The light sleep I was in. She was dominating my mind. Infact, itd be rather appropriate to say that I didn't sleep at all that night. Almost every five minutes, I'd get up, thinking ' she's cheated me ' ..
Yeah she has.
And then the tears. What wrong did I do ? Didn't love you enough ? What was my fault ?
"You're fault was that you were too serious for her. You loved her. That was your fault "
But isn't 'love' was what she wanted from me ?
" She wanted you to be cool. You were cool untill you met her. And then you started taking yourself for granted. You started becoming a big bore. A BIG BORE. There, I said it. And she? She's young, has her own extended group of friends in which she's very popular. She has a best friend who advices her on everything. It was probably her advice coz of which you're sitting alone. She has an equally popular boyfriend. AND HE'S NOT YOU. "
I felt those words go through my very chest. Felt like my heart was sinking. Did she really do it to me? Her boyfriend, he was her favorite classmate which she told me about.
What're you gonna do now ? I'm gonna think about it later.
As of now, just lemme cry in peace.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Prologue ..
She was breathing heavily. Probably her last few breaths. The doctors around her were in a state of chaos, trying to resurrect her, trying to manage her falling heartbeat, her rising blood pressure and her failing liver. Despite her bodily pains, she was still conscious; ignorant of the state of emergency around her, mesmerized by old memories , she kept chanting just one thing, one name.
"Lokesh.. " She said softly and innocently. "Lokesh, I want you" she said, with her eyes still closed.
Dr. Samir Dewan looked at the sinking patient on his operation table in the regular blue hospital robe - patient no: 80511, room no: 21, sex: female, age: 18 y/o - Shachi Singh. His best friend's daughter.
"Hold my hand Lokesh, its paining a lot baby. I love you" her voice was barely a whisper.
Dr. Dewan gazed at her in awe. In shock. In sadness.
Shachi had been like a daughter to him too. It felt just like last week when she was born. He remembered everything. Of how as a baby, she would sleep in his lap only, and her infatuation for chocolates, which only grew with time. Of how she transformed from a naughty little kid to a beautiful young lady, nobody seemed to notice that.
And then the day they all discovered that she's suffering from cancer.
He felt a heavy lump in his throat and a tear escaped his eyes.
What rubbish! She was his patient. He was her doctor. He just had to try to treat her, and that's all. He knew he won't succeed, it was too late for that. Most of his patients did not survive, and those few who did, lived anything but a depleted life, and that too not for long. Eventually everyone succumbed to it.
Yea. But her 'eventually' should've come long ago already. She should've been dead months ago. She should've been dead this morning, when her liver, lungs and kidneys gave up completely. Still, she was holding on;fighting. Her body just wasn't giving up.
Why? Could love be the reason, the explanation. To love someone so deeply and sincerely at just the age of 18. Really ? Is it even possible ? It was ridiculous..
"Lokesh, baby I love you. Please come to me." Her eyes still closed. Her voice was breaking, still there was tremendous calmness and restrain in her demeanor. Her face was calm and serene, she was still hopeful.
"One last hug baby." She whispered, probably her last words. The desperation in her weak voice was imminent.
Dr. Dewan broke down. His patience gave up. He had made a terrible mistake. He was responsible for bringing her in this condition. He was guilty for making her do the wrong thing. Now Shachi wanted Lokesh and there was no chance he could make him fly thousands of miles and be with her in time. Still, he tried. He wanted to do all that he could,anything to make up for his deeds.
He turned around, tears firmly placed in his eyes, and hissed to his head nurse. " Call up Lokesh Mehra in India, tell him its an emergency." Before his throat choked.
He was crying freely now. He put his hand on her forehead. All the other doctors around him were still working on her frail body. He brought his face closer to hers and whispered in her ear " Don't worry sweetheart, I'm bringing Lokesh. Till then , hang on." And with that, he kissed her forehead
Her face curled up in a very faint smile..
"Lokesh.. " She said softly and innocently. "Lokesh, I want you" she said, with her eyes still closed.
