Broken Strings

UNABLE TO RESOLVE THE SERVER’S DNA ADDRESS.

The web browser displayed the sign which required some software knowledge to decipher it. Regardless of my inability to decipher the exact meaning I knew what it meant- I had to find another way to divert my mind.

Closing the browser and shutting down the computer with a sigh I looked out of my window and surveyed the outside scene. The sun was still hidden behind some fluffy cloud. Continuous showers had forced everybody to retreat to their homes. Even Mr. Gupta’s naughty son and his friends, who earlier had jumped to grab the wet opportunity and played “pirates of tilak nagar”, had gone home. Feeling sad I grabbed Sidney Sheldon’s Naked Face and settled on the big couch to read it. But only after reading a couple of pages I found that even the book could not hold my attention. So I just settled to look out of the window melancholically.

It was all so fresh in my mind. The aroma of coffee and my favourite chicken grilled sandwich hung in the air. My favourite coffee shop was located around the huge but depressed looking public library. It was a place which Abhimanyu and I had frequented often. It was the same coffee shop in which he had proposed me and from then it became our favourite meeting place.

We were the perfect couple, and so much in love. We would just sit at the coffee shop for hours whiling away time, sometimes just talking or settling with the same book borrowed from the library. I vividly remember that time as my best. Holding hands and sharing the coffee seemed to have become our favourite habit. Even after going home, which we both hated, we would constantly be in touch via smses or calls.

So naturally he was taken aback when 18 months into the relationship I suddenly told him that my dad had planned a short trip to goa for me and family.

“So…ill be going on the 1^st of October and will be back by 21^st”, I said.

“3 weeks…why so long baby? You know I can’t live without you”, he said with a cute face which always brought a smile on my face.

“Aww…ill miss you too”, I said with a lump in my throat. He just kissed me on the cheek and muttered something about his dad calling him home for some urgent thing.

I watched him leave and remembered his expression when he said he couldn’t live without me. Warmness spread through me and I realised it was minutes ago that he had left the park.

The night before the flight to goa found both of us talking till wee hours. He told me how much he loved me and how much he was going to miss me. I disconnected the line after promising him a nice big bear hug when I came back.

“Do you want to have banana shake, Aru?” my mom’s voice interrupted my train of thought and brought me back to the present.

“No”, I muttered and went back to 20^th October. Due to some railway default I was back a day earlier than scheduled. I had missed Abhimanyu oh-so-badly. We had hardly talked in the 3 weeks and I was dying to see him and have his arms around me. I decided to surprise  him by going to his place and thought of picking up the chicken grilled sandwiches and cold coffee from the same coffee shop which we both loved.

I went in the coffee shop happily and gave my order.  It was then that I turned around and saw a couple sitting on our favourite table in the corner. . Someone who was cosily sitting with a girl in a mini skirt. Someone who had the same physique as Abhimanyu. Someone who had the same white and red striped t-shirt as Abhimanyu

All the pieces of the puzzle fit perfectly in my mind. I still could not bring myself to believe what I saw. Some part of my heart wanted my brain and my eyes to not believe that it was Abhimanyu with some other girl, holding her hand. I couldn’t make myself move an inch from the place. All those I-miss-yous and i-love-yous reverberated in my mind. So this was what he was upto when I had been missing him badly in goa. It was as if somebody had crushed my heart. Believe it or not I actually heard the sound of crashing glass. The sound of crashing hopes and dying dreams.

And then suddenly he turned around. His eyes grew big with shock. He whispered something in the girl’s ear who looked at him with some god-like respect and nodded.

He came to me and said “Hi Arundhati. This was long due between us. I just couldn’t….” He seemed to be lost for words.

“Sorry….but hope we remain friends. Bye.” with that he and his girl left the coffee shop without even glancing back.

Most people confronted with such a situation would react angrily. But me? I felt disappointed. I felt confused. I wanted answers. How long has this be going on for? Did the girl know about me? Was my love not at all valuable to him? Did he really love me or were all the I –love-yous a mere pretence?

After this incident I saw no more of Abhimanyu Singh and neither heard from him. Almost a year has passed by and I still cannot understand why he cheated on me. What had I done wrong? Three weeks prior he had been telling me how much he would miss me.

