Baby Lips and All that Shizz.

It's weird, the things you do when you're small.

Seventh grade was by far the strangest grade I've ever been in. From holding the blade of the fan and swinging from it, to singing weird songs in front of the teachers and being called "abnormal" and "under observation". Many left after seventh, in more ways than just feet walking away from the gates of the school.

The best part was that things were very different then from what they are now. Now that it is your birthday, going back and remembering all of it has been not only amazing but relieving, because nothing can be called "concrete evidence" if not a whole year. Evidence that a good, carefree time can exist.

I wasn't very close to you. Different rows, different groups which came together in the end. It was perhaps that chubby Narmada house chick who brought us together. Well, she and her uncanny obsession with Baby Lips which she passed on like an infection to us.

We both had the purple one, which I hardly used. Most of my lip balm was spent falling off on the floor. But that's exactly how we connected. It's as of owning the same shade of balm was an insignia of a clique or something, and we left no chance to make the other feel miserable about her mango flavoured one. Exceptionally mean, yes. But so much fun.

Then bumping into you at New Year's. Introducing you to that strange, insane group of ours. All the calls that followed after, asking for advice at weird hours. Making that flop waterfall which went wrong on so many levels. Consoling me after Poppy ran away. Suddenly turning to me and Trina while we were watching the much awaited Catching Fire and saying "I have no idea what's going on here."

You're probably the first friend I've had who defines "misunderstanding" in my life. But here's the thing: When I look back on all the fun things that have happened to me, somehow the misunderstandings worm their way in. Perhaps standing against the wall outside Pradeep sir's office as that teacher hammered apparent morals and ethics into us was sort of fun. We kept giving each other hilarious looks from the corner of our eyes, and left glowering.

You love and trust a bit too easily. When you start loving someone, it's as if you've loved them since childhood or something. You'd be a bad gambler. You place everything you have on a number that's been good and lucky for you all the time so far, and then the dice decides to roll somewhere else. Your number betrays you. It's got nothing to lose. Neither do you. Come now. Maa-Baap nahi hote toh we are all gareeb anyway. You actually lose nothing. Except your sanity.  Pretty much. 

But the mere idea and memory that you've lost something kills you, and you fall into a stupor hard to rise from.  Fortunately, you have good friends. Make that amazing.

Holding grudges against each other was awesome. The fight, even though made us both sad, was fun.

Look. I am a very confused, deranged, pathetic person. I love what average, normal people cry about. So let's just, I don't know. Agree to disagree. (?)

   The fact that you stand up for people no matter what they do, and are ready to forget a fight because you know we won't care about it five years from now was something that I admired a lot. I never told you. 

Keep drawing. That art of yours is inspiring. Keep sending me drawings. Keep being anorexic. Keep those huge eyes because mine are the same. (Larger. Brb, crying. ). Please don't do that Japan thing again. It was a momentary shock. I even had your farewell card planned.



I was about to compare our friendship to Baby Lip's petroleum jelly pole. The one that lasts for a long, long time and occasionally sees downfalls when morons like me drop it SPLAT! on the floor.
But then dirty mind. <sigh>
I'm pretty sure I just ruined everything by adding that one line.
No, I don't regret it. 

Happy Birthday, Anika. Yes, this is late. Very late. Because I logged in to write this, forgot as soon as I entered the password, stared at the screen with a scrunched up eye wondering why I logged in, wrote some random musing and logged out. I'm sorry.

Thank you for being a part of some of my favourite moments in life.
I'm pretty sure Peyton will find her Lucas. Someday.

Oh. How I hate that show. 

Love,
Khushi. 

Losing Sleep.

"And now here we were, roaming around without a proper goal ;like two pages of paper flowing in the wind."

In the orbits of my days and nights, I met a guy.
Nope. This won't take the angle you're hoping it'll take.

He was..disturbed. He was insane. He had the craziest life story ever, which is probably the cause for his crazy ideals. The night we met was by chance. We mutually got together to make fun of someone's post. When two bored people start taking someone's case, they find out that despite being complete strangers, they at least have one objective in common. That's enough to spark a conversation.
I'd heard about his cool "hookah" dp. Indifference. Heard he's a better writer than I am, not surprising. Almost everyone who attempts  is. Cute too. Senior, beware.

