The Girl With A Dead Cocoon


This beautiful creature landed on our balcony yesterday and I obviously ran inside to get my camera and click this picture. There was a time when butterflies were a common sight at least here in the mountains. But blame climate change (which is actually a real phenomenon Mr. Trump) we don’t see many butterflies these days.

When I was a little girl, I once found a cocoon in our terrace garden. It wasn’t attached to a plant and was probably dead or already metamorphosed into a butterfly  but not for me. I put together some stones to built a little house for the cocoon. I covered the floor of the house with grass, made a bed with flower petals and kept a bottle cap filled with water inside it. And from that moment I started waiting for the butterfly to come out of the cocoon. I would go to the terrace every morning expecting to see a butterfly but go back in despair.

Spring turned to summer, summer to fall and fall to winter but there was no sign of a butterfly. Finally, on a wet snowy morning I went to the terrace and gave up on the hopes of seeing a butterfly come out of my cocoon. I think it was the first time in life that I came face to face with the notion of death. I cared for the cocoon for months, hoping it would grow into a beautiful little creature but then reality dawned upon me that it was dead. I dug out a little grave, covered it with leaves and laid it to rest.

If you have come so far in the story, you would probably think that I was a loner in childhood. Well, I did have friends, but I guess I preferred being alone. I would roam in our garden, talk to flowers or little insects and play alone making my own games. I would sit in our terrace for hours, look into the mountains and dream about my future. I would plan of planting an lemon tree in our backyard. I would dream of building a little home for myself, near the Himalayas and seeing snow every day of my life. I would pick up little puppies from road and force my uncle to pet them. And in some particularly crazy times I would wait for a butterfly to come out of a cocoon.

And that was my life. I was in a world with all things dreamy- flowers, snow, mountains, butterflies, birds and bees.

I was happy.

“Of all the sad things I have ever read, ‘I used to be so happy” is the most heartbreaking of all.” – Nikita Gill

And now, when I see butterflies I think about global warming, about climate change, about the American President, about little kids who die malnourished and are buried in tiny graves, about a world where humanity has lost its soul and people are ready to kill each other in the names of religion, caste or race.

Adulthood has ruined us. The world was so much better when I was a little girl with a dead cocoon.

Meet Oreo

After Bhola left home, I didn’t think my parents would get another pet. They didn’t want to go through the pain of losing one again. But sometimes its not us who decide things, sometimes things just happen. And thus Oreo happened. This tiny kitten showed up at our doorsteps one day. He was too scared to come near humans but kept meowing in our garden. He would come at day and disappear by night. Slowly he started following us every where. He would nudge against our feet and ask for milk. But he would never drink it in front of us. We have to leave him alone, then only he takes a sip.

And now he’s our cat. He still doesn’t stay with us at night and we don’t force him too. He just comes by day, drinks his milk, chases lizards in our store room and plays with anything he could tear apart. He’s a wonderful boy. And though no other cat could be as good as Bhola, he has certainly filled a part of the void.

Here, meet Oreo and help him escape from me.


Don’t touch me! I hate humans…


I am not kidding. I’ll jump if you try to smother me with your love!


O dear lord! Do I really need to jump to save myself?


Or may be I should go inside this pipe and she won’t find me here! 


Oh an ant! Let me kill this and show this human how powerful I am! 


O mother Earth! Save me from this girl! She won’t leave me alone. 

Jab Mona Met Imtiaz

Sometimes I feel like I am the hero of an Imtiaz Ali movie, lost somewhere, waiting for the heroine to come and topple my life and help me find myself.

I am Viren in Socha Na Tha, confused about love, marriage and everything else in life, taking decisions and regretting them later.

I am Aditya in Jab We Met, waiting to hop on a train, leaving all my problems behind.

I am Jordan in Rockstar, waiting for that one heartbreak to make it big in life, hurting everyone I love in the process.

And finally I am Ved in Tamasha, an unwilling engineer, living a lie, and bored with my life, narrating the story of my life in a virtual space, finding solace in that.

I haven’t seen the new movie yet, but going by the reviews I am quite sure I would be Harry of Jab Harry Met Sejal. Even Shahrukh’s life has become quite like mine, giving one flop after another, not finding the right script, something that could do him justice. How much ever he wants to be young again, he can’t seem to accept the fact that it is not okay for him to romance actresses half his age in exactly the same way he did twenty years ago.

