An art form ♥


I intend to write this article to shine some light on a long gone habit. The art of appreciation, if thought on properly, probably never even existed. It only showed up when in need of favors. And so to say, it feels good to mention the amount of appreciation each person feels they should receive when they couldn’t do it themselves.

Most things in life are got from reciprocation. The world is, after all, the interdependence of life forms to keep life going. If a slow thought process was put into this matter, no one really needs to spend their time appreciating others. It’s a short life. People want to achieve a lot of fame, money, happiness, and appreciation. Why, when you can’t reciprocate, do you even expect it?

I’ve had this personal experience with the housemaid at a friend’s place. I was served tea and I had to confess to the hands who made it, that it was one of the best teas I’ve ever had. She (my friend) showed me to her maid and I said, “thank you, aunty!! That was a wonderful tea”. She was so contented and a wide smile spread across her face. I felt proud that day. As if I had achieved something no one has done in that house.

Let alone appreciating outsiders, how many of us say thank you to our mothers and fathers for working hard to make our lives relatively easy? If this is of any help, I’ve started to inculcate the habit of thanking, pretty consciously. It does work. I’ve seen improvements in our communications ever since.

We thank artists for their good movies, music, food, design and what not. But you pay them to appreciate them. The art of appreciation comes free. Comes at no cost, but just to spread happiness and that alone. I suggest you give it a try. You’ll never leave empty-handed. Next time you see someone comforting someone else or helping selflessly or indirectly aids you, do not forget to say Thank You!

– Shrey, feeling blessed about this change.

P.S. : This post was inspired by a good friend of mine slash follower 🙂



Dear butter-legs…

This is a letter to someone very special to me, that I wrote down recently. 

Everybody has a story. This guy (butter-legs), turned my life around from a very long time. I’ve both hated and loved him. After all, he earns me a lot of attention. But I’ve hated him more for the hurting he has caused so far.

Dear Butter-legs,

I’m doing alright without you. How are you doing? I hope everything has set in well, lately. I write this letter to tell you a mixture of things that I think you should know.

Firstly I have to let you know that ever since you left me, 5 years ago, life has been great. I was able to concentrate on my studies and live my little life peacefully. I know you are better off without me too. But, from what I presume, our lives were meant to cross each others’. Therefore, I don’t blame fate for making us meet on the 3rd of september, 2017. It was a fine sunny sunday, if I’m right. I was about to make my way back home from a relative’s place and there you were, waiting right outside their house. You were begging me to negotiate us getting back together. And because I let my guard down, you made me fall for you. (literally!). From then on I’ve learnt to live with you in harmony. I suggest that we take breaks from each other often, so that I can work on my personal life.

I hope you understand why. Write back only when you can. I’m not that eager to hear from you.

Yours me.

Shrey, who is in an affair with butter-legs!


It is okay to hate me for this. This is how I have felt all along. It is one of the core reasons that I started blogging. For beauty is only in the heart and not elsewhere. But the world could never accept this. It puts me in anger, when I see people looking and raving only for the beauty on the outside. It hurts rather, that for normal looking people, who’ve a beautiful inside, get rejected and hurt. For instance, a girl I know was not allowed to march for a national parade, because of her dark complexion. The very projection that Indians are white, is all that matters and is all that will ever matter to the government and the selection committee. So I get angry. When a girl with lots of money and fame, walks into a hall with other people on the same page, she gets accepted. But when a beautiful soul walks into the lives of terrific people, it gets rejected. It hurts me when I see, with my own eyes, that there are Indians who try acting, talking and behaving outlandish to their fellow Indians who aren’t well off. A person my friend knew once, was put into so much depression and that led to a lot of follow-up problems at a very young age.

It is like an unclear picture that I’m trying to paint in my head. Yet I end up converting them to words. The humiliation people have to put up with. It hurts. The closure a person is comfortable with in a scaring dark way. The insecurity when it comes to society. You’re not ugly, Society is! Yet there’s this dark voice in each one’s mind. Will I really be able to accept reality? Or is it rather better to put up with the falseness prevailing and keep pushing on. For independency is trending now. So is rejection, I suppose. It wouldn’t really occur to you unless you face it. It’ll be the world against you. But all you’ll have in mind are the memories of how you’ve treated people and how that’s backfiring at you?

