Pick me. Choose me. Read me.

A couple of books I had the pleasure of reading and falling in love with. If you want a lasting relationship with words, I insist you read these.




  The Villa: Nora Roberts.
This book revolves around the Giambelli family and their winery across the Napa valley. Sophia Giambelli, grand daughter of the matriarch of the family, Tereza, has inherited her hunger for power and the staunch will to never back down, alongside a sprawling palatial home and the family fortune. The story begins to unfold twists and turns as hot as ever Tyler Macmillan enters Sophia's life like a tornado and makes her feel like nobody has ever before: insecure, and hungry for love.
A marriage of mystery and romance, this book is a must read. I tend to re-read this often when I'm in solitude. 

The Mafia Queens of Mumbai: Hussain Zaidi

Hussain Zaidi is by far one of my favorite Indian authors. The lucidity of his language and the raw approach he implements is awe inspiring. Mafia didn't interest me till I read his trilogy on the Mumbai mafia (Dongri to Dubai, Mafia Queens of Mumbai, Byculla to Bangkok). Zaidi is a man that presents reality as it is. Not only has he used the name and references of every feared gangster in Mumbai, he has also made it a point to reveal the death threats he received as a result of penning it all down.

Mafia Queens of Mumbai speaks of the women that took over the under world and dominated it like they would do their kitchens. The stories are supported by pictures of the lady dons and their sidekicks. It's a pleasant change from the fiction based novels I normally indulge in. A plunge into the 'No-Entry' arena, Mafia Queens of Mumbai is a must read.

Message In A Bottle.

Father of romantic novels, Nicholas Sparks has redefined the power of love in this novel. How often do we dream of finding a note inside a bottle washed ashore while on a quite walk alongside a beach? And how often does it really happen? And if it were to happen, what would you do? Would you ever go that extra mile to track the one who would rather be anonymous? Distraught and divorced, Theresa Osborne takes the chance and goes that extra mile. But what has fate in mind? A book that takes you on a joyride and washes it away with a tide of sorrow, it's a must read for anyone who loves a blend of emotions.

 

The Zoya Factor: Anuja Chauhan

If there's an Indian author I'd read over and over and stand in a queue outside a bookstore at the launch of a new novel, it's Anuja Chauhan. Hands down. Her pakki Hindi language gives it the Indian feel that most Indian novels lack.

Her story is thoroughly uncomplicated, yet unpredictable.

The story revolves around a Rajput girl, Zoya Singh Solanki and her role in the deciding of the fate of the Indian cricket team, and the captain: Nikhil Khoda's discomfort at being robbed of the credit for the team's victory and the potential romance that blooms between the two.

It's hilarious. It's romantic. It's cocky. And seems almost real.

If there's anything called an alternate reality, it's this.

  The Fault in Our Stars: John Green

"I fell in love with the way you fall asleep, slowly and then all at once." If that doesn't move you, I don't know what can. I was a turmoil of emotions as I went through this book. It redefines love in every way possible. There couldn't have been a better way to frame a tragic romance and make it look like it isn't tragic at all, but a bloom of romance and romance only. This book is pure indulgence. 

I'm a believer in words. There is nothing in the world that can move you any more than a good book possibly can. In this ever-disappointing world, it's necessary to have an alternate reality to escape into when all isn't well. And nothing says revival of the soul like a good book does.

Shut up and say Thank You.

“That’s a beautiful dress you have on!”

“Oh this? This is like really old. I couldn’t find anything else today.”

“You look stunning!”

“No ya. I’ve put on so much weight.”

“Where’d you get this bag? It’s so pretty!”

“An aunt gifted it to me. I’m so embarrassed lugging it around. But my bag tore yesterday so I had no option.”

Been there, said that? Stay away from me.

Been there heard that and felt an irresistible urge to say “Oh good, it looked ugly anyway.”? Come here, soul sister.

There’s something about turning down a compliment that irritates me to no extent.

Yes your bag is probably really tacky but I gave you a compliment. There’s a standard response for that: “Thank you.” Heard of it? I’m sure not.

If I tell you something is nice, it’s just nice. Deal with it.

Don’t give me the biography of it or the origins and a sentimental story of its Alma matter. To me, it doesn’t matter.

The next time someone gives you a compliment, take it. Don’t be a prick in the you-know-where.

Oh you like my blog? Well thank you!
See, not so hard, now is it?

Happy Endings and Roses.

