Saturday, December 27, 2014

Autobiography of a Plagiarist

Disclaimer - This blog post is a work of fiction.


Some say truth triumphs! I had never experienced it until last winter! This change cleansed me and transformed me into a good individual. Some say that there is no difference between people who steal others things  and those who snatch others ideas. I had been doing that for my material gains.  Google turned out to be my best friend for it provided me everything that I desired. Being a blogger and an amateur writer, my mind constantly required to produce and reproduce several ideas. Most of the blogging sites that came up with  different blogging contests often came up with attractive and lucrative prizes  - iPad, iPhone, Kindle, Mac Books and various electronic gadgets. I seemed to have been blinded and smitten  by these prizes that I resort to snatching ideas. 

5th November 2013 – was the day when blogger.com came up with a PAN level blogger contest. The winner of that contest was to be awarded an iPhone. ‘Human Heart Vs Human Brain – Measuring conflicts. What does the heart say when the brain says no?’ It was a  topic that had to be dealt with utmost sensitivity. I usually suck at writing such articles.  The prizes attracted my eyeballs. Gluttony hurts, it  kills!
I started thinking over the topic and my brain couldn’t conceive constructive ideas relevant to the theme of the contest. I was disappointed at the fact that I was turning creativity handicap. It was indeed challenging. Any writer wouldn’t succumb to an act that I did! I typed – Heart Vs Brain on the Google Search bar and I received numerous web links. I went through the websites one by one and accumulated points.  I jotted down the points and tried to put it on my own words.  While exploring few of those websites, my eyes grabbed the attention of a blog written by an American Teenager - Brenda Anderson.

“Heart is symbolic of emotions, feelings; attachments. It has its own reasoning which the mind may not approve of, probably because it lacks the evidence or arguments that prove it to be right. But has an understanding that assures it of not being wrong.
At times, the high EQ (emotional quotient) may overshadow the strong IQ.
The reason for it is simple when faced with a situation; our heart pulls us to one direction and the mind to the other. We don't know which way to go this gives rise to a conflict that interferes with our ability to think rationally. There is no direction, just a dead point. We feel lost and our mind stops working, stops thinking and then we become totally dependent on what our heart tells us, after all, it's our last resort.”

This was something that I was looking for! Spot it! I copied the entire post on my document and started working on it. I meticulously made good use of the thesaurus and changed meanings of certain complex words. I made its vocabulary easy to understand. I optimized it for an Indian audience.  The deadline for the blogger contest was approaching. Brenda Anderson was indeed a blessed girl. I explored her blog and it was the repository of literature work. Her works dealt with the highest level of art and literature. I envied her for some reason. She would have won several blogger contests if she were in India. Perhaps, at that moment, I never felt guilty publishing someone else’s article under my name and that too under PAN India level. I was feeling jubilant when I posted the link to the blogger page. I was quite sure that I would win. I had no traces of guilt in my heart. Weeks passed and even months!  The contest results were about to be announced.  Many people had appreciated that article that I had lifted from Brenda Anderson’s blog and no one had even the slightest doubt that it was a stolen one. I had received over 100 comments for that single blog post. People enjoyed reading it and they had scribbled genuine comments for that. It did make me smile! But that night, I couldn't sleep peacefully. My conscience knocked me hard to make me feel that I had done the biggest mistake of my life. It indicated me that this was a big shame. How could a person fall down to this level? It wanted to correct my mistake. I contemplated and thought over my act! But it seemed that the results were already announced. I was declared as the winner. I was entitled to get an iPhone. I was feeling guilty and my greed for material products had to be reprimanded. I was feeling low and disappointed.  Finally, I listened to what my heart said to me and contacted the organizers. I spilled the beans! I informed them that I had lifted the article from an American girl’s blog and modified it as per my needs. But that was an honest confession. I had tears in my eyes when I spoke all that to the organizers. The organizers discussed and decided to go with the results as announced. They had awarded me the prize for my honesty. I could have simply opted to conceal the truth, but my conscience didn't let me sleep peacefully. For years to come, my heart would have been heavy with the guilt that would often remind me of the scar that it had left! But I acknowledged my conscience by doing something that it desired.  But it would have been inappropriate if I had accepted the prize. The organizers didn't budge and I had to accept the prize.


