Masked identity…

How many times in life have you wondered…

Of who you actually are… of why are you who you are…and how would it feel if you get to end it all…

Well…being honest… we all tag those black-clad pierced gothic looking people…EMO…
But try and introspect the true you… a little glance and you’ll realize how each one of us live through the weak moments..our own layer of black… shielding us from some made-up pain… or maybe..some true storm…

It is all in the mind they say… pain..anxiety…loss…happiness…love… all of it..

See I had this wonderful friend… who died one fine day…and as shameful as it could get…I never even noticed her death… so here is a little tribute to the friend I lost…

She was this little girl..as I remember her… always giggling about absolutely nothing… she lived in this make believe world..and actually sang bob the builder as she worked on her homework… everything was…KARKEY DIKHAGEY.. HAAN BHAI HAAN…!!!

She loved animals… not because she was into charity…but just cause she could express her true self to them… she was really special…
Not a great student..maybe.. but a great human being…
And lol..!! did she cry…yes…she did..and infact..she would howl on the smallest of deeds…she’d talk to her teddy bears..and she’d talk to the plants outside…would dance in the rains..would do everything wrong..and then cry… : )

But then..she died..
I dunno when… I still cannot decipher why… but she just died… and uncanny as it seems…I haven’t even found her corpse yet…

She lived real close…
Somewhere inside me….

But I couldn’t even realize a howling her when she needed me the most… I couldn’t even be a mute spectator… I just wasn’t there…

I dunno… I got to achieve a lot… maybe..lost even more… but even she had all I have now..
As far as I remember…she was the head girl too… with a junior tag ofcourse… but her first step was opening a green house…
Well my first initiative… punishing students..getting discipline…

Not that discipline isn’t important…but hey..!! how and when did I become so correct…?
What happened to doing everything wrong…?

Well…I remember a speech by this friend…
‘bahut saara kaam..and no aaraam… ney jack ko dull boy bana diya…’
Ofcourse she lost the competition… but her principal stood up and hugged her real hard…she hadn’t ever met someone so ‘unadulterated’…

The last speech I gave…
‘Love and friendship are nothing but shackles in the marathon of self-development’
Ofcourse…I won… and not only did I win… but the director of debate team of delhi university gave me her own honorary shield… she hadn’t met a better ‘orator’….

More over… I remember my friend getting ready for school…
Around 40 minutes in the wash room…
And 40minutes getting her socks perfected… how she hated those strings of thread in the inside of the socks… each day she’d cut a pair of socks..each day her folks had to get her new socks…. ‘mere anguthey mey yeh lagta hey…skin ko dekho.. red red kar deta hey..’
She was always late… but was let in..cause punishing her would mean a howling little brat for the entire day…

Me.. well I wake up around 30 minutes from the time of school… get ready in some 10 minutes… and then zoop off to school…
I am always late… but am let in… cause I am in the council…


Result day would mean her dancing on securing the 21st rank…
Result day for me …means nagging on how they are unfair to cut 3 marks… and how I lost a rank…

She’d win awards for the best clown in the troop….by artoons fun club…
I have been the best student in india for four years… by times of India group…

She’d wish to be a C.I.D officer… even sported bob cut from this little patri market saloon … to look like the baldy from the sony television flick…
I am deciding between engg. And journalism… and I sport the latest street cut with lager edges from my hairstylist from lakme chains..

She’d hug the school bus conductor…
I do not talk to friends when I am not in the ‘mood’…

She was herself…all times…all seasons…
I do not know how to define myself…


She was wrong…she didn’t care…
I am wrong…I am right… I am unsure…



She was human….
I am a mask…

She’s lost…
I can never be established….

She’s dead…
I can never live…

my collection....

Lyrics | Please Don't Stop The Rain lyrics

Song lyrics | Almost Lover lyrics

Song lyrics |
href="http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/p/pink/please_dont_leave_me.html" target="_blank">Please Don't Leave Me lyrics

Song lyrics | Painted On My Heart lyrics

Song lyrics | Underneath Your Clothes lyrics

Pink — Please Don't Leave Me lyrics | Lyricsty.com

this is a part of the collection i could publish right now...there are many more wonderful songs i'd like to share... duh-uh i dunno why..but i am just doing it :p...

i am sure u may have most of em...but agar nahi hey... toh yahan sey le lo...

and yeah... keep smiling..and please please...take care all you smoochies cocoa beans... :)

pointless... :P

Me versus the world

yeah yeah..do not worry I am not on some vs fetish.. it’s just that I really have wondered about this one for quite some time now..