Dr. Samir Dewan looked at the sinking patient on his operation table in the regular blue hospital robe - patient no: 80511, room no: 21, sex: female, age: 18 y/o - Shachi Singh. His best friend's daughter.
"Hold my hand Lokesh, its paining a lot baby. I love you" her voice was barely a whisper.
Dr. Dewan gazed at her in awe. In shock. In sadness.
Shachi had been like a daughter to him too. It felt just like last week when she was born. He remembered everything. Of how as a baby, she would sleep in his lap only, and her infatuation for chocolates, which only grew with time. Of how she transformed from a naughty little kid to a beautiful young lady, nobody seemed to notice that.
And then the day they all discovered that she's suffering from cancer.
He felt a heavy lump in his throat and a tear escaped his eyes.
What rubbish! She was his patient. He was her doctor. He just had to try to treat her, and that's all. He knew he won't succeed, it was too late for that. Most of his patients did not survive, and those few who did, lived anything but a depleted life, and that too not for long. Eventually everyone succumbed to it.
Yea. But her 'eventually' should've come long ago already. She should've been dead months ago. She should've been dead this morning, when her liver, lungs and kidneys gave up completely. Still, she was holding on;fighting. Her body just wasn't giving up.
Why? Could love be the reason, the explanation. To love someone so deeply and sincerely at just the age of 18. Really ? Is it even possible ? It was ridiculous..
"Lokesh, baby I love you. Please come to me." Her eyes still closed. Her voice was breaking, still there was tremendous calmness and restrain in her demeanor. Her face was calm and serene, she was still hopeful.
"One last hug baby." She whispered, probably her last words. The desperation in her weak voice was imminent.
Dr. Dewan broke down. His patience gave up. He had made a terrible mistake. He was responsible for bringing her in this condition. He was guilty for making her do the wrong thing. Now Shachi wanted Lokesh and there was no chance he could make him fly thousands of miles and be with her in time. Still, he tried. He wanted to do all that he could,anything to make up for his deeds.
He turned around, tears firmly placed in his eyes, and hissed to his head nurse. " Call up Lokesh Mehra in India, tell him its an emergency." Before his throat choked.
He was crying freely now. He put his hand on her forehead. All the other doctors around him were still working on her frail body. He brought his face closer to hers and whispered in her ear " Don't worry sweetheart, I'm bringing Lokesh. Till then , hang on." And with that, he kissed her forehead
Her face curled up in a very faint smile..
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Blogs..
There's Something About Blogs I'll Never Understand..
My Roommate Seems To Be A Normal Dorky Guy,Except He's Not.
Welcome To The World Of weBLOGS,Where He's Nothing Short Of A Celebrity. His Blog, http://www.dilnashapyaar.blogspot.com/ Is A Rage Online. His Posts Go Viral,Registering Upto 3k Hits Daily , As He Writes About Love, Explains His Theories Of Lust And Advices About Relationships.
Says He- "I Write About Stuff I Feel. My Experiences . Everyone's Experiences. Its My Personal Diary That I Share With 10k People"
Yes, Thats What They Were Billed As ,When They Were Introduced - Personal Diaries. So That People Can Post Anything & Everything To An Open World To See And Comment.
But As I See It - "Why Would You Wanna Do That ? I Mean Why Would Anyone Want Their Life Plastered All Over The Virtual World ? Why This Self-Voyeurism ?"
Im Not An Exhibitionist, Infact Pretty Orthodox When It Comes To This. Personal Diaries ARE MEANT TO BE PERSONAL. Besides, I'd Prefer The Good 'Ol Pen And Paper Over A Keyboard Anyday.
But There Should BE Something Terribly Exciting About Blogs Which I'm Clearly Missing, To Explain Why Everyone's On It, Save Me
But Then, As I Said Earlier, There's Something About Blogs I'll Never Understand..
Jeane-Raphael
3:53:45 AM, Sunday
27th November 2011
My Roommate Seems To Be A Normal Dorky Guy,Except He's Not.
