Weight, What?

​*Crack* the porcelain mug shattered as it struck the wall. It was one of those days, where the anger demanded to be felt. The storm outside was nothing compared to the storm that was raging inside the room. As my puppy howled away, I looked the mirror, and then at the broken weighing scale lying defeated at my feet, unable to move beyond 43 kgs. And then I felt a surge again; for I had frozen it in that state ever since I stood upon it a few minutes back. And then the muffled thud of a wall being punched could be heard across the corridor. Again, and again, and again. 

He came back late again, wheezing as he did now, thin and terrible, with dark circles under his eyes. A dejected man, I remark to myself. A man, who was lost in his own misery, waiting for a vine to come and save him from the bog that he was slowly sinking into it. He glanced at me, then, deciding he couldn’t take any more disappointments, he trundled back to his bed, and slowly drifted to sleep. The wet sound of a sniffling nose alerted me; he had been crying again. And as the sound faded into silence, the man fell asleep again. 


It’s been a week. I can see more life in his eyes now, and I knew, he could hide his pain, and his rage sufficiently, and yet, he could not hide the bones that peeked out of his skin, like grisly battle scars of a war that he couldn’t help but lose. Although he didn’t go into another fit of rage, I could still see him struggling to retain his composure as he saw himself in the mirror again. This became a usual procedure now; college, back, and then looking at himself in the grand gull length mirror, not admiring, but filled with revulsion. My owners’ eyes were light, and yet, I could see them pitted in desolation. Save him, someone. Please save him. 


Today he came back, his hair filled with shining droplets, which looked like stars on a clear night. And he produced eggs from a little bag. A dead expression on his face, he cracked the egg and drank it directly. I see him struggling to keep his guts in its place, and not throw up. He tried. And succeeded. This has been going on for two days now, and I can see his face grow out, from the skull like semblance to a more defined human like face. And then suddenly, he smiled. Maybe he has some hope after all. 


He threw up today. The raw eggs formula didn’t seem to work out for him. He had the look in his eyes again, the same look of rage, but this was not for the world. This was different, this rage seemed directed towards himself. The revulsion, and the helpless gaze lowered, and he began to whisper to himself, words which were designed to break his spirit even more. He just didn’t know when to stop. And he came out of the washroom, his face streaked with racetracks that the tears had made for themselves. Stumbling to the bed, he went on about a whole lot of things, and then tuned off as dreams came to invade his mind. 


He was watching a movie today. A silent night, tonight. His roommate had been out of town for a week now. The silence was shattered by three crisp knocks on the door. Groaning, he got up to open the door, and welcome the travellers of the dusk. A bulky man enters, and looks at him. The first thing he comments ‘Man, you need to take it easy on yourself. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Your weight isn’t going to magically increase. Remember, emotional stability first, physical stability can be achieved later as well.’

I don’t think my owner was prepared for this. Although true, I note. My owner had been taking it way too hard on himself, and anybody could see it. He had tried to do push up and sit ups last night. Stumbling at two, he couldn’t bring himself to get off the floor for a while. His spirit was giving away, and his carpet of a soul was being unravelled as he lived on day by day. And the dam burst, like it had the last night. My owner told his friend everything, his fears, his dissatisfaction with himself, his shame, his pain. ‘It’s a pain, thinking about all the times I’ve been called thin. It’s been a struggle, trying to justify that I am like this, and can’t change myself. I’ve been fighting my own Trojan war, at war with myself, and every step I take towards changing myself feels like I’m killing a part of me. The comments, “…You look like you escaped Guantanamo bay…..you look like a cancer patient….. You look like you were a bio-lab exhibit”, everything hurts. Being thin seems to be the only sin that I have committed. My father used to say, “People pay millions of dollars in order to decrease some amount of paunch that they have. You should consider yourself lucky. At least you don’t need to worry about things like that.” True, and yet, I look at myself and I think, no. This is not what a healthy being is supposed to look like. This is certainly not how ANYBODY is supposed to look like. Every day, I think, by some miracle, I will increase my weight. And everyday, that hope is crushed. It is heart wrenching, and it’s something most would not be ready to acknowledge. Yes, a thin person, especially a guy, will have trouble coming to terms with the fact that he will never be fit enough to say that he isn’t thin.” His voice cracked, and he couldn’t have continued, even if he wanted to. His friend, on the other hand, rather than being disgusted, he looked on, drinking in the moment of weakness in his friend, and rather than exploiting it, he gently said ‘There is no secret formula. There is no miracle that is going to happen. If you want a miracle, you need to work one for yourself. Magic, luck, karma, god. All work on one simple idea. You do the work, and they give you your bonus. If you believe in god, if you believe in anything at all, how difficult could it be to extend the same courtesy to yourself?’

The night was uneventful, and yet, my owner had a different…. Presence. He hadn’t reached the point where he could hold himself with conviction, and hold his head high whilst walking, but he was reaching there. 


