Thursday, June 6, 2013

Door Handles

I have absolutely no idea what I did to incur the wrath of door handles. I always considered the door handles at home as beautiful specimens of the species and firmly believe I treated them with due respect.

But now I feel that the hatred that door handles have of me has been strengthening its roots for a long time now, and has begun directing all sorts of door handles against me.

It all started on a dull grey Tuesday with me accidentally locking my mother outside, in the balcony, when I was two. I almost repeated the incident when I was three, but this time it involved me sitting inside a locked car, playing with some "random" car keys, while my poor mother desperately kept on trying the door handle.
Then, when I was four, my family shifted to a new house, and all the doors had door locks, along with the dreaded door handles. They were all correctly placed and worked perfectly fine, except for the door lock and door handle of my bathroom door, which had somehow managed to place themselves the wrong way, making them exceptionally hard to manipulate.

I should have known then that door handles and I were not going to be the best of chums.

But I never really realized this until the school trip last year, where I locked myself inside a bathroom (the door handle refused to budge), broke a door handle simply by touching it (I swear to all the gods I believe in that I simply laid one solitary finger on it) and made an entire door rattle violently simply by stepping near it (...). I also have faint recollections of being an active participant in the in the destruction of yet another door handle, but as I am not quite sure of the exact details, I shall not dwell on it any further.

The cupboard containing my clothes has been through its share of suffering as well... my father had to force the door handle back into place with a hammer.

Two weeks ago, I succeeded in completely parting a door handle from its door. I had just turned the door handle when it came off in my hand.

And now the door handle of the front door is showing weaknesses in mechanism.

I'm scared.
PS: Maybe it's not just door handles, but doors too. Not to mention the fact that I positively suck at knock-knock jokes.

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Plastic Surgery

If some evil, bald megalomaniac with spindly fingers and cracked fingernails and no eyebrows and nostrils like Voldemort and electric-blue eyes ever wanted to kidnap me, I'd probably go ahead and let him do it. I mean, he might perform some plastic surgery on me! And I wouldn't mind, provided he wears latex gloves and a surgical mask to spare my eyes from the terrifying sight that his needle-sharp teeth would be. Not to mention the horrendous gold-plated one. *shiver*

Let me tell you a secret. I actually specifically want him to kidnap me and distort my facial features. Not all of them, just one. Any guesses? My nose? Maybe silicon cheeks for extra springiness? Or my lips, for ensured cheesiness? Nope. I'd rather have him lay his marvelous albeit ugly hands on my ears and let his fingers do the talking. Yes, that's right, my ears.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with them. But then there's absolutely nothing amazing about them either. They're just perfectly normal ears. And something about that bugs me. Even though I can't see them properly myself, even in a mirror.

So, I've been thinking what to do about them. There were a few things that came to mind:
(A) Get huge, flapping elephant ears to keep myself cool in the summer.
(B) Reduce them to the size of a gnat's ears- but no, that would definitely impair my hearing- how would I be able to eavesdrop on the latest gossip or plug in earphones anymore? (Imagine- no Justin Bieber. I would die in a day.)
(C) Maybe have the megalomaniac sprinkle growth-aiding agents over my ears and in a week, they'll be covered with hair and no one will be able to see them. I thought a lot about that one, but then I realized that it's just too disturbing for some to stomach.

But then, I thought some more, and I realized the answer already lay in my heart, ready to be picked up and dusted off. The answer had probably soaked into my consciousness a long while back, when I indulged myself in sci-fi novels and the like. I realized that I wanted ears that were long and pointed at the ends. Like the pixies' ears in Harry Potter, and Elvish ears in Lord of the Rings, and Spock's ears in Star Trek. And then I realized, oh my bookshelves, I'm such a geek. And a nerd. But then I realized, so what? There's nothing wrong in that. And after coming to that realization, I realized, I have never heard of a geek undergoing plastic surgery. It's always beautiful persons trying to enhance their appearances or those with extremely low self-esteem.  (During the course of the rant, I also realized that I realize way too much stuff)

Where do I fit? In neither category.

So perhaps no evil, bald megalomaniac with spindly fingers and cracked fingernails and no eyebrows and nostrils like Voldemort and electric-blue eyes is ever going to kidnap me. The possibilities of a megalomaniac with blood-red eyes kidnapping me are quite low as well.

Oh my gods, I can't believe that my beautiful dreams floated away like a poofy cloud which is about to vanish with a poof! in the few minutes that it took for me to write this. So basically, all that is never going to happen, and I just wasted 3, or was it 4 minutes, of your life telling you all about my hopeless dream. Thank you for wasting your time.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

The Promenade

Every single evening that I possibly can, I sneak out of the house (of course, I announce that before I go :P) and make my way to the winding, worn-out, weather-beaten walking track near my house.

This promenade is my personal pensieve. (Harry Potter reference, check the post script for more information) While it isn't the most picturesque place in the world, seeing how the traces of garbage and dirt piles destroy the otherwise pristine park, it's the one place where I can actually bring myself to do nothing but think. In the privacy of the peaceful promenade, with amazing background music streaming into my head from my earphones, I somehow tend to become more perceptive than usual- it's a place of perpetual perfectness for me. In the midst of portly men and peppy ladies, I feel more than comfortable with my anonymity. I am quite possessive about that place, which is why not many of friends are allowed to accompany me on my hour long walks. There used to be one, a special friend, who was permitted to join me every now and then, but since I realized what a jerk he was, I walk alone. 

PS: A pensieve is an object used to review memories in the Harry Potter series. Here's an excerpt from 'The Goblet of Fire', which explains it more fully:

"I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form."

