The Pen and the Musical Note

 So, I'm moving. after about a year of inactivity, I'm moving to another blog. I don't know if anyone's left here, but this is for maybe the one person who might read it. I want to be emotional but I'm honestly just glad to be rid of Blogger. Never worked. Still doesn't. I outgrew this space. But this small corner of the internet will have a somewhat special place in my heart. Thanks to this. Thanks to anyone who's here.  My new home is https://polaroidsnpapercuts.wixsite.com/blog See you there.

I did this three years ago, but I'd hope that my thought processes have evolved since then. So I'm trying this again. This is a place for stuff that floats around in my head but I can't make full posts out of them. We won't talk about the You-Know-What, because today I saw that the sky looked pretty and had a breakdown, so clearly I can't take this somber mood anymore. My denial will continue to be my shield. Here it is... Just Thoughts again. I've been watching a lot of K-Pop recently, due to a general lack of a life, and that industry has some of the most talented humans I've come across. They're the kind of human that you look at and your heart hurts from appreciation, you know? They (especially Ten from NCT) led me to contemplate excellence. The pursuit of excellence is a holy quest, but a foolhardy one. Why would you work that hard? To leave a mark, I guess? But human excellence isn't as simple as that. We want to paint Da Vincis but I can...

Yes, I know. It's been a while. And instead of greeting you guys with yet another indecipherable allegorical mess, I bring something that is potent in it's relevancy and unprecedented in it's ignored-ness. (yes i just made up that word) (yes this is my blog I do what I want) So, influencers. *cue a deep seated sigh of confusion from every human being out of adolescence* In case you've been living in Plato's cave with your WiFi unplugged, here's a little crash course: Those people on the internet that dominate social media with their presence and have followers for seemingly no conceivable reason except that.... sometimes they look good? I'm kidding im really not,  some of them do have talents (usually in the field of make up but we'll get into that later). To help you place this formless noun a little better - some include James Charles, Brent Rivera, Emma Chamberlain, all of the Kardashians and Jenners and on and on and on. As for the actual in...

Up to a while ago, I used to have the privilege of plugging in my earphones and kinda blocking out everything in my life that went wrong when it did. for reasons we won't discuss  I don't have that anymore. Whenever I have an actual problem, it turns out I'd rather rip my hair out than deal with it without almost going deaf. I'd rather close myself off to reality than dealing with these emotions ('coz we know that those are a wild ride). It's easier than feeling. It's definitely easier than letting all of the neurotransmitters in my head go bonkers while I sit here not knowing how to deal with it. It's easier to analyse the Herondale family going back seven generations even though they don't exist. Ya........... That's escapism. An d weirdly, up until this second, I didn't even realize it was an issue I had. The dictionary definition is " the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially b...

Art hurts. I wish there was a better way I could put it, but quite honestly, it hurts.  It tears your heart out and makes you listen to every terrible voice inside your head that says, not good enough. It forces you to judge, cut, alter and shape into the perfect fit when you don't even know what the mold looks like.  It hurts because it makes you feel. There is no art without emotion, and these emotions are more often than not so strong that you can't control them. All you can do, is let them flow like a torrent from a dam; and hope that they don't leave you drowned. You can hope that they let you stay afloat, but that hope is nowhere near foolproof. Art hurts because it doesn't let you rest. It's 3 am thoughts that jerk you awake and the reason you can't write that school essay. It's the fire that burns within; scorching everything else. Need to write, in my case. It doesn't let you breath because it claws its way to the top of your pri...

The theme of a wandering soul lost in the concrete jungle, stumbling and staggering, is one well documented. But what when that wandering soul finds the peace within the madness? What when they spot the light streaming through the alabaster branches of skyscrapers? What when they see a little daisy bloom in the midst of metal and glass? When night falls like a cloak of blackness, and if you're high enough, you can see the fireflies. Not ones that fly, but nevertheless ones that blink out when dawn approaches. They're all the hues and shades - easily mistaken for light pollution. And then you look closer, and all you see is their unique beauty too. Roars and snarls of the traffic. Whimpers of horns. The mumble of an endless mass of public. And in some little pockets of solitude - if you listen close - you can hear the trill of nature too. At night, the crickets still chirp. At dawn, the birds still sing. Sometimes you feel suffocated, and everything closes in, setting ...