Welcome To The World Of weBLOGS,Where He's Nothing Short Of A Celebrity. His Blog, http://www.dilnashapyaar.blogspot.com/ Is A Rage Online. His Posts Go Viral,Registering Upto 3k Hits Daily , As He Writes About Love, Explains His Theories Of Lust And Advices About Relationships.
Says He- "I Write About Stuff I Feel. My Experiences . Everyone's Experiences. Its My Personal Diary That I Share With 10k People"
Yes, Thats What They Were Billed As ,When They Were Introduced - Personal Diaries. So That People Can Post Anything & Everything To An Open World To See And Comment.
But As I See It - "Why Would You Wanna Do That ? I Mean Why Would Anyone Want Their Life Plastered All Over The Virtual World ? Why This Self-Voyeurism ?"
Im Not An Exhibitionist, Infact Pretty Orthodox When It Comes To This. Personal Diaries ARE MEANT TO BE PERSONAL. Besides, I'd Prefer The Good 'Ol Pen And Paper Over A Keyboard Anyday.
But There Should BE Something Terribly Exciting About Blogs Which I'm Clearly Missing, To Explain Why Everyone's On It, Save Me
But Then, As I Said Earlier, There's Something About Blogs I'll Never Understand..
Jeane-Raphael
3:53:45 AM, Sunday
27th November 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
What would do if you're out, left your mobile in your room and you're girlfriend calls in ?
coz abb pachataye hot kya jab chidiya chug gayi khet ..! well said ? :P
Nothing ..
The phone will just keep ringing and you'll come back, check and ask..
wait,
what if you're in college , and live with your friends (who happen to be home when she calls) ..
things getting tricky ?
Lemme introduce you to 'Divyanshu Singh' to give you the first hand report of what happened :
"either keep ur passwrd to nly or keep ur phn.......That was an enraged ashu bhaiyya , summing up his philosophy.. !
coz smtyms 1 of d unmatured kidding with ur gf can spoil ur whole day.... may be ur relation....
so ''JAB JAAGO TABHI SAVERA''.. - DIVYANSHU SINGH
coz abb pachataye hot kya jab chidiya chug gayi khet ..! well said ? :P
Monday, October 31, 2011
Frozen Memories..
Frozen Memories..
Talks About Stories.. Stories From Our Parts,Frozen In Our Hearts... Memories We Want to Unzip,Relive.. Dreams Fulfilled, Unfulfilled.
I Look Back, A Little Girl.. My Hair Flowing, My Mother Combing,And The Examss Next Week..
My First Love.. Those Goofy Grins.. Talking Late Nights.. And then My Father Knowing..
I Look Back And Smile..
The Winter Sun.. The Spring Flowers.. Those Summer Games.. My Grandmother, And The Silhoutte Overlooking Me Even When I Was Alone.
An Expansive Sea.. And a Progressing BBoat, Disappearing In Waves.. And The Orange Sun Disc, Drowning In Glory.
A Missing Octave.. A Lost Symphony.. Playing a Forgotten Caracass
I Walk The Beach, And Look Back
The Footprints I Made On The Sands Of Time
Bring It Back, 'O Thou..
With This, I'll Bring It Back
As I walked through a frozen snow patch where small kids were being taught how to ski, I remembered the days when my aunt got me to the very patch every winter morning and taught me how to ski. As the cold wind blew in my face, I could feel my aunt standing there with me holding my hand.
“Look at me sweetheart. Do you trust me?” she asked me lovingly.
“I do Aunt Anna but if you let go, I’m going to fall down in the snow and then I’m going to be cold.” I said frowning a bit. I was eight then and was very attached to my aunt. She picked me up from school each day and then I stayed with her all day as my mom and dad both had full time jobs at the NYPD.
“Emma, look at me and tell me. Do you trust me?” Aunt Anna said to me while still holding my hand.
I looked up at her and something about her big green eyes made me want to do whatever she asked me to.
“Yes Aunt Anna, I trust you.” I said to her.