Harry: "You mean... that stuff's your thoughts?"
Dumbledore: "Certainly."

PPS: I'm sure that person whom I used to walk with has realized why there are so many words beginning with the letter 'P' in the previous paragraphs.

PPPS: Here are a couple more pictures of the place itself, and believe me when I tell you they are not photo-shopped. (Except for the one above this) It's just a red tube light which makes the place look so haunted at night, and I must say I'm absolutely in love with the idea of it being haunted.

The photograph below is of the track itself. Yes, I walked on that. No, the ground did not fall beneath my feet, nor did it disintegrate into a gazillion pieces. I survived the highway to hell. :)

Saturday, January 26, 2013


If you own the Time Life books, well, then you're definitely a rich person.

These books were my first introduction to the world outside my threshold, and I must say, they were quite  informative indeed. I was about 4 years old when I first flipped through their pages and feasted my eyes on the pictures of extravagant places and things I had never seen. Today, after more than 6 years, I picked my favorites off the shelf and started flipping through the pages one again. It's only now that I realize how integral they were in shaping my mind, my thoughts and every other part of me.

Even the Time Life books for younger children probably lent creativity and order to my imagination, and they consisted of fascinating and colorful worlds, definitely great places to get lost in. If you have a small child or are close to one, I recommend you to catch hold of at least a few of these books for them.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Confessions #1

I'm a stalker.

There. I said it. Won't delete it now.

It actually happened by accident- I never meant to stalk him. But the way we met- it felt like it was almost destined we would. All I knew about him was his name, and that he was a student in my school, in the same grade, but a different section, and that he was interested in manga. That's it- I'd never met him, and I didn't even know what he looked like. And even though I had stopped reading manga at the time I found out that he existed, but I was surprised, and slightly interested, because hardly anyone in my school even knows about manga. (And when I say hardly anyone, I mean the ratio is 1:100)

So I thought about trying to find out more about him for a couple of days, but then I forgot all about him. Then, suddenly after a few months, I randomly started reading manga (I picked up Death Note) again. On the third day after I started reading, I remembered that guy and wondered who he was and if he could advise  me on what I should read next. And on that very day (last Sunday) I had to go to school for an Aptitude Test. There were about 25 other kids in the classroom, half of whom I knew nothing about, and the only person whose name the teacher called out was that guy's. And he was sitting right behind me. I whipped around to take a good look at him, and funnily enough, I'd never set eyes on him before. Or rather, I probably had, but never given it a second thought; even though I, of all people, should know never to judge a book by its cover.

He seemed ordinary enough, but I asked him if he could show me his sketches (which I knew about). I refused to reveal how I found out about him (because it's too embarrassing to talk about, even online). He gave me a list of good manga/anime, the name of his YouTube channel, and said he'd add me on Facebook so I could take a look at his artwork. And get this- the first name of good manga he gave me was Death Note. Which is exactly what I was reading at the time.

That's all I needed to start stalking. And now I know way too much about him.
I hope he never finds out I've been stalking him.

End of random confession.

PS: Do you think it's just mere co-incidence that the day I thought about him (after months of him never crossing my mind), he turned up? And is it also just a co-incidence that I was reading his favorite manga at that time? Or is it something else?

PPS: Even if it is something else, I'm pretty sure it isn't fate. Or love, for that matter. 

PPPS: It could be the Secret! (I'm talking about the book by Rhonda Byrne, which talks about the Secret, which is essentially the law of attraction, which is supposed to attract whatever you think about towards you, which I think is true.)

Yes, I asked to meet him. Yes, I believed I would. Yes, I received what I wanted.

Monday, January 21, 2013

Ananya = Unique = Meee :)

Hello and welcome to my blog... and all that yada-yada...

I'm Ananya, a 16 year old girl currently stuck in the middle of the teeming millions of New Delhi, India (I fantasize about escaping all the time) and this is my blog. Well, it's not much of a blog and more of a diary with which I hope to amuse people, but I'll leave that for you to judge.

The first paragraph should be enough about me, but here are a few tit-bits of information about my love-life, if you want to try to figure out my personality:
  1. Fiction novels were the first love of my life.
  2. I married Harry Potter, and then cheated on him by disappearing off on a Pok√©mon journey with Ash Ketchum. 
  3. After Ash won the Johto League, he became so famous that Harry found out about him and me. He was furious, and it took a long time to console him. 
  4. That's when I decided to scurry off to Mexico, because I thought no one would be able to find me. ( I actually moved there for a couple of years because my dad's job got transferred when I was in the fifth grade. Haha)
  5. I thought I'd be all alone, but then Music and Art started getting interested me, though I never paid much attention at that time.
  6. I went on a few dates with Manga and Ancient History instead, but then I was forced to board a plane and return to my homeland, India. 
  7. And then, for a year or so, I was bored and bored, and then I found out about Justin Bieber. I've been a stalker ever since that Saturday in April 2010, and decided to divorce Harry.
  8. While filing the divorce papers, I bumped into Percy Jackson, and it was love at first sight. Before I left court, I was married for the second time.
  9. Although now I am still the lawfully wedded wife of Percy Jackson, we have separated and I am mentally dating Justin Bieber instead and have occasional flings with Manga, Art, Fan-fiction and Ancient History.

I hope I don't sound like too finicky (or weird :P) a person- I still love every last one of those things and have never really been able to move on from any one of those interests. If you continue reading my blog, you'll probably come across musings and stuff related to all those things I mentioned in that 9 point list (because 9 is my current lucky number).

Hope you read ahead! ~Ananya