The one thing that I wish to invent…

tardis_leaving_by_guile93-d5rb6wxThe one thing that I wish to invent is a machine like the T.A.R.D.I.S. which can instantly teleport us to all of time and space, anywhere and everywhere we might want to go.

The universe is big.  It’s vast and complicated, and ridiculous.

And believe me, somewhere, something INCREDIBLE is waiting to be known.

We spend all our lives living in one corner in one country, in one continent in one planet that is a corner of a galaxy that is a corner of a universe that is forever growing and shrinking and creating and destroying and never remaining the same for a single millisecond. And this is so much, SO MUCH to see.

And I truly believe that we’d be collectively less stupid as a species if we all travelled more.

And just imagine if we could also travel through time as well? We could witness all the great events that ever occurred in the history of the Earth! We could even go and witness the Big Bang itself; see how it all began; how we came into existence and solve the mysteries regarding the birth of our Universe. Oh, wouldn’t it be great!

So I wish to invent something like the TARDIS and travel away to my heart’s content! ❤ ❤

The Lost Hero Trio <3 Piper, Jason and Leo <3 ^_^

the lost hero trio

Jason Grace ❤ Piper McLean ❤ Leo Valdez ^_^ ❤

“[Jason] I’m the son of Jupiter, I’m a child of Rome, consul to demigods, praetor of the First Legion. I slew the Trojan sea monster, I toppled the black throne of Kronos, and destroyed Titan Krios with my own hand. And now I’m going to destroy you Porphyrion, and feed you to your own wolves.”

“I’m the Super-sized McShizzle, man!” Leo said. “I’m Leo Valdez, bad boy supreme. And the ladies love a bad boy.”

“Piper was maybe the most impressive. She fenced with the giantess Periboia, sword against sword. Despite the fact that her opponent was five times larger, Piper seemed to be holding her own. The goddess Aphrodite floated around them on a small white cloud, strewing rose petals in the giantess’s eyes and calling encouragement to Piper. ‘Lovely, my dear. Yes, good. Hit her again!”


The girl on fire <3 KATNISS EVERDEEN :*

The girl on Fire
The Girl on Fire

Katniss Everdeen ❤ The Mockingjay ❤ The girl on fire ❤

“My spirit. This is a new thought. I’m not sure exactly what it means, but it suggests I’m a fighter. In a sort of brave way. It’s not as if I’m never friendly. Okay, maybe I don’t go around loving everybody I meet, maybe my smiles are hard to come by, but i do care for some people.”


The Hunger Games Trilogy


I bought all three books in the series at once, and I am so glad I did! I started reading the next one as soon as I was done with the first.

Just think of all the things that make your heart ache, make you love, fill your heart with contentment, make you smile through the tears, make you cry your heart out and give you a new perspective. That’s my experience with The Hunger Games in short.

“The bird, the pin, the song, the berries, the watch, the cracker, the dress that burst into flames. I am the Mockingjay. The one that survived despite the Capitol’s plans. The symbol of the rebellion.”

The characters in these books wrestle with death at every single second,  they are forced to make horrible choices, and yes these books are quite dark in places, but overall, I LOVED this series. Loved it from the first to the last word.

“Winning means fame and fortune.
Losing means certain death.
The Hunger Games have begun…”

Katniss is skillfully described, with her sense of survival and her inner demons created by it. She volunteers for the Hunger Games to spare her twelve year old sister Prim. This is unheard-of and most likely suicidal. But she survives, and so does her fellow tribute Peeta. Little does she realize that her small act of defying the Capitol by almost eating the nightlocks, would start a rebellion in the districts, and she will be the mockingjay, the symbol of the rebellion.

In the second book, President Snow is trying to come up with every possible way to stop the rebellion, to eliminate Katniss. From visiting her in 12 to announcing the Quater Quell where the tributes will be chosen from the old victors, he is leaving no stone unturned. When Peeta volunteers to be the tribute instead of Haymitch, Katniss is more determined to save Peeta rather than herself. However, throughout the Quater Quell, Katniss and Peeta remain unaware of the fact that half of the tributes are trying to keep them alive, keep the revolution alive.

The revolution continues through the third book. District 13 exists.

The series does leave me shattered to pieces at various places – like when Rue dies, Cinna’s sacrifice, Finnick’s death and not to forget, Prim’s death.