It was our first day at Narayana, kalu sarai … our class had to shoot off at around 10 am… yeah or maybe 8..ok how does that even matter… :p
Now I was like ok… I can do this… I still remember.. I was like really excited… and aditi and I almost hopped till our class…
And bhai sahib..jab waahan jaker bethey toh we were stunned… aas paas all we could see were monsters double our size… the girls almost looked plastic and were like ok..sexy..!! but dude, looked double our age..or shall I say..we looked half of all of em…

I just clutched adi’s hand real hard…and tabhi there was this huge guy joh hamare peechey aakey betha… so I just turned and asked… “aap kaunsi class mey ho”…he was like… “just gave mah 10th”… I was like…”you sure…cuz you look double me”..lol..few giggles and I realized there is something horrible wrong with the place… (( no no..not the guys and girls..but the education thingy… got no word.. no single word in my bheja…))

So got shifted to Gurgaon branch… yes we had a lot of ex-bluebellians in here… but I dunno why were they acting strangely…maybe cuz we were of different divisions…or whatver… but I made some real cool friends there..and yes was understanding better… still things again didn’t work cuz I really couldn’t get their system… so yeah… wasting dad’s lakh… I took back my name…

Now…why the f did I narrate this incident… well.. to highlight my mini size… yes I am 5’2… but then that’s like the average height for girls in our nation… but still… whenever I come across people.. they always take me for a seventh standard chum… even kids in our school… I was scolding this little kid.. and said.. I’ll take your prefect badge… he was like… “aap mera kyu logey…aapkey paas class monitor ka hey toh”,…. I was like SHOCKED… lol…. I reacted in a even dhakkan way… snatching his badge and saying… ‘dude I am the head girl… h-e-a-d girl…go get you abc’s rectified”… lol…ok..fir sey out of line…(hey though that very day I realized, I have nobody to stand with me, all these ‘friends’ they are mere spectator…chalo better late than never…)

Still..back to the kiddo me… abhi recently we had gone to sree ram school aravli for a competion.. and there was this kid.. who was acting real coy..(brought to my notice by aditi jain… ahem ahem ) ..all the while he kept smiling an almost standing when I gave an answer… I was like ok ok..niki.. just another regular perv..do not worry… then the guy is asked a question..he stands up and says…”mey kaksha navum mey hu”… I was like BAZOOKED…..lol.. the very next question thrown upon me..had me actually almost shouting…”mey nikita Tanwar, barvi kaksha mey aatey aatey mey bas itna hee janna hey….”… lol.. aditi and my bhai actually find this incident funny… but then a ninth standard guy… euwwww……

And to add on… my sleeping with teddy bears… when this news leaked out… I had my friends..rolling on the floors… but dude… everybody needs a beary hug when they sleep… it’s just that some people hide their feelings..and some do not…

All these competions.. I am guided towards the junior wings… and when told no damn I am in 12th..they are like.. oohh kkk.. you look cute.. (though their eyes say something else)… moreover.. people say my voice is really mature and that of a lady in 30’s… so does this mean I am jinxed person… !!!



No.. I am all pointless in this blog… so I am shutting myself… just tell me… do you think I am a kid… ?? I mean yes I am a kid.. but lol.. do you think am a kid even in front of a kid my age….

Phew……!!!

Authors vs Writers... (haha... agar length dekhney ke baad bhee tumney padh liya toh tum mahaan ho yaara )

Authors vs Writers….


Before I start , I may as well apologize before hand because even though most of my lovely readers here do not give a damn to literature and any book without ‘pictures’, I am afraid if any of you is offended by the authors I am going to name in here.
Whatever you will read now, is my personal opinion and for me it is nothing but absolute truth and in no way do I hope or wish it to be the same for you.

A writing belongs more to the reader than it can ever to the writer, because though the corpse is brought forward by the pen, it is the heart reading it that pours in life


I was going through The speaking tree edition-4 by Times of India when I came across a wonderful write by an anonymous and though I couldn’t remember the original work word by word there was something that did strike me and of all that I could comprehend , I have put in the lines preceding this in italics.