Indifference. 

What I intended was a short conversation. Perhaps compete a little when it came to writing.  Then let go and he'd just be another forgotten name on the friend's list. 

What I didn't know is, just half an hour after the conversation begins and he tells me a little about himself, I was going to explode. 

People like us show we don't care when we actually do, deep inside. That bubble bursts sometimes. And you pour your heart out to the nearest cactus if available. The day had been unbearable. And soon I was boring him with all the fights, drama, idiosyncratic situations.

It was FIFA week, and football is life, apparently. He tried to teach me. I learnt. I got a team  to support. I'm not a game illiterate. And he's the reason why I could stay up and be a part of the thrill.

Somewhere around 3 am, after England vs Italy and cursing Rooney for missing a goal, I agreed to write a story collab with the guy.  While most of the time mine take a ridiculous turn, this turned out to be dark.   After it ended, I sat there for a long time not daring to speak, but simply read it again and again. 
I still miss no chance to quote it. 

Rarely my eyes have ever been wide open with excitement. No, it wasn't the world's greatest piece. Fictitious to a fault. But there was something about it which sent chills down your spine and goosebumps on your arms. 

It was the first time, at 3 am, that I lost sleep. The willingness. The droopy eyelids, which was extremely strange because it wasn't that good anyway. I even lost words that day. All I could write back was "This is nice. I'm keeping it."

And after that, there hasn't been a single time when I've been awake for a long time and he wasn't online.  A constant break from whatever it was I was doing, whether it was blindly insulting some society's infidel or MUN killing the FUN. I'm eternally grateful to the "Khushiii" and "Khushi?"  and "Whattup boo?" because boo reminds me of my favourite monster. I adore him for going all the way down to the first post of my blog to tell me how much it sucked and how I'm excused because we all do stupid things in Class 8. 
I promised you shoes. Adidas Classics, when I come into cash. That's not happening. Maybe I'll buy you pizza someday, because I've finally found someone who likes it as much as I do, if not more. (Tacos rule the world, though). 

He doesn't like what he writes, and people have his poems as covers. Waow.
Let me assure you, the weakness you have for "Okay."s, the way they get to you is kind of cute. And no, don't deny it.
"The 29 benefits of weed" still hasn't convinced me.
Please tell me what a "bad trip" is.
Please continue pissing me off. I'll keep returning the favor.
"Repeating topics" will never be boring.
"Growhill" will never stop, nor will it get old.
Thanks for being the only person online to share my "69 likes on dp" milestone.
" Hamare baare mein bhi  likh do. :P"  Lo. Likh diya.
 You must sleep with Piglet. Alimony. 400 crore like Suzanne Roshan.
I rock for being the soulmate who cut up your soul and drank it under the Alter.
Facebook Black is rad, bro.

Because he listens, laughs, ridicules, K-zones everything I tell him, which instantly makes me feel good.
But the reason he stands out from everyone else is that he forgets. I know I can come to him with the most important secret of my life and blurt it out if I want relief, because he won't remember it when he wakes up the next day.

<Not that I will. Please. :3 >

Happy Birthday, Rohil.
This isn't the best thing ever. I dread how juvenile it sounds.
Forgive the cheesiness.
Thank you for cheering me up and listening when you were under no obligation to.

And no, you definitely care. 

"Like two sheets of paper floating in the wind. Only now they had one  another, to give them directions."

Coloring Every Rainbow.

While everyone was in their crisp, pristine white uniform, I was left wearing my lucky, faded blue frock.
It was my first day in class 4, and you wouldn't have to be an absolute genius to figure out that I was terrified. All these new faces, and not one who glanced towards me. If Rimlie ma'am hadn't felt sad for me, I would've ended up beside some weird guy.
Nope. She, being a kind lady, plunked me down beside her.
I cast a furtive look towards my not-yet-but-soon acquaintance. My first friend.Short, deep set face, fair, big eyes just like me so I hoped she wouldn't tease me. Hers were pretty and I was a renowned toad.
Best of all, she wore this deeply comforting, everything's-gonna-be-just-fine kinda smile.

