A Trade With Death

One stormy night, death visited a boy
His cloak fluttering, his scythe glittering
Death visited that boy

And what a sight he was!
A great big skeleton, radiating melancholy fear
The boy gazed unto him
And knew his time was near

Death asked the boy, with great disdain:
“Boy, it is time,
give me your life
I shall spare you any pain”

Oh, the boy was scared
Oh, the boy was frightened
But in that fear and fright
The boy’s senses were heightened

Now the boy spoke unto death
“Give me your scythe and I’ll give you my life”
What a preposterous trade!
You will trade with Death, the bringer of strife?

But Death was up for a deal,
Nothing amused him more than
The scurrying of mortals
When he came knocking at their door

And then Death spoke:
“Take the scythe boy, you shall have it for a minute,
After then I shall take it back,
With your very soul in it”

The boy looked at the scythe
A sharp blade it was
It glittered and it glistened
Like all the lights on the day of Christmas

The boy took the scythe,
And looked at in amazement
Death grinned a toothy grin,
A sign of his amusement

Now the wielder of the scythe lunged upon death
In his amusement he had forgot
What a wrath of a mortal,nay
What a wrath of a boy brought

The death of Death was sight to see
He screamed and shrieked
Turned and twisted,
But the Boy’s scythe did its work;

And after the deed was done,
And when there was no more death,
The boy took up his mantle,
Now the boy takes away our mortal breath


Welcome To School

Welcome to school. It is the place where you will be spending most of your first eighteen years.

Your general activity is supposed to be regurgitatating knowledge, but as you will soon find out that is not all.

Along with you, other people will also be attending. The term used for these people is “classmates” or “schoolmates”. But do not be surprised if someone (accurately) calls these people “asshats”.

You will soon come to feel pressure from all this work the school has put unto you. To relieve such pressure it is reccommended to take high doses of methamphetamine. Please do be warned this solution is temporary.

If you require a more permanent solution, my personal recommendation is to step off from the seventh floor of a building and let gravity do its work.

But school is not just studies and people! You can partake in irrelevant exercises of mind and body known as extra-curriculars. It is suggested that you do, as it will make your existence just a bit more tolerable.

Now. You are studying, high (or dead) and are partaking in extra-curricular activities! Time to make friends.

As mentioned before the school building is full of asshats. But some of these creatures can infact be befriended. It is just a matter of communication, or in some cases lack thereof.

A few rules I’d like to point out

a) If you understand a topic, you are doing it wrong

b) Never use the school toilets

c) Use the school toilets if sneaking in drugs

d) Don’t talk to that annoying extroverted person

e) Don’t talk to that weird introverted person

f) If you think you did well on a test, you did not.

Liebster Award

Hey guys, back with yet another informal post without any of my wierd angsty behavior. Or am I?

A tone of suspense always lifts the mood. Or does it?

I have been nominated by Professional Dreamer (or have I?) whose blog I am currently stalking and I’m gonna answer the questions like a boss (or am I?)!

Anyways enough of the repetitive humor, here are the rules:

  • Thank the person who nominated you
  • Display the award image on your post
  • Write a small post about what makes you passionate about blogging
  • Provide 10 random facts about yourself
  • Answers the questions given to you
  • Create more questions for your nominees to answer
  • Nominate 5-11 other blogs for this award
  • Comment on the blog post from the Global Aussie with a link DIRECTLY to your Liebster Award

Anyways this is the part where I write what makes me passionate about blogging. Simply put its because it’s my medium of expression. I’m terrible at art. My “attempts” at Vlogs were laughable at best. I don’t sound very nice in my voice logs either. So I turn to a medium where I can express myself easily, freely and with as many swear words I like.

Fuck yes. I just put that in for an immature joke.

Random Facts

1) I cannot dance. At all. The last time I tried, I accidently tripped a girl next to me. She was not very happy about that.

2) I purposefully smashed my head into the wall once. Sort of bled till I was unconscious.

3) Speaking of head smashing, I managed to break a fully grown man’s nose as a kid. (Long story, that one)

4) Dogs like me.

5) Cats do not.

6) I have terrible eyesight.

7) I am neutral towards potatoes.

8)I like pineapples. (Not because of that)

9) I fell one story while riding a tricycle.