Image is taken from here 
All the 100 plus comments that the blog post received belonged to that girl. It was the efforts of that American girl who deserved so many appreciations. I had just been a channel. I quickly added the link of her post to my blog post and added a line that my post had been inspired from Brenda's blog post.
I quickly inspected her blog for her contact details. “You may want to let me know how you feel about my blog posts :) How?  Write me at brenda.anderson7@live.comIt was mentioned at the right sidebar of the blog. 

“Dear Brenda,
You might be wondering who this is. I would like to call myself as the greatest fan of Miss Brenda Anderson. Yes, I am a huge fan of your writing. I bumped across your blog through Google and I’m glad that I found it. Your articles have touched me deep! I would like to say something important. Last month I took part in a PAN India level contest and I had won it.  Please don’t get me wrong when I say that I had stolen ideas and points from your blog. I had lifted it. I’m feeling ashamed because of my act. Check this link – virtualstroller.blogspot.com/heartvsmind. All the comments on this blog post are meant for you.  Kindly forgive me. Please provide me your address.

Yours Truly,
Sankit”

I waited for her reply. Finally, two days later she replied me.

“Dear Sankit,
I’m so happy that you won the blogging contest. I’m indeed very happy for you. Thank you for all the kind words in the last email. That was sweet of you :). You don’t need to be sorry. You had taken my blog post and I’m glad you won it. It was nice going through the various comments in the blog post in the link that you had sent me. You are a nice soul, Sankit! Please do not say that you had stolen my blog post. : )  I have blog rolled you and consider me as a regular reader of your blog. You too do the same and yes whenever you read my post do leave some nice comments :P And my address is –
2411, Andersons Avenue, AV, Green Park, GA, Atlanta 30301, USA

Stay in touch, Sankit! Xoxox
Take Care,
Brenda ”

I was so happy to read all that. I quickly parceled the iPhone to her. I was not the right owner to that Apple product.  Initially, she refused to accept it. But after insisting she accepted it. We soon turned out to be good friends.  Yes, Truth indeed Triumphs! Sometimes you just need to be true to yourself. Sometimes you just need to listen to your heart. It's an offense to steal others creativity!
-------------------------------------------------------------- 


Friends, many times we knock Google’s door for ideas when our brain refuses to produce adequate necessary desired ideas. I feel disheartened to see and hear such things. My heart hurts when I read my blogger friends writing statuses on Facebook citing their plagiarized blog posts. Trust me that it is something that hurts any blogger. Who would like their blog post to be snatched? Remember that a plagiarist is no different than a thief. The difference is that a plagiarist steals others ideas while a thief steals products.  A plagiarist could steal someone’s blog post, but they can never steal someone’s creativity! Dear Plagiarists – Please do not hurt creative souls here. Your conscience will hurt you and you would live a life of guilt! If you go on to get inspired by someone's work then do let the article owner know about this and you could link their blog post to yours. That would be a kind gesture. While using an image from Google, do give credits to the  image owner. This blog post might be a work of fiction, but this might be true for many of you out here! Stay blessed my creative people!


Sunday, May 20, 2012

Autobiography of a Sperm.


Disclaimer -Fun Post. All photos are taken from Google Images!



