That’s me! <3
My wish list never ends. Each day the count goes on and I sometimes feel like “Will I ever be able to fulfill any of it?” I don’t wish something that is impossible. Those who know my wish list probably would think that ‘I’m a silly girl who dreams of doing silly things that are far more silly and stupid than me. “
I would like to pen a dream or a small wish here. I want to grow old and live peacefully with the one who is meant for me. A small vintage home, a very small one, painted sky blue and with a garden in front of it and may be a stream flowing.
I hate the busy sophisticated life everyone around is struggling to deal with.
I just wonder how beautiful life would have been if there were no spoon-feeding classes but self-learning experiences, no dreams of big mansions but a small cottage to live in and no tall buildings around but tall and beautiful flowering trees.
Wait! Are all these just fantasies?
Months ago as part of an online social media campaign, I started posting daily pictures and thoughts under the tag ‘#100HappyDays of a #LunaticGirl.’ First of all, I was never regular. I posted them twice in a week or maybe nothing at all. Somehow I managed to post for 38 days when actually it became more than 70 days already.
There are two reasons I never finished it.
- I am damn lazy – about which I have to tell you that I’m recovering that state of mind and actually doing better and more work than before. So bravo myself!
- I easily forget – I still forget little things. To overcome this, I now manage a small cutie-pie diary to scribble important things to do and thus I became a to-do list freak which really helped me stay organized and up to date.
Now, I thought when I am doing well with these two weaknesses, why don’t I restart #100happydays posts. My friends who were following the sequel have requested me to continue it. I would like to mention one person, my good friend and a fellow blogger, who asked me like hundred times to post more on the tag– Colourfade. So here I am to announce that I’ll be continuing the sequel, regularly and I am writing this post to just make me aware of a responsibility of completing something that I announced kind of officially to my readers.
An incomplete work from my art journal :)
My mother used to tell me stories of my childhood. She told me ‘When I was born I didn’t cry and I was barely breathing. Everyone thought that I won’t survive the first day of my birth. They all had a terrible time. But that day someone was way more upset than anyone in the hospital who created a frightful scene—a four years old crying, “I want her…I want her”; Aadithya. He was my father’s best friend’s son. He was told that as I am born he will be getting a friend forever. When he got to know that he won’t get to see me, he became a massive headache to the whole hospital. But then I was bought to him. My mother told me how he touched my cheeks and smiled. He was holding my little finger and was blabbering all the time about his game plans.
I grew up watching him, knowing him and loving him. He was my best friend and he was a prince to me—the multitalented ass! That’s what his grandfather called him. He used to sing old songs to his grandfather in bed—he was good at making fool and the best at making stories. He was never afraid of anything—not even rats as I was the exact opposite who had nightmares of big rats. I remember once, when I was almost six, my big cousin was at home and he took me in his arms. The next thing I saw was the big guy falling down holding his left wrist and screaming in pain. Aadi could not afford someone else being close to me or loving me. He used to say that ‘You are my lamp and I won’t let anyone take off the glow you bear for me’. His philosophical and dramatically language is something I never understood—I was a kid and too fool to understand. But I thought he would be a fairy tale teller when he grows up; he was just ten then.
We were always together until I was gone to Punjab with my father and mother when both of them got jobs, there in a company. I was in a state of depression and couldn’t even dare to think about that day when I met Aadi for one last time in the railway station. I don’t know why, but he didn’t cry. He did not even speak to me a word of wishes. He was just smiling at me and waving bye. I thought he was not sad of me being away from him but yet I believe he was pretending not being so.
All the days in Punjab, even though I was enjoying my life there, I could not forget him—I was missing him. I never got to talk to him. Whenever I talked with his parents I didn’t ask for him—maybe I was shy or maybe I was feeling inferior to give up and finally tell them that I am desperate to talk to him. He never talked to me and I did the same. Years passed and I thought- I am probably dead to him.
Then one day, Aadi’s father made a call and I got to know that Aadi has finished his Engineering degree. He is a graduate now and I was going to join college that year. His father called my father to have discussion about a decision Aadi took. I was curious to know what it was. I saw my father moving his hands and head in gesture showing something that should not happen. I know Aadi since I was born. He is someone who made impulsive but much matured decisions, which often turned to be a sin for his parents.
