Happiness, much?

Blogger's an awesome place et al, but see, who just made it awesome-er?
Yes, S has a blog and its this- Xplicit Content. Parental Advisory. Not.
Yes he can be funny and sarcastic like that.
A tad bit irregular, too.
But, an amazing writer, somebody I respect, so he's good, see?
Awesome, yes, please.
And guess who his first post was about?
cough-cough-please-check-it-out-cough-cough.
For me, personally, the blogosphere just became a happier place.
Yussss!

P. S. Let's clear out a few things.
No, he hasn't paid me to write this.
Yes, he truly is an amazing writer.

Just thinking.

I've been wondering if I should make my other blog that is Tryst With Newness  [name subject to changes] a photo blog. Granted I'm not the least bit of a photographer, and I've barely started out, but I could write little snippets and stories in accord with my photos. What do you guys suggest?
Also, I've been trying to develop a series of stories regarding this theme called Complexistan. You can find the posts about it here.
Do let me know what you think about it.
I'm feeling random.
And this post was just that.
Okay, bye.
Also, enjoy your vacations.
kthnxbai.

Are you strong enough to see the lights?

She's a mystic soul, she meanders on her own, with her camera in tow.
She walks, stops, smiles to strange faces and unwelcoming facets.
She just stays, alone.
Her need for company is often unrequited.
Her grief, often unanswered.
With her doubts resting, and her trust dubious, she makes her way among the crowd, the mingling ones with put-up smiles.
She pretends to smile at a joke, she doesn't really understand it.
She silently makes her way out when they play their music. She doesn't appreciate the thumping sounds and the non-lyrical banter.
Music's that that's often playing in her head, with the lyrics buzzing like they do in them, cartoons.
She spots lights, the ones that catapult her to a sudden feeling of elation, the ones that give her a high without the need of nicotine-fills, the ones that make her eyes glimmer with happiness.
She clicks.
She feels.
She smiles.

P. S. That's a picture clicked by me. What do you guys think?

P. P. S. for people who'd know, that's a picture clicked across the oval maidan at churchgate at around 10pm in the night.

You would.

After all the love we share, there shall come a time when decisiveness must be achieved. That is when we might take the plunge. The wait for that moment is killing me from the insides. You know, now, do you?

Of moral uprightness and all that jazz.

In other things, my exams are over.
And so is my first semester.
And so is my busy, insomnia-inducing monotonous college.

Coming back to the topic, I can be morally and ethically upright. So much so that everybody's business becomes mine, thereafter. Yes, even your's. Do not look at me like that.
I'm all [not] for fake prestige of any kind. To put it bluntly, if you deserve the praises coming to you, nobody would be more happy than me, but if you don't, then I'm sorry, I do not appreciate your awesomeness, or whatever it is, beneath those confident, fake smiles you put up.
Enough said.

Also, this signals the start of my active blogging phase. Yay-ness, much?

Soapy dreams.

GIRL, TO BE WITH YOU IS MY FAV'RITE THING

UH HUH

AND I CAN'T WAIT TIL I SEE YOU AGAIN

YEAH, YEAH

I WANT TO PUT ON MY MY MY MY MY

BOOGIE SHOES

JUST TO BOOGIE WITH YOU, YEAH


She started her day with disco.
With the Bee Gees, The Sunshine Band and the likes.
And all the while, she'd be running around the house naked, save for her shorts. That was her idea of dancing, whilst waiting for the soap to be unraveled from its cover.
And as her mum scrubbed her fat arms, and her face, which shriveled into multiple frowns, she heard Kool and the Gang, singing their heart out.
But it wasn't the music that filled the mornings with delight. 
Though, they did play a part. It was the smell.
The familiar eerie smell of childhood, she now missed.


And today, as she was told that it wasn't available in the market anymore, her mind turned child-like again. They returned, the faint smells of childhood. Mysore sandal soap smells, when running as dancing was forgiven. When the world was happy, and there was less of black, and more of  blue. The music, remained, the smells, were slowly dying.



P. S. The song stated above, one of my all time favourite tracks. 

Yep.

I took a picture. And I liked it.

UPDATE : The camera that the picture was taken from is a canon 1100D. The picture was not edited the least bit, and it was taken it program mode, wherein I could modify the shutter speed and the blahs. :)

And then?

It  was a blurry motion,
of immense passion,
and aching desire.
And as they lay,
engrossed, entwined in the protective longing,
called arms,
she called out his name,
in a whisper,
the way she did, with miles in-between,
the love-doers,
the silent-whisperers,
ached with doting emotion,
called love.