choice. Therefore, my lady, eat as much as you want," he said, pushing the pie towards her.
©nomeee

Hidden stories

*Story awaits a Storyteller* When your kid comes back home from school, his first few sentences are precious like the first shower of monsoon, what they say; is storytelling. When your friend is quiet for hours, the words that spill when you hold her hand; is storytelling. He was 80 years old, asked for a lift from me just up to few yards; in few minutes he spoke so much, even after we reached his house he did not want to stop as no one else had time for him, that right there was storytelling. In a lost and found letter, in a broken new watch, in a crushed to pieces car, in a blind man’s stare, in a beggar’s smile, in a frame with a garland, in an over-crowded train and an empty stomach, a story hides waiting to be told. A story waits in bullet wounds, raped existence, abused innocence, depressed smiles and surrogate wombs, for a storyteller who is willing and bold © nomeee

Lets Just talk

​Let’s not talk about stars and horoscopes. Let’s not talk about love and heartbreak. Let’s not talk about global warming and its consequences. Let’s not talk about politics and cricket. Let’s not talk about technology and advancements. Let’s talk about me. You know, I’ve bought a new pen. It costed five rupees. I love caressing its nib. Let’s not talk about me and my pen. Let’s talk about you. When was the last time, you weren’t able to buy a shirt because of no money in hand? When was the last time, you felt like punching the face of your friend who called you at 2 AM, just to ask, what the time was? When was the last time, you laughed in an emotional situation? When was the last time, you spent the entire night in listening a single song? When was the last time, you couldn’t get extra mayonnaise with momos? Let’s not talk about you, too. Let’s talk about her. My world. You know, she forgot to add the sugar in her coffee and blamed me for not reminding her. I felt loved. Let’s not talk about her and the sugar. Let’s talk about him. My inspiration. You know, he got troubled in searching his specs to read the newspaper. I felt sad. Let’s not talk about him and the newspaper. Let’s talk about them. You know, they got slapped by a policeman after offering him the green leaf. I felt contented. Let’s not talk about them and the bribe. Let’s talk about the universe. Let’s talk about relativity and the doppelgänger theory. Let’s talk about Aristotle and Charlie Chaplin. Let’s talk about X. Let’s talk about Y. Let’s talk about Z. Let’s talk. Let’s not stay silent. Let’s not make each other feel disconnected. Communication, it is the most important tool to stay in life; to stay alive. © nomeee