Blame it on the effects of my undying love for Mills&Boons or my estrogen drives. Either way, I'm a rose person. And not just any rose, I'm a red rose person.

Rose. What image does it form in your mind when you say that word and close your eyes?

A proposal? A vintage photo of a yesteryear actress with an unrealistically large rose blooming out of her bun? An expression of appreciation? A token of love? Or Kate Winslet in Titanic?

It all rounds up to the same thing. Love. Symbolism.

When I was a  kid, we were taught this in school- "Red stands for love."

I was overwhelmed by the idea of it. 

Since then, I associate Rose with a certain Prince Charming in an armor, riding a White Horse and tucking a Red Rose in the loose knot of my cascading hair and saying, "Be Mine."
Rather dramatic, isn't it?

But then again, what is this life without a bit of drama every now and then?

Look around you. All smiles, yes.

Look deeper.

Infidelity. Lies. Treachery. Betrayal. It's like someone took a handful of devil-dust and sprinkled it over the planet. The widest of smiles will have strained wrinkles underneath their eyes. 

Am I a pessimist? Nope.

I'm testing new waters with Realism. And let me tell you something about realism- it sucks.

But then again, I'm also a dreamer. A sincere one at that.

I believe in happy endings and in an eternity called forever. I don't need to see it to believe it.

I believe in my Prince Charming who will trot away into the sunset with me. I don't need proof for his existence. I know he's out there, somewhere.

I believe that if there's devil-dust, there's also fairy-dust in the rainbow of life.

That if there can be perfect beginnings, they can last long enough to be called perfect endings.

I believe that as long as the roses are red and blooming, there's room for happiness to find its way to the ending.

If you can keep your Rose from withering away, you can have your happy ending.

Save me a petal, won't you?

Bros Before Hoes?

"It never really is bros before hoes. The girl always comes first. It only depends on how important the girl is to a guy."
 These words, from someone who preaches bromance put me in a predicament.
Everywhere I see men flaunting these words like it's cool to put your 'bros' before your girlfriend, who is sadly referred to as the 'hoe'. This statement, however casual it was intended to be, restored my faith in men.

Everyone loves their friends. I for one, put mine on top notch priority. But there's a reason why you pick someone out of those and put that one person on a pedestal. There's a reason the one person is more special to you. You decide to give your heart and it all to that one person because he means a little more than the others. This whole concept of "bromance" has tainted with relationships as a whole.
Love and friendship, as much as they have equal weightage, they're two different realities. Not alternate, just different. You can't pick one over the other.

Claiming that my friends are more important to me than my boyfriend is, is like saying water is more important to me than oxygen. Truth is, you can't live without either and there's is no potential comparison!

I'm genuinely sick of being told how 'bros' are more faithful and dependable and other categorical nonsense. You can't live without either, and not-so-deep-down you know it too. You can turn to either in times of crisis and you know you'll get seamless support; that's why you pick them out of the ghastly population of the world.

If you sashay the words "Bros before Hoes" in front of me, I've almost immediately judged you. To me, you are either of the following-
1. Not as much in love with your girlfriend as you claim.
 (Why else would you, in your most imbalanced of states call her a hoe?)

2. A 'Kewl Dude'. 
I know a lot of people who throw around words that sound important to look cool. Ouch to you.

3. An idiot.
Who in their right mind would choose beer-lugging, sweat-smelling, pizza-gobbling, showering-once-a-month fellows over a tidy, sexy girl who smells of roses and raspberries and does wonders in the kitchen (as well)? Face it, you're an idiot.

That's as precise as it gets.

There's no categorizing people that mean the world to you. You either love them or you 
don't. Then it doesn't matter who's the bro and who's the girlfriend. Yes, I called her the girlfriend, not the hoe. About time you did too. Unless you want your bedroom smelling of old socks, sweat, leftovers of pizza and stale beer for the rest of your life.

Will You Please Not Be My Valentine?

It's here. The week I dreaded.

Probably the only time of the year that scares me more than the exam week.

Second week of Feb, the Valentine Week.

Everywhere I go, I see red. I see hearts. I see teddy bears and overpriced chocolate gift packs. 

When I say everywhere, I mean e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e.

 You look away from one puffed heart and look straight into another lump of red. I mean come on, that's not even what your heart really looks like.

I choke on my cup of tea (I'm anti- coffee ever since "Do you want to get coffee?" was qualified for a pickup line.)  when someone I know says "What should I get her for Valentine's?" A spoonful of reality topped with a sprinkle of 'act-your-age' I want to say. But I don't.