“Ok, I’m going to let go of your hand slowly and I want you to believe in yourself because even the simplest task in your life can become impossible for you unless you believe in yourself.” she said to me gently.
As she let go of my hand and I began to move, I thought about her words. They stirred me from deep within and I began to move faster gaining confidence with every inch that I moved. That was twenty-two years earlier. And now at the age of thirty, I have won many awards for ice skiing and other such activities. Whenever I am at a crucial moment in any performance and get nervous, I think about my Aunt’s words and they always help me gain confidence and to perform well.
I looked around me and saw the festivities and joys of Christmas all around me. My Christmas routine had remained the same since the past 14 years of my life. That day belonged to my Aunt. As I made my way towards her house, I heard the tinkling of the bell of an ice cream truck.
“Aunt Anna, can I please get just one more ice cream?” I asked her as she started to walk away from the truck which I loved.
“No dear, you mustn’t.” she explained to me in her sweet and caring voice. “Always keep one thing in mind; too much of a good thing is never good.”
I never understood the depth of those words back then. But now I fully understood the truth in that statement. I continued to walk and I reached a small park where we often came when I was a kid.
It was right there that I had spent some of the best moments of my childhood. The memory of every moment spent with her was fresh in my mind. As if carved on a special portion of my heart that could never be suppressed or erased. I closed my eyes and I could see her gently pushing my swing while I squealed with delight and encouraging me to stand up and try again whenever I fell off while trying to learn to ride my bicycle.
It began to snow and I was forced to get back to reality and start walking again. I saw people shoveling snow and saw how everyone dreaded it and mostly hired professionals to do it. But Aunt Anna was different. She made a tedious task like snow shoveling seem fun to even a kid. From her I had learnt how self help was the best help. She never needed anyone to clean her house or even to help her take care of me. She managed everything by herself with grace and without any complaints.
I was making a new origami that she had taught me. She always taught me something new- whether it was a new drawing, an athletic technique or some other skill. And she made everything sound interesting and fun to do and I was always eager to learn more from her. While I made the origami, she went about on her usual household chores. It was a peaceful day. The simple memory flashed through my mind while I walked.
As I got closer to her house I remembered spending Christmas with her. She did not have much but loved to share whatever little she had with the unfortunate. She had taken me to an orphanage on Christmas and that day I realized how giving could be almost as satisfying as receiving.
I passed a small hut and I knew I was close to her house. My heartbeat quickened as it often did when I was this close to her. I picked up some speed, eager to reach as quickly as I could.
I passed her self-made flower patch, now withered and ugly. I passed the shed where she had taught me a bit of martial arts. I passed the tree under which we would sit and knit little woolen clothes all through winter evenings. I passed the remains of her once beautiful vegetable garden. As I turned the corner, I could see her cottage. The cottage that had once been my second home. Where I had spent almost my entire childhood and learnt more than I could ever have been taught at school.
I crossed the remains of her once beautifully kept garden, now buried in snow. I looked at the flowers in my hand. Lilies- her favorite.
I reached the door of her cottage. I paused there for a while, listening to the sounds of the birds in the distance. Then I turned my back on the door, so lifeless now, with moss all over it. I walked through the front porch into the backyard.
There she was. I walked slowly, each step measured and soft so as to not disturb the serenity of the beautiful place.
As I bent down and laid down the flowers on her grave, a million memories flashed through my mind and I stayed there looking down at her grave for a while. And as I stood up to walk away, I felt a tear run down my cold cheek.
~~ Sarthak Batra ~~
11th May 2010
Talks About Stories.. Stories From Our Parts,Frozen In Our Hearts... Memories We Want to Unzip,Relive.. Dreams Fulfilled, Unfulfilled.
I Look Back, A Little Girl.. My Hair Flowing, My Mother Combing,And The Examss Next Week..
My First Love.. Those Goofy Grins.. Talking Late Nights.. And then My Father Knowing..
I Look Back And Smile..
The Winter Sun.. The Spring Flowers.. Those Summer Games.. My Grandmother, And The Silhoutte Overlooking Me Even When I Was Alone.
