You could just drive by

"Sexy!"

That's what my sister said while browsing through pictures of the Audi A8. She was literally drooling over a car! And the other day she was over the moon because she had touched an Audi. 

Almost every guy I know reacts in quite a similar way while admiring a car. 

As for me, I can't differentiate between cars. I can't tell from one make to another. If my life depended on recognising cars I would probably die. The only cars I can recognise without having to read what's written on it is the Maruti 800(we used to have it), Chevrolet beat(we have it now) A Santro (my Mamu used to have one) Getz, and ambassadors. Well, you get the drift.

For me a car is to be used to drive from destination X to destination Y. As simple as that. Why should I care about the make of a car?

A week or so ago I asked A how good a car Indica was. What started with a simple question turned into a full fledged lesson of sorts about cars, their make, identifying cars and so on. I was intrigued. There was so much to know about cars, so much to find out. From the next day  I started paying more attention to cars, peering at their logos to see their make. This new hobby is somewhat interesting. Unfortunately, I  cannot identify cars even now and so my interest is dwindling. 

The other day I thought to myself. If I ever buy my own car, I will not bother deciding which one. I will fix on a budget and ask A or my sister or my cousin bro to advice me on a good car. Not just suggest, maybe even choose for me. I really wouldn't care less. I don't have a dream car, thank you very much.

I do have to learn driving soon though. I keep putting it off. Soon, soon, very soon. 

I am not attracted to cars. I will listen to anyone talking about cars with whole hearted interest. If they say that a particular car is amazing and sexy I will agree. If they point to a Merc and say it's a BMW I will agree. I am sure these knowledgeable people know a lot about cars and I appreciate their knowledge. I am enthusiastic about new knowledge and will grasp whatever new facts my brain takes in. 

Cars are useful and if they are so interesting to most guys and a number of girls who am I to open my mouth?

P.S: While typing this I searched for images of an Audi A8 and The Maruti SX4. What I understood was both had four wheels and were car shaped. 

April

Exams are not the best host for The Muse. May will be better. I miss this place. And my notebook. Fiction, in general. Reading and writing. 


A very tiring time, this. Tiring And trying. I hate exams, if you must know. My finals. College life will then be truly over. After exams, that is. 






I sometimes talk to myself. I often talk to myself. Aloud. 




Sigh. April 27th. 


Come back soon, Muse. 


With love,
you know me

100 Words: Woman

She smiles.

She cries.

Birth. Cradle. Work. Cook. Clean.

Homework. Chauffeur.

She stays back. She stands up. She goes ahead.

Dries tears. Dries clothes.

She. Her.

Slapped. Snubbed.

Taboo. Trampled.

Left behind.

Dead. Not allowed to live.

Survivor.

Through broken hearts and broken bones.

Her kiss. Her lap. Her hug

Her passion. Her emotion.

Her song. Her dance.

Comfort . Softness.

Old. Young. New. 

Always New.

Fails. Falls. Rises.

Silence. Words.

She loves.

She hates.

Loony. Jealous. Possessive.

Lives through stereotypes.

Beautiful.

Rape.  Horror.Assault. Harassment

Virgin.

She lives. She is.

Dip her in hot water, she emerges strong.

Power. 

Alive

The muse has been visiting often these days. Writing wise I am on a new high. I wish I had the guts to share my fiction on this blog. 


I am not a blogger who aspires to write. Or a girl with a blog who has a huge fan base that convinces her to write a book. Because, she is good enough.


I am a yet to be published writer who blogs. 


I don't need people to tell me to write. 


I write. It's something I did ever since I was twelve. It started with school essays that were read out in class. Then came poetry. 

                            "Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason."

                                                 Novalis

I started creating fictional people much before I started penning down my words. When I was in Kindergarden I invented a fictional sister. My class teacher asked my parents about her. They denied having another offspring. 


Even when I was in 2nd standard I had told one of my classmates about a sister who had been away for a long time and who had suddenly come back home. I kept on this act for months, regaling the antics of my long-lost sister. Her disappearance was as sudden as her arrival. 


(She appeared again in Jan 1999, but that is another story) 


Writing was my anchor. The only thing I thought I was good at. ( By now I know what else I am good at) It pulled  me through tough times. 


I write when I have to. When pen and paper pulls me. ( The memo feature in my phone comes in handy when pens are not available.)


These days I am more disciplined. I am on a deadline, you see. Self created. 


If I close my eyes and imagine my life without writing, I get a sinking feeling. If for some reason I have to stop writing I may survive, I will not live. 


This is why I write. This is why I am. 

Sheets of paper

March is a month for words. Here and in my notebook. 






Such is March.