Yes i smiled as I texted her back

"So, this is a bit awkward, eh?" I asked, breaking the silence. "Awkward? For you maybe. I'm doing good. Thanks." She sounded witty. "Haha, that's nice to know," I said. (like I had any other option!) A whisk of cold wind blew by as we took yet another step into the park. "So, what else do you do when you run out of patients to treat?" I tried to sound witty too. "Running out of patients? Oh, You wish!" She chuckled a little. Sarcasm? Maybe. "But yes I am into a lot of other things," she continued, "photography, baking, painting, giving advice when not asked for." "Hahaha, you're funny." I chuckled. "I try." She said. I finally saw her warm, genuine smile. "Plus, you're pretty too!" I said timidly. "Thanks." She replied, looking towards the ground. "So, I guess you don't believe in the theory of giving a compliment for a compliment," I said hoping for a little sweeter talk. "No, no, you look good too." She teased me. "Haha, I don't trust you now." I laughed. "Yeah. You shouldn't. I was lying anyway." She said without blinking. "Umm, okay..." I felt a little disappointed. "I'm sorry. See, that's the problem with me. I'm too blunt." She was serious now. "Oh, no, no, it's okay." I tried to lighten her mood. "But if I may," I continued, "What did you not like about my appearance anyway?" As a guy who was always showered with compliments, I was curious to know now. "Trust me, you don't want to hear." She said with a straight face. "Trust me, I can take it." I sincerely hoped so. "Hmm, okay," she took a deep breath. "So, your beard, or should I say, 'freakishly-tiny-hair-pretending-to-be-a-beard', what happened there, fella? Is facial hair on men suddenly considered non-mannish?" She said, moving her fingers on my cheeks. "Okay, so you're clearly not a fan of clean shaved men." I began to speak. "No. Please don't interrupt me. Let me finish now," she said sternly. "Okay, there's more," I mumbled to myself. Ignoring my mumbling, she continued, "And why are you wearing that? I mean, I know your parents must've persuaded you to wear something bling and traditional. Apparently, you're supposed to dress up to impress someone for this arranged marriage thing, while actually wondering how they'd look beneath all these layers of clothing." She said without taking a breath. "Woah" I was, well...woah. "Or do you actually like wearing this?" she continued, "If that's the case, then that's cool. But if not, then why go through this horrible pain of pretense. How hard it is to be your normal self. Gosh!" She finally inhaled. I was a little surprised and taken aback. This thing right here, about her, was what separated her from others. All this while, I have always been showered with compliments, but for the first time, someone made me think. Seeing me not reacting, she said, “I am sorry for being so straightforward and blunt. This is the reason why I never consider myself fit for arrange marriages.” I noticed the sense of guilt in her voice. I noticed how her smiling face changed suddenly to a serious one. And I wondered, “honesty is the thing people seek in others, and that is the very thing that drifts apart the two souls.” “No, no, it's nothing like that. I, uh, I actually like this thing in you,” I told her. She seemed surprised. As if something struck her, as if she heard those words for the first time. “I hope so,” she said, wondering. As I drove my way home, I kept on wondering about the nature of the society we live in. I kept on wondering how we accept pretentiousness as a part of our daily life and how bluntly we reject the honesty we come across, and ironically, we seek and speak of honesty all the time and when it finally shows up on our doorstep, we cease ourselves from opening the door, or maybe it's just that we don't want to. My trail of thoughts was interrupted as I heard my phone beep. “After seeing and knowing everything, would you still choose to marry me?” Her text read. I didn't reply. “If I choose to marry her, I will be heavily criticized for marrying a girl who has been rejected quite a few times. Words will be said around the corner,” I said, holding a glass of whiskey. [But then again, isn't it the human psychology: judging others even before they get a chance to know the other person? Isn't it the basic human instinct to criticize someone for taking the road less traveled? Isn't it the basic human nature to let words out for a person who doesn't wish to choose “normal?”] “But, isn't it something that you have always wanted in your girl? Different from others; straightforward; to tell you what's good for you and what's not, and not just go around flattering you and showering you with false compliments? And on top of that, haven't you always wanted your girl not to be fake, like others you come across every day? And when you finally have a chance, you are letting yourself ruined by the thoughts of society. Oh, you poor soul!” The man looking at me from behind the mirror said. This is what introspection does to you: remove all the clouds of doubts you have been holding inside. And in that moment, I had understood what I had wanted. And in that very moment, I knew who I had to marry. And in that moment, I knew I would be one lucky person if I marry her. “Yes,” I smiled as I texted her back. ©nomeee

Dear Girlfriend Of My Best Friend,

Dear Girlfriend Of My Best Friend,

The idiot has finally got someone.The endless search on tinder and blocked friend requests has finally paid back.The very first thing i want to ask is that were you sober when you nodded at his proposal?

It was a horrible attempt like Leonardo Di Caprio .It's a big torture-seeing him rehearsing the lines he couldn't utter.Yes, i couldn't figure from where had he spoken those things,but i know that were goddamn truths.

The last time i heard that voice when we watched The Fault In Our Stars .Before everything,i'd like to tell you those things which he hasn't told you because he himself is unaware of them.

When you see him as a big jerk and careless dude, please hold him until he stops uttering all those things he doesn't have an idea of.I fear that idiot would keep everything to him and spend extra time in the loo to cry.He won't let you know when he wants you the most, please learn to identify his hints.Even though there's less brain in that head, but there's a hell lot of care in that heart- and that makes him a less of an asshole.

He might wear some cheap clothes in the parties and embarrass you afront your friends,(I too can't help hat), but before getting mad at him for it,you should know that the idiot spends most of his salary to his home.That extraordinary human misses his sister too much.

Please don't ask the price of things he gifts you, I repeat, please- he's way too emotional when it comes to exchanging gifts, no matter big or small.

I'd like to end this letter with a confession and it's this: we men are hardly insecure when it comes to sharing their brother cum best friends, but it can be conveyed with an Advice.Never ask who he would choose between you and me, that idiot would say my name and even I tell him not to.

I cannot help that too(Yes, I'm selfishly proud for that), but you should know we've been together in our ups and downs and he's grateful for that.You should be proud of him.Good luck

@nomeee