He needs to grow up, as much as I do.

And as for Imtiaz, as much as I like watching movies similar to my life, you really need to find a new story. Even I am bored of coming of age so many times.


*all images from google.

Just a Thought

“There are times in your life when everyone abandons you,  but you must remember not to abandon yourself.”

( Just a rough translation of something my mother told me today. Thought of writing it down here)


P.S. Well, WordPress just notified me that this is my 200th post here. I have abandoned this blog quite a few times, but I have always come back. This is one place that feels like home to me. Whoever and wherever you are, thank you for being a part of my journey.


And you have lost many wars,
in the past ten years,
you have been bruised,
have wiped countless tears.
You have lost some family,
some well known peers,
you have been hurt,
lost the music to your ears.
But you have always had hope,
hope that the clouds will disappear;
hope of a new world, bright and clear;
hope that success would someday be near;
And for now, that’s what matters my dear.


Some days are so hard to get by, that every effort to not be depressed goes in vain. A half hearted effort in poetry gives you some rhyming lines. And you wait for sleep to embrace you in its arms and make you numb enough to feel no pain. hope1

I Remember…

  • being dragged away from a snow covered road by my mother, my only memory of the place where I was born. May be I was playing in the snow, or I was jumping in it, I really don’t know, just a flash with my mother holding my hand and taking me away with her. I lived there for the first four and a half years of my life, no pictures just that one memory.
  • waiting to board a bus to my native village wearing my favourite green frock, crying afterwards because the road was blocked and I couldn’t visit my favourite place in the whole wide world.


    My heaven ( picture by me)

  • collecting empty packets of Dilbagh gutka with my friend because apparently 50 empty packets would win you a Shaktimaan costume. Yes, we were stupid but in our defence Shaktimaan was a rage back then, many people jumped off from balconies for him, we fools just collected dirty gutka packets.


    Sorry Shaktimaan!!! (Courtesy:google)

  • running through the streets of my small town wearing black pants with floral prints all over them. For some reason they were my favourite. Now that I think of it, I would have surely looked like a clown back then.


    Why oh why! (Courtesy: Giphy)

  • asking for 2-5 Rs commission for every work anyone would ask me to do- getting something from market, oiling hair, being an eyewitness to siblings fight, watering plants. By the time I was 13, I had collected 5000 Rs just from those commissions. I just realised I had way more savings back then.


    I was damn Rich… (Courtesy:tenor)

  • having a list of people I loved, with my mom and brother topping the list on alternate days and my dad being the last member on it, behind almost every member of my extended family.
  • looking at the sky in winters and waiting for snowfall, dancing on the sight of first few snowflakes, sneaking into the garden to taste snow.


    Ah…the magical days with snow! (courtesy: Giphy)

  • always supporting the underdogs- no one liked Abhishek Bachchan so I declared him to be my favourite hero, wouldn’t hear a word against him.


    He isn’t that bad! (Courtesy:twitter)

  • being scared of ghosts. Always keeping a family member outside the washroom, couldn’t imagine being left alone in case a ghost attacked.
  • Thinking that the horizon is where India ended and that other countries lie just beyond the mountains with Pakistan, China and America being the only foreign countries I knew back then. Yes, my geographical sense was at its lowest but in my defence I did live in a district that bordered two foreign countries, China and Nepal. I win!img_0331.jpg


    Oh yeah..That’s my home!!! ( Both pictures by me)

P.S. I just felt like chronicling all these memories on my blog. It would be fun to read all these childhood memories someday.

Oh my Period!!

(Warning: This is a period rant, boys might want to stay away!)


Woke up this morning,

Feeling heavy in my heart,

Oh, boy better stay away,

Or I’ll tear you apart.

My face is all sweaty,

With pimples on my chin,

I am losing sleep,

Throwing money to the bin.

I am feeling so lonely,

Give me a damn hug,

Before I start crying,

Just pass me that drug.

I am hungrier than ever,

get me chips and choco-pie,

Don’t you dare call me crazy,

Or prepare to die.

Mood swings are at its peak,

Hormones are out of town,

Boy, I don’t want to be mean,

But I am down, down, down!

tenor (1)

Well, I am Damn ANGRY!


Gif from here and here.

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