I'm not against professing love, believe me. I swoon at the mention of romance. But timed romance? Once a year? It puts me off the concept of Valentine's Day. There's 365 days in a year and the only time you put thought and efforts into making someone feel special is on the 14th of February? It doesn't even sound like a romantic date! You don't need one day of the year to try and get someone to fall in love with you. 

Love doesn't always mean Red. Go buy him something in his favorite color instead of dumping blinding red gifts on him for the love of God. 

You have the most vague and non-romance related organizations and companies pushing you to "Ask her to be your Valentine." Sorry to burst your bubble, but Saint Valentine was a martyr. In the literal sense, you're asking her to lay down your life for you.

Yeah, awkward.

I'm a die hard romantic but I believe in romance across the year.

The day someone walks up to me without a trace of red and says, "Will you not be my Valentine but my everything else?", I'll hold on to him for life and never let go.

Life Goes On.

There's one special friend that everyone has. 
He's not your boyfriend, he's not your bestfriend and he isn't your brother. He's just..him. 
Someone you can fall back on, someone you call when the tears won't stop falling. Someone who will disgust you with unnecessary details of his life and you will do the same. Someone whose abuses mean more to you than foot-long promises of undying friendship.

This friend, he becomes a part of your life and a huge one at it, all of a sudden.
Out of nowhere, he's your comfort pillow, your gossip monger, your sorority sister and your confidante. 

Then one fine day, he shatters your heart.
It's astounding how just a couple of words strung together can wrench your heart.
Suddenly, you'll find yourself wondering who the hell the person on the other side of the phone is. You won't want to believe that this is the same person who you'd crouch in front of when the world failed you.
Then, you'll forgive and forget.
Until it happens again.

You'll cry a river again and yet again you'll forgive and forget.
How can you not? After all, you don't let go of a part of your life so easily.
But then, it'll happen again.

And you'll wonder.. "How much does he even know me?"
You'll look back and shed a tear on all happy, gay memories and you'll open your eyes to reality and shed several more for what it is today.

It's not the end of the world. Life goes on.

He wasn't your boyfriend. He wasn't your bestfriend. He wasn't the person you grew up with. He was just him. The person who left as abruptly as he had come.
You won't cry a river anymore. There's only a certain number of tears you can cry for a person. And you cried them dry.
You wake up the next day like it was a bad dream and get on with your life. Stronger, robust and empowered.
Life doesn't end when people leave, you carry their memories with you to your grave.
You smile when certain things you do remind you of them. You cry when you're shipwrecked and pick up the phone only to put it down again. You reach out, only to retreat.

You're a whirlwind of perplexity.
But you're not over. Life goes on.

Crumble.

When Miley Cyrus was young and clothed, she'd said "Life's a Climb, but the view is great."
Back then it was just another dialogue and I was busy drooling over Lucas Till. Today, five years later it all makes sense. 
When you can see the world around you crashing down and you don't know where to hide. 
When you can see the strongest of support systems buckling under the weight.
When you can feel the most bound ropes slip away.
When you think you've hit rock bottom. It feels like you're helpless and maybe you are, but what you aren't is someone who gives up easily. 
You're strong and you don't need me telling you that. You know it, deep down you know it but you're too afraid to say it out loud.

Life isn't a cookie. People are going to disappoint you at every turn. And believe me they will. You don't give in to those that lead you to believe you aren't good enough. You don't let them blindfold you and walk you to your doom.
You stand back up, dust it off and strut away into oblivion. That's what you do.
Cause you hold the reigns to your life, not somebody else. As much as you'd want to sit back and let someone else take control of your life, you can't. They can't.

The most trusted friends are going to turn their backs on you. You can't conquer a corner or weep to your pillow.
Ms. Perfect is going to thrust signs of imperfection in your face. You don't give up on love and become a loner. 

Your life is like the Castle of Cards. The swiftest of winds is going to blow you back to Square One. But if there is a Square One, there is also the Final Destination. And you'll get there. If you want to get there.
It seems like such an effort to build it back up after it's been destroyed time and again. But when you get there, when you finally do build it up, there's nothing that can make you more proud. Sheer effort and willpower is all it takes to build it up when it's been taken down.

Believe that you are much bigger a person than those who lust for your downfall. 

You've got one life. If you let someone else live it for you, is it really worth it? 

Live it up, or watch it crumble.