10) I’m incredibly proud that I survived the incidents mentioned above.


1: If you could be any character, who would you be and why?

2: Favorite dessert? (the struggle is real, I know)

3: If you could tell the entire world one thing in one paragraph, what would you say?

4: Write a short poem about how you’re feeling right now

5: Laws are no longer enforced. What’s the first thing you do?

As you can see, I’ve copy-pasted all the questions directly without leaving space for the answers. Why? I’m lazy.


1) Hands down I’d be the Doctor from Doctor Who. Whizzing about through time and space is right up my alley. And he also picks up chicks. Picking up chicks is also nice.

2) So there’s this Mango Mousse you get called “Baked Alaska”. It’s has three alternate layers of mango and chocolate, topped with a vanilla crust with chocolate shavings on it.

Yeah. It’s that good.

3) Stop being assholes, you twats.

4) I am sleepy
And my stomach is full
Not to sound creepy,
But I have to poop

5) I’ll just sit and watch the chaos unfold. Like people will be running around stealing cars and shit and I’ll watch everything from a high rooftop with an evil gleam in my eyes.


1) What is your favorite word?

2) Which of the following is a better name for a male child: Babloo Ramdas Chandragupt or Chang Milky Wang? (My creativity is running dry)

3) If you had to live in a painting which painting would it be?

4) Favorite book?

5) Okay, you are the first person to land on Mars. What do you do?


I’m not putting in your real blogger names. You’ll have to click the links yourself if you wanna find out if you are nominated.

1) Ronald McDonald


3) PGM


I walked into the party. A few teenagers mostly adults, seated in rows. Of course the teenagers had arranged the ordered chairs into chaotic circles.

Simple. The plan is simple. Walk up, sit next to them, talk. Stay there for an a few hours. Finish.

Skipping the boring bits, I did so. A girl talked to me. A few others as well. Things were going good.

My visage of self confidence was holding. As it always did. As it always had to.

I decided crack my classic Instagram review trick. I criticized people’s Instagram using words like ‘generic’ , ‘angsty’ or ‘boring’. One might say I was truly at fault for doing this, but people were bored and no one was taking it seriously.

Until the quiet person spoke up.

“Criticise my mine why don’t you?”

I looked at him. Handsome by most considerations. Defined jawline. He had his hair in check.


He must be having fun.

I started “Ah, a pretty generic tag line, Eh?”

Shit. I was using ‘generic’ too much.

So he started.

“Generic? Do you go to school?”


“How generic of you.”

Aggression. I was dealing with aggression. Alright fine.

“Well school is a nessecity you see. A tag line is not.”

“Well, how about you actually be funny, instead of being pretentiously funny?”

“Are you implying something?”

I could feel my legs shaking. What? Where was the self confidence? What?

He raised his eyebrows.

The whole area went quiet. Four teenagers sitting silently, watching an embarrassment about to unfold.

That’s when I started noticing things about him. His posture. He was the one who was in control. He was the one winning.

Shit. This has never happened to me before.

He continued.

“Look me in the eyes”

I did.

“Sit properly”

I did.

What? Why am I following him?

He’s won.

“So long words entangle you huh? Words like pretentious”

“No they don’t”

The girl spoke up.

“Hey guys? You are making this awkward”

We ignored her.

“How many letters are there in the word pretentious? You are shaking by the way”

I was. Shit.

“Uh, hehe, I’ll check”

“You are very easy to intimidate aren’t you? You are dancing on my finger tips”

I was.

My confidence was shattered. I need help. I reached to my pocket and gave my friend a miss call.

“Ah, but you are young”

He was only two years older than me. Young? You are insulting me now?

“You were embarrassing her, how does it feel to be embarrassed now?”

“You are a prick”, enough pacifism.

But the damage was done. My confidence had taken a blow. I was embarrassed. And further more, there were literal tears in my eyes.

My friend called me back. I was saved. I spent the rest of the party with talking to my friend.

You see, what seems like a minor incident to you is serious for me. And I’m only describing a speck of it. My language, my vocabulary is not enough to explain the sheer drop in my self esteem.

I’m always the guy everyone turns to for help. For social reasons atleast. But now I find my self seeking help. But I can’t find anyone to give it to me. This blog was made with the purpose to get my thoughts in order. Here we have it.