This is just a general rage on the ways and means of our society. People fall for what their actors portrait on-screen. They get deeply affected by the promotions. It is after all soothing to know that you’re one among the million people following it. No one rather wants to be that one in a million kind of person. When traitors are hit with an amplitude of realisation, ask them, “I’m sorry, did my back hurt your knife?”. I believe in forgiving but never forgetting. Be it good or bad. When you feel let down at any point of time in life, don’t try to end it. Instead try to live up to your beautiful dreams and prove your haters, wrong!

I totally support loneliness. I’ve been there and it’s an interchangeable phase that I visit often, to keep my calm and keep myself intact. So don’t feel awful if you’re there. You are, in fact, gifted to be there yourself. Quality time alone matters. It helps you bring out the best version of yourself…truely for the better!!

This has nothing to do with how my life is going on right now. But this was purely for those who’ve been through the above phases of life and desperately need help or at the least, a feeling of oneness. And through my thoughts, if you’ve achieved it, do let me know. I’ll keep improving. The word trigger means a lot. To me, if used in a good way, it’ll improve the way everyone sees life these days.

– Shreyy, always here to help you, the way I was helped :’)

Untitled feelings. 

Expectations might be high now… People’s perspective vary. It’s called perspective for that very reason. And so they say, you’ll find ‘the ones’ once you’ve gotten there. People from the past will stay , they said. You’ll just have to keep in touch and you’ll manage. New people will not dominate. It’s going to be tough. That’s the one thing that happens to be right. No one will stay and help you. It seems fair though. If there’s a mutual feeling of helplessness, it’s manageable. And then you wake up weeping. Wishing you could go back to how it used to be. The old times when everything seemed stable. When you didn’t have to spend much time or money to get happiness. When friends backstabbed less. Not that they like backstabbing less, but they loved loyalty more. Everything’s changed now. You’ve grown up. Expected to behave. Behave according to a set of expectations. It’s a cycle all over again. Empty your mind. Live up to your dreams. Not that of others. 

Welcome to college. 

– Shreyy, who is still processing. 

Such Testing Times!

This week had some amazing turn of events in store for me. Long story short:

  •  Life skills were put to test. Living alone wasn’t new, but living alone added with pain was something new. I gained confidence to a whole new level and definitely the hard way. 
  • New songs now have new meanings to me, out of the blue.
  • Driving lessons were brought before my eyes, the hard way. 
  • Friendships were put to the ultimate test. There was all of a sudden a clear division between those who mattered and those who didn’t. 
  • Family became the first priority and bonds grew stronger. 
  • Sacrifice was at it peak, from all sides of relations. It was something beautiful to notice. 
  • Distractions in class shot straight up and the importance of sleep,  besides taking decisions, was learnt. 
  • Changes were brought in each and every person involved, for the better. 
  • Finally, managing different things at once, was possible through practice. 

One should rather not avoid such a week full of experiences. It felt like life was taught all together in a week’s time and I wasn’t really looking forward to that. If such a thing is to happen to a normal person like me, it ought to happen to anybody, no matter how high or low. I’d say you’d rather stay prepared for anything to happen at ANYTIME. It’s the least you can do. 

– Shreyaa, enriched a step higher 😁

A Hidden message.

She knows that she wouldn’t like it, if she told him this soon. So she kept it a secret. A secret only one person other than her self-consciousness knew. She tried giving him hints and ways of unobvious means, so as to not spoil the existing trust. She took him out and bought him food, for that was one thing she knew was his weak spot. Not just that, she also cherished each and every bite they had together.

He never failed her at timings and that made her feel special. He would walk her till she left the campus to a safe distance, each and every time. A part of her always kept telling her that he would feel the same way. But the risks of spoiling the existing trust were high. She kept it a secret, even when she was dying on the inside, to tell him. She’d rather wait a whole lifetime, if she had one, for him to own up.

To own up that their bond was special. Their bond was covalent. That their bond was something more than that which humans share. She was a biotechie and he was her department doggie.

– Shreyy, who just narrated a real life story.

P.S. – The dog was called Popsy ❤ …

Travel satisfaction (Inspiration task 4)



Out of the above four given choices, I chose the first picture. This picture represents a girl (to me) glancing at a path in a forest. This picture may represent a lot of things to different people and therefore interpretation depends mainly on perception.

Speaking from the girl’s perspective …

That girl wouldn’t have hesitated to barge into the forest , would’ve taken a million pictures of the forest and would’ve planned on staying in there, if that girl was me.             If not, there would’ve been a hard starboard making towards home.