He had come back late again. A state his roommate was rather used to, as soon as he came back, he pulled out a packet of that yellow coloured goop that people now eat. ‘Maggi’ he calls it. His staple diet for the last one month, every night was a feast over Maggi and a whole lot of sauce over it. My master had not grown healthier, and yet, I could see him growing thinner by the second. Whatever this thing was, it was sapping his strength right from his bones, and although the dead gaze hadn’t haunted him in a long time, I could sense that it wouldn’t be long when he would revert back to his primal state and succumb to his own sense of dissatisfaction. 


He has come back from wherever he went for the last 15 days. And my gods, he has changed. The once visible ribcage was now partly shielded with freshly developed muscles. He had a different expression on his face as well, confidence burning with such intensity and yet, his eyes shone with indifference. He has changed. He has changed, and this change would not seem to be an unwelcome change in his life. He stood on me, and I could see… for the first time, I see him smile. A little arrogant, tight smile, a vicious smile that I hadn’t seen. Ever. 


He came back today, and yet, as soon as the formal shoes were off, he wore his sports shoes and a jacket, and left again. One and a half hour later, he comes back, with one hand holding on to a packet of milk, another to a pack of eggs, and a bag filled with bananas and potatoes. Boiling the potatoes, he mixed an egg with the milk, and drank it away, gulping it down like a man possessed. The potatoes came later, and devouring them with a fixed gaze, he finished his meal. Believe it or not, he then went on to have his dinner, and when he came back, he fell asleep as soon as his head got acquainted to a dear friend, the pillow. 


He is happy now. Not happy, but content. The routine hasn’t changed in two months now, and he stands on me every day to see himself gain weight. I feel the joy rolling through him, and I see himself preparing a chart for the next day. Now, when he comes back from college, I see him triumphant, because he knows that his hard work was paying off. The contentment, the way he walked, the way he talked. Everything had changed, and my owner had developed his own little world, with his own fascinating imagination, where he had coupled hard work and his insufferable stubbornness to wield something that he felt would be out of his reach. 


Hey guys. It’s been a huge time since I’ve updated, and yet, I need to keep myself sane by writing more and more. 

And so, I came up with this. My story, but through the point of view of my weighing machine. 

In the month of January, I suffered from lung infection, and my weight had dropped down to 40 kgs, much to my chagrin. The following months were those filled with a lot of suffering, since being this…emancipated corpse was what I had known all my life, and I had grown complacent of it. “Oh you’re so tall, how are you that tall”, “Yes, I accidentally fell into a vat of Complan when I was a child would be my scathing response”. “How are you so thin?”, “Blame it on the metabolism man, I can’t help it”. A routine answer, this had become. I was so busy waiting for that little vine to come and save me, I didn’t even consider making a move on my own. Independent decisions were never made by me, or rather, I never thought that things could ever be under my control. I’ve heard of people who are control freaks, and all I can think of is, “how can you control when fate itself is working against you?” My friend, the one who came and ‘inspired’ me was thinner than I was, and despite that, he became a professional body builder. My aim is not to be a body builder, sure, but the aim was to get fit. And yes, two months, the two months of hard work that I put in have shown that nothing, NOTHING in this world exists that can’t be changed. Everything is amorphous, weight, mind-set, attitude, civilisations. Everything burns. 

And so, I changed. I changed in every sense possible. I met my friends after a month, and they noticed that I had begun walking differently as well. Holding myself up with an air of dignity and superiority alike. An ember of smouldering rage alight in my eyes, waiting to set off.  My new roommate often woke up at 5 am in the morning to see me strapping a bag full of books to my back and do push ups. In Pune, when I went for a holiday, I gained weight, and did push ups. Ran up 22 floors whenever I could. I lifted an empty cylinder, since I couldn’t find weights. In my hostel, I volunteered to bring water in times when water shortage occurred, and I trained myself to carry two buckets at a time. When I was too tired to go to the gym, I lifted my iron bed a few times, since that in itself is an intense workout. 

A lot of people have asked what is so wrong in being thin. My own friend, one whom I consider close to me (now), asked this a few days back. I had no answer. The issue about people who have been strong all their life is that they lose respect of the power they have. However, a man, who has never known power, or strength, would respect it, and would know exactly how much pain and suffering has gone into gaining that strength. (Started from the bottom now we here, in a nutshell) 

Honestly, I can’t bloat up and claim with all the swagger in the world that ‘I am the one who gained weight and became muscled and lean’, but yes, I have arrogance for the fact that I gained 12 kgs in the last month alone. 

Some would say that I have ego right up to my neck right now. Some would be willing to pay you thousands contradicting to that claim. All I can say is that ‘just the way you are’ by Bruno Mars would be okay when someone else views you, but when you’re dissatisfied with the way you are, you need to CHANGE. Make it happen, because no tooth fairy, no goddess is going to come and bestow the blessing on you. It’s on you. Always has been. 