 
Sperm is what everyone calls me. Length 55 microns and speed 35 micrometers per seconds. This world so full of opportunities and I keep waiting for mine.Living in  a pool of a viscous fluid along with my   other million friends my sole motto of life is to have fun. This keeps us going, the fluid I mean! It is super rich in Proteins, Fructose, Vitamin C, several enzymes and minerals. I have a tail that I wag every time while swimming. The Central Nucleus is to us like the Brain is to you guys. You won't believe when I say that I am  responsible for passing over half of the genetic information to a human baby. Imagine such a tiny thing me having such a super power or whatever you call it. Chachin and Spermwarya are my best sperm friends.  Chachin always used to tell me that he would grow up to be the famous sportsperson in this world. He would do many ad films and earn lots of money. Spermwarya is  ambitious. She  wants to be a rich woman and a beautiful actress in movies.  I don't have big dreams  like theirs. 
I just need a  perfect life.That's it! Just make it large. If tomorrow someone asks me something, I shouldn't ask myself that "Have I made it large?" Life is unpredictable. You guys are born out of a male and a female but we are not. We hail from cell divisions.
I popped out because of one such cell division.  Spermatozoon is what few people call me. Each one of us possesses around 38 MB of DNA information. It takes 64 days for us to grow into a fully matures Sperm. The craziest fact about us is that we are the smallest cell in your body. You must be wondering how I know all this. Well, my Granna told me. Yes, our grandfather sperm is the oldest sperm living in our pool. I tell you that our life  is full of pain and the funniest part is that although our life span is short we enjoy living during those short period of time.
“Guys rush to Granna Sperm's sector. He wants to talk to us," A group of senior sperms swam towards us. We followed their orders without any hesitation and swam to the Grandfather Sperm's area.
"My Loving Children, I have a reason to call you all today," Granna Sperm said.
"What's the  reason Granna?" We all shouted in unison.
"Yes, have patience. I will tell you," he said.
"Your call will come very soon. Each one of you here standing here will race towards the darkness of hope,” Grandfather sperm said with a straight face.
"You are friends now. But within a matter a time you all will turn into foes and will compete against each other. You will race with each other towards the biggest mystery of life which will be unfolded and only you shall know the reason," he added.
"You will take part into the battle of Supremacy, the survival of existence." 
"Await your call dear children," he said and went inside. Chachin, Spermwarya and I looked at each other with confusion. He never explained us what 'darkness of hope' was.

"What now? I don't want our friendship to be ruined under any circumstances." Spermwarya's eyes turned moist.
"Fret Not. We are friends forever," I said to her. Everyone left towards their own areas in Testipur, where we lived together happily.
I went to meet grandfather. 
"Grandfather, May I enter?" I , like an obedient student knocked the door.
"Sure child son, get in," Granna Sperm said.
"What's the darkness of hope?" I asked him, curiousness in my eyes.
"It is the chamber of the secret that will unveil new hopes to your future. It will decide your future, and you  and your friends will fight with each other. The winner of that race will make it large." He chuckled.
"What about the others here and their future?" I curiously asked him.
"Eventually they all will have to die. Such is the mystery of life. Only one out of you guys  will win and the others have to succumb," he said.
"And what about that call? When will we get the call?" I asked.
"Any Moment. Be prepared.  You shall battle it out with the others like you." He showed faith in me.
"But is it possible that we will really reach the 'hope' in the darkness of hope," I asked him.
"Could be. At times, there are circumstances where most of them from this clan die. It’s because of some of the cruel and selfish beings who kill us because of their own selfish pleasure."
He coughed and continued," Not everyone in this clan is born to win. Only the special one tastes victory. It is the one who chases his destiny demystifies the secret of the darkness of hope,"