Wonderful isn’t it , I can write about water, you can decipher it as mirror and then express it further as some pure naïve soul… like they say there’s just one simple rule to follow when you write or read … and that is.. ‘follow nothing..follow noone’
Because here we aren’t talking about logarithms with fixed values and set of rules to follow… here we aren’t even relating the radius of earth to the relative motion of moon, but here we are tearing a piece of our soul and then using each possible drop of the flowing blood to find ourself in someone else’s words or for that matter our own words.

Being the member of the worlds largest forum for rant practitioners I realize how the greatest of writersnever get published in hard covers…not because they aren’t accepted but because they prefer not naming themselves as the owner of a write. They realize , no mortal can ever actually own words…

Last night, I finally picked up the book I was planning to read for months now but somehow couldn’t even complete the foreword.
So finally when I dimmed the lights of my room and picked up the book The games Indians play – why are we the way we are .. I was left gasping for air after some 32 pages. With tremendous respect for Mr. V. Raghunathan , I am sorry but the sudden Aila like blows of strange names and stranger situations left me actually numb..the only part left active in my cranium box asking why the hell is this the way it is …yes yes.. an arrogant remark by someone who still cannot differentiate between being-bieng , but then there was something very uncomfortable about reading the work. It somehow had all the required questions but absolutely no answers anywhere… and going by the Chinese philosophy of perception of empty spaces this could have been a really big positive for the author had he constantly not gone into the game theory details and then even filling up each empty space with some certain methodology of his own.
Yes.. he is the one who gave birth to the work..and he has each and every right possible to pen down whatever he wishes to so I guess it’s just that I as a reader couldn’t connect with him or for me I would say I failed connecting with his soul, but then still gasping for air I wonder did the author actually need my soul..?

Pick up any book..by some famous author and then be ready for some 15 pages of expert comments by hundreds of unknowns explaining or rather convincing you …of how not reading further would spell doom not only for you but for the entire human race .

And now the point of my bringing forth this point… as I look around I see thousands of wonderful drafts in hundreds of blogs I read and then I see some expert works by great authors … and I realize how the rebellion in our society is slowly failing in front of the systemized carcass-like Mr. Perfect .

Some comments which actually bother the reader in me are somewhat like…

I would give this a 5.678900
You’re writing disappointed me … spellings ruined the entire fun..it lost the essence of being a write…
I expectedmuch more
The story would have been better if the ending had the girl dying

I mean have you ever told your mom… I do appreciate the effort you made when you carried me in your womb for 9 months but still I would have appreciated if you had given me birth in august, cause then I would be a leo..
Or maybe went over to a friend’s place and told his dad… I loved your choice of your wife..especially her hair but still your kids…hmm… I expected much more from a handsome couple of your like..but still I give u a 3.78

And then sadly I even see young writers changing their style of work and apologizing for what they wrote… the whole thing disgusting me… for I as a human would never apologise for what I dreamt..and my writings for me …are my dreams…

I dunno… comments yes they do mean you expressing what you feel… but then EXPRESS WHAT YOU FEEL….

Like I’d like to give this wonderful example of one of my writer friends...
I had sent over a draft to her and asked her of what she felt…

Her reply was this one line…

Niki…I honestly couldn’t read it, cause it was all in caps ..made me feel hated..

And know what… I had written it in a spur of immense hatred…and even though it was a professional write… I could relate to the hatred flowing through it…and the very fact that she could feel what I felt while penning it down..well over-whelmed me beyond limits…



Ending it all… I would leave it to you… of whether I am a writer or an author…I still am not sure… but all I can do is appeal to all of you….be a reader and not a witness…comprehend...rebel…and be the writer of your own soul…authors..we have many of them sitting in expert-rooms….we need more souls who feel…we need you…



My candle burns at both ends...It will not last the night...
But ah my foes and oh my friends...
It gives a lovely light...

Dedicated to the only true writer I have ever felt...and no one else has ever even touched the emotions his simple writings aroused in me… dedicated to- Sir Roald Dahl…




Ask me to name writers..i would say Roald Dahl..Vikram Seth…Sylvia Plath..Paula Danziger …and your eyes…