My neighbour is a spy


Ever had that neighbour who’s so interesting all the time?

I’m convinced that my neighbour is a spy.

My neighbour is a tall, thin man, who never talks or even smiles at anyone.

He is often seen with a cast on his hand (injured in battle, of course). Every morning, at about 6:40, he walks out of the building wearing a completely black attire and a determined expression. He carries even his garbage in really expensive cardboard bags, unlike everyone else who use polythene bags to throw their trash (Of course he’s got something of national importance in it, which he has to give to the intended recipient via a garbage truck.).

Once, when I spotted him coming home from work, he (nervously) dropped his keys when he saw me looking. Suspicious?


While everyone else may laugh at my wild accusations, I know for sure that my…

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*Salmon skin roll* 

In my fourteen years of schooling, I have made many friends. But only a handful of whom, I truly cherish.

Being the last year of school, I wholeheartedly wanted a partner in school with whom I would genuinely get along.

And that friend/partner turned out to be, the one, the only: Smriti.

Initially, our conversations would revolve around the dashing, Benedict Cumberbatch.

so much feels

Mostly Sherlock, followed by Friends and our profound love for Mrs Chanandler Bing’s humor.

Oh, Chandler :’)

Even when talking about family, she listened and reciprocated something or the other about herself too. Her openness hel-  I’ve got to stop talking about her in third person. This post is for her

So, here we go:

Hello hello Smriti

I just wanted to let you know,

you’re one hell of a friend


Our conversations via textbooks,  your little sketches of weird owls, character sketches and whatnot.

Our not so sneaky laughs on Crystal ma’am’s not so great pronunciations.

Making of the very off-tune random jingles based on anything and everything 🎶🎶

Cheers to these memories and the many more to come 🎈

Thanks Smriti,

Thank you for the memories

Oh, and


Wish you all the luck in the world, you deserve it.

A happy picture of Chandler for a happy day.

The Book Thief 

I have not read the book but I did see the movie just today. And might I say, I absolutely loved it. I may not be good at being a critique, But I know a good movie when I see one. What mostly gets to me are the heart warming friendships, like the one Leisel and Max had and also the one with her and Rudy. Leisel might not have had the greatest fate but she definitely cherished the people in her life with her gutsy and kind attitude. Maybe not the best ending but one hell of a story. 

If only 

I read this article a few months back titled ‘How to be a genuine person’. And one of the points was to be vulnerable and openly accept criticism. I’ve always resisted showing vulnerability thinking it’ll make me look weak.

My brother and I share a very strong bond. When he was leaving for University, it was supposed to be an emotional moment for me. But I didn’t shed a single tear, even my Dad was crying, and that’s something. For some goddamn reason, I refused to let myself cry.

Even when my Grandfather had died a few years back, not once did I mourn him. I thought maybe at that point of time I was being strong for my mother. But now that I look back into the past, I realize that perhaps change just takes me time to digest. Drastic changes to be more specific. 

The fact that the sole person who understands me is not going to be around often, took way too long to sink in. Or the person who helped my mom become the great person that she is, no longer lives possibly shook me up to the extent of complete numbness. 

But if only I could just let go of the emotions caged in me for some Godforsaken reason, that’d be great.