"But how do sperms from our clan die without reaching the darkness of hope?" I asked curiously.
"Silly!Selfish men shed their sperm and it’s quite sad to know that most of our clan members are found dead on the bed sheets and washrooms and on underwears," he said.
"And few  obstruct us with the help of certain spermicides as a result of which we are caught in the gateway to the darkness of hope,” he added.
"You are too old. What about your call?" I asked him with some shade of innocence to which he laughed.
"Good question. You said I 'm old and you are right. Even if my call arrives, I will die as I've lost my motility." He smiled.
"Sad. Will I make it big and large?" I , like a sweet sperm asked him. 
"Why not dear? Just wait for the call,” he said and left. I spend few hours pondering over those lines which he said. It was complete darkness. I was with my friends. I heard a babble of voices of a woman moaning. I had got an intuition that something miserable was going to happen. Was it supposed to be my call? Within no second, a group of us around 200 millions of us were spewed into complete darkness. The moaning stopped. I saw lot of us getting active. Chachin and Spermwarya were with me. Everyone seemed to be swimming towards their destiny. We all were blindly following each other. I observed that some of our group members died on their way. We were being quick. It was like the biggest race of my life. We all were swimming fast. Most of my friends died. Even Chachin and Spermwarya died. I could not even locate them as I never looked behind. Grandfather’s words blared on my mind. It continuously rang on my mind. If I had to make it large, then I will have to sacrifice my loved ones and keep swimming towards my destiny. The darkness of hope never ceased to show me dreams. I kept swimming until I saw complete brightness. I saw 'hope' which was smiling at me. It was enticing me. I wagged my tail and went near it. Two of us finally made it. My next step was to fight the other sperm and reach the hope. I successful defeated the other sperm and fused with the hope. A new ray of hope gave me the utmost joy of my life. My body got disintegrated and I saw complete brightness. Pure Bliss! It was then I realized that I had successful made through the darkness of hope and reached hope. I was an intelligent sperm and hence I knew that I would make it. After that I didn't knew what happened but I thought that I had made it large.
>><><< 
After many years....
"Neha, you are so pretty and beautiful," Ricky said.
Neha had a beautiful round face. The face of the sweetest angel ever. She had a perfectly arched brow. Her eyes were brown and the entire beauty of the world seemed to have been confined into her eyes. It was so mysterious yet deep that it highlighted her beauty. The charcoal dark eyebrows framed her round face. She had a perfect tiny nose. She hid the eternal universes behind.
"You are the most pretty and the most intelligent girl I have seen in my life, " Ricky smiled at her to  which Neha blushed.
"Today, I am the youngest CEO of a famous IT company and I still  have many things to do in life ," Neha said.
"But I don't know if I have made it large," she said and smiled.
"Have I?"
 >><><< 

Out of nowhere, a virtual representation of the grandfather sperm popped up.
"Yes, you definitely made it large and I knew it you will!I am proud of you dear," Granna sperm said.


Images have been taken from Google Images.

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Saturday, May 19, 2012

Autobiography of a 11 yr old..


 Disclaimer - This is a work of fiction. No intentions to hurt any one. No Offense.
 

Hello Everyone. I am Riya and I am 11 years old. Well to be honest, I am not a big thing on earth but I should say that mother has been constantly saying that I turned into a woman since 2 months. That’s quite strange but obviously she must have meant something. Life seems to have changed 2 months back. Those two months weren’t fun at all. Trust me I have gone through serious problems since the last 2 weeks. It just scared the hell out of me when i experienced it for the first time. I am talking about the menarche. I am always a fun loving person and I always intend to keep the environment and people around me lively. I have an elder sister who stays at my Uncle’s place. I have a younger brother of 7 years old with whom I fight every day. It was one such day when I wrestled with him. Usually I win the battle with my little brother. That day I felt weird and strange. For a change my brother won the battle. I went to bed very early that night. I saw blood stains and I realized that something must have hurt me during the wrestling match. The next day I woke up and left for my school. I sat on the last seat. We have a white school uniform. My teacher observed the stains on my white skirt and asked all the senior boys to go to the front seat. She possibly saved me from an embarrassing situation. I like an innocent never knew what to do. I was scared to hell. The teacher covered me with her shawl and sent me home. My mother came to take me.

"Go straight to your room," She told me.
Like an obedient daughter I followed her order. I went straight to my room. She came and closed the door. She made me sit on the bed and looked at my eyes.
"When did it happen?," She asked me.
"What  ...Maa?," I casually asked her.
"Idiot..the stains," She said.

My mother is a typical Indian mom. At times she turns serious and at times she is so confusing. I sometimes fail to understand her.
"Yesterday I was wrestling with Chandu and I got hurt," I said with a sad face.
"Oh how stupid you could be...idiot," She said and smiled. She explained me the reason behind it. I was shocked. She was right and I realized it as the physical structure of my body started changing. "Mother, I am scared," I told her.
"Don't be..Now this is a part of your life," She told. *what the hell...part of my life*

"Oh no...Don’t say that please...,” That one day made my life miserable. Now I started hating to be a girl. I looked at my Mother as my eyes welled with tears. "Don't be sad...you are turning into a woman...just remember that don't play with guys like you always used to do," She said me.