In the advent of exams, I was prompted to visit CrashCourse; which is this YouTube channel that I swear by. A couple of binges later, I surfaced at a corner of the YouTube black hole where a Ted Talk by John Green on the nature of learning caught my eye.  (You can watch it here if you want)  He talks about learning and why it appeals to him, among other things. One of the things he emphasizes upon is the importance of being in a community of learners. To clarify, he says that being in a place or community that values learning, or values curiosity, is paramount. Why so? I like to think that the average human mindset is somewhat akin to a moth. We go where the light is on, where the collective of society and majority shine a flashlight. Where everyone looks. This is where the community of learners comes into play. You see this collective, that's working as a hive mind to shine a flashlight upon knowledge - it doesn't matter what sort - and you fly straight to it. It's ha...

memories are liquid. they tend to slip us by, they are tinged with what we feel at recall, and they take the shape we want them to. you don't realize the depth of a memory at first glance. but then you mull over it a bit, and the kaleidoscope surfaces. you turn it this way and that, just reveling in all the things it can show you from a single situation. you examine it, and time becomes your magnifying glass. every memory has more meaning as the time passes, like a bottle of old wine that can get you drunk on past, better, simpler times. they can be a storm riddled sea or a tranquil lake. either way, you sink beneath the surface and lose sight of what's real. you see turmoil or you see calm. you see the the recollection as crystal clear or as spider-webbed with the ripples of your disturbed conscience. your state of mind is your lens. a memory is a page in a journal. its reopened and opened until its old and worn and falling apart. it may have its own ink splotches a...

Hi! Let me tell you, right off the bat, this is one of the most informal posts on this thing yet. I Just sat down in front of my laptop with the intention of doing nothing but write. I don't know what direction it'll have taken by the end. But I wanna try this. We celebrated Makar Sankranti recently, and I was at one my friend's homes. It had gotten dark, and most people were now grabbing a bite or sitting and gossiping. Me, I was multitasking and doing both. Anyway, I saw this one string that was tethered to a kite that was somehow still up. Funny thing was, no one was flying it anymore. As I sat there, staring into the sky, a strange thought occurred to me. Every human being that I had ever known was a bit like that one fateful kite. See, at the beginning, we all need someone to guide us, we all need someone to...... show us the way into the sky if you will. But once you get high enough, you don't need someone to evaluate your every move. The need for guidance mo...

Let's face it, the earth isn't in a great position right now. Oil spills, pollution, global warming, extinction of biodiversity. I don't think I have time to list all the horrible things happening around here. And I find myself in the position of being distressed about it. I see everyone too preoccupied in the untangling the webs of their own lives to pay attention to the way the world is slowly burning right under their noses. You know what; this is not the world we had in mind. It’s becoming absolutely impossible to halt the human ego in its tracks. It’s becoming absolutely impossible to find some on who thinks our world is perishing. It’s a broken world. With jagged shards of the glass we scattered hurting our own survival. And the innocent, unknowing causalities doing their best to stay afloat in the sea of our mistakes. They are not collateral damage in the war of the human destruction. Every day, a little piece of us becomes richer, at the price of the death of a t...

Hullo! Everyone hold onto your reindeer, here I come with the Christmassy titles. No but really, this is is a byproduct of too much coffee and algebra at 4 am (not even kidding). It came out of me not wanting to open my mouth to practice my speech for the annual day and then somehow manifested into this little transcription. I hope you enjoy it. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Silent Night Some nights call for silence. These are the nights when a hush is cast over the cosmos and the cacophony of human nature is stifled by the velvet of black sky. The times when the stars ask, nay, demand your calm. It’s like an invisible force compels you, with just a slight brush, to quieten and enjoy the peace. The stillness is so absolute that the slightest whisper, the slightest stir, is enough to send ripples through it. Times like these are hard to come by and even harder to spot. The only indicat...