Almost 2 years have gone by, but even now any white and red striped t-shirt guy would make me look back. Whenever I enter the coffee shop, my eyes search for him. Even now sadness and pain has not been replaced by anger. I just can’t bring myself to accept the fact that he had cheated on me. Thinking about him makes my eyes water. I just hope that someday I would get to know the reason behind all this or maybe he would come back to me realising my true love for him. It feels as if a little part of my heart went with him and it pains to think that my heart will never be complete.

Battle of Balloons

"The angle between the chord and tangent at point of contact is equal to the angle subtended by the chord in the alternate segment", the teacher said underlining the last two words.

Since it was the beginning of the two hour torture these CAT institutes named as quant class, I was paying attention. For two minutes in the silence that prevailed after the teacher bored his eyes into each one of us, I actually checked my email to verify that I was sitting in the right class. After getting confirmation that it was the right class, I looked here and there. Half of the class was paying attention, looking at the board with utmost attention. Those, undoubtedly, would be the science kids. Those who take every problem that the teacher throws in the two hour torture, personally. Until they sort the problem, they won’ just give up.

And then there were others. Others like me. I mean those from the commerce background, who had hated Mathematics. I looked at the other half, which was the half in which i belonged. Guys sitting row in front of me were actually checking the mails to confirm the class.

The teacher resumed the theory, and I resumed doodling in my notebook, my usual habit. It was half an hour later that I stepped out of my doodle world and noticed my work. I was surprised to see color blobs. I sighed. Of course color blobs- holi was near. Holi always brought colorful memories with it. Not color-wise memories, but both happy and sad memories.

Happy because of those I spent with Ankit, and sad because of those I didn’t spend with him.

I still remember our pre-holi holidays….

Another memory…

“Look”, I told Ankit pulling him back by snatching his t-shirt collar, hiding behind the car nearest to us. I crouched down, pulling him with me.

He squinted his eyes, and looked at me irritatingly.
“What is it?” he asked.

“Look at the road. Carefully”, I told him pointing towards the road.

“Oh”, he said looking at me.

Oh. This oh meant a lot at that time. It meant declaration of battle. It meant that the enemy had openly challenged us. It meant that now the road was not safe.

We could see the signs of the battle clearly. The road was littered with colorful balloons, or whatever was left of them. Holi usually meant neighborhood battles. Battles where water balloons and pichkaris were our arms and ammunitions. Gulal came later.

“What should we do now? Should we take the longer road?” he asked hesitatingly. We looked at each other’s faces. The enemy knew that we are in the territory. Taking a detour would be equivalent to accepting defeat. There was a moment of uncertainty.
“No”. The determination in my voice made Ankit look at the road, estimating the distance to be covered and the possible battle points.

We nodded at each other, mentally mapping out our escape route.
“8”, he said.
“Hmm…” That was the number of cars on the road, which meant our possible refugee points,

“I think it’s better to go red-black-yellow-black-white-golden-silver-white”, he suggested. The colors implied the cars.

“Hmm…and the strike point would be yellow-black and black white”, I added approvingly.

We looked at each other, knowing that once we came out, it would be the point of no return.
We nodded and came out of the car. We were just near the yellow car when the attack began.

The rules were simple. Even if one partner got hit, the other side won.

Once it started we ran towards my home, forgetting all about the strategy we had made. The destination was just half way away. But the escape would be very narrow.

Swoosh! A big balloon swooshed past me head. Narrow escape.
Phew! But just then I saw the green balloon behind my back. I ducked, pulling Ankit along. Saved again.

Just after 2 seconds, we were safe in the balcony of my house. We leaned beside the wall, panting. We looked at each other and high fived-indicating our narrow escape…and then rushed inside to begin our counter attack….

“Nupur, what’s angle DAB?” the teacher asked me, jolting me out of the colorful memories.
“60 degree?” I attempted making a wild guess.

“No”, he said and asked the same question to the girl behind me, signaling me to return back to my childhood.

But holis were not the same once Ankit’s father sent him to UK.

He was supposed to return next month. I wish he would return sooner.

The morning of holi found me helping my younger brother and his friends get ready for the ultimate battle. Another neighborhood battle. I was apprehensive while filling the balloons with water, anxious what I would do if they all started pelting me with the balloons, I myself was filling for them. Kids are kids, and u never know.

And then it hit me. Square in the back. And that too when I was helping these little monsters win the battle.

I turned, adamant to take revenge on whoever did this with me. And to my surprise, it was Ankit, standing with another big balloon in his hand.

“Ready, Lieutenant”, he asked with a playful grin.

I couldn’t believe it was Ankit! What a day to return! All the balloon battles memories became fresh in my mind. How we used to thoroughly enjoy our favorite festival together.