-Apra-out ~(O_O~)


RIP Doormat. Hello, Unicorn

RIP Doormat. Hello, Unicorn

As the sun shed its last tears and hid behind the clouds’ veil, the desolate feeling pools under my abdomen. The anger. The rage. All the emotions course through me as I keep a straight face and walk towards my bed. A glass of water. Yes, a glass of water is what I need. Drown everything out, and suppress everything. Be the better man, they said. Be strong, they said. And that’s what I did. I became what people expected me to become without sparing a thought about my own self.

Rain splattered on the window as I was on my way home in an empty bus. And next thing I know, I lean my head on the window pane, and heaved out, with sadness clinging on to my foggy breath. The rain brought forth joy, and yet, today, it felt different. It felt like the rain wasn’t there to comfort me, it was there to punish me. A quote came unbidden into my mind, ‘I love the rains because at least then, I could cry without fear of being noticed.’

In my last post, I asked myself questions, to which I had no answers to. Why am I the way I am? Why do I work hard to give out a piece of me readily, but when I expect this out of others, I get let down massively?

One of my good friends said something to me, and it’s a lesson I would never forget. ‘Prioritize what you need, and what you want. Then choose what is more important. The point is, secure your future, saturate your present with purpose, and leave your past behind. You don’t have time to grieve that shit’. Accompanied with him drinking flavored milk, I didn’t take it seriously. But yes. He’s right. I have no time for grief. More like I don’t want to dwell on it for too long. I’ve found that thinking too much about it makes it easy to sink into it. And that’s the one thing that I cannot do.

I remember a few days where convincing myself to get off the bed was the most difficult thing to do. Feeling unloved, feeling left out, ostracized, and overall, a sense of dread all around me; the world seemed to have lost all its colors. College seemed like a symphony of monotony. Hostel seemed a pain, where everyone was busy with their own life, and I had nobody to talk to. Everything felt like one of those D-rate black and white movies where there isn’t much of a plot. Aimless, and wandering. That’s what I ultimately began calling myself. Self worth- nil. Self respect-down in the pits. And the worst part? I pretended to be fine. To be okay with what people said. To be okay with what I had become.

I had lung infection, and that left me (quite literally) in a skin and bones state. People said things. Harsh things. A skeleton who escaped from a bio lab. A Guantanamo bay prisoner. And the worst part is I let them do that to me. I accepted whatever they said, because heck, everyone is saying it, so it must be true. I let myself be influenced by what people said, and yes, like I said earlier, if someone complimented me, I refused to accept it. Looking at myself in a positive light? No way. ‘You’re lying’, that was the first thought that came to my mind.

I genuinely don’t know what caused this radical change. Maybe the fact that I didn’t have someone to talk to, maybe because I’ve grown to brush my own problems under the carpet because I just figured it’s not worth anyone’s time to listen about them. I got so caught up with what I can do for others that I completely disregarded myself. I felt that being nice, being kind to others would make me feel better. But no. Giving that seat to the old man in front of me in the bus made me feel good for a while, but then, I felt the pressure on my ankles, and I regret the decision immediately. Giving that last piece of gulab jamun to a friend because his fell down. The dissatisfaction after that. Comforting someone when they’re upset by buying them a cake. And then the stabbing pain as I realize that the same person wouldn’t even bother accompanying me for a cup of tea.

I’ve known how the situation has been for quite a while, but I never took the effort to change things. Why? Because I’d become so used to it, that I began to think it is the natural order of things. Everyone undergoes it. I let everyone take me for granted, an accursed doormat. I read those shit posts on Facebook, ‘respect others, whether they deserve it or not, because it’s reflection of your good upbringing’, and things like ‘what has to happen will happen’.

Yeah, I was the kind of person who accepted bullshit like that, and sleep fitfully. Woke up in a daze, if at all I did get to sleep properly. And then the same pattern, the same frightfully silent days at college, return home, eat, and then try to get sleep again.

All this happened, and in the meantime, there were scuffles with my friends. Something happened recently, and that put my very best friends against me, and in the heat of the moment, I was called a nobody. A wastrel. Add that to the long list of things that have made me question my existence.

What I never considered was taking my own life in my hands. Sure, they’re not the most experienced hands, but my life is safest there. I always let others determine how happy I should be. My happiness depended on the happiness of others who surrounded me. What I never considered is that I have a choice. I thought life would be like a fairy tale, if no superhero would come, at least karma would deliver justice. Something miraculous would happen and I would be pulled out of my own misery. We’re taught to be kind, to be good, honest, and above all, accept others. What we’re not taught is that these things sound really nice in stories. In real life, they’re looked down upon. Mocked for being nice to everyone. Mocked for being good to those who’ve been mean to me. Mocked for letting people trample on my feelings and not getting back  at them.