My curiosity was killing me. And finally I got up from where I have been sitting and went after my father who was walking in the balcony here and there scratching his semi bald head. I tried to respectfully interrupt and ask what the matter is. But he did not pay a heed and I went total crazy and snatched the phone from him.
“SHIKHA!” he shouted.
“I’m sorry paa. But let me talk.” I said and turned to talk.
“Hello. Hello…” Krishnan uncle, Aadi’s father was on the other side. He sounded quite worried.
“Good Morning Uncle. Shikha here”
“Good morning dear. Where’s Srini?” He asked for paa.
“Uncle, Paa is here. I just want to know what is happening between you two. What did Aadi do that you people are worried about?”
He explained everything. I realized that Aadi, for all these years, was a total stranger to me about whom I know nothing but his childhood that I spend with him. By these years, he has grown up a man and I’m still that child who is dreaming about my Prince.
Aadi joined Engineering College because Krishnan uncle and Lathika Aunty wanted him to have a white collar job after graduation. But he planned something else. He wanted to join Cochin Media School to study Film-making. I was not surprised hearing, that he wanted to become a Filmmaker—I knew he always wanted to became a Filmmaker. But his parents did not allow him to do it. They wanted him to be graduated with an Engineering degree and wanted to see him as a high profiled person in the society—which he clearly hated, I know.
“Don’t be so worried Uncle. He has grown up. Even you and I both know, that he is way more matured than other guys of his age” I started giving Krishnan Uncle some subtle lecture.
He just kept listening to me and I felt really light and happy that I did it. I finally convinced Uncle to accept Aadi’s dream. Actually that never happened.
“Shikha, do me a favour.” He asked.
‘Yes, anything for you uncle” I was happy to help him.
“I’ll give you Aadi’s number and now it’s your responsibility to change Aadi’s mind and help us.”
“What!!!” I thought I shouldn’t have snatched the phone from paa; I shouldn’t have talked and tried to convince uncle at all. Talking to Aadi is going to be like the impossible thing. But somewhere I was happy. I am going to get a chance to talk to him after years— but I was scared too.
When Krishnan uncle cut the call as I consoled him and promised that I’ll talk to Aadi about it, I never thought that the idea is going to be a terrible mistake.
Yesterday my father gave me a diary which he got for free from a steel trading company. The diary pages were pretty good. I’m obsessed with diaries. I have like hundreds of them already and couldn’t say no to this too.
But the bind looked really dull to me. So I decided to give it a makeover and decorate it beautifully.
And this is going to be my new journal, by the way! I love doing creative stuffs and I’m crazy about crafts. It’s kind of invention. You sit with all the stuffs and think about how to make something work for us. And then we come up with an idea and finally when it turns out to be pretty good, it’s like EUREKA!
I went into my craft box and found random things to decorate it. I wanted to change how the front bind looked. I stick pictures and quotes I love on it and gave a border with green color duct tape.
Now it actually looks good and I’m going to start writing about random stuffs soon, which I’ll be sharing with you eventually.
Visit My Lifestyle Blog ‘Lemonade Tales‘ to read ‘How to give an old diary a new journal make over?’
Well, I’m speechless right now. Not because I made a short film but because I don’t know how to describe about this. Day before yesterday when one of my tuition students was left here with me alone because his mother did not arrive early to pick him up, we decided to shoot some videos and eventually I gave a theme to those clips. And the result is here.
I hope you liked it. Do comment your thoughts. Would love to hear from you :)
So let me just put it this way “I love everything creative”. So today it’s painting day. Well, I should not say that ‘cause painting is quite usual for me. If I am happy I’ll just grab my journal and scribble random thoughts and then take my painting kit, choose light happy colors and paint them. Though they don’t look like real painting—to be frank—I admire MY PAINTINGS!
Its’ true, I love everything I do. I love myself a lot, precisely. Some say I’m just being too much dramatic and some say I’m selfish. Either way I love being myself.
So, today I thought to paint. First of all, I needed something, a very calm and soft color painting for my wall. As I went through the World Wide Web for inspirations, I found beautiful pictures of flowers. But I didn’t choose any of it. I just painted random flowers with some cute colors and my painting was done.
The next I thought was to create an Art Journal since painting is pretty much a hobby for me. I started with the first page of the journal, but I didn’t complete.
Still I’m happy; I spend a holiday quite creative. All you got to do is—know what makes you happy, grab the stuffs needed and do it! YOLO (you live only once)