“Far below, I can just make out Finnick, struggling to hang on as three mutts tear at him. As one yanks back his head to take the death bite, something bizarre happens. It’s as if I’m Finnick, watching images of my life flash by. The mast of a boat, a silver parachute, Mags laughing, a pink sky, Beetee’s trident, Annie in her wedding dress, waves breaking over rocks. Then it’s over.”–Well I cried cried and cried for Finnick and still have a real soft spot for him. I feel sorry and sad for Annie and their son. But then I’m forced to realize and accept the fact that that is what life is. It can never be perfect and more or less or one way or another we are always suffering. And Finnick and Annie’s marraige put a stop to their big miseries for a while but then Finnick’s death started them again cause nothing lasts forever and life is cruel.

I cried my soul out when Prim died. I couldn’t believe that the person to save whom the story had actually begun, was dead. I had to re read the part to be sure that this was really true. But the time when I actually felt my heart shatter to pieces was when Katniss told Buttercup about Prim’s death.

“She’s not here,” I tell him. Buttercup hisses again. “She’s not here. You can hiss all you like. You won’t find Prim.”
At her name, he perks up. Raises his flattened ears. Begins to meow hopefully.
“Get out!” He dodges the pillow I throw at him. “Go away! There’s nothing left for you here!” I start to shake, furious with him.
“She’s not coming back! She’s never ever coming back here again!” I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim.
Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. “She’s dead, you stupid cat. She’s dead.”
A new sound, part crying, part singing comes out of my body, giving voice to my despair.
Buttercup begins to wail as well. No matter what I do, he won’t go.
He circles me, just out of reach, as wave after wave of sobs racks my body, until eventually I fall unconscious. But he must understand. He must know that the unthinkable has happened and to survive will require previously unthinkable actes.
Because hours later, when I come to in my bed, he’s there in the moonlight. Crouched beside me, yellow eyes alert, guarding me from the night.”

Also, the last paragraph before the epilogue when she talks about Gale’s fire, “kindled with rage and hatred” how she had enough of her own and how what she needed to survive was the dandelion in the spring.

“The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that So after, when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?” I tell him, “Real.”— I lost it there. I couldn’t even see through my tears.

Katniss is damaged more and more as the story progresses–the end of the trilogy is satisfying at the same time it is real. The series is thought-provoking and its impact will be with me forever.


Hey! I’m back (after an year). Its not that I didn’t have anything to post, I was too busy or at the other times, too lazy to open up my blog and publish some stuff.

So, I’m going to share a story I wrote in the summer last year (yeah, I know… I’m damn late)

Well, so this story came about after a 10 classes course full of fun and amazing activities. All the merit of making me confident about the stories I write, and the wildest flights my imagination takes, goes to Vibha Malhotra ma’am. *victory music in the background* She is just an amazing teacher. She knows how to blend fun with learning, and made this course the most wonderful experience of my life as a short story writer. So I sincerely want to thank Vibha ma’am and Literature Studio for the splendid course, and of course Sangeeta aunty who told me about this course. Seriously, this story would not have been possible without these two amazing ladies. 😀 ❤

The original story that I wrote during the course is published at Literature Studio. But since my school English teacher got so impressed by this story and wanted it to be published i our school magazine – Sagarika, I shortened it. So here is the edited version. And if you want to see the original story, click the link above! 🙂 🙂


I peeked timidly into our class. Rajiv Choudhary, our Political Science teacher, was leaning against the teacher’s desk, waving his thin bony arms to the rest of the class. Dr. Choudhary was an easy target of ridicule of the students, especially due to his old fashioned ways and peculiar dressing sense. Today, I was late for his class as I had gone to submit my entry for “Words and More” the prestigious Inter school story writing competition. I was the favourite student of all my teachers. The only exception to this rule was Dr. Choudhary. He would always favor Amish Marwah over me and I could not, for the life of me, figure out why! How could he prefer that clumsy and diffident oaf over me! I, who had won the epithet of Hermione Granger for my eagerness to impress the teachers and answer all their questions.

“May I come in sir?”

“You are late, Geeta. Hurry up now and let’s get on with our discussion.”

What, no scolding? Was he being sarcastic, I wondered as I murmured an apology on my way to my seat.

“I have decided who is going to be the monitor of this class” he announced. All my friends looked at me in expectation. I knew it had to be me this time. I held my breath.

“Amish Marwah.”

I woke up from my day dream. What the hell? Amish? Seriously? He can never carry out any responsibilities. He is always sitting at his corner desk and reading some book or scribbling and doodling away in his notebook.

Just wait till other teachers find out that sir has made Amish his monitor! Oh, how will they laugh at his foolishness! I don’t know whether this is jealousy, but I do want to know why Dr. Choudhary is so partial to Amish, who, in my opinion, is the least deserving of us all.