While I hopelessly struggled with my simplification, she helped me out. Did I mention she asked my name and told me hers? What, I was tongue tied. Thinking about that time still does that to me.
Months kept flowing by. The Blue Lantern, Beaks,Claws and Feathers, Robinson Crusoe. Making fun of Friday's name, exchanging life-altering secrets and arguing and fighting and what not.
Here was the best part : DPS was the only school which actually allowed us to use COLORS. Can you believe it?
You probably can, sorry. 

She had these color pencils, the common Faber Castle bi-color ones, but they were new to me, and the quality was fantastic. I loved illustrating my copies with lanterns and autumn shading, and the day Rimlie Ma'am gave me a "good!" for it, there was no stopping me. I used to grab her color pencils all the time and draw with them, much to her annoyance. We have had so many fights about her missing color pencils, and somehow she was always at fault in the end. (Or was she? ;) )

I still haven't given her pink and blue color pencil back. I mentioned it and apologized for it, and she forgave me like the dear she is, but that was only because I apologized 4 YEARS LATER.
Then there was the drawing competition.
We had some theme, I think summer or spring or some godforsaken season. Winning a drawing competition was pretty huge in class 4, we had come with full planning of spoils and cheats and loads of colors to outdo our competitors. For those who were more mature, it was POWER NAP TIME!!
Somehow me and her had the same idea. To draw flowers painted in rainbow colors. We shot each other evil looks, lost our own colors and accused the other (Okay, that was probably just me) and grumbled all the time about how all the other knew was just to copy.

We both "Hmmph!"ed.
 "I don't copy!" "Neither do I!"
And we both decided to work on something more original.
After 40 minutes of brainstorming, we shot the other an evil grin and started working on the flowers with our new ideas.
At the end of the period, we faced each other to gloat. 

And froze. 

The order of the rainbow was VIBGYOR as we had been taught. We had both come up with the same idea- to reverse the order of the colors to ROYGBIV.
Having had enough, we laughed so much that my tummy started yo ache.
We've met so many times after that! In the corridors, when she writes me fan mail for my blog (She overrates me), when we made weird science projects for some competition. Each time has been so much fun. And we always have so much to talk about.
If I could turn back time and relive my first day again, I probably won't do it. Because you want to relive those days which you feel were incomplete, or you wanted to do something more. Diotima, yes that's her name, made every second worth it. There is nothing I want to add or change. I used to wake up, scared, "A new day again?!" and sigh with relief. Diotima's there,toh. No worries.

I wrote this on your birthday because I have an excellent memory and I had a feeling you wouldn't have remembered any of this. This is your trip down the memory lane, because you deserve one as pretty as Alice's Wonderland,Dorothy's Oz or Augustus Water's eyes. 
You've always been lucky to me in childhood, and I hope you're so lucky and amazing in life, that you find a rainbow of your own to walk on. Hop, jump, thread your way into the colors, relish every moment, reach the end, and then reverse it, like you had all those years ago.
Because then in front of you, will be a pot full of memories.
A pot full of gold.

Narcissus.

Do you know who Narcissus was?
Narcissus was a really beautiful boy. Like, beautiful, and also eternally young and childish. Over time, The Greek goddess Nemesis lured him in, and all his days were spent on the banks of the Greek Lake Lyn, where he used to gaze and admire his own reflection. Then, unable to leave the sanctuary of his reflection, He died over there and turned into a flower on the banks of the river. The flower, named after him, is called narcissus.

Rahul has been my classmate for over four years now. The future is a long way off, and we cannot really predict, but he has been present in almost every single fun incident that has been a part of my school life. Did I mention he's the cutest thing ever?
He's exactly like Narcissus in some ways. He still looks like a small, cute, 5th grade kid, extremely childish, and loves teasing people. He'll easily take on guys bigger than him in fights, and even though he loses most of the time, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he'll randomly go and offend some other guy, and the catch-me-hit-me begins again.
In fact, I know his so well, that when most people would be reading this and smiling, he'd be sitting behind the computer screen with his sister, with a frown on his forehead. My inbox is about to ping any minute with a message from him:
 " I am not a kid, and I don't lose all the time. I'm the best. "
I'm not the only one who finds him awesome. Almost all of my classmates love him and the little adorable things he does. 