My head is a mess.

I’ll just put in some lines my friend said when I indirectly asked him about this.

“Self image is what the person thinks of themselves. Their self image influences their decisions a crazy amount”

Stress, leads to sweating, urge to release stress in an intense manner, irritability”

“Alright, then the first thing to recognise is that in human behaviour, generally emotion trumps reason”

I feel like shit.

I’d keep it ambiguous for if it’s real or fake. But it’s real.

Horrifyingly so.

Life Update #7- Sarcasm And Achieving Goals (Or Lack Thereof)

I’m currently sitting in an airport making meta-humour jokes on my Instagram story which only a small percentage of the population will understand. I’m off to my hometown, and the flight is delayed by two hours and thirty minutes.

I had to wake up at 3A.M.

In conclusion I’m pissed, sleepy and I think I might have been drugged.

So, in other words, it’s a perfect time to review my goals for the summer!


1) Goal: Actually get some economics and geography done, beyond what has been taught.

Reality: Good job, well done I actually did something. Like one chapter ahead of syllabus. But is still something, right?

2) Goal:Understand maths.

Reality: Have given up. I did chapters out of syllabus though.

3) Goal: Get holiday homework done during the holidays, not after them.

Reality: Most of it is done. So…


1) Goal: Learn how to support a singer on the keyboard. (We can’t have you hogging the stage, you damned soloist)

Reality: Didn’t even try.

2)Goal: Compose atleast two pieces. Put it on the internet for criticism.

Reality: I tried but I couldn’t make anything decent. But I did get drunk and improvise though.

3)Goal: Learn atleast three new pieces.

Reality: Um… I’ve started learning one. I just spent my time improvising.

4)Goal: Advance you knowledge of music theory.

Reality: Done.


1) Goal: Get yo cycling game up, boi. I currently collapse after 10km of cycling. Let’s get that up to 15km shall we?

Reality: Overshot that. I do twenty easily.

2) Goal: Get yo swimming game up, boi. I basically start drowning after 350mt of swimming. Let’s double that, Eh?

Reality: Overshot that. I do 1.5 Kilometers easily.

So in conclusion, I have achieved shit, but not enough shit.

God my writing becomes so dull when I’m pissed, sleepy and drugged.


Yey, a collab! I made this poem with Shruti Ohri, and it felt pretty good to collab with her. The photo is also clicked by her (I don’t suppose you can share some of your talent with me?)


As I sit on my chair, facing my table

Behind this messy pile of sheets,

Constantly wringing my wrists in frustration

Disguised words rise as overlooking shadows,

Encouraging me to find inspiration.

Finding letters engraved within moments,

Gaining plots withheld from time

Haste and chaos, all seemed far away;

I searched for a stowaway rhyme

Jigsaws of harmonies leading their own way

Kaleidoscopic thoughts racing by

Leaving traces of fantasies in pieces,

Mastering my ideas, I search for it

Necessary words became illusions to me,

Oblivious to my mind, it drives me to insanity.

Perhaps, there’s an if

Quietly, I hope for a but

Regrets retold as poetry,

Silently, I beg for something to inspire me to a glut

These tiny letters, oh they stare at me haughtily.

Unnerved, I press on

Vowed to this white sheet of emotions

Will I find it:inspiration?

Xylophones couldn’t be as colourful as these ideas,

Yet still, I search for that fiend.

Zooming into the doodles, I deciphered my own plot


Recede, recede away
From the world,
And all its pain
For you have tried,
And naught you have gained

Burn your past
And take your present
Look to the future
Learn your lesson

Recede from the shores
Of melancholy cries,
Where betrayal lives
And true love dies

Recede, for you have no place here
As this a graveyard,
And you are the living


You know that one guy,
That center of attention?
Untalented, unloving
Yet everyone mentions?

That one pretentious brat
Who, by the way, looks like a twat
And, as a matter of fact,
Is a complete prat?

The collection of traits which you hate the most,
This is the person who has them all
And person who you would gladly roast
Over a pit fire,
Such that others would be appalled

Well, this person, is stuck in a room with you,
What do you do?

I made a post like this a couple of months ago. Another prick of a similar description has been annoying me recently. God. I sometimes just hate being polite.