"Okay but what about the wrestling matches ...," I said with a straight face. "No No...no wrestling...never ever do that ...and yes if this happens again then do inform me..," Mother told me.

But one question that perturbed me was why I shouldn’t interact much with guys. I have slept several sleepless nights thinking over that thing which mother said. I had a strong desire to know what she actually wanted to say. But sadly there was no one to help me out. I asked my friends and none of them knew it. Even my elder sister wasn't with me so that she could help me. I have always been a good child to my mother but sometimes I feel that she is a mystery. I pestered her asking her the reason why I shouldn't play and interact with guys. So finally I decided to find it out myself. I saw a movie where I saw that the hero kisses the actress. It was a romantic scene. The very next scene which I saw showed the couples with a baby. "Oh my ...this is so strange," I said to myself. It was then I realized that when a guy and a girl kiss each other, they get baby. I was afraid of asking my mother as I was already scared as I have asked her over 10 thousand questions related to the same. The next day I cautiously stepped to school. There was a change in my behaviour. I should admit that I have always been a beautiful girl and I have got many followers in form of boys. Senior boys used to follow me like crazy. There was a smart boy in my class who liked me. I liked him too. But I wanted him to say the magical words. I was too young for all this but love never knows any age. But one day out of nowhere he proposed me during a free lecture. All the girls laughed at us. I was completely taken aback and I said yes to him. He was Ricky and 12 years old. Probably he had flunked one class. We started hanging out together. Most of the time we would go for coffee together. It was during our Semester exam that we decided to do our group study. We, a group of 4 girls and guys studied together. Everyone left for home after we studied except Ricky. He looked straight into my eyes. He was tempting me to kiss.
That was the time my mother’s word blared on my mind. “Don't interact with boys.."
 
I never wanted to let her down but I loved him. As he neared to kiss me, the angel popped into my mind with her wings from nowhere and asked me not to do this. I made up my mind and decided not to kiss him. The devil also popped in from nowhere and persuaded me to kiss him. I saw the devil and angel fighting with each other. But finally I kissed him. It was the first kiss of my life. We kissed each other for long time. We paused for a while and kissed again. For a moment we forgot about our Maths exam. We stopped and got back to studies. He smiled at me and later he left.  That night I could not sleep. How could I kiss him?. How on Earth could I kiss him?. Why did I kiss him? .These questions disturbed me. Mother’s words flashed on my mind along with the movie which I saw. 

"Oh my God..," I screamed at the top of my voice. I didn't want to become a mother at 11. May be this was the reason why mother warned me in advance. I believed that kissing can make a girl pregnant. But I never wanted a baby. I was flummoxed and frustrated for the same reason. I quickly rushed into the bathroom and scrubbed my lips with the disinfectant until blood came. My lips became bloody red but still I was afraid. I punched my stomach so that the baby never formed. I punched again and again. It pained me but I was still scared. I went to my room quietly and opened my book but I could not focus on my studies. A baby picture appeared in front of my book. I helplessly threw my book aside and turned on TV. Discovery Channel used to be my favourite TV channel. It showed a program about the formation of baby. I felt like banging my head on the nearest wall. I was actually scared of telling all this to mother but what if she beat me. My mind was infused with thousand thoughts. I perhaps shouldn’t have kissed Ricky. I was of the opinion that he made me pregnant. But I decided to let my mother know. Like a quiet kid, I entered my kitchen. Mom was preparing dinner for us.

“Maa , I need to tell you something serious,” I said with my head facing the floor.
“Tell me sweety...what happened to your lips?,” She asked me.
“Nothing maa..,” I said and left for the main room where my little brother Chandu was playing with his toys. I once again came to kitchen.
“Maa...I think I am pregnant.. I am sorry mother..,” I cried.
“What....,” She was perplexed.
“What are you saying?,” She asked me.
“Mother I kissed Ricky and I think I am pregnant,” I said.
“Did you had sex with him?,” she asked to which I remained silent.
“Did you had sex with him?,” She repeated again. I remained numb. She slapped me. How the hell was I supposed to say something which I never knew. I never knew what sex was. I only knew that my sex was a female.