Well this is where I take my life into my hands. This is where I say, sorry. I’m not staying in your lives any longer. I won’t wear my best fake smile to be around my best fake friends. I won’t accept your ‘sorries’ for not replying back to  me, because I gave you priority over other things, and you can’t spare a few seconds for me. I won’t be nice to you, because I’ve learnt that you don’t deserve it. I won’t forgive you, because you overlook every good thing that I do, and I mess up once, just once, and you unleashed a tirade over me. Strangers would welcome my kindness, maybe cherish it. But most would mock it. No, I do not believe you when you say that the world isn’t all bad.

I’m done. I will not be a living apology for anyone anymore. Been there, done that. And nothing good came out of it. If I’m not important enough for you, I will definitely not make you an important person in my life. I’m done feeling pity for myself, crying around, screaming in my head for help. And I am definitely done with damaging my own soul for the sake of someone else. I will not let you treat me like dirt, and then let you walk away without a proper apology. It’s about time I admit to myself that I deserve better. I am done with letting the ghosts of my past influence my present and messing up my future. I’m gonna pull a supernatural on them and destroy those translucent little nutbags.

There’s only one thing I need to tell you guys. Karma is an everlasting little bitch. You need to figure out a way to deal with it. Most would wave it away, most would fight it. But many fail to realize something, that at the end of the day, when you’re lying on your bed, awake at 2:00 am wandering the plains of your past, you’ll only have yourself to answer to. So whatever you do, make sure it doesn’t damage your soul. Don’t let others tell you how to behave, what it acceptable, and what is not. Get that piercing or tattoo that you’ve always wanted. Yell at the people who try to boss you around. Go around restaurant hopping and treat yourself to that fantastic little meal that you’ve wanted to have all this time. Respect yourself. That is the one thing that I didn’t do, and I lived to regret it. Be yourself. Be strong. Be a unicorn.

-Apra-out ~(O_O~)

Unfiltered Thoughts, Unanswered Questions

*3:30 AM, 14th February, 2016*

…..I guess that’s my fatal flaw. I want to be socially accepted, and not be a third wheel. I want to be the nice guy with a girlfriend. I want to be the guy who can afford expensive things and still save up enough money to make his parents proud. I guess all these things contradict each other a lot. ‘We all want something we can’t have’ is an apt saying for this situation.

I’ve faced a lot of disappointment, particularly with myself. Mostly because of my very own nature working against me.

People say I’m nice, people say that I’m a good guy, a great friend. If that’s the case, then why can’t I find happiness in what I do? If I’m nice, why do I end up sitting alone in a corner, or at the edge? Why do I get to play third wheel? Why do I feel ostracised? These questions have ripped my head through all these weeks, where I’ve come to a reversal state, where I can’t sleep properly at night, and I can’t function properly during the day. Nice guys finish last. The words repeat themselves all night long, bouncing off the walls in my head, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

I have a friend who seems… unaffected by anything. He frankly doesn’t care about anyone’s opinion about him, nor does he seem affected if someone insults him. He calls himself emotionless, and, even though I feel bad for admitting it, I want to be like him. At least in the sense of being impervious to things like feelings and emotions. Then, at least then, I won’t feel hurt or left out. I wouldn’t feel bad for having coffee alone, and I certainly wouldn’t feel lonely even while sitting in class. Then, at least, I won’t get attached to anyone. Then, at least, I won’t feel bad for being rejected by someone. It’s come to a point where I look forward to class, because at least then, I don’t have to devote my mind to these thoughts. Quiet is violent.

If I’m nice, then why is it that every other person I meet walks out on me? Why is it that I offer my shoulder for people to cry on, and when I need the very same support, I’m left alone again?

It seems, that being nice to people, being a good person, doing good deeds for others has become my undoing, and making me feel bad about myself, right to the point where I ended up putting this quote on my wall:

“He had lent an ear to the lonely, lent a shoulder to the needy. He lent his everything, but when the time came for him to beg camaraderie, he was like the captain of a sinking ship, with nothing but nothing by his side”


Hey guys.

Back at it! I know it’s been too long since I’ve written something, and I’ve been attacked by many people, asking as to why I haven’t updated my blog (yes, I’m showing off my fan-base right now).

Things haven’t exactly been…smooth. I had lung infection. Lost about 20 Kgs. Had a falling out with a friend. Got rejected. My jar of Nutella got over. Yes, I’m struggling to live the chill life. So whenever someone asked exactly why I didn’t update my blog earlier, I had a standard reply ‘I don’t know what to write about’.

Honestly, no. It was never about me not having a topic to write on. It was more about plucking up the guts to put something up on my blog, because I’ve come to learn that every word is analysed, and everything has repercussions.

When I first started off writing, I never thought I’ll have readers. I never thought that people would actually read the stuff that I write about. Hence, I wrote like I was writing a diary. I wrote for myself. Of late, however… things have changed. I became caught up with the idea that my blog was amazing, and well, it went to my head. I began to publicize my blog, tried to make it more suitable to what the readers want. I began to think along the lines of ‘What would others like to read?’, and that is the reason why I haven’t been able to write anything. I had become so caught up with the idea of being accepted by everyone that I stopped thinking about myself, about what I wanted, what I needed. I forgot the initial reason as to why I’ve written on this blog. I still haven’t figured out a neutral topic to write about, but at the same time, this is all I could come up with, since I did get a lot of suggestions from people, with them asking me to write about self confidence, and self esteem and all that stuff. As to why they want a person who himself has low self esteem to write about the very same topic, I have no idea.

