You’re Facebook. You’re Google. They’re not you.

Internet. Believe it or not, but I just described your entire life with that one word. Actually, not just that, but your parents’, your partner’s, your friends’ and even so your enemies’ lives. Such is today’s condition. Every word we type, every button we click, every place we visit, everything we speak – is being recorded and stored somewhere. Creepy? Not really. Why might you ask? Well. Here’s my answer: Didn’t you know what you were up against when you signed up for the internet?

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If you don’t play, you lose.

Being from a family that is into all kinds of sports, I was introduced to various sports right from a very young age. Whether it was Ganguli spinning his shirt like he’s gotten the cowboy fever, or it was Schumaker drifting towards a new world record. I loved the excitement that came with watching a legend Federer take on Nadal and the nervousness that came with seeing if Portugal would finally enter a Fifa final or not.

I picked up the bat before I hit ten, and just like every other kid in the neighborhood, decided that I would play for India one day. With that goal set, I would go play a million street games a day – shouting at every no ball, arguing about the run-out, and trying my best to get that perfect yorker. Towards my ninth standard, I finally had a chance to play professional cricket. Continue reading “If you don’t play, you lose.”

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From the eyes of Hopeless.

Was it too much to ask? I look up to find a tall man confused – probably wondering if I was worth a shot or not. I wanted to convince him to give me the two pennies he’d been juggling in his palms. I wanted to polish his shoe, and tell him that I’ll earn it – that I won’t take his money for free. If none of the above managed to draw the coins towards me, I wanted to give him enough reasons. But all I could manage to do was look at him. Words were swallowed in the darkness of this mess I brought myself in. Tears were dried because the skin needed them more than the world. He looked at me, still having the same question mark on his face, and I smiled. Continue reading “From the eyes of Hopeless.”

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Tunnel without the light.

So, I give you my shoulder to cry on. I hug you real tight. And tell you that you’ll be fine. That I’ll be beside you and help you through this. I’ll be there for you. And while I’m doing that, out of nowhere, you take out a knife and stab me. I ignore it, and tell you to calm down. We can still fix it. And then you don’t listen, you stab me again. In the same place. And stab me again. And stab me again. And again. In the same fucking place. And there comes a point where it hurts so bad and I’m bleeding so bad that the blood from my stomach looks like a waterfall, and I’m still hugging you trying my best to calm you down, but then the hurt gets unbearable and I feel like I’m going to die. And then I think of Ann. And my family. And how they need me alive than dead. And for once in my life, I be selfish – only because some few very deserving people need me to be there for them – and I push you away.

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