He smiled at me again, knowing and remembering all those times. He winked at me, raising his arm to thrown the balloon at me.

And that was all I needed to start the ultimate battle, this time both of us fighting with each other. But both of us winners this time.

Across Boundaries - 1

“Don’t go out after 7pm, its unsafe for girls. And always be aware of the roads and cab drivers. And don’t talk to strangers please, and please don’t eat from sub standard shops....”, Rahul ordered me, holding my face in his hands. We were sitting in his car, and this concern was due to my trip to Nepal. I was supposed to leave the next day, and return after 5 days.

While he continued barging his “requests”, my mind was on something else. I had not realised that my relationship with Rahul had changed so drastically in the past two years. Though we had initially started out on a casual note, as seasons passed, our relationship also changed. We felt attached to each other in a way which I have never felt; something which I can’t explain. It felt as if we were born to be together. As if all my life, though just 17 short years, I had been waiting for him all along.

And it was the faith in our love that kept us going. That kept us forgiving and forgetting each other’s mistakes.

“Are you even listening to what am saying?”, Rahul asked looking amused.

“Yes, I am. It’s just 5 days. I’ll be back even before you’ll realise”, I replied cheerfully.

“It’s not just five days. It’s about you not being there, waking me up in the morning with your mushy smses, no reminders for medicines, no I love yous, no sweet songs, nothing. You are my life Priya, and i can’t live without you”, he said looking into my eyes.

“Awww.....you have made me all mushy now. I love you too...and I’ll miss you  more..and..”, before I could complete my sentence his lips were on mine, and whatever I was about to say got lost in that goodbye kiss.

On the first day of reaching Nepal, I and my cousins decided to go to the local market. It was 6pm, and though I knew I wasn’t supposed to go out after 7, I still went on with them.

 2 hours, and loads of shopping found us struggling for a taxi. There were three of us, all girls and the moment we found a taxi, we got into it, sighing relief.

“Do you have a problem with the AC?”, the cab driver asked us.

“No”, Aanchal said, fanning herself because of the heat.

“Thankgod for the AC, there’s so much humidity”, I said.

After a couple of minutes, I started noticing that we were not on the right way back. And the driver was furtively glancing at our direction every few seconds. It was then that I registered something funny smelling in the car. And before I could say anything, do anything, I saw the cab driver spinning the AC shaft to full. And then the numbness surrounded me and everything went black.

Cab driver: Somewhere around Priya: 9PM the same day.

The three girls were carried from his taxi and transferred to the warehouse floor. There were four other men, besides him, eyeing what they call the “day’s catch”. The master would be here in a few minutes, and then he would be paid for his services. He analysed the three Indian girls. One of them looked around 14 years of age, another was a bit healthier, and only the third one was good enough. He immediately thought about his daughter when he looked at the third girl.

Before he could dwell on their fate, he heard a loud noise as the master, with his men entered the room. He greeted the other men, including the cab driver and walked over where the girls were lying.

After looking at the three, he looked up at the cab driver and in that instant he knew that his daughter would never be with him now.

“Is this how much you love your daughter?”, the master jeered at him.

He remained silent.

“The Arabs wouldn’t pay a dime for the two girls. Only one is good enough. But not for you. Rihad brought in two white girls yesterday. You come after 3 weeks, only with this....”, he spat at the floor.

He was now walking around and around, getting angrier at the moment.

“But master, I tried my best!”, he said hoping to get a fair deal. “I’ve already brought you 7 girls, and that’s the best I can do”.

“But it’s not the best for your daughter. You have to cover the charges. And you will have to pay for the charges for bringing her back. Dubai is far away from here”, he sneered.

“Take the two back to his car and prepare the third one. We’ll leave in two days”, the master ordered his boys.

“And do not touch the girl. I want a good price this time”, he added as an afterthought.
“But master please..”..he begged.
“Try to bring some white girls, and I’ll think about it”, the master said and went back.

He felt blind rage for the master. His eyes searched around for some object that he could use to kill the man, but the face of his innocent daughter flashed before his eyes, and all he could do was sit and cry, remembering the terrible day his daughter was kidnapped by the master.

It was a common practice followed in the valley. Kidnap a cab driver’s daughter and as a ransom ask the cab driver to bring in more girls. This way the master need not pay the drivers, as the poor drivers would do anything to bring back their daughters.

But he had realised that he would never see his daughter again, never see her smile, never feel the happiness he felt when she hugged him.