This is an excerpt from my own diary (yes, I maintain one). I couldn’t think of a better way to say, ‘It’s okay, everyone goes through the same phase, even me’, and no, like every other teenager, I have no idea how to go about making myself feel better. But then, I’ve put it out in the open, and I got it out of my system. I’ve already started my process of healing. There’s a saying that goes something like, ‘You can’t control the wind, but you can set the sails and hope for the best’? Words to live by.

-Apra-out ~(O_O~)

A Letter To The Younger Me

Hey man.

If time machines were legit, I’d totally read this letter to you by travelling back in time. But no matter.

Before you read this though, I think you should know something. It’s just a small request. I say this, because there are others like you out there, and its your job as Mr.Nice Guy to ensure that they don’t feel the same way as you do. Yes, the hottest fire forges the strongest steel, but, at times, the fire is too hot, and the steel melts. Don’t melt, my friend, and stop others from melting too.

There will be a point of time when you feel like throwing up, because you’re upset about something, and you don’t even know why you’re upset. That point of time, is where you shoould start writing blogs, and you should keep it up. Why? Because it’s a talent, and talents are supposed to be showcased with flourish, rather than encased and allowed to grow mouldy.

There will be times when you feel like giving into despair, to give up. Have faith during those times, and make sure that you don’t give in to your fears. There will be people around you, and all you need to do is talk to them. When you’ll be made to walk on eggshells, you’ll curse the world for it, and you have every right to do so. But don’t give up. Never give up. You need to forge your own path for it to matter, and if it means you need to slog all day, all night, then do it (gosh, I feel like my dormant science student is waking up again). Don’t feel that you lack motivation; it’s the exact opposite. There’s a lot of motivation all around you; you just don’t see it, and you’re too blind, and to some extent, arrogant to see it.

You’re a wallflower, and yes, you will remain so. Maybe forever. But like all flowers, you are beautiful just the way you are. Don’t change yourself for the sake of someone, r for achieving something. You’ll feel lonely (to the point of being called a third wheel), and you’ll feel pan and misery beyond comprehension, and it will kill you inside. But don’t hold it in. Share. If you hold it in… well, you’ll become violent, and trust me, although you probably won’t be able to hit hard enough to actually hurt someone physically (yes, you shall remain thin and weedy in the future as well), you’ll still end up hurting the people you care about. Your friends, mostly. Which is why, continue writing this blog. It’ll help you keep your sanity (not that you’re sane, but still)

Oh, and a simple and frank advice, don’t be an ass. Be open, and be honest. It’ll do you wonders. Do what you want, rather than what society, your friends, or your parents want. They aren’t gonna live your life ahead, and trust me, if you do what you want, you’ll end up living a happier life. You take a decision, and you stick to it. I know, I know, you have serious doubts on yourself, thinking that you’ll end up taking the wrong decision and facing the repercussions later on. But take the plunge. Faith. Belief. They will eventually make you do it, and once you believe in yourself, things will start falling into place.

Despite what you think, your parents? They care. They love you. It just doesn’t seem evident enough to you at the time, and trust me, the spats which you have with them? You’re going to look back and regret them, because, somewhere along the line, you’ll realise that they’ve been right all along. So do what they ask you to (which includes washing your own clothes, because that’s a skill that you’ll desperately need in the future)

Also, make it a point to talk to your cousins more. It gets a little lonely in the future, and a little sad when you’re the awkward potato of the family, and you see all your other cousins bonding, while you sit in some other state and listening to Dire Straits. Nevermind.

Don’t be depressed that you look like a truck. Its okay. Things will get better (not that you’ll suddenly look hot when you turn 18 or something, but still). You’ll understand that things like looks matter the least. You won’t get any girl magically either, and yes, you’ll probably be friend-zoned a lot, and there will be people who’ll say, ‘Dude, you’re such a player’, just because you know a few girls (akhil, Gaurav, that’s you). There will be moments when you’ll need their support, and they will give you all the warmth and friendship you need (oh, but they’ll probably chase you out of their houses if you ask for food, so manage something on your own if you’re hungry). You’ll get sermons from some of your friends, and then you’ll have people coming into your life and going away just as quickly. My suggestion? Don’t get too attached to them, because you’ll probably end up feeling as if you’ve been used, and that’ll be catastrophic for your self-esteem. As they saying goes, ‘it is foolish to conjure up woes where none exist’ (some famous guy said these words (yes, I am that famous guy)).

Responsibility is something that you’re probably going to have to get used to, because there’ll be a helluva lot of pressure on you to work as a team leader in college. Daunting, yes, but don’t be afraid. Oh, and that alarm which used to ring at 6:00 AM? Its gonna start ringing at 5:00 AM, and you’re actually going to wake up. So i suggest you start practising how to wake up that early from now itself.