An Expansive Sea.. And a Progressing BBoat, Disappearing In Waves.. And The Orange Sun Disc, Drowning In Glory.
A Missing Octave.. A Lost Symphony.. Playing a Forgotten Caracass
I Walk The Beach, And Look Back
The Footprints I Made On The Sands Of Time
Bring It Back, 'O Thou..
With This, I'll Bring It Back
As I walked through a frozen snow patch where small kids were being taught how to ski, I remembered the days when my aunt got me to the very patch every winter morning and taught me how to ski. As the cold wind blew in my face, I could feel my aunt standing there with me holding my hand.
“Look at me sweetheart. Do you trust me?” she asked me lovingly.
“I do Aunt Anna but if you let go, I’m going to fall down in the snow and then I’m going to be cold.” I said frowning a bit. I was eight then and was very attached to my aunt. She picked me up from school each day and then I stayed with her all day as my mom and dad both had full time jobs at the NYPD.
“Emma, look at me and tell me. Do you trust me?” Aunt Anna said to me while still holding my hand.
I looked up at her and something about her big green eyes made me want to do whatever she asked me to.
“Yes Aunt Anna, I trust you.” I said to her.
“Ok, I’m going to let go of your hand slowly and I want you to believe in yourself because even the simplest task in your life can become impossible for you unless you believe in yourself.” she said to me gently.
As she let go of my hand and I began to move, I thought about her words. They stirred me from deep within and I began to move faster gaining confidence with every inch that I moved. That was twenty-two years earlier. And now at the age of thirty, I have won many awards for ice skiing and other such activities. Whenever I am at a crucial moment in any performance and get nervous, I think about my Aunt’s words and they always help me gain confidence and to perform well.
I looked around me and saw the festivities and joys of Christmas all around me. My Christmas routine had remained the same since the past 14 years of my life. That day belonged to my Aunt. As I made my way towards her house, I heard the tinkling of the bell of an ice cream truck.
“Aunt Anna, can I please get just one more ice cream?” I asked her as she started to walk away from the truck which I loved.
“No dear, you mustn’t.” she explained to me in her sweet and caring voice. “Always keep one thing in mind; too much of a good thing is never good.”
I never understood the depth of those words back then. But now I fully understood the truth in that statement. I continued to walk and I reached a small park where we often came when I was a kid.
It was right there that I had spent some of the best moments of my childhood. The memory of every moment spent with her was fresh in my mind. As if carved on a special portion of my heart that could never be suppressed or erased. I closed my eyes and I could see her gently pushing my swing while I squealed with delight and encouraging me to stand up and try again whenever I fell off while trying to learn to ride my bicycle.
It began to snow and I was forced to get back to reality and start walking again. I saw people shoveling snow and saw how everyone dreaded it and mostly hired professionals to do it. But Aunt Anna was different. She made a tedious task like snow shoveling seem fun to even a kid. From her I had learnt how self help was the best help. She never needed anyone to clean her house or even to help her take care of me. She managed everything by herself with grace and without any complaints.
I was making a new origami that she had taught me. She always taught me something new- whether it was a new drawing, an athletic technique or some other skill. And she made everything sound interesting and fun to do and I was always eager to learn more from her. While I made the origami, she went about on her usual household chores. It was a peaceful day. The simple memory flashed through my mind while I walked.
As I got closer to her house I remembered spending Christmas with her. She did not have much but loved to share whatever little she had with the unfortunate. She had taken me to an orphanage on Christmas and that day I realized how giving could be almost as satisfying as receiving.
I passed a small hut and I knew I was close to her house. My heartbeat quickened as it often did when I was this close to her. I picked up some speed, eager to reach as quickly as I could.
I passed her self-made flower patch, now withered and ugly. I passed the shed where she had taught me a bit of martial arts. I passed the tree under which we would sit and knit little woolen clothes all through winter evenings. I passed the remains of her once beautiful vegetable garden. As I turned the corner, I could see her cottage. The cottage that had once been my second home. Where I had spent almost my entire childhood and learnt more than I could ever have been taught at school.