Woes In A Restaurant

Teenagers are famous for the utterly ridiculous actions they commit. This is one of them.

So, today, I visited my friend (let’s call him A). After playing some PS4 and exhausting all general nodes of conversations two boys can have (sports, holidays, food, school, girls, etc.) we decided we would go to the mall.

Now, I would like to point out that our parents aren’t as fluid with our monetary needs as many other parents in other parts of the world.

We acquired ₹400 to spend in the mall, however we feel fit. ( ₹ is the currency used in India)

So, to summarize, we were two extremely irresponsible teenagers, in a mall, with ₹400.

Ofcourse we were going to spend the money on food, but where?

We looked around.

KFC- nah, too mainstream

Pizza? Not enough money for the both of us.

We needed something chic. Something we could show off about on social media. Something to show our fun-loving side but the infinite complexities within us. (Yes, that was our thought our process.)


“The Reader’s Cafe” A read out.

“That looks nice. Cheap as well, I bet. Also, it’ll probably make us look good on Instagram”

“Yep, let’s go”

And so we went. We entered the Cafe and we felt out of place immediately.

We were surrounded by books. I would love to be surrounded by books and so would A, but it was not the books which made us feel out of place.

It was the people.

Everyone there was in their twenties. And they were staring at us, like an aggressive dog stares at an intruder in its territory.

We grabbed a seat slap bang in the center of the shop.

Anxiety crept up my spine.

A’s face was red.

Let’s just order something and get out.

We opened the menus.


The cheapest thing we could afford on the menu was “Extra Sauce” at ₹40.

We were not up for having “Extra Sauce”.

“Alright, then just get up and leave then” the reader might think.

And that was our original plan of action.

But when a waiter came over to take our orders, instead of saying “We are still thinking” A blurted out:

“A Virgin Mojito, a Pina Colada, and a plate of spaghetti in pesto sauce”


That’s ₹400 above our budget, dumbass!

I stared at him.

He stared back.

He smiled nervously.

I put my hand to my head.

“Fuck” we said in unison, possibly in two part harmony.

“Okay what now?” I asked.

“We leave and we never come back”

I looked around. The hotel staff was glaring at us.

A started to get up.

More people glaring at us now.

I started to get up.

At this point the glaring had escalated to such a level it felt like a stand off.

Us versus a bunch of millennials.

They’d win ofcourse.

A dashed out. I was a bit slow in my actions but I followed suit.

Adrenaline rushed through us. I looked back. No one was following us. Are we breaking laws here? If yes, there’s one thing off my bucket list.

We ran to the opposite part of the mall.

We cringed, remembering what happend.

“KFC then?” A asked me.

KFC it is.

Melancholy Melodies

I get inside the car. I press the power button for the radio. A song comes on. The car starts.

A few stray notes here and there. Nothing from which I can get a clear structure. But the sound consumes me.

Then it begins.

Articulate arpeggios come rolling in. The violins follow pace. It only lacks one crucial thing.

A voice.

I close my eyes. I concentrate on the music, hoping to hear the voice which this song sorely needs.

My mind drifts to other things. Other more pressing things which need my attention. Friends. Family. Our damned maths teacher.

The car starts to move. Who’s driving? My father? I don’t bother to open my eyes. The music has me enticed. The car picks up speed. A strange feeling passes over me. Serenity.

Then it hits.

A female voice. Suitable for the instruments backing it up. It’s beautiful.

She sings brilliantly. She almost drowns out the violins. The piano’s volume struggles to keep up. She’s powerful.

My mind continues to wander.

The slow song has started to accelerate. The passion in the singers voice is clear. She stops suddenly.

The piano takes over. The violins stop. Time stands suspended in that moment, where music meets introspection. The car is moving fast now. Whoever’s playing is good.

The violins join in, their sound smooth like silk. And then the female voice. The song continues.

I’m lost in my introspections by this point. I don’t notice what the singer sings, but only the melody.

The song has reached its climax. The pitch is heightened. The pianist hits the most suspenseful chords. The violins trail right behind.

The song slows.

The car is slowing down too. I think we have reached where we wanted to go.

My eyes are still closed, my mind agitated. It has lost its serenity. I open my eyes.

The penultimate note is played.

The car stops.

I get out.

The song ends.