In the end, I’ll just say this: Humour is a good way to hide your pain, but don’t be afraid to shed a tear when you’re afraid, angry, or sad. Everyone needs to vent, and some people drink, some smoke, some dance, and others use music. You? You’re a writer, and the day you stop feeling, is the day you stop writing. So don’t feel bad to shed a few tears now and then. We all like to be reminded that we’re all humans.
P.S. potatoes are the best. (you’ll say this a lot in college, so its better that you inculcate the habit now itself)

All the best, man.

Yours truly (I dunno, am I supposed to write this if I’m addressing the letter to myself?)

Hey guys. So, that was my letter to myself. I know, I know. It’s weird. I mean, why would I write a letter to myself, right?

But you know, it’s been a long time since I praised myself and showed off on my blog, and I figured I should do it, otherwise I’d be losing my touch. At the same time, this post also works as a weird, indirect way of apologising to my parents, because, honestly, and to put it bluntly, I was an ass to them, yelling at them, and blaming them for my self inflicted misery. I guess after living alone for three months, watching a sunrise, then watching the sun set majestically on the same day, after climbing five cliffs, realisation hit me. Anyways.

So this post has another motive as well. I am a person with low self-esteem. I’m not even embarrassed to admit it. And self-love is an important part of life. I’m afraid that there will come a day when I just lose myself completely, and will stop blogging. This post would then serve as a reminder of the real reason why I began my blog, and jolt me back to my senses.
My friend writes about self-love in her blog, and she’s amazing. I’m kinda jealous of her, but that’s a different story. So this post… I guess this is a kind of, er, contribution. Maybe more of a tribute. I dunno.

Okay so enough with being the good guy. I don’t treat all people the same way, least of all people whom I’m jealous of.

Anyways, I probably won’t write till like, 20th of october, since I have my exams coming up. I’ll be done with one semester of my college (yay!), and I need to add the finishing touches with good marks in order end it on a good note. Another, less important blockade that I face as of now would be that my phone screen cracked (accidentally) and hence, I can’t reply to your reviews and comments instantaneously, since it’s been throwing tantrums of late.
Well, till next time, guys!
-Apra-out ~(O_O~)


A friend once told me (well, I just want to sound dramatic; this happened about four days back) “Let the freaking coffee burn your tongue. Only then can you enjoy it properly.”

Now I honestly don’t have any idea as to why I stated that. Probably because of the fact that I wanted to seem all professional, and begin with some deep quote about life. Never mind. So basically, this little piece of advice was thrown at me when we bought ourselves some coffee (and no, I did not act chivalrous and did not buy her coffee (not that I didn’t try, but still)).

Anyways, I apologise for the huge hiatus that I took from writing on my blog. Things have been… hectic. Gosh, it seems like an eternity has passed without me venting. Moving into a hostel with no WiFi comes with its own set of issues. Also, my college believes in a simple principle of basically making us work till we have the ‘I’m-so-done-with-life-expression’, which is basically my face everyday in the morning (even then, I look amazing. Not). They basically throw assignments on us like tomatoes during the La Tomatina festival, except that these freaking tomatoes irritate the hell out of you. But yeah, it’s fun working on almost all the assignments, and the real struggle is to make myself sit and start working on those assignments (in short, I’m lazy. Not that you guys didn’t know that)

All this time, I’ve wanted to write something, but I’ve failed miserably, and repeatedly. Mostly because I didn’t know what to write about. And the fact that I couldn’t find time (read as: doing other character building (lol) stuff, such as washing clothes and polishing my shoes and washing my lunch box).

Oh and also, the biggest factor; the fact that I don’t have any internet facilities in my hostel basically means that I need to walk up till the cyber cafe’, which is like a 10 minute walk from my room (so exhausting; I’d rather sing soprano), and I basically need to type in my entire post out in a cubicle while being supervised by the creepy cafe guy (who, by the way, is staring right now). It feels like some sort of high tech loo which allows me to excrete my emotions and then flush them out using the internet ( I could go to the extent of saying that I use the website as toilet paper, but let’s not get too graphic here). I think I should rename my blog as ‘Inside The Cosy, Creepy Cubicle’, to be honest. Anyways. (My coffee friend says that the way I just described my er, excretion of emotions is called ‘Katharsis‘. Not that I care. But still. Thanks.)

Moving to a hostel has made me realise many things. Once of those things: yelling at a washing machine to spin does not work (No, I did not think that my washing machine is voice activated, if that’s what y’all are thinking). And yeah, its happened many times that someone has woken up to see me scolding the machine (hey, I need to vent sometimes). Basically, my hostel has a rheumatic washing machine which throws tantrums like a 10 year old kid. Heck, 10 year olds behave better. I mean, seriously, all you need to do is add three pieces of cloth to it, and it starts groaning as if Frankenstein’s monster came to possess it. Gods, I feel like throwing it off a cliff.

