Saturday, September 27, 2008


This friend of mine has a knack for leaving unconsumed food material lying around for days together..(eeeooowww!!).. i managed to take a picture of stale milk she'd left on her table after clipping my nares with cloth clips!! thats fungi growing over it.. I probably wouldnt use the mug ever again.. but then she's not "me"..!!

Things i love fighting about with Raad..!!


now, thats something 2 write about.. me n Raad, my lil brother (not so lil anymore ) had been warriors in pampers.. we're no better even now,that is when we're together..minus the pamper bit ofcourse.. growing up together had its shares of love n "war".. remember fighting with him with things as trivial as..
  1. hey! u got an extra frenchfry
  2. who asked u 2 take my pencil
  3. i'm watching my channel while dinner.. and b4 and after it!!
  4. india's odi is no reason 4 u to snatch the remote
  5. u've had enough of turn 2 use the laptop
  6. isra,shut up your crass cacophony-there's one person already singing.. n if ur singing(read croaking-i'll turn off the music)
  7. your in my space of the bed by exactly one inch..get off this very moment
  8. do not touch my dressing table.. i had to chop off my precious tresses thanks 2 ur "lemme be ur hairdresser today" mood...
  9. i always take a bath first... not today mister
  10. i'll take the window seat (in an air journey)..else i wont travel !!
  11. do u always have to start reading the newspapr when u know i was just about 2 read it
12. mum ask her 2 stop blabbering with her " u need to lose wt fatty" rubbish
.... despite it all, growing up with fatty was pleasure in itself..!!

just dropped by..

something i read somewhere.. really stuck me.. holds true 4 me... n u???

Saturday, September 13, 2008

A bitter truth thats dawning upon me now- i have a limited time with my parents..despite them being the reason for my being, my all..

Since the last 20 years, living with them was like the sun rising from the east-very batural,no big deal.. Now that i'm at hostel-physically distant from them for a major part of the year, I suddenly realise-I go home, for just.. " a vacation"!

The next 5-10 years go into career building, followed by a job, a wedlock- when again shall i be the carefree Isra I was,with mum n papa at my side,every single second of my existence...

I want to get back to them forever..

Suddenly, I don't like where I am, and who I am,without them

I want to be there for them.

I want to look after them,

I want to b the one to give papa his reading glasses,

And I want to b the one to help mum with all the work..

Life doesnt move on without them...


YOU'RE MY LIFE ............

Sunday, September 7, 2008


“Please write down my name sir, i had my wife, three children, six bighas of land, two buffalos and a pair of ox.. Now, there is just me”
Sudarshan Shah, 45, a flood victim tells HT in Murliganj Village, Bihar

This was just another of the flood victims in the Bihar..trying to get his name entered in a journalist's notepad.. probably the biggest flood in the history of modern india..

isra's sad about the sorry state of affairs :(


Dear teacher
Accept this as a token of gratitude ,
From me to you..
I thank you for helping me recompose the priorities in life,
I thank you for adding dimensions to it,
I thank you for giving me the impetus to realise my true potential,
I thank you for bringing out my hidden ambitions
For that sympathetic pat when i was low
For that thumbs up when i succeeded
For that word of concern, when i knew not where to go
For that rebuke, that corrected my mistake..
I saw a path
But knew not where it led..
You gave me the inspiration,
To tread ahead..
Today, i know i will triumph
I will triumph for you are with,
I will triumph for you have helped me realise that almost reckless confidence in me..
I will triumph for you have taught me to channel that confidence to take on new challenges and old fears
I will triumph for, dear teacher, you are there for me with hands outstretched every time i stumble and fall.
I can’t’ promise i’ll rule the world..
I can’t promise i’ll rise above expectations..
I can’t promise i’ll always succeed..
But what i shall promise.......
I promise i’ll give you the achiever in me
I promise to never let you down
I promise i won’t rest till there’s work to be done
And i promise,
In this ambitious young adult
Lies a modern day doctor..
Waiting to spring out..
And when she does spring out;
She’ll be nothing short of the best
Because thats what you want her to be.
A million thanks won’t suffice for the person you’ve made me
Happy teacher’s day - 2008

LETS TALK ABOUT.................... ME !!!!!