He felt excruciating pain to leave the girl behind. He cursed the lord, putting him in this situation. He was a father, and he could understand the pain a father would go through. He felt disappointed by his faith in life, the use he was put to. Bringing innocent girls in the trade. He knew god would never ever forgive his sins...but he wished for repentance, for forgiveness, and prayed for his daughter and the girl he had left there, praying for courage and hope for her.

Deep down he knew that thousand miles away, a father would never forgive him....

 

Note: Honestly, I got bored from Wordpress, where I earlier had my blog. So, I changed addresses, and because of lack of any good things coming to my mind these days, I have no other option but to post them back. Don't make a face. So what? This blog is new! And besides, blogger has better themes:P:P

Across Boundaries-2

Rahul

“She has been kidnapped”, were the first words that I heard when I called Priya on her cell.

It was her cousin Aanchal.

“Stop joking and give the phone to Priya. Its 55 bucks per minute.  Quickly!” taking it as a joke, obviously.

“No,  damnit! She has been kidnapped I am not joking!”, I could hear her sobs.
And then she told me the whole story...how they had gone for shopping, how the cab driver did something, and how two of them woke up to be found near the mall, except Priya.

The phone fell through my hands. Priya’s innocent face flashed before my eyes. Her baby-like smile. No! This could not happen.  A dull vibration shook me.  There was somebody knocking on the floor. I just kept looking at the door, hoping for them to go away. I wish I could just close my eyes and find Priya right beside me. Kidnapped. Obviously this had implications way more serious than what it seemed to be. Why would the kidnappers kidnap an outside girl, and that too only one of the three?

Where was she right now? And in what state? Was she alright? Was she still in Nepal..or?

Priya

There were sounds near me as I slipped away from the dark mist that surrounded my mind. It was as if I had been drugged. It was difficult to move my fingers.  I could hear two voices floating by.

“..yeah and tomorrow most probably is the last night. I am not coming back. It’s better there than here. We already have the documents...”, one was saying to another.

“Yeah, maybe. How are we moving the girls?, the second one asked.

My heart skipped  a beat. Was this what i was thinking?

“Normal. Chloroform and burqa. Indian movies are very original. But we are not”, and I could here both of them laughing.

I opened my eyes and saw a body lying near me. It was hazy at first, but even before I could recognize I knew it would be a girl.

How could this happen? Weren’t these things supposed to happen in movies? I always thought that I was far away from these things. How could this happen? Wasn’t I supposed to be a normal girl with just usual stuff of problems? What will happen to me? Where would they take me? And I felt a gut wrenching pain as I recalled all the stories I had heard about it. But is this my destiny? Isn’t it better to die than go through all that pain and shame? I looked around. It was a small room with no windows. The door was closed, and locked too, most probably.

Tears came from my eyes, and I felt them slide across my cheek and then hair. I remembered the faces of my parents, and Rahul. Would they miss me? How would they face people back there?
I lost count of the tears I felt moving down my cheek. And then I thought, is this my destiny? Was this what I was born for? Pondering over this thought, I made a decision. NO. I would not sit and let this happen to me. I wiped my tears and tried to move my limbs. I looked around the room, for some opening, some window where I could escape from....my destiny.

Rahul

“It is a case of human trafficking. Around 50 girls are moved from here to different countries in a month”, the police commissioner was saying. “Seven American girls have been missing for the past 5 months. It was time we had to something. But there has been no leak so far. Location of the girls is still unknown. We are trying our best”, he said.

I was in the Nepal police commissioner’s office with my dad, who through political ties had managed to make it a priority case, here in Nepal.

“But Sir, something can be done. What about the cab driver? Has anybody drawn a sketch of him?”, I asked.

“Yes. In fact my men are looking for him right now. It’s all organized crime, you see. It’s far beyond what we think. It’s a more complex system than we thought. And I am positive that we will find them, because we have got a sketch of the cab driver”, he said sounding confident.

After two hours of pacing in his office, the first good news came. The cab driver was caught near the mall. We immediately went to the police station where he was already being interrogated by a few police men. After an hour or so the entire story formed. The pieces fit. The girls would be moved tonight to be taken to Dubai through air.

The police immediately began to form a plan of eviction.

My mind was on Priya. I prayed to god she was all right. But I couldn’t just sit here and let it happen. There was a part of me that urged me to do something. She was my life, and I couldn’t just let her go. Though my trust in the police had now been restored, I still wanted to do something. And so I did. I offered the commissioner to help him in the evacuation plan. He started explaining me the plan...