“Will you open your mouth Idiot?,” she got angry.
“I just kissed him...,” I said. “Oh thank god...you are not pregnant,” She heaved a sigh of relief.

“Oh thank God..,” This time I heaved a sigh of relief.
“Maa, what do you mean by having sex?,” I, like an innocent kid asked her. She explained me everything in details. It was then I realized that I was actually wrong. I would have appreciated her if she had told me before. Women don’t get pregnant by just kissing. The actor and the actress must have done something after that kissed but probably the TV guys didn’t just show that for some reasons. A lots of things happens to a girl when she attains puberty.

 Image Courtesy - Google Images.

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Monday, April 16, 2012

From the Diary of a Biker!

From the Diary of a Biker!

 **This has been written for the Castrol Power1 Blogging contest  ( Facebook Link) at Indiblogger.in
Nights wouldn't have been interesting if only they were night.I gave a new definition to Night during my glorious days of 2008.People work the whole day to earn bread and butter.No doubt, everyone has a family to support.Even I was a bread and butter earner for my family.I was deeply associated with biking and my love for riding bikes could be backtracked  to my good old college days.We had joy,we had fun,we had challenges in the sun.I got inspired from my Baba who taught me how to ride a bike.Aai(Mom) cared for me and adored me.She never let me ride a bike as she was afraid of losing me to the angel of death.My father collapsed in a road accident leaving me and mother alone.That made her more weak and vulnerable to emotions and feelings.I tackled life wisely and faced challenges at every step of my life.But still my passion and interesting for bikes didn't cease to fade.For me biking was life,a mean of life.The 'Royal Enfield' ,which others fondly called as 'the bullet' was a valuable asset,a prized possession to me which Baba gifted me when I was 19.I used to roam the traffic jammed streets of Mumbai.The pit holes and the bumpy roads only adorned the ride.I rode through the ugly roads of Dharavi and the  pleasant roads of Bandra.I drived through the ocean of traffic jams,the roaring vehicles and the grumpy bus drivers.Several times I've zig zagged the roads through the heavy traffics  passing through the whingering bus drivers. They would pop their head out of their buses and literally abuse me in the local slang. I would turn behind,glare at them and move away.Life's a bliss at times,otherwise it has been a dirty bitch to me.The 'Royal' bike was  like my 1st love, my girlfriend. Perhaps, my intense love for my bike was  the reason why my girl left me. Aai(Mom) never read my interest and passion correctly,if she'd then I would have been a popular biker of this nation nurturing my dreams.Everyday I leave my home at 9 am, silent and quietly in pursuit of my destiny.I look around and reminisce the old days where gorgeous  girls of my society smiled and ogled at me as I left home.
 I remember the first time I rode my bike through the street which sheltered me.Everyone  said I flaunted my prized asset but little did they knew that it was my life.Biking for me effaces the sorrows out of my life.It has been my best friend which soothes me.Sorrows and Struggles are part and parcel of life,but one should always try to extract the sadness out of their life.Happiness shouldn't overshadow the sadness in our life.Every time I am upset,my bike invites me for a long drive.A long drive which soothes me and makes me feel good.Everytime my bike tyre kissed the road, there is a  feeling of joy.The road exhibits a smile,it salutes my bike. My insatiable thirst for biking and adventure only grew strong everytime I met my fellow bikers.I recall my days in Delhi where I redefined Night.I remember the days where I along with my friends rode through the gory and the eerie dark path.We sped up ,accelerated together chasing the Sedans moving on the continous road following the India Gate.The night road witnessed less vehicles as we rode to glory in pursuit of the beautiful damsels who drove the Sedan.Once we overtook them,one of the girls got out of the car and sat behind me.She removed my helmet and stole my heart with a kiss on my lips.Little did I realize that we were destined to be together.We three, spend time in togetherness usually talking about each other and observing the night sky.She wanted me to priortize her over my bike.My feelings for her deceased as she tried to demarcate me and my 'royal' love in form of my bike.She failed to realize my love for my bike and biking.Soon,I saw her fading away from my life.The love hangover affected me,but soon I recovered.I started again,the whole new journey.It was the only wealth my father left behind for me.The empty roads and my 'Royal' bike never ceased to impress me. My Bike,my first love.