Another thing that annoys the crap outta me is the fact that my room has automatic jamming system. Enter the room, and boom, no signal. Even my mobile SIM, which prides itself when it comes to connectivity, fails to connect. I was thinking of putting up a sign outside my hostel gate saying ‘You are now entering a signal free zone. Welcome to the stone age’. There are, of course, certain zones, or areas where you get signal. Even in my room,  if you sit/lie down in a certain pose, you’ll catch signal, and even that would throw tantrums like a baby. So if you ever come to my room and find me lying in some yoga position, try not to hit me or disturb my position. The worst times are when I need to submit my assignments online. I need to walk outside my hostel, and I need to stand there like an awkward statue of liberty inn shorts holding up the phone like a beacon of internet instead of hope. I’d hate to imagine what the people driving by would be thinking. Its so awkward, it isn’t even funny. Never mind.

Surprisingly (yes, even I’m surprised; genuinely), I’ve found myself going to the temple more often after moving into the hostel. Oh, and those who don’t know me, or rather, are new in my life, you guys should know that at one point of time, I was an atheist. Yes, a child of brahmin descent turned into an atheist, ate non vegetarian (not that I’ve stopped eating non-veg), and frankly did not give a damn about any rituals. I lost faith, you see, and as to how I lost my faith… well, that’s a tale for another day. All that I can say is that my faith was rekindled by the end of 12th grade. Basically, I sucked at studies (as you guys might’ve figured out by now), and was practically failing all my subjects (except English; go figure). At some point, I just felt the need to…give up. To just let it all go. I was overcome with grief, and I figured that irrespective of what I do, I was going to fail. At that point of time, I don’t know how, or why, but I began praying.

Yeah so now I’m in college, I guess you know what happened, Not only did I pass, I also got into a brilliant college (or so I thought; so naive), and also got into a college of my choice. I clearly remember the night when I had received the news; that I had gotten into the college of my choice, and that was the day my faith was re-kindled. That night it rained, and I’m not sure where the rain started first: did the clouds shed tears before I did, or was I the one who began the downpour in my room? Before I knew it, I was outside, and believe me, I felt no shame when I cried in the rain, because at that moment, with hot tears mixing with the cool rain drops, I felt that yes, there exists some force beyond my understanding out there. Even now, if I feel melancholy, or angry, I just go and get wet in the rain. It doesn’t make the feeling any lesser, but I guess its makes it easier for me to bear the burden, and control myself a little better. It gives me… hope.

Now, amidst all this seriousness lies my brilliant hostel with its stupid inhabitants (literally, they are all animals). In the beginning, I cursed myself, my parents, and basically anyone and everyone I looked at, having my ‘oh-god-why’ expression all the time. The room adjacent to mine was the audio centre of the hostel. The guy has amazing speakers, and used to play loud music. Not that I minded, but then, when you need some peace, and then suddenly ‘Munni Badnaam’ starts to play, you tend to lose your shit. My fist day in hostel was commemorated with five people being kicked out thanks to the fact that they behaved like animals after getting drunk (not that they behave any differently when they’re sober; trust me, I know)

There’s one room, which, I shit you not, is one of the dirtiest rooms ever. I swear to god, if you ever enter the room, you legit need to wade through the clothes lying on the floor. And on the bed. And table. And the cupboard. Basically everywhere. My hostel mates named it ‘Chandni Bar‘ (I still have no idea why), and if you’re hungry at night, or want to watch a movie and basically chill after midnight, you need to go meet these guys. Oh and the best part is that one of the guys bought a laser light system, so the room is rreeeaaallllyy trippy. Saturday nights are the best. I mean, right from midnight, we either run off to play badminton (there’s an indoor court), or basketball, or decide to just play uno (hey, its fun ok. I don’t know or enjoy poker), or maybe watch a horror movie (which eventually turns into a comedy while watching in a group. It is fun to scream your head off anyway)

It’s amazing to live there, except for this one time where someone (my dear room mate, ladies and gentlemen) broke into my room and stole a jar of nutella. They did return it to me. But it was almost empty. Go figure. It was a prank, and I understood that. But no one messes with my nutella. NO ONE.

My room mate is the the most extreme person I’ve ever known. He either doesn’t go to college, or, if he goes, then he doesn’t return till 10:30 at night. It’s brilliant. The best part is that he doesn’t smoke or drink. Or do anything, realy. Except watch movies and sitcoms. ALL. NIGHT. LONG. There was this one time when I needed to wake up at 4:3) on a sunday (I go for treks, so yes, I need to wake up that early), and I slept at around 10:00 the previous night. My room mate began watching some episodes (sherlock, I think) at the same time. Next thing I know, he’s shaking me awake at 4:45, telling me that I overslept and that the alarm was done ringing and was exasperated (yeah, I pretty much sleep like a Medusa victim), and he goes back to watching his episodes. It is astounding, the way he sleeps during the day, and is awake all night like some nocturnal beast.