Priya

They checked us every two hours, and now an hour or so. It was dark outside and obviously it was time for another dose of chloroform. I had heard about the plan to move us tonight.
It was dark inside as well, and I had planned my escape. I was scared, and wiped off the perspiration from my forehead.  It was now or never. Life wouldn’t give me another chance, and so I waited for the guard.

After some 30 minutes, I heard the scraping of the chair, and footsteps. They were near. I stood up and gingerly went to the door. I glanced at the two girls. They had not even moved in the past hours. I could hear my heart beating loudly. I hoped the plan to work. But there should be just the two of them. Because only one of them came to check us, usually. The other would be in the adjacent room. I had looked at it when one of them had left the door open. I waited in the shadow. And then there was some scuffling noise. Opening of a bottle. And then muffeled voices.

“How much for each?”, one of them asked.

“Ten drops each, precisely, not more, not less. I’ll be back in a minute”.

My heart started beating even louder, I knew the man was just behind the door. I just prayed to god that teh guard outside couldn’t hear my heart beating loudly. What would they do if they caught me runing. The consequences would be dire. I could still pretend to be asleep. But let this all happen to me? The decision was made. These men had been doing this to so many girls. So many lives destroyed because of them in this very room, so many girls would have felt the dejection I had been feeling. The anger, the pain, and then the tears, I looked at the other two. One merely 16, and I knew what I had to do.

And then the door flew open, and he was inside, holding the bottle in one hand and a cloth in the other. He wasn’t expecting when I attacked. I forgot everything and threw myself on the guard. The element of surprise was only momentary. He was strong and in a minute had me pinned to the wall. He choked me with one hand and his other hand with the cloth was dangerously close to my nose. I could smell the chloroform, and then with sheer adrenaline pushing me, I kicked hard. And a blow well taken, he fell to the ground and the open chloroform bottle fell on his face. I looked around, panicked, waiting for the other guard to barge open the door...but before this could happen, I ran. I ran toward the door of the warehouse. But it was locked.

I looked here and there, for a place to hide. But I could hear the other footsteps nearby. I was trapped. It would take the other man a moment to realise what had happened.  And then I saw the door, a temporary make shift door out of the warehouse. I crawled outside, without making any noise and the first thing I saw when I crawled out was a pair of feet.

Fear. Blind fear. I could already feel my eyes water even before I registered that i was about to cry. I looked up expecting to see the guard, but instead saw myself looking at Rahul. I looked at him, and he fell to his knees. He touched my cheek, and called my name. For an eternity we kept looking at each other...and then crying and hugging each other.

And so with the help of the police, I and the other two girls were rescued.

I was saved. But what about hundreds of other girls who had already been pushed into human trafficking? Thousand who are traded across the boundaries like goods, across boundaries, where they lose then themselves, forced to live a life which is not acceptable, not dignified...across boundaries...

Note: Honestly, I got bored from Wordpress, where I earlier had my blog. So, I changed addresses, and because of lack of any good things coming to my mind these days, I have no other option but to post them back. Don't make a face. So what? This blog is new! And besides, blogger has better themes:P:P

The Last Decision

I boarded the metro, entered the women's coach and stood by the door, looking out at the sparsely populated open areas. As the stations went by, the inner restlessness I was going through gradually subsided and gave place to reason. A decision had to be made, and that too quickly.

I was three months pregnant, and should have been happy. Not that I wasn't ready to welcome my baby in my arms. But as it seems, it won't be my arms that would welcome it.

It had been difficult for us to conceive, and as time passed we started losing all hope. Tests pointed out the problem in me. My in-laws were very supportive, but I wish Vaibhav had been.

Initially, he was. But my self-accusing behaviour isolated us. And his pride kept us farther away.

We started fighting regularly, followed by days of silence. But still we kept trying, a ray of hope for not only the baby, but for our relationship as well. Our vain attempts frustrated and saddened him, and one fine day he let go off the steam. 

"You haven’t ironed my shirt", he said with clenched teeth.

"I forgot", I said.

"Don't you think you are becoming increasingly careless?", he asked.

"No", was my laconic answer.

"Don't be smart with me. It’s your fault. Just accept it. What’s so difficult to accept? Just say you can’t. And I'll stop trying", he said.

"It’s just a shirt, Vaibhav", I said, increasing my pitch to match his.

