Tagged!!
Nightridermonk tagged me a long, long while ago. Almost a year back to be more precise. A cup of coffee that made sleep elude me, coupled with the chance to write about my not-so-modest self led to this.
Firstly, the rules
8 "different" points! As if somebody would write the same point 8 times.
What did I get myself into. This sure is tough, also the tagging fad's so ancient now that it ain't gonna earn me any brownie points from er..ahem people :D
Question # 2's a sitter compared to the first one- Male.
This caffeine induced sudden burst of perkiness is sure as hell wearing off.
A rather random thought I'd love to put in here,someone told me that I can't really write about serious stuff. Well sorry, but my blogs are light bordering on frivolous. No third person narratives, no Nietzsche and Kafka discussions. Hell, I wrote a spoof on the Da Vinci Code meets Bertie Wooster and shocked my Lit Captain in the Inter hall competition.
Again the keyword "me". I, me ,myself.
Yeah, you said it. "Narcissistic bitch" is spot on.
Do I care?
Read on if I haven't scared you away with a rather silly show of affected attitude, yet. :D
A story I wrote for a Unicef competition. The first one ever to be brought out in print..
The window was warm and inviting. The shimmering glass of the polished panes reflected the winter sunlight. It looked almost magical. Not nearly as magical as the day 9 months ago when she met him for the very first time. Those impeccable manners, the whole bag of wondrous experiences he brought along and the uninhibited, unguarded joy he showed when he saw her.
Gia let out a sigh. 9 months, and it seemed like all the other men in her life had never existed.
He was different. She knew it instinctively. For one, he listened to her cribbing, reacted appropriately but not too much and nodded sagely whenever she needed him to just hear her out. Would any man ever measure up to the experience that was him?
The reckless party hopper of yore, the girl who was known as much for her show stopping antics as the number of guys she was seen with, seemed unreal in the face of such pure, unadulterated love.
He of the bright blue summer sky eyes, of the golden hair and the smell that was distinctly his.Perfection personified.
And he was hers.
He loved showing her off, in front of his friends. Even at the most crowded of parties, he would reach out for her like a homing bird. Was this a miracle that the powers above sent her way, for all the jerks she had dated, all the lecherous glances she had tolerated, all the wannabes who'd wanted her, all the studs who'd wanted to pull her down, all the pseudo studs who'd wanted to show off their non existent bravado?
And Billy, she'd fretted over him getting jealous. Her husband of two years, and fifteen days to be precise. The firebrand Tory politician she'd married against her family's wishes. But he'd been surprisingly patient. Loving, caring, helpful and above all understanding, inspite of all his duties as a newly elected member of the Parliament. Good old Billy. God didn't make too many like him either.
Strange sounds shook her out of her stupor. It was her sweetheart calling out...she rushed to his side in a flash. His first coherent words.. "Ma..ma".
Her world would never be the same again.
The theme btw, was Mother and Child or something to that effect.
Adios.
Firstly, the rules
- The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover
- You have to mention the sex of the target.
- Tag 8 victims to join this game and leave a comment on their comments saying they've been tagged.
- If tagged the 2nd time, there's no need to post again.
8 "different" points! As if somebody would write the same point 8 times.
What did I get myself into. This sure is tough, also the tagging fad's so ancient now that it ain't gonna earn me any brownie points from er..ahem people :D
Question # 2's a sitter compared to the first one- Male.
This caffeine induced sudden burst of perkiness is sure as hell wearing off.
A rather random thought I'd love to put in here,someone told me that I can't really write about serious stuff. Well sorry, but my blogs are light bordering on frivolous. No third person narratives, no Nietzsche and Kafka discussions. Hell, I wrote a spoof on the Da Vinci Code meets Bertie Wooster and shocked my Lit Captain in the Inter hall competition.
Again the keyword "me". I, me ,myself.
Yeah, you said it. "Narcissistic bitch" is spot on.
Do I care?
Read on if I haven't scared you away with a rather silly show of affected attitude, yet. :D
A story I wrote for a Unicef competition. The first one ever to be brought out in print..
The window was warm and inviting. The shimmering glass of the polished panes reflected the winter sunlight. It looked almost magical. Not nearly as magical as the day 9 months ago when she met him for the very first time. Those impeccable manners, the whole bag of wondrous experiences he brought along and the uninhibited, unguarded joy he showed when he saw her.
Gia let out a sigh. 9 months, and it seemed like all the other men in her life had never existed.
He was different. She knew it instinctively. For one, he listened to her cribbing, reacted appropriately but not too much and nodded sagely whenever she needed him to just hear her out. Would any man ever measure up to the experience that was him?
The reckless party hopper of yore, the girl who was known as much for her show stopping antics as the number of guys she was seen with, seemed unreal in the face of such pure, unadulterated love.
He of the bright blue summer sky eyes, of the golden hair and the smell that was distinctly his.Perfection personified.
And he was hers.
He loved showing her off, in front of his friends. Even at the most crowded of parties, he would reach out for her like a homing bird. Was this a miracle that the powers above sent her way, for all the jerks she had dated, all the lecherous glances she had tolerated, all the wannabes who'd wanted her, all the studs who'd wanted to pull her down, all the pseudo studs who'd wanted to show off their non existent bravado?
And Billy, she'd fretted over him getting jealous. Her husband of two years, and fifteen days to be precise. The firebrand Tory politician she'd married against her family's wishes. But he'd been surprisingly patient. Loving, caring, helpful and above all understanding, inspite of all his duties as a newly elected member of the Parliament. Good old Billy. God didn't make too many like him either.
Strange sounds shook her out of her stupor. It was her sweetheart calling out...she rushed to his side in a flash. His first coherent words.. "Ma..ma".
Her world would never be the same again.
The theme btw, was Mother and Child or something to that effect.
Adios.
posted by Eesha Nayak @ 9:37 PM
2 comments