I crossed the remains of her once beautifully kept garden, now buried in snow. I looked at the flowers in my hand. Lilies- her favorite.
I reached the door of her cottage. I paused there for a while, listening to the sounds of the birds in the distance. Then I turned my back on the door, so lifeless now, with moss all over it. I walked through the front porch into the backyard.
There she was. I walked slowly, each step measured and soft so as to not disturb the serenity of the beautiful place.
As I bent down and laid down the flowers on her grave, a million memories flashed through my mind and I stayed there looking down at her grave for a while. And as I stood up to walk away, I felt a tear run down my cold cheek.
~~ Sarthak Batra ~~
11th May 2010
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Letter From An Aborted Baby
Hey Mamma.
I’m your baby. You don’t know me yet, I’m only a few
weeks old. You’re going to find out about me soon, though, I promise.
Let me tell you some things about me. My name is ARUSH, and I’ve got
beautiful brown eyes and black hair. Well, I don’t have it yet, but I
will when I’m born. I’m going to be your only child, and you’ll call me
your one and only. I’m going to grow up without a daddy mostly, but we
have each other. We’ll help each other, and love each other. I want to
be a doctor when I grow up.
You found out about me today, Mamma! You were so excited, you couldn’t
wait to tell everyone. All you could do all day was smile, and life was
perfect. You have a beautiful smile, Mamma. It will be the first face I
will see in my life, and it will be the best thing I see in my life. I
know it already.
Today was the day you told paa about me. You were so excited to tell him about
me! …He wasn’t happy, Mamma. He got angry a bit. I don’t think that
you noticed, but he did. He started to talk about something called
future, and money, and bills, and stuff I don’t think I understand
yet. You were still happy, though, so it was okay. Then he did
something scary, Mamma. He hit you. I could feel you fall backward, and
your hands flying up to protect me. I was okay… but I was very sad
for you. You were crying then, Mamma. That’s a sound I don’t like. It
doesn’t make me feel good. It made me cry, too. He said sorry after,
and he hugged you again. You forgave him, Mamma, but I’m not sure if I
do. It wasn’t right. You say he loves you… why would he hurt you?
I don’t like it, Mamma.
Finally, you can see me! Your stomach is a little bit bigger, and
you’re so proud of me! You went out with your mamma to buy new clothes,
and you were so so so happy. You sing to me, too. You have the most
beautiful voice in the whole wide world. When you sing is when I’m
happiest. And you talk to me, and I feel safe. So safe. You just wait
and see, Mamma. When I am born I will be perfect just for you. I will
make you proud, and I will love you with all of my heart.
I can move my hands and feet now, Mamma. I do it because you put your
hands on your belly to feel me, and I giggle. You giggle, too. I love
you, Mamma.
Paa came to see you today, Mamma. I got really scared. He was acting
funny and he wasn’t talking right. He said he didn’t want you. I don’t
know why, but that’s what he said. And he hit you again. I got angry,
Mamma. When I grow up I promise I won’t let you get hurt! I promise to
protect you. Paa is bad. I don’t care if you think that he is a good
person, I think he’s bad. But he hit you, and he said he didn’t want
us. He doesn’t like me. Why doesn’t he like me, Mamma..?
You didn’t talk to me tonight, Mamma. Is everything okay?
It’s been three days since you saw Paa. You haven’t talked to me or
It’s been three days since you saw Paa. You haven’t talked to me or
touched me or anything since that. Don’t you still love me, Mamma?
I still love you. I think you feel sad. The only time I feel you is when
you sleep. You sleep funny, kind of curled up on your side. And you hug
me with your arms, and I feel safe and warm again. Why don’t you do
that when you’re awake, any more?
I’m 21 weeks old today, Mommy. Aren’t you proud of me? We’re going
somewhere today, and it’s somewhere new. I’m excited. It looks like a
hospital, too. I want to be a doctor when I grow up, Mamma. Did I tell
you that? I hope you’re as excited as I am. I can’t wait.