"Why don’t you just accept your faults, instead of arguing with me? It is your fault. And am bound to suffer with you", he said and went out of the room.

Oh. Now I understood the full meaning of what he meant by ‘accepting my faults’. All the time he had been talking about my inability to have a baby. 

All type of people said all type of things about me, but I listened to all that because in my heart I knew that there was one person who would never leave my hand. Never fail me. Never abandon me in the waters.

But it seemed that he just did.

And this broke all that was left inside me and between us. I cried myself to sleep that night, thinking about all the promises he had made to me. Hadn't he promised that whatever he might say, whatever he might do, he'll always love me? That deep inside, there’s place only for me?

Even the news of my pregnancy could not bind us together. The thread was broken forever.

We grew even further apart, if that was possible and I distanced myself from him, still hurt by his words. He did not apologise, and I stopped waiting for one.

The doctor had informed me of my condition. It would be risky to deliver this baby. It could even lead to my death. The doctor advised me to let it go. But she hadn’t gone through all the pains I went through. 

And what would I go back to? Vaibhav? Who hadn’t spoken to me for the past week? Who hadn’t bothered to ask once about his baby, let alone my health. 

There was no use going back to him, and without that nothing was left.

And so I made my decision to bring this baby to life, knowing that as he thrived, I would wither inside.

The time soon came, and oblivious to everybody I knew, I was soon to leave them all. But my eyes searched for the one I had loved so dearly, and my lips thirsted to tell him the truth, my arms longed for a last hug, and my ears listened for some words of love. But unfortunate that I was, I got none. 

Descending to the final journey was the painful of all. Looking at the faces I loved for the last time was heartbreaking. Knowing that it was all I could do for my baby kept me going through it. They were happy for me, praying for the  baby. But little did they know of my sacrifice. 

Everything went smoothly and the last thing I saw was the doctor's face and all went dark.

Initially the lights hit hard, but after adjusting to it, I saw Vaibhav sitting beside me, holding my hand, a smile on his face, tears wet in his eyes.

Oh, so this is heaven , I thought.

"What were you going to do? Kill yourself for the baby? For my happiness? Oh, you are such a fool! How could you? How could you even think of leaving me? Had you forgotten what I had said? Hadn’t I promised you that no matter what I say, no matter what I do, I'll always love you? How could you even think of leaving me? I am so sorry baby, for all you went through! And what did you think? There won't be a way for us to know the secret you had been hiding? Thank god for the doctor who told me at the last moment. How could you even think about it? You are such an idiot", he said now smiling, and wiping his tears and hugging me at the same time.

I was happy that I had got my love back, and without saying anything, hugged him back. 

But if I was alive, then my baby might.....

Sensing my fear, he looked at my frozen features an said something which immediately changed my life, made me believe in all that was there to be believed, ignited my spirit of all that was to be aware of, of all happiness that I thought I  didn’t deserved but did get.

"Don’t be alarmed, our little angel is all right, and she looks just like you baby- all cute beautiful", Vaibhav said with a smile as he hugged me back.

Whats in the name, eh?

Hyperbolic Hues.
Hyperbole as a part of speech is simple exaggeration. An overstatement. Dictionary-wise its a rhetoric device.
And hues simple mean colours.
Now you might be thinking that why I named my blog "hyperbolic hues".
Thinking of a name for my blog was not an easy task, trust me. I searched for millions of names online(yeah, its exaggeration-million is too much :P), pestering my friends for suggestions.
One of the intellectual ones, too irritated when I called him again, simply told me to think of a name which was representative of my thinking.
"thinking towards what?", I asked in a confused way.
"Towards your life, dumbo. How you are. Your personality. You attitude towards life", he replied.
"Oh. Yeah this actually makes sense", I said already deep in thought(ignoring the word "dumbo").
"I always do", came the reply.

And then I analysed myself. How am I? Drama Queen. Yeah, Dramatic. Overdramatic.
And what is my attitude towards life: positive. Colorful(actually just one color: pink! But for argument's sake lets say all bright pink colors).
And with the help of dictionary.com came the name: hyperbolic. And I added 'hues'( alliteration sounds good!!).
Generally speaking, I think that life is a kaleidoscope. Every time you look into it, you see different colours and patterns. And, this blog would be like one. Expressing feelings, thoughts, opinions on a variety of subjects: love, politics,  social issues etc etc.
Hope you find the posts good and colorful, and for feedback feel free to express your opinion.!
Thankyou:)