How Best Friends are made

Board results out. College hunting in season. Future freshers stuck in line. Chaos at the counters. Authorities annoyed. "Below 95 at the back", she said."My daughter has gotten 94.6 %", parents beg. Shoved and sandwiched, organizing their documents, the students understood one another's ailment. The three Priya's bond over their common name, another friendship buds over their shirts that are the same. The miserable crowd lasts hours through the day, but this miserable crowd comes together in their pain.

Seniors now, the girls' smile at the new batch, chatting instead of having a row.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Circle Of History

The Ancient Egyptian Tomb of Sheikh Abd el- Qurna cache holds riches of information for  archaeologists. Among the mess of the  mummies, it holds wooden pieces with names  of Princesses inscribed. Except that’s not what  they were called. “King’s Daughter” was the royal title of some  princesses, as though her identity was built by  using bricks of paternal power. Nebetia was one such daughter, born to  Prince Siatum. He was the son of Thutmose  IV, who remains preserved in the Valley of the  Kings. Her father has scarce documentation. And  yet, she carries a title derived from him. While  the endlessly captivating time of Ancient  Egypt was just to women for their time, this  nickname for a princess is a subtle head  turner. Maybe this concept is relevant even in today’s  world. Younger siblings scoff at being called  by their sister’s name because the teacher has  that child imprinted in t
Read more

Sweet Childhood

Every once in a while, I like to flip through old photo albums and watch those poor quality videos of my toddler self. It's quite an emotional experience. Some of it is hilarious-Ridiculous dancing to the wind, staring at the ground in betrayal because it didn't cushion me when I landed on it, hiding all the return gifts because I didn't want to give those shiny purses away. (I look like an evil goblin in that picture) There's one video where my hand is fractured. My mom is talking about how she's worried that my grandparents would be saddened if they knew. Little Priya then came up with a scheme.  "Let's lie to them, then. We'll say that we are having a blast, there are no injuries, we are eating cake," I say, my voice swaying. "So they'll feel happy and we will suffer in secret," I declare with the most pained expression a child can have.   How did my young mind come up with such ideas?  These captured memories
Read more

The Language of You

While I find a lot of fields fascinating, it's the artistic ones that particularly resonate with me.  Actors. When they embody another character, they have to dig deep within themselves in order to emote. We fall for all the movie magic, truly believing they actually are the part they are playing. Hating the face of an actor who played a ruthless villain is inevitable for most of us.  Painters unleash the creativity party thats going on within on canvas, singers allow their voices to speak their soul and a pianist finds freedom on a zebra coloured board.  What I'm doing right now, writing, is another example. It's yet another outlet of expression. Things you may be unable to say, you can write. Personally, whenever I overthink something, I write about it. And by the last paragraph, I always end up with a solution. Unlimited combinations of flavours and textures comprise a chef's life. There's a beautiful concept of balance in cooking-crispy and cr
Read more