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Monday, August 15, 2011

From the Diary of a 16 yr old!

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 23; the twenty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for this month is FREE.




 Dear God,

I can't comprehend the grief and troubles that I'm undergoing.I'm turning bland at my own sufferings.They say God loves children and he never punishes them.I'm just 16 and life has taken a toll on me.I'm feeling horrendous and helpless.Everyday I look at the mirror ,I see my alter ego who mocks me. She says me that I'm a loser who was born to suffer .I look at myself,paralyzed hands and immobile limbs make me prone to wheelchair.I hear a babel of voices behind me everyday I go to school. It hurts when people mock me and make fun of me.
Everytime I see other teens of my age excelling in life ,a tear rolls down my cheek. I'm not complaining nor I'm whimping around.I tell you life was not harsh but I'm taken aback at times when it hurts me.

The doctors are perplexed for they do not know what haunts me.They have no inkling of what I'm suffering from.Pomple Disease is what they  say which ruined my life. I see myself as a  once whimsical young kid put  to test.I hate it when I see a large ensemble of people bewailing at my sorrowful condition.I'm no alien but I'm not special too.My hope for my existence has started to fizzle.I'm feeling flummoxed,feeble and fatigued at this moment.My Cervix hurts.What perturbs me is that what will happen to me in mere future. My future is an enigma. Could there be any cure for me?.The pain is excrutiating day by day.My doctors have raised their hands. I've lost hopes.I'm jinxed.I'm turning waif.Almighty,will you free me from all these pains?. Will you efface all my sorrows and show signs of hopes for me. I remember writing a poem which I'm sharing it with you.

"I jostled against the tide of time,
nothing is left in the journey of life.

things were thought differently,
never meant to go in such hurry.

I bleed to death with the appalling pain,
fighting to the last for what i have not gain.

Is this what is stored in my destiny,
half way through my life's journey.

expected so many avenues on the way,
but ended up like a seamless castaway"

I'm still waiting for the day when you will educe a smile on my face.I'm hopeful that day would be soon.Almighty,never betray me for you are my only hope.I'm no Judas who betrayed you but still you bestowed your love upon him.I don't know how my Kith and Kin will react upon my horrific state.I wish you pay heed to all my ramblings.I imagine myself as the small shards of glasses.The diseases has swallowed my thirst for excellence in life.Melancholy haunts me everynight I close my eyes to sleep. I sleep everyday with mild hope of waking up the next day.You are the Fuhrer of all Living being. You are the mighty Messiah in this Universe.I promise I'd be a good child and If I'd haver then you can banish me.I have no Qualms as of  now for I laid my burden and sorrows upon you.Dear God, I love you so much ...so much...
I hope you will free me  from all these pains and give me my share of happiness.. Love you God..Muaaaahhhhhhh..Yes I will be a good person and I promise I will never hurt Mom and Pop and little sister Bree... Lots of Love and Kisses.Hugs.Bye God

Love,
Emily
The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Happy Independence Day!

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Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Autobiography of a 13 yr old..


Hello Everyone,
I am Riya and I am 19 years old virtually and 13 as per my birth certificate.Well don't get confused between the numbers. Being 13 is like curse. Just remember that we are the next big thing on Earth. We have entered our teenage and yup we are unstoppable. Well, now I'm going to write about the difficulties that people of my age face. Let me write two separate parts. One of them will be the difficulties faced in real world and the other one in Virtual world. Bohoooo! don't think that I am stupid. After reading this if you call me a kid ,bachhuu or baby  then I will break your head into two equal halves. Well,  you can call me baby in other sense *blushes * but not the one referring to age. Bohooo! Lets shoot! Where is the gun? hihi :P


Real World.
Other day Momma was doing some important office work and I soon grabbed this opportunity to watch my favorite cartoon show shinchan. Damn! how cute and naughty Shinchan is! I love this naughty guy. I ran towards the drawing room to check if no one was watching TV. But I learned that my brother was watching highlights of India-Australia World cup match.