…Mamma, I’m getting scared. Your heart is still beating, but I don’t
know what you are thinking. The doctor is talking to you. I think
something’s going to happen soon. I’m really, really, really scared,
Mamma. Please tell me you love me. Then I will feel safe again. I love
you!
Mamma, what are they doing to me!? It hurts! Please make them stop! It
feels bad! Please, Mamma, please please help me! Make them stop!
Don’t worry Mamma, I’m safe. I’m in heaven with the angels now. They told me what you did, and they said it’s called an abortion
Why, Mamma? Why did you do it? Don’t you love me any more? Why did you
get rid of me? I’m really, really, really sorry if I did something
wrong, Mamma. I love you, Mamma! I love you with all of my heart. Why
don’t you love me? What did I do to deserve what they did to me? I wanted
to live, Mamma! Please! It really, really hurts to see you not care
about me, and not talk to me. Didn’t I love you enough? Please say
you’ll keep me, Mamma! I want to live smile and watch the clouds and
see your face and grow up and be a doctor. I don’t want to be here, I
want you to love me again! I’m really really really sorry if I did
something wrong. I love you!
I love you, Mamma. ♥
And will always love you.
Your Aborted Baby.
By Sarthak Batra..
This Letter Is Written In Narrative Of An Unborn child, Still In His Mother's Womb.. Lets Call Him Arush !
His Mother Is Very Excited About Him, But His Father Is Not.. And Wants His Wife To Abort The Baby, This Is What The Baby Feels
Here I Bring To you My Piece Of Writing, The First In Line For Many More Poems And Articles And Videos Yet To Come..
Sarthak Batra(C) 2011
"Woods Are Lovely, Dark And Deep,
But Miles To go Before I Sleep"
By Sarthak Batra..
This Letter Is Written In Narrative Of An Unborn child, Still In His Mother's Womb.. Lets Call Him Arush !
His Mother Is Very Excited About Him, But His Father Is Not.. And Wants His Wife To Abort The Baby, This Is What The Baby Feels
Here I Bring To you My Piece Of Writing, The First In Line For Many More Poems And Articles And Videos Yet To Come..
Sarthak Batra(C) 2011
"Woods Are Lovely, Dark And Deep,
But Miles To go Before I Sleep"
Friday, October 21, 2011
 |
| Strumming To The Music Of My Life .. |
Lemme Do That Quickly..
Hi.. I'm Sarthak..
An Engineering Student ( Yes, Engineering.. That Word Dominates My Life Now )
Schools Were Fun. I , With My Best Friends-Akash Dhawan And Salil Bahl, Totally Turned The School Over.. And We Used To Do It Daily.. TWICE!!
No One Dared To Mess With Akash..Abe Unhe Marna Hai Kya? He Had The Guts To Say Anything He Wanted In Front Of Anyone And The Logic To Prove It Right.. You Dont Mess With 'The Akash' Was The General Perception..
Salil Was Our Hulk, The Less Said The Better :-P He'd Always Fall In Love With The Wrong Girl.. Like ALWAYS.. And He'd Fall In Love Twice Ever 6 Months (On an Average) .. And Me? Well, I'm A Poet ( I'll Blog My Poems Someday ) , A Writer , A Singer, Lyricist, Guitarist.. ( Yeah, All That In One !! I Used To Be A Rockstar In School.. But Engineering Has Sucked Life Outta Me *SAD* ) ..
And Oh, Did I Tell You That I'm A Computer-Geek-Turned-Hacker Too :-P
And I Happen To Have An Online Radio Station Too, WhereIn I Take Your Requests, Play Songs, Dedications , And Interview And Promote Local Musical Talent ( So If You Can Do Anything 'Weird' .. Contact Me ..
Wel, I'll Leave Bragging About Me For Some Other Day .. :-P.. Follow My Life Here To Know More About Me
Follow @sarthakbatra On Twitter.. !!
Have A Great Day.. Cheers !!
Sarthak
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