Hey guys! So this is my edited version of what I wrote last time, which had some issues, but I ended up sorting out. I've always really loved the rain, and this is actually what came out of the first rains. I hope you guys like it. So here it is, The Monsoon Magic, re imagined. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Monsoon Magic She strolled down the street, a lonely figure in the pouring rain. The world was painted in muted shades of grays and blues, but it would soon be in technicolor. Every drop of rain shimmered prismatic as it fell, seeming to her eyes like broken glass falling from the heavens. Mother Nature was washing her world clean of the dust and the heat, and everything would be brightened after the storm. A myriad of emotions swirled around in her head, all with undertones of nostalgia. It was like walking down memory lane and setting up camp there. The rain had unco...

I know what you're thinking. 'Anika, it's the middle of exams. What even?' But inspiration doesn't have a time or place; it just strikes. Just kidding, this is something I wrote as a short story for school. Even so, it isn't too bad so I wanted to share it with those who haven't already seen it. Hope you enjoy it! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Starship Helios It had been twenty long, arduous years and I was eagerly waiting to land. Twenty years of travelling at lightspeed, hoping to find salvation. Hoping for another chance. A chance to begin again. My name is Alex Parker, and this is my story. It began when humanity lost Earth. The year was 2500. We had all seen it coming; but when the last plant withered, and the last drop of water dried up, it felt like Mother Nature sighing, and breathing her last breath. The population had drastically declined to a few t...

Hullo! Okay, so I open the blog, and I see the last post was 6 months ago, and first I feel guilty, then I feel shamed, and then I decide to write. I soon realize that this is a fantastic topic, as who knows how many people have ballerinas as their muses? So, here comes The Muse's Melody from The Pencil. (Of course, I can't write this without acknowledging my in-house ballerina and treasure trove of ballet history, Priyanshi Parikh. She has been a massive help, and I hope I was able to capture some of the feeling I've seen in her when she dances.) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The ballerina took a breath as she recounted her journey. Her father sitting on an old rickety stool as he grinned at her over the canvas, "My little muse. One day you shall get far."  The first day at training, the falls and the pain. The practice and the music. The world of her own are...

Hullo guys! I'm soooo sorry I can't give you a drawing, but I'm away from home at the moment. But; I have one more Just Thoughts, and this one means quite a lot to me. So, here it is, The Puzzle That is Beauty. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was a lazy Sunday morning, and my family and I were parked in front of the television. As we watched, one of the most renowned beauty pageants in India began airing. A thought struck me, as I watched the contestants with their flawless skin and flowing locks. Not how ravishing the dresses were, or the confidence with which the competitors carried themselves - what struck me was exactly how manufactured all of it was. It all seemed so artificial, so manmade. Even the performances with the shining lights, they all seemed tailored and manipulated as to appeal only to the parts of us that crave perfection and nothing else. When you're younge...

Hullo! I'm terribly sorry! It's been too long, but we have too much work as well. For those who are a bit confused, I just started school again, and it is chaotic. Not two weeks in, we have at least 3 projects on hold. It doesn't help that I have one more subject to study. Any way, I don't want to bore you anymore, so I have two posts!😉 One is a piece of advice on studying (aka this one) the other (coming tomorrow, don't be mad😌) is a brand new sketch from the Pencil💛 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Effective Planning Leads to Better Results With most of us on the brink of higher standards, all the students must inevitably be thinking of burning the midnight oil. But this can easily be avoided by following a few simple study tips. With everything from schedules to eating habits, I've got your back. The most basic part of planning for a brand new year is makin...

Hullo! I recently read (and by that I mean I finished it roughly 15 minutes ago) the Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank, and to say that I enjoyed it would be a gross understatement. It has reached out to me in ways that no other book has done, and it would not do to leave this piece of literary genius un-commented on. I started the book expecting a diary. Maybe some parts touching. I most definitely did not expect a full account of all of Anne's woes, the petty fights at the Annexe, the small things in life she lived for. I did not expect a tale that was something of an inspiration. The previous year we had a small comprehension on extracts from the book. There is absolutely no way a few lines or paragraphs could show exactly how touching this book could be. One must read the whole of it to comprehend exactly how much of Anne's life was changed. I've had something of an existential crisis after finishing it. The thing that struck me was how Anne seemed to be strangel...