Friends

Friends. What do they mean to us?

Age five. What is a friend at the age of five? That one person who shares their cookie with you and gives you the green crayon, I guess. Friendship at the age of a toddler works on a give and take basis. It’s a barter system of material things and perhaps a few deeper elements such as time or loyalty.

Age fourteen. That one person you giggle with, get into trouble with and fight with. The one person that you can tease without consequences . Friendship at the age of fourteen is about trust, loyalty, love, jealousy, hate and passion. Adolescence is like clay. It’s that part of life that is the beginning of the process of the shaping of the person that we eventually become.

Age Thirty. The beer buddy. The college roommate that stuck with you throughout college stupidness and proved himself to be your friend. Reminiscence, regret, and realization of failure or success become a part of friendships. A longing for all that is past and an apprehension of the future, all the while, knowing that some things will never change. Like the fool sitting next to you half passed out at the bar, but your bond him growing stronger by the day.

Age Sixty. Life is finished and done with. An analysis of it must be done. And for that you have your little fishing trips with those people you call friends. People connected by a rope of loneliness that brings them together to share in the final joys of life.

What are friends, but passing ships that happen to be sailing in the same waters, and drifting along in the same direction as you.

Place

I have been to many places. I am currently in many places. My mind takes me to several others. I find it interesting that I can close my eyes, simply wish to be somewhere, conjure up my version of what I remember or think a particular place was, and some deep magic transports me to that space and time continuum.

I close my eyes and think of it raining back home. The smell of wet earth, the sound of thunder and the feel of wet cool drops.

Books can transport me too. Descriptions of different countries, magical lands and secret places of the heart, books can take me there.

The one place I do want to go to is Pandora. Not many people have heard of it, and I’m more than sure you haven’t either. I haven’t been there myself, but I know people who have gone there. They say it is difficult to get there and that the road is long and hard, not many survive the journey and even fewer like the place enough to stay there.

It is a land with mountains as high as the ocean is deep, and oceans that are as blue as the bluest bluebell. The grass is as tall as me and the critters unlike those you could have ever seen. The person who I know went there said he could swear that he saw lions dancing and mermaids chatting up a storm.

No, I am not delusional, I am not schizophrenic. He brought something back to prove that Pandora exists. He knew I wouldn’t believe him that easily. I am as skeptical as skeptics get. What he brought back proves, without a doubt, that Pandora exists.

I hope to go there soon. You should come too. We could make a summer holiday out of it.

I can go there anytime I want now. He gave me a map.

Family

Families are like fudge - mostly sweet with a few nuts. ~Author Unknown

Have you ever noticed that all families have those quirky elements within them? They either have this peculiar habit or have this crazy phrase that for some strange reason they wanna keep saying over and over again like it was the Lord’s prayer?

When my dad was my age, he would eat nothing but rice and sugar. He would add heaps of sugar to his meal and claim it was the most delicious thing ever. Not to mention one of my grand aunts who would wake everyone up just to ask them if they were sleeping.

That’s one of the great things about family. No matter how quirky or crazy you are, it’s still a tiny niche in the big bad world that’s made just for you. It’s like a puzzle piece that fits. Family can be such a simple yet profound concept that it is hard to put it into words. They share a love that goes beyond human understanding. A sense of belonging, comfort, care and acceptance can be so important in a person’s life and most often defines the person they become.

My dad, mom, me and my dog make up my family. And yes, animals can be human too.

Families remind me of fungus. Now I bet you’re thinking I’m the quirky crazy one in my family, and you’re probably justified in thinking so. Coming back to my theory, I believe that families grow, then, little pieces break off and form new families. Just like fungus.

It hurts to see families torn from the very purpose that they were designed for. They stem from a human longing of wanting to be loved, a need for companionship and a necessity to share our lives with people around us. When relationships with family go sour, and those basic emotional rights are taken away from us, I think we become less than human.