From the audience’s view …

It would probably look like Frost’s “Road not taken”, where the girl isn’t posed with obvious different pathways, but it might spark a thought though.

If otherwise…

It seems to me that the girl is pretty darn cold and the location suggests why…


– Shreyy, with a vague intention towards the picture.

TBH with TB

“This must be a duty “, said my heart to my mind. “More like an inherited responsibility perhaps!”,replied my mind. But how could I have not known what these two were discussing about, when both of them rightfully belonged to me. And so the third angle look into the situation said that I needed more investigation. What I was only armed with those two very meager statements.

Duty? Really? What sort of duty calls without the receiver not knowing the duty itself. STRANGE. Should I dig up family history? Maybe history of fights or diseases? Diseases seems like a possible option. I’ve been looking up that topic for a while now. And if it ‘inherited’ as they say, then maybe …I GET IT NOW. OH!! It is TB. Dad had it a year before I was born. Of course it is my duty to blog about it.

Or did they refer to some duty, way off-limits? Something like campaigning. But TB isn’t even an epidemic anymore. Not as it used to be. Why then, dear heart? Why’d you call it a duty? Is there something I’m missing out on…? Or am I not able to connect the dots. Am I losing my analytical skills…or is it just over-thinking? Must be the latter. That’s just too many questions to answer.

So I start to research on the case. Interrogating the patient alone would be less fruitful. There would’ve been blacking out scenes after all. So mum was a good choice. But I needed someone who would’ve been less emotional and more involved into the case at the same time. The  DOC! Luckily it was my uncle. He kept beating around my bush. And while connecting the dots, it seemed that all of them were keen on hiding something about it, from me. “Who then, would answer without reconsideration, my mind?”, I asked her. And she kept ignoring my cross-references (On purpose!).

I hate to abruptly end this investigation. Some things are meant to remain hidden. In this case , the case of the misinterpreted treatment of TB… Case not revealed and closed!

– Shreyy, who just had to write this…

Gray matters.


“How could you not think of Christian?”, butters my mind. I mean… Christians have a thing for the color don’t they? The head scarf of nuns? *Phew!*

Anyway. Although this isn’t the color grey, I prefer talking on it since it reminds me of a recent incident that occurred in an institution. My institution. My quizzzzzzerrrr. Yeah no. So my quiz partner and I were all set up for our first ever quiz together. The prelims of course. It was a written testimony…I mean TEST. There were many questions we didn’t know the answers for, but certainly I fell in love with the one true question (for which we didn’t know the answer to again…) which kept us thinking for the longest. The question went…

If for AIDS, it is the red ribbon and for Sarcoma it is yellow, what is it for Brain tumor?

What could it be? We were thinking critically and the critical we got, the more we drifted away from the answer. So we started eliminating the colors which were already representatives of diseases which we knew. And that left us with Orange (Don’t ask why!). Grey wasn’t even on our minds, considering the time factor and all other rush hour things.

The correct answer is Grey for brain tumor because there are grey cells in the brain. It is also reasonable to think of white as the brain also has white cells but yeah grey was chosen.

– Shreyy, without regrets.



I’d rather choose !

It feels overwhelming to say right now, that I have only three years of college, left out. Within this one year of being put through a lot of new aspects, making choices was the outstanding part. Letting alone making the best, making the right choices was the toughest.

For instance, if I were given half an hour of free time, in between classes, I would rather choose to go on a short-distance walk, over spending time with classmates. It therefore isn’t surprising that I take my own sweet time, in finding people to hang out with. But every time I try to sacrifice my plans for someone else’s, this advice given by my senior pops up. She said,” Quality over quantity, right?” .

And that, undeniably is the best thing someone has ever said to me. It keeps occurring to me from then on, that making more number of friends will probably be less fruitful than making good ones even if the strength seems fading.

Our University’s best places to hang out at, are the two campus canteens, knowledge park (for the maggi station of course!) and Gurunath stores. Many may base their decision to go to one of these, on the amount of time given, the distance and how well their friends circle support the plan. But, that isn’t the case with me, luckily. Since I’d love to walk and I do not need to consult anyone over my plan, I seem to have a lot less to decide and hence make most of my free time, for those precious coffee dates in exchange for morale stories, for a lifetime!

I guess I did unconsciously end up making, the right decision when it came to choosing quality over quantity and that sums up the perks of being a perfectionist.

– Shreyy, a to-be-Sophomore. ❤