"Man U ka goal hua, aur hum sofa phad diya! Mummy has rahi thi!"

<Man U scored a goal, and I tore the sofa into shreds! Mom was laughing>

We've made  little songs about him, and call him quite a few embarrassing nicknames, and he hates it. We ruffle his soft hair and pull his chubby little cheeks, make him our very own Harry Potter spectacle model. He'll never, EVER, admit it, but he sort of enjoys the attention.
I think I'm going to get another denial message in my Inbox any minute now.

He's the most hardworking person I've ever seen. Each and every homework and classwork is neatly complete, every answer in blue and question in black. He'll blink rapidly and ask questions in class, and stammers too, but that's all right: Winston Churchill also did. And he led his nation safely through World War 2.
I know he'll never have Narcissus's pride though. He's not the kind. And also, he has some wonderful fairies in his life who'd keep away the Nemesis goddesses away from him : His mother and his twin sister Tanvi.

<Who is one minute older to him and "foolishly" spends all her money on books. He's told us that so many times that in future I may forget my own name, but not this one fact. >
He'd probably disagree with Tanvi the fairy part. They fight like cats and dogs. But they still complete each other. All of Rahul's baby pictures (Aww) would look empty and and unfinished without Tanvi. He won't agree to that too. After all, he's the best, isn't he?

After all of this, the last thing I want to tell you people about him is that he really, badly, wants to grow up. He wants to be tall and strong and NOT cute, not have anyone call him "baby" or "kid" or worse, Super Cutie, even though I'll always call him that. 
One day, he will grow up, become this top shot engineer, and soon this little boy we all know, even though he's in Class 9 and of the same age, will build bigger and taller buildings than all those meanies who make fun of him and his height. I hope so.
He deserved being second in line for a biography, because I wish, that just with the same dedication Narcissus had towards his looks, Rahul has towards his dreams. 

I hope he never parts with them, and gives us a flower of lovely memories to be proud of in the end, when he leaves us all and steps into the world to show what he's made of. 

And yes, Rahul, I'm online. You can yell at me now.
Oh. How could I forget?
He says Hi :

Wingardium Leviosa.

Yes, this is my favorite spell. And I'm using it on one of my favorite friends.
Riyasha the laddoo. She's round and she's fun and she's awesome. I first spoke to her in this particular badminton class where she was desperately trying to come up with uses of coal and petroleum. I was so bored that I made a sincere effort to remember. I had a good laugh in that class, btw. 

Since then, me and Laddoo, (Yes, that's what I intend to call her, starting today), have been great Facebook friends. We liked each other's pictures, and commented on each other's statuses. But because of this one person I'm quite fond of and she absolutely hates, I could never really get myself to warm up to her. 

When she sent me a "Hi" on chat one day, I realized that all this while I had wanted to talk to her. Clear out stuff and maybe, earn a new friend. When I understood her reasons and she got acquainted with mine, I knew that she is one person i'd never regret befriending.
We love the same books and same movies, and are so alike that its kind of creepy, and knowing all that she's been subjected to, I could do nothing but salute her out of respect. I don't know what I'd do in such a situation. 

I think people are absolutely tired of all the status updates they've been suffering from, in their Newsfeed, by me and Laddoo. Sorry folks. Not really. :P

But here is the truth, ever since I have met Laddoo, I have always wanted to fly. Fly? Like, Whaaa?
But yes. I want to fly because she's taught me that impressions should be made, not taken. I want to fly because Laddoo has taught me not to reply in kind to repulsive comments. She has shown me how its like to be admired and loved, and has never felt hesitant to shower me with compliments I don't deserve. When she dedicated her first blog post to me, I was touched beyond measure. So I started a new blog, just for her, so that I can return the honor of dedicating the first post to her.

She's my Wingardium Leviosa. She's made me fly and feel what its like to taste the higher levels of friendship.