A Bundle Of Contradictions

Let me be honest with you.
I wasn’t always the person I am now.
I wasn’t the girl with the sardonic, sceptical sense of humour. I wasn’t always the girl who took a long time to decide who was right and who was wrong. I wasn’t always the outspoken “I-don’t-like-the-way-you’re-treating-me-and-I-think-we-should-discuss-as-to-what’s-going-on” character either. I wasn’t a girl who always chose her friends carefully because she feared that some of them might only like her for getting their profits and not because they enjoyed her company. 
I was someone who was oh-so-nice.
Correction: I was someone who was oh-so-naïve.
***
It happens, you know.
The will to be a part of the IT crowd, the desire to be loved and the desire to be popular – who wouldn’t want anything like that?
If anyone’s reading this, don’t you ever deny the fact you ever had the urge, the desire, the yearning to be something more than ‘ordinary’.
It happens to everyone! Every single person in this world has a wild desire to be…

(I’m not really sorry for the overused clichéd title. It’s what this post is about and my creative juices are finally recovering from the two-year-long writer’s block that had hit me)
The number fourteen has no particular significance in most cultures, except the Chinese one.
According to the Chinese, any number with four at the end is considered unlucky because the pronunciation of the Chinese word for the word ‘four’ is eerily similar to the word they use for ‘death’.
That’s why, instead of naming all the floors in a building like most people normally do, the Chinese insist on not naming the fourth/fourteenth/twenty-fourth or any other floor with the last digit ‘four’ with their respective names. Instead, they chose to name the floor after the next digit.
I know the paragraph written above is highly confusing. So the conclusion is: the number ‘four’ is like the number ‘thirteen’ of the western culture.
I’d known about this titbit since I was eleven (all thanks to a book on Chinese hi…

Hi everyone! 
How are you all? How was your Christmas? Did you all have too many cakes?  
My Christmas was uneventful, unfortunately. I was busy studying and I had a severe headache, to the point that I almost started imagining that I was going to die. 
I must admit, that was a bit over-the-top. 
Anyway, I was going through my writing folder on my computer and I stumbled across this poem - one of the three poems I'd written for my school magazine. 
And I don't think it got selected. :( 
So, here it is, unabridged. 
Hope you all like it! 
The room is devoid,
Of any soul but myself;
The window’s open,
But the sky is a dismal grey; 
My lips are quivering,
My fingers are shivering,
My heart’s maniacally,
Thudding against my ribcage;
My breathing is unsteadying,  As each minute passes;
Violent tornadoes of fear,
Are churning in my stomach;
‘You can’t do this,’ A nagging voice,
Lurking in a dark corner,
Of your brain, hisses;
‘You shall fail miserably and,
Be upset about it forever…

So, the other day, I was just going through my English textbook and I was in desperate search of something that remotely resembled literature. 
You might ask, “Did you find anything that had the faintest trace of Shakespeare, Tennyson or Wordsworth?”
My answer: Heck, I didn’t even get anything that remotely resembled Chetan Bhagat.
You see, my textbook is a compilation of articles written on the Reader’s Digest or the Times Of India. As poems, it contains translation of Marathi poems which would have sounded much more interesting had they been left off in their native language.
This is the literature that we have. What a sad life.
However, despite of its flaws, the articles in my textbook are brimming with wisdom and some of the poems are really nice.
One such poem is “You May Be The Person I’m Looking For”.
What is this poem about?
This poem is basically a description of an idealistic kind of person – a person that the poet deeply admires.
And somehow, this poem got me thinking:
Who I…