“A week from today,” Dr. Choudhary said, “We will have a discussion on Federalism. I want you all to give your views on equal representation in federalism.”

This was my chance to prove to him how intelligent I was and how wrong he was in favouring Amish over me. I spent hours preparing for the activity.  I was confident that I would secure the highest marks and would make a lasting impression on Dr. Choudhary.

On the day of the debate the class was tense as Dr. Choudhary began calling the students one by one. It seemed like eternity before he called my name, “Geeta Gupta.” I walked with full confidence to the podium and stood facing everyone. I glanced at Amish. Suddenly a disturbing thought crossed my mind. What if he performs well? He will get all the praise. I silently scolded myself for distracting my thoughts, but my eyes kept on moving towards Amish all through my speech.

“I am of the strong opinion that everyone should be treated equally and no person or community should be favored. The system of reserved seats in jobs and schools created at the time of Independence was introduced to help the backward come forth and play a role in the development of the country. But now, it has been more than 60 years since we became an independent country. All the citizens of the country now enjoy equal resources. So what is the need of reservations? The deserving and capable students should be helped to grow more and reach new heights totally on the basis of merit, irrespective of caste, gender, and religion.”

I walked back to my seat very pleased with myself. “Very well done, Geeta. You are truly a smart young girl.” Dr. Choudhary beamed at me. Aha! Finally you realised. I smiled back.

“Amish Marwah.” Dr. Choudhary nodded at him with his ever-encouraging smile.

He walked with clumsy steps to the front of the class. The look on his face made me laugh at myself. I was afraid of him?

He started speaking “Federalism is more than just equal distribution of power. You all know that India is a federal country. But isn’t Jammu and Kashmir a special state? Hasn’t it been given a special status? Well, does this change India from being a federal country? No. There are some exceptions to fair and equal distribution. And of course there is the aspect of Justice. Everyone cannot be treated equally. The less-developed states such as Bihar have to be given special status. The less peaceful states like J & K have to be given special status. They will lag behind the country if they are not given extra resources and help from the center. Thus, I sincerely feel that there are some who really need a little help to achieve self-confidence and self-respect.”

“Amish my boy,” he continued, “I am so proud of you. You are genuinely working towards achieving great heights. I am very happy that you have improved so much. Always keep trying and have faith in yourself.”

That did it! He was being unfair. I couldn’t stand it anymore,

“Excuse me? What is the meaning of all this?” I spoke out. “Here you are, going on and on and on praising Amish! And ‘Very well done’ is all you have to say to me? You are the most biased and unjust teacher ever.” I felt that I was shouting, but I couldn’t help it. “And you Amish. You are the biggest fool of this class.” Amish looked as if he was about to break into tears. He deserves it, I told myself. “Dr. Choudhary tells you that you are brilliant. But let me tell you. He is lying. You are nothing but a fool. Everyone makes fun of you, and I bet, even Dr. Choudhary jokes about you with rest of the teachers.” Amish looked at Dr. Choudhary and ran out of the class with tears streaming down his face.

I, too, walked out of the classroom. “Geeta, wait. Please, both of you listen to me once. Oh, don’t cry Amish.” I heard Dr. Choudhary call out, but I didn’t stop. Rage was brewing up in my head. I saw Dr. Choudhary looking at me. “Oh dear. You are crying too,” he said. I shouted, “I am NOT crying!” But even as I said that I felt a tear run down my left cheek. I ran down the stairs “Geeta, come back. Please hear me out.” I heard a pleading voice from behind. I paid no heed

I descended the steps with my thoughts quite clear. This biased and unfair teacher had no right to stay in our school any longer. I wouldn’t rest until he is out of the school, I told myself.

I stopped in front of the brown, elegant door with “PRINCIPAL” written on top of it in bold letters. I straightened myself and knocked at the door. “Come in.” I walked in and the Principal looked up questioningly. I took a deep breath and began, “Sir, I’m Geeta Gupta of class X D. Sorry to interrupt you, but the matter is quite serious…”

He listened grimly to my tale of woe and said, “Dr. Choudhary is a good teacher. Surely there has to be a convincing reason behind his actions.”

I heard the door opened behind me. There was Dr. Choudhary standing there. “I am terribly sorry for bursting in like this. I thought that I would find Geeta here,” he said and looked at me.

“Your guess was quite right. And now that you are here, I would like you to answer a few questions,” Principal Sir said.

Dr. Choudhary looked in my direction “I only wanted to help Amish come forth. I saw through his work that he is a talented young boy. I feel that the smart students can take care of themselves and their studies without the help of teachers, but it’s the below average students who need our help. And I was trying to do just that. But since my actions are not acceptable, I’ll only say that I’m sorry for all the trouble I have caused. And I wish to no longer be a nuisance to you and to my students.” Having said this, he turned around and walked out of the door.