"I want to watch Sinchan, bhai let me see naa," I requested.
"Bhaiyya please," I cried.
He did not budge nor spoke a word.
"Abhey motte,dinosaur ke miniature form." I got angry and ran away.
I ran to my room and started studying once again.

My brother has been a big problem for me.Wait till I get to know his girlfriends name.
The other day I impersonated him and spoke to his girlfriend. Her voice was cute, but Riya doesn't gives a damn about it. I even kissed her on phone, who cares ? :P

But sooner  my brother came to know about this. He started his regular dialogues.
"Hey Ullu,Saaand, Rhinosauras ki bachhi." He was linking me with all the animals that he knew.
Even Mumma feels brother deserves the best and thinks that I am dumb. My parents love
that Motu and detest me. You know some great baba once said that it is difficult to think and behave like a 13 yr old. Ask a 30 yr old man to behave like a 13 yr old. But I  can as I'm 13 hahaha. Not funny !Hah!.
Papa brings just 1 cadbury chocolates for me. He says that since I'm a kid I could get germs and cavities on my teeth.

Virtual World.
Most of the time my fat and stout brother would be watching highlights of cricket matches that were played decades ago. Such a loser my brother is! He  doesn't allows me to use the PC. I could get a chance to touch the Computer dearest only when he is out to meet his girlfriend who don't give a damn to him. Yes, Loser guy my brother is! But I have to take care that no one is watching me. No No, I don't watch porn! Let me share my first experience in a Yahoo Chatroom  That was 2 years back and  I was studying in class 5th .It was the same period when  my dad got us an internet connection. No one was at home. I soon made a fake Yahoo and Gmail id. It was emma.hudson11. I logged into Yahoo Messenger using this id. As soon as I entered one of the chatrooms, I was scared. My PC was flooded with too many instant messages. At the rate at which the chat windows popped on the screen, I realized that these guys were just waiting for me. I didn't know what to do. I was afraid and was aware of the consequences too. I was closing the instant chats one by one. Those guys were asking for ASL and many things.

ashiq: Hey sexy Emma.
emma.hudson11: Hi!
ashiq: ASL pls
emma.hudson11: What?

I never knew the exact   meaning of ASL. I soon called my best friend Nikita  who knew the A to Z of internet and chatting. She told me that ASL stands for Age,Sex and Location.

emma.hudson11: 11 Female,  Delhi.
ashiq: Oh achhi!! Haha go to school kid.
emma.hudson11: Hey don't call me kid.
ashiq: Bye.

I was angry on Ashiq. He seemed to me more like an internet troll. So I decided to fake my ASL to 27 Female Mumbai. The next person to ping me was Aawara_Aashiq. 
WTF! Whats with this Aashiq's out here! I said to myself.

aawara_aashiq: Hello Emma. 
emma.hudson11: Hello
aawara_aashiq: 18M Delhi
emma.hudson11: 27 Female Mumbai here
aawara_aashiq: Oh wow! are you hot? Got nice boobs? 

I stood stunned for a while. He seemed to be a pervert. I blocked him at the same time. But sadly most of the guys whom I encountered were perverts and assholes. 

But I decided to have fun of these guys by faking my identity. From that day itself I changed my so called ASL  to 19 F Delhi. And since then I am 19 for all the virtual guys. This will continue till I actually celebrate my 19th birthday. Recently Less Mango ,one of my close friend in the virtual world invited me to a group chat with his friends Tee, Notfreedancer and Bijay in Gmail. I loved chatting with them.But thing is that at the end of the chat people came to know my real age. Then they all would tease me by calling me kid , baby, bachhi and so on. Notfreedancer called me a kid and I would get vexed. "The goats young one is called Kid," I would snap back at him instantly.

Uh Huh!!I'm very upset and sad. Virtual guys search for girls of their age and what will happen to little girls like me. Even guys of my age search for older girls in virtual world. What is happening? Oh God! I forgot to write my Maths homework. My teacher will kick me out the class. Let me write it before hand or else I'm dead.

Bye take care! Love you all xox :*