“The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together.” ~Erma Bombeck

Home

Home. It’s big. It’s blue and green. I share my home with different people. Some of them look like me, most of them don’t. I don’t just share my home with different people, I share my home with different creatures too. Most of them live in the water, some live in trees and deep within the ground. The Earth is my home, and I love to share my home.

Home. It’s the seventh largest country in the world and has the second largest population. I live in a tiny city within my country. The city I live in is the capital of my country. I love my city. It’s dynamic and exciting, never a dull moment if you lived in my city. I lived in a small apartment in my city and I shared it with my dad, my mom and my dog comet. New Delhi, India is my home and I hope to go home soon.

Home. Over the last couple of months, I have started to call the city of Tampa, home. After having lived here for a couple of months, and making friends, this university campus is starting to feel like home. It will be my home for the next three years. The University of Tampa, Florida is my home, and I want to grab the opportunities I get here.

Home. What really makes home, home? That inner peace that makes me feel I don’t have to pretend. I can be me without having to worry what people around me might think or say. It’s where I feel loved and wanted. My opinion counts at home, and I will always feel encouraged. People around me will love me despite the silly immature decisions I might make and be proud of me for the responsible choices I make. The people who love me are my home and I love them too.

Home could be abstract or something tangible. It could be sense of peace, a specific city or house or even a person. It’s where or with whom I am true to myself and can be assured that I will be loved for and cared for.

My past will be forgiven, my present will be appreciated and my future will be encouraged. Wherever that is a reality, is my home.

~ Those eyes ~

They speak of sorrow,
They speak of grief
The eyes of him who has seen more
Than his fair share
Of hopeless horror, nothingness and despair

And eternity would be
Too short a time
To attempt to erase
From mind's eye
All that this mortal eye has seen

It comes like the lightning,
sudden and fierce
The memories are shivers down my spine
I have risen from their reality,
But I'm haunted by their visions

In the innocent's corner i lie
Stripped of my sanity
I have seen that
Which i should not have had to see.
I have have felt what no one should feel.
Fate has dealt to me
An irrevocable memory
I pay richly for it.

They speak of injustice
They speak of bitterness
They speak of horror
They speak of doom

The eyes of him who has seen more
Than his fair share
Of hopeless horror, nothingness and despair.

!!!My Friends!!!

This is dedicated to the four people in my life who’ve helped me through it all…
In their order of appearace :)

Charu, Gladson, Anjali n’ Saumi

It was the year of the millenium,
N’ I was in grade three
I did’nt notice her much,
But I guess she noticed me.
The second, I was accquainted with in grade seven.
That irritating kid was such a wannabe
What I did’nt realise, was that that kid,
Was my best friend to be.
The third, I met in grade eight,
The tomboy who was kinda like me…
I guess, you could say that I was the lock,
N’ she was the key…
The fourth in grade nine
And thoughi thought it was late,
It did’nt take long for us to be.
He always looks out for me.
These people helped discover me,
And have made me who I am.
And now I realise, we’ve a year before we ccreep away,
And depart, our own separate ways.
And I hope to God,
That I don’t lose them along my way.
Cause sincei’ve been seven, and now I’m 16,
They’ve been the ones who’ve helped me be me.

To me, they mean the world

~~ Thanks for bein’ there guys!!! Love ya all so much!!! ~~

IrOnY

There once lived an ant named irony.
The bee loved it.
The flower was grateful.
The soil felt fresh.
The earthworm wriggled in glee
.The simple miracles of everyday.
A blue sky. Pollution.
The trees growing. Deforestation.
The raindrops falling. Acid rain.
The fields of wheat growing. The pests within.
The deep blue sea. The toxic waste.
Snow flakes falling. Glaciers melting.
Money spent on security systems. Terrorism.
A hue and cray about values and morals. Crime rates soaring.
The best education money can get. The worst character someone could posses.

There once lived an ant named irony.
The bee loved it.
The flower was grateful.
The soil felt fresh.
The sun from it's zenith set in the horizon.