I saw him go out of the school building through the window. Principal Sir followed my gaze, “Well, that’s it. Now we are again short of a Political Science teacher.”

That afternoon, when I reached home, I found a letter addressed to me. It was from “Words and More, Story-Writing Competition”, a chill ran down my spine. The results have finally come! I will surely bag a prize. With the letter containing the results in my hand, I frowned as I remembered how Dr. Choudhary had encouraged Amish to participate in this competition and hadn’t said a word to me.

I brushed aside the thoughts of Dr. Choudhary and Amish and read the letter. I stood up in surprise as I read the results. My name was nowhere to be found!

And look who came second – Amish Marwah! What did this boy have that he is shining in every field? What is so special about him? Was Dr. Choudhary right? Is he really talented? All the events of the day of the debate flashed in front of my eyes. I felt guilty. Had I been too harsh on Amish? Should I have thought once before breaking into such an outburst?

That evening I reached Amish’s house. A servant opened the door and led me to Amish’s room. The room was a mess. And in the midst of the mess, sat Amish, scribbling away in his little notebook. He looked up at me, “Geeta? What are you doing here?”

I didn’t know what to say. I just showed him the letter, “I… Congratulations Amish.”

He smiled, “Oh this! So I sent my story a few days back. It was a shock to me too. When Dr. Choudhary told me that I could do it, I didn’t believe him. I smiled back at him, “Congratulations again.”

I sat for hours in his room. We talked about all that had happened to both of us during the past week. When I came out, I was feeling better. But I had realized the wrong I had done to Dr. Choudhary. I should have at least heard what he wanted to tell, before taking such a drastic step. I wished I could, for once, meet him and beg his forgiveness.



It is well said that childhood is the golden period of a person’s life. It is the most beautiful of all life seasons. It is a time that once gone never comes back. Thus we should live this time of fun and laughter to the full extent.

I feel that we children have more of joys than sorrows. Childhood is, after all, about finding joy in every little moment. And this is, in my opinion, the greatest opinion of childhood : Finding a smile in every tear. Another joy of childhood is that we are carefree and don’t have any responsibility of earning money and running the household. Children are also honest and innocent. Once they become adults, they turn into strange creatures. Grown-ups are quirky and have secrets. Childhood is about living every moment to the fullest extent and laughing off the problems of life.

Children are open-minded and are able to make friends with everyone easily. adults grow to become more conserved and less social. Childhood is surrounded with love and protection. This is a joy but can converted into sorrow for some. Some children feel that they have been locked up in some sort of a cage and that their uniqueness and personality has been taken away. This happens when the parents and guardians become over-protective. Children are free birds but when they are forced to follow strict rules they feel their childhood to be full of sorrows. They look up to the independent life of adults and become eager to grow up and lead an independent life. In this, they completely ignore their childhood… and when they realize this it is already too late.

I don’t find any great sorrow in childhood. Dependence is probably the only sorrow. But what I dislike is that children, in their eagerness to grow up, forget to enjoy childhood. Their eagerness  will not make them grow up faster but only make them miss the most treasured of life’s times. I would like to tell them that ‘Childhood is a journey not a race.

Because Pablo Neruda said, “Everything is ceremony in the wild garden of childhood” , so let’s celebrate chilhood!!!


Strangers In The Night…

It was a cold December evening in the year 1942.

Fredrick Garland was sitting in his armchair in front of the fire, reading a letter. He folded the little piece of paper and shrank back into his armchair. A tear after tear fell from his eyes.

“Not again!” he murmured. Then he cried his heart out.

Even after crying for almost an hour, Fredrick was still overwhelmed with a feeling of desolation. This state of restlessness forced him to come out of his house and take a walk to sort out his thoughts, even though it had started to snow

He had not gone far from his house when he saw a man, a woman and a little boy closely hurdled together and shivering badly in the snow. Their clothing was insufficient for the freezing cold night like that. Some instinct forced him to talk to them and soon he found himself offering them shelter for the night.

“It is very cold tonight. Come, you can spend the night in my house. I have a room vacant you can sleep there. If you stay out in this weather, you will surely die of cold.” They destitute family looked terrified at this suggestion and immediately declined the offer. But Fredrick wouldn’t give up. At last they had to give in and follow Fredrick into his house. He served them hot food and made them sit in front of the fire. He arranged their beds and sent them off to sleep.

“Good night!” he said and went to his own room.

