KhepiAri

Every few days a thought occurs, a thought so small yet powerful enough to annoy me for a whole day. Of course, it's about this blog, my obvious anger about the lack of readers and the blog’s name (which five years ago was an epiphanic discovery), now I want to eradicate it all, again it's the only romantic relationship of my life that has been a constant and I don't end up doing anything stupid. Yesterday for the infinite time I was stuck with this dilemma of finally becoming an absconder or keep doing what I do on this blog. As my friend and I we sucked down the ice cream nicknamed blind love, I kept ranting the same thought. My friend asked why was I blogging less for last few months. The answer has always been same I have nothing exciting enough to tell. But my friend suggested another reason - Life had me occupied. Life indeed has kept me occupied and I am not complaining. After watching an average movie, eating three different kinds of momos and two...

 Once upon a time when I was binging through my collection of Tinkle Digest, there was this sweet story about the true worth of a gift.  It was the story a young girl who was holding her birthday party and expecting expensive gifts from her classmates. She receives Dolls with beautiful golden hair, chocolates from the best bakeries, digital watch, exotic lamps, and a ball pen of ten rupees. As she safe keeps her gifts, she snorts about the inexpensive ball pen and the girl’s mother warns her, to not become a selfish and arrogant kid, as the classmate who had gifted the ball pen, came from a humble home. But little girl pays no heed, she displays her expensive gifts on her study and drops her ball pen in the black hole of the school bag. So came the exam day when our little selfish girl runs out of ink in her pen and she is on the verge of tears, as asking pen from fellow classmates meant you lose ten marks. Now no Indian Kid will sacrifice her ten marks, she brainstorms an...

New year resolutions have become the words of old, I would break them happily to realize how fickle I am. Eventually gave up on this rigid practice and since then I am happy. I do not need an extra added pressure on my shoulder, hence a new year resolution has been out of the question. Yet within a month life can teach you many lessons, without a resolution. Though I never intended on learning any new lesson, life has given me a good share of experiences from skimming through literary festivals, meeting my favourite authors, reading books, hanging out with friends, watching movies and a lot more. In a month, I have felt happy, alive, frustrated, angry and sad. Though my happiness is my top priority that doesn’t guarantee an absolute continous supply of happy moments. Life is as you receive it, sometimes you simply receive a punch in the guts. In my grade eighth, I was attached to my biology teacher, she was one of the kindest humans who would help us when we were...

As I settle on the cozy bed, I can see and sense, some of us are preparing bottles to pop up at the stroke of midnight, some are just waiting for an eventful year to just get over. My virtual friends are making a Year Review Video on Facebook, my best friends are with their lovers and dear ones sharing photographs on Instagram, my fandom reader friends are drunk on nerdiness. For a human who is more alive on her virtual space, the world is a view through her Instagram page, a whisper within 140 characters on twitter, an emotion disguised in a status update, sadness the reaction button. All these virtual actions are fictional in the rational eyes, they are not touchable or kissable. Yet they exist, they exist on the other side of the screen. I woke up from a siesta dream today, in it, I was cooped in a room, everything was Blue and White but nothing is alive. Everything typed on the virtual screen was getting erased, every photograph I uploaded were getting whitewashed, ever...

[Another Bloagathon! This is for Women's Web  Finding Mr. Right Stories competition in tie up with the Woo App ] Love has been a constant in this blogger’s life, I have always been in love with the idea of love. Fueled by Mills and Boons initially, I always wanted a Tall, Dark, Handsome lover, well I was fifteen when I read my first Mills and Boon, the shift to Tall, Fair, Handsome Vampire happened quickly at sixteen, and I wanted a blood sucking creature for my husband. While Elizabeth Bennet said yes to Darcy, I sighed and imagined myself in her gowns and laces! Oh, how much I love those silly novels by lady novelist and how much I waste my monthly allowance on them!  The Twilight hangover had made a racist out of me and I would hanker after any cute fair guy with decent height! It was always the lips of the guys that caught my eyes first. By the time, I reached enlightened eighteen my eyes searched for Jang Keun Suk alike, Suk is the perfect blend of husk...

For almost six months City of Joy has become by my new address, the addressee finds the city overwhelming and loud, populated and confused, filled with rude yellow cab drivers and helpful blue bus conductors. It is both logical and magical, basically an irritating place but none the less very homogenizing in approach. One can find a street named after every other historical figure, except Hitler, Mussolini and Stalin we have Ho Chi Min to Lenin at one random nook. Navigating through this city is hard yet funny, going to my darling college is a journey of its kind. Fortunately, we have the metro which is efficient unlike this lazy city. Travelling through metro has bought to my sight hilarious scenes from everyday life, from a pervert being publicly shamed to an old man getting off at wrong station, in five months four eyes of the addressee has seