Well for those of you who were deprived of the literary masterpiece that was the first part, here you go. I remembered about this thing while I was supposed to be writing a press release for school, of course, and since I had nothing else to do except for that report that was supposed to have been emailed 3 hours ago, the preparation for my 12th grade, the editing of a few articles for the school magazine, I figured I might as well give this one another shot. It might have been an ill-thought out decision. Feel free to tell me so in the comments (especially so if you disagree, a girl can’t ever have too much validation, wouldn’t you agree?)


“My throne, of course, was usurped by the man down the street. He was a piece of work, that one. More tea?”

“Sure.” The pouring out of the hot beverage took a few comfortable seconds.

“You wouldn’t know it to look at him—in fact the very opposite, to be honest. He’d offer me lemonade every time I biked by his house—he had no children, you see.  My mother said it was a shame, he had the nicest eyes—and my father wondered what that had to do with anything. ‘Somethin’ wrong with his noggin’, he always said whenever I brought him up, tapping the side of his head and whispering. He seemed like a perfectly nice, normal man.”

“That is, until he usurped your throne?”

“Of course, until he stabbed us all in the back. Well, not all of us really. Just my dad and I”

“Why just your dad and you?”

“Well, my mum didn’t mind much really. She got the house in the divorce and the two moved in”

“Wait, I’m sorry, I must admit to being just the slightest bit confused?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t long before they got a baby with the ‘nicest eyes’—guess they didn’t go to waste after all”

“So your mum fell in love with the man down the street, left your dad, took the house in the divorce and had the man’s babies with the nice eyes?”

“Yes. He said I could drop by for lemonade anytime and for as long as I want”

“Well, as long as you get a lifetime’s supply of lemonade…”

“Yes I know, not that great a deal. Biscuit?”

“No, thank you. But I don’t understand, how did your mom–?”

“My mother was home a lot and my father…was not. That man, on the other hand, was.”

“Well that sounds like quite a bit of a story actually, would you mind going into just a little bit more detail?”

“Well that’s really all that was to it. No whirlwind romance, no clandestine meetings. He was the slightly mental neighbour with the nice eyes and she was the attention-starved, bored house-occupant. That story’s a bit played out, don’t you think? Practically every other child’s mother has left them for the nutty neighbour.”


“What, didn’t yours?”

“I think I might want that cookie after all—and no, not really.” What followed next was the handing over of buttery baked goods out of chipped, china plates.

“Well anyway, after that we moved in with my grandfather.”

“The one who was killed by a pair of dice?”

“Yes the red ones with the black dots”


Yours Truly,



Well, This Started Out As One Thing…

I have decided to write a journal of sorts for the duration of this vacation—you know, like documenting the last few days of 2014. I have deemed it An Entirely Noble, But Probably Failed Attempt at Keeping a Diary.

Day One.


Today we reached Mumbai.

Time: 2 something in the afternoon.

Mood: Hungry, excited, slightly hung-over from the ice-cream from last night and the pink French toast we had for breakfast.

Itinerary: Eat. Maybe buy Sam a dress for the wedding. Get Niks a Barbie.

Hello, dear readers, how are you? I don’t think I ask that enough (or at all). How was Christmas/Hanukkah? Yesterday was my parents’ anniversary. It was spent in a car. It was fun, though (at least it was for me, I can’t speak for my mum and dad who celebrated/did not celebrate their 17th anniversary cooped up in a metal vehicle. For what it’s worth, they didn’t seem to mind it much)

You never realize just how uneventful your life is until you start documenting it…It’s kind of pathetic (but then again, some would argue so is keeping a diary, so I guess it’s too late to worry about losing whatever cool points I had) It’s been a while since I last posted something…it’s been a busy couple of weeks. Our school turned ten this year and we have the decade celebrations in April and the school decided they were going to do a musical, so I have been helping in writing the script which had to be done within about two weeks. Add to that the stress of starting AS Levels and a determination to not have a repeat of my 10th grade (which, if you’ve been around a while, will know was horrible and a terrible let-down), plus some other work involving helping out 7th graders with their project and a freshman with his literature, and other council work and you have what is known as “something-I-wouldn’t-wish-on-anyone”.

Nah, I’m just exaggerating. Well, sort of. I mean it was busy, yes, but also a lot of fun (the freshman is really cool and we’re really great friends now, 7th graders are surprisingly funny and I kind of like being busy, distracts me from the stuff I very much need distraction from) But I definitely will not miss having to stay up late and finish my school work—which was made all the more harder ‘cause I had to beg my classmates to send me pictures of the chapter and it’s exercises since I haven’t gotten my books yet (I know, TERRIBLE!), but that was partly my fault since I paid the fees kind of late, but hopefully, I’ll get them on the first day back to school next year.