Late in the night the little boy, Charlie overheard his parents talking…

“Oh Henry what is to become of us? They are after us like mad dogs!! They’ll kill us!”

“Yes Liza dear, those cruel animals are hungry for blood. They will not spare anyone. They will kill all of our kinds.”

“It is not us that I am worried about… it’s our little Charlie here. Sure a small kid! What has HE done to them??”

Henry patted his son and said, “My poor boy. Just your bad luck, you were born in our house.”

“Henry, I am scared! What will happen to us!! We’ll die!! Oh Lord!!”

Charlie closed his eyes. He didn’t want to hear more. He had heard them talk like that before. He had heard them mention a man named Hitler and the Nazis. He knew that Hitler and the Nazis wanted to kill them. But who they were and why were they after them, his parents never told him. He was so utterly confused.

‘Fred uncle is a good man.’ He thought, ‘I will ask him in the morning to save us’. Then he slept soundly.

In the morning he found Fred in the kitchen. He didn’t notice his eyes were red. He went up to him and hugged him. Glancing his innocent eyes into his red ones and said, “Fred, will you save us? Please save us. Mamma and pa are very scared.”

Fred frowned a bit. “Save you? But my dear Charlie”, he said patting Charlie’s hair, “Save you from whom? Are you in danger?”

“I don’t know. But my parents talk about some Hitler wanting to kill us. They never tell me a thing!”

“Hitler! O Jesus! You are Jews!! That’s why you were scared to come with me?”

Henry and Liza were standing at the door. Henry said, “O please good sir. Please don’t turn us over to Hitler. He will kill us. You don’t know how cruel and stone-hearted he is! You are an Aryan. He loves you and your kind. Please, for the sake of this little boy, don’t… “

Liza also joined in, “We will leave just now and will never show you our faces again. Hitler’s very cruel. He is hungry for Jew blood. Please spare us.”

Till now Fredrick had been listening quietly. Now he spoke,” You think I will give you up to the Nazis? I hate them just as much as you do… perhaps more.”

He felt silent for a moment. He went to the cupboard and took out the letter he had been reading last night and showed it to Henry. “Look at this”, he said, Henry opened the letter…

We are in danger. They have found out our hideout. They’ll take us any day. The Lockharts are dead and now is our turn.

Fred, you are an awesome friend. I don’t know what would have I been without you, my dear friend.

Lots of love

Mr. and Mrs. Frank

Henry folded the letter and look up at Fred. Fred continued.

“I, the Lockharts and the Franks have been friends since our college days. But after college we settled in different parts of Germany. The Lockharts and the Franks were Jews, while me a bloody ‘Aryan’. We were the bestest of friends…Lockharts were killed a month ago and now the Franks…” He paused for a moment, tears in his eyes. “Well… do you still think that I will not help you?” he added with a smile.

A few months had passed. The Jew family lived in the shed in Fred’s backyard. They never went out and remained quite. By now Fred and the Jew family had grow very close. They were living happily.

But their happiness was short-lived. The neighbors grew suspicious and began talking about Fredrick.

“Did you see the amount of groceries Fredrick buys these days?”

“Yes. His groceries can easily feed four or five people!

“He seldom comes out of his house. He has broken all the ties with us.”

“I smell a rat! Don’t mind me, but don’t you think he is hiding something…. Or someone?”

The neighbors felt something fishy.

One day there was a loud banging on Fredrick’s door. He opened and found a group of hefty Nazi officials. They dragged him out. “Where are they?” they barked, “You have been hiding them. Where are they?”

He was beaten up badly but he didn’t speak. “Speak! Or I’ll kill you!!” But Fredrick’s lips remained sealed.

Two Nazis ran in to search the house after a few minutes they were out, dragging the Jews with them.

Charlie ran and hugged Fred. “Uncle you are bleeding!”

Then Fred noticed that he was bleeding profusely. Henry, knowing their death was near, said, “Fred Thanks for these lovely last months of our lives. They have been great.”

Then they were pushed into the Nazi vans… off to the gas chambers.

Two Nazis stayed behind to take Fredrick to the jail. Fred noticed quite a crowd had assembled. “Come on you!” one of the Nazi barked and kicked Fred in his stomach. “We don’t have time to waste.”

But Fred’s mind was somewhere else. He did something none present would have expected.

“I am coming friends… We’ll surely meet now… All these years we never met but now we’ll meet in heavens. I’m coming my dear Lockharts and Franks… I’ll meet you too- Henry, Liza and little Charlie” he murmured.

Then he pulled out the gun from the waist of the Nazi who kicked him. Before the Nazis could react, he shot himself.

He died on the spot.