Picture this people,one poor soul, with absolutely nothing to do, who’s crossed all possible boundaries of boredom, and who’s mind’s as empty as barren land , decides to comment not on the latest piece of news, not on the material world rubbish, not what she thinks of the current fads, but on the face she sees in the mirror at the moment.. that’s me !!
Wonder if there’s a stranger thing boredom can make me do ; but since this is it for the moment, let me move on..
lemme begin from…hmmm… the beginning (see, I told you I was bored !! )
the forehead- of its almost non-existent existence up there a major part’s covered by disobedient scalp hair that for some reason doesn’t limit itself to the scalp ! strange ways they have, you know!
Isra’s eyes- I’ll be kinder to them, than I was to my forehead..atleast they are so characteristic of me.. large, dark brown,fairly long lashes.. atopped by thin brows, and what makes me like them somewhat is the way they taper at the temple.. line them with kohl, a dash of mascara maybe,,and don’t I love them do the talking..or the laughing and crying too!!
A carrot for a nose.. long, pointed (witchy description) with a slight parrot beak (ughh..) and a scar that a fainting episode left me with!! Mum. I wish I’d taken your genes at this one, perhaps I was too nasty a fetus to get something as pretty as yours !!
The lips.. hmmm.. I’d be surprised if you’d even notice such pencil thin lips at first glance.. thankfully a smile adds some substance to them somehow.. as for the shape, not bad, jayanti used to tell me at school, “ you have lips like lips !!“.. you know the kind most people draw on paper !!
Of the cheeks, I do remember having plenty of it sometime ago, with all that adipose within!! As for what the mirror says, its lost most of the adipose to some strange entity called a workout !!
Not bad really, minus the tan I’ve developed recently.. but then again, I’m sure its temporary (fingers crossed !! )..
More on me later, since I’ve found myself better work to do than torture the looking glass !!


North India’s known for its chilly winters. One such winter afternoon, the boys were upto their usual games – and for indian boys a game is synonymous with CRICKET! The Tendulkars and Dravids of the colony, they always attempted 4s and 6s- a shot here, a shot there, some through window panes, others into open gutters- and off the fielders would follow the ball till their fists would grasp the ball firmly, and a satisfactory grin would run across their faces.
Who was to know, one of their gutter shots would be life-saving, literally..
This one afternoon the ball landed into a dirty ‘nala’ with an overgrowth of winter weeds. In his haste the boy chasing the ball fell over- part of it to grasp the ball, and part to show off his Yuvraj Singh heroism.. the ball in his fists, and arms in position to throw the ball to the next closest fielder..but what followed froze the boy in position-a feeble cry sounded from the nothingness of the gutter. The boy bent down closer,searching for he source of the cry-there lay a muddy, deglazed green polybag. Frightened and clueless as he was, he called upon his other playmates.. within minutes a crowd had gathered- the young ,the old, male and female. The cry continued weak and intermittent, but not a soul dared o touch the polybag. People started making guesses in thin air, coaxed each other to pick up the bag, layed down illogical statements on who should be the one to lift the “untouchable”, offered to call up the police .. While everything was being said, there was little being down- until the arrival of the good samaritan – in Mrs. Mridula Prakash.
Mrs. Mridula Prakash, a asociology teacher at Notre Dame Academy, run by the Sisters of Notre Dame (SND), was known to be one of the most approachable person in the colony.. a genuine soul, a woman with a heart of gold-truly a gem of a person.
The commotion outside her house compelled her to step out. On learning the facts of the situation, she stormed through the unyielding crowd, making her way to the scene of crime, despite numerous protests from the crowd. Without any hesitation, she bent down, lifted up the bag, tore apart its ends.. A baby girl, cold and wet, blood stained and muddy, with a clamped umbilical cord, and a flimsy piece of cloth wrapped around carelessly, lay in Mrs. Prakash’s arms. An uneasy hush took over the crowd, and the air was filled with murmurs a many. Mrs. Prakash looked at the crowd in disgust, for a moment that lasted less than a second. Without any further delay, she summoned the ambulance and rushed the baby to the hospital.. the crowd dispersed in a while- some amazed at the presence of mind of Mrs. Prakash, others touched at the sorry state of the baby.
Later was it known, that the baby survived and was adopted by Mrs. Mridula Prakash. The singular efforts of 1 brave woman saved just another Indian female baby from the wrath of a cruel society, for not many baby Aastha’s are fortunate enough...