Wow. This whole thing was completely pointless and a bore, and I’m assuming you probably skipped over some parts (I don’t blame you, I think I did too while proof-reading it)

Hopefully, seeing how the wedding is tomorrow, I’ll have better things to write about. Did I tell you about the wedding? I don’t think so…Well, a former student of my parents’ is getting married, and my parents are pretty close to him and a couple other students (Sam and I always play Dumb Charades and other games with them for hours whenever they visit) It’s nice to have pseudo-older brothers, though I always do get terribly shy and quiet for the first few hours when I see them, but that passes soon enough. So, yeah, Mushir bhaiyya is getting married tomorrow and I haven’t seen the bride yet, so I’m excited.

So, I guess that is it for now (ugh, worst sign-off ever in the history of lame-sign-offs, let me try another one: )


from those good people at

Wait, before I go, I just learnt that it is a rookie mistake to not have a proper sign-off in your blog posts, so I have decided to dedicate the rest of this hour to coming up with a good one…

Well, these are the ones I thought of in the first fifteen minutes:

  • Live Long and Prosper (hangs head in shame; this was the first one that popped in my head, could I be any more predictable?)
  • May the force be with you (really, considering the previous one, this was a given)
  • Toodles! (well, this one also requires a fluffy pink handbag and killer (literally) heels, so that is ah-no)
  • Self-destruct begins in 5, 4 , 3, 2…(I kind of like this one)
  • Disclaimer: No iguanas were harmed in the making of this atrocious piece, though the same cannot be said about the dodos…*shrug*
  • You’re all going to die.
  • Pluto 4 eva (I cringed too)
  • Destroy this shameless letter as soon as you read it, Cassandra (up top if you understand the obscure reference)
  • Homer Simpson out
  • I know what you did last summer (*throws hands in the air like I don’t care* What?)
  • Beware the Dolphin Invasion
  • Click here for a free zombie-apocalypse survival kit
  • Death to Brussel sprouts
  • Heil Hitler (too serial killer-y?)
  • (blech.)
  • Would you like some tea with that?
  • Ciao for now (I have no words…)
  • Brought to you by a failure heading nowhere
  • I’m going to die anyway, so what is even the point
  • Ugh. As if.
  • Die.
  • All the world’s a Schrödinger Box, and we but dead cats

Well, I stopped after that because it only got more morbid as I went on.

Anyway, here is the one I decided upon:

I see a blue bird and shall now begin its pursuit.

…Or not. Well, what do you think?

Yours Truly,

Something Clever

P.S I was told that making a blog all about oneself is a big no-no, so here is something we can all relate to:


I was going through this notebook of mine where I write completely random stuff–like the beginning of countless novels I never actually got around to finishing, or the plot of a few short stories, or even simple observations–and I came across this short piece that was meant to expand into a proper story, but never did. The reason I’m putting this on here today is because I have absolutely nothing else to blog about, so this would have to suffice. Its kind of pointless and I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, but right now, I think I like it. But, then again, my love for what I write is transient, and chances are, in a few days, I’m going to abhor this piece. But oh well, you only live once and all that.

She insisted hers wasn’t a story worth writing about. But I had been “between jobs” for too long; the newspaper had scrapped my column and I refused to make a living writing obituaries. “It isn’t a matter of life and death!”, my exasperated editor had said in the face of my refusal. “But that is exactly what it is!”, I had countered. And so I walked out of his office, my head held high and my wallet completely dry.

But this meant my typewriter was gathering dust and I needed a story. Hers just happened to be the one I stumbled across.

She wasn’t too keen about the idea and it took all of my persuasive powers to get her to at least see me, and even then, I had to make several house calls for her to relent.

When she saw that I wasn’t going anywhere, she heaved a sigh of defeat, made us some tea and sat down beside me on the couch.

“Where do I start?”

“The End. Start with the end.”

“Alright. Well, my grandfather was killed by a pair of dice”

“Pair of dice?”

“Ach, yeah”

“What colour?”

“Red I think. Red, with little black dots. It was pretty. It killed him.”


“Its a long story. I would have to start at the beginning”

“By all means”

And so it followed, that over countless cups of tea, she told me the story that Wasn’t Worth Writing About–or the WWWA, if you may.

“I was the heir to the throne of Mumbai”, she began

“Wait, really?”

“No. I just thought it would make the story more interesting”

“Huh. I think you may be on to something…Proceed.”

Aaand that is where I stopped. I might take it up again, I don’t know…