So anyways, that’s that. I’ve changed a lot after I’ve moved to the hostel, and I’ve metamorphosed, or in simpler words, changed for the better. Or maybe I’m discovering myself fully, the entire badass person that I am. I don’t know. Anyhow, I’m sorry again for the long absence, and I shall do my best to post more often. Till next time, guys.

-Apra-out ~(O_O~)

Late Night Rambling

Late Night Rambling

Hey guys. Back.

IMG_0524 (2)
The Crumbling Seat

Long time, huh? Do forgive me for my temporary hiatus from writing stuff. Its just been hectic (that’s my way of saying that I did have time, but then I spent it on doing random stuff).

Anyways, I got into a college, and I got into a college of my choice, no less, with my choice of subjects. I’m doing a triple major course in Communication, English, and Psychology.
Its been two weeks since the first day, and honestly speaking, I find it difficult to fit in.
Yes. It’s difficult for me.

I think it’s about time I address this issue that I have. Its the issue of being reserved. Of being…silent.
Yes, I am extremely silent. Yes, my interaction with strangers is largely limited to nods and a curt ‘yes’. And I cannot help it.

Now isn’t it ironic, how a guy, who is so open to the world via his blog, has difficulty talking to a bunch of random teenagers and making new friends?
But that is the case with me (yes, thank you, I know I am weird.)

I’m the kind of person who goes nuts around someone whom I’m comfortable with. Honestly, anyone who knows me well will tell you how cray I am. But the turbulent period of time when I’m in the process of knowing someone is literally a very annoying phase where I’m surrounded with awkward silences.

The issue is that this particular problem of mine impairs my ability to communicate with a whole lot of people, including my own family members. Which basically makes me a GI Joe toy between a whole lot of teddy bears (my way of saying that I am socially awkward). I don’t fit in.

I face this difficulty particularly in college. I mean, its like I’m in a restaurant, and every time I want to order something, the price jumps up like a freaking warning signal (which usually isn’t far from the truth, now that I think about it). I wanna talk to a guy and develop a friendship, and bam! I can’t converse beyond the usual ‘Hi, what’s your name, where are you from’ and all that usual introductory garbage. I wanna talk to a girl, aaannndd *badum tsss*. I clam up.

I thought that I’ll get used to it, but then, now its getting a little tiring, and frankly, a little lonely.
Moreover, my course has a whole lot of emphasis on theater (something that I haven’t done. Ever.) and most of the people drink (which again, is something that I’m not into). Neither can I be cool by saying that I play the guitar, nor can I dance. Basically, I’m just sitting there like (._.’)

Yup, my self esteem is going for a six right now.

But I guess…things will turn around for me. They always have.
Anyways, now that I’ve told you my sad story, I’ll come to the nicer parts. I have a few people whom I meet every day. Then there is a girl whom I talked to, and we roamed around for a few days. But naturally, my rotten luck pretty much showed itself after the initial excitement of finding a friend. I often think that girls (and guys; please, I do not intend to be sexist) consider new people as toys. Walk around, play, do random shit, have fun, then forget about them. I think its safe to say that something of the very same sorts happened to me. Nevermind. But yeah, I did meet this awesometastic blogger, who sits next to me, and I swear, she is totally nuts.

Come to think of it, this wasn’t much of an illuminating post, and honestly, it wasn’t something that I put a lot of effort into. However, it is a post, and I did want to share it. Like I’ve said earlier, this blog is more like a diary to me. I pour everything out. So that’s all for now.

Oh yeah. I almost forgot. The photo. This particular photo…. I dunno. It was more of a random click. Again, this was a part of my wanderings in Pune. As for my admission in SIMC (Symbiosis), my name was on the waiting list, and I figured it’d be better if I joined Christ University. Anyhow, that’s all for now. Again, all criticisms and feebacks are welcomed.

-Apra-out ~(O_O~)

The Ethereal Sunset

The Ethereal Sunset


Hey guys!
I’m back. (Finally) with yet another photo.
So I had actually been off the grid for about a week or so,because I had to go to Pune for a college interview. (Symbiosis Institute of Media and Communication). At the same time, my dad got an offer to do an M tech course from a college, and so, even he had an interview, which basically took me all around Pune. So this is was the view from the campus in Pune. I guess the beauty of sunsets is everlasting, and when you combine that with a lake, and a few hills, then this is what you get. Amazing, isn’t it?
So this is my first sunset click,and I’ve done fairly well, if I do say so myself.
Anyways, as always, criticisms are welcomed, and I would love a few tips on how to capture night-time pics. Thanks.
Meanwhile, I’ve been plagued with requests for writing a post. Yeah, I wanna write stuff too, except that, as of now, nothing actually makes an impact on me. So I’ve not written anything. Yet.
Give me some time, mates. I’ll be back writing stuff. Don’t worry.
Thank you for the fan mails, readers. You make me want to write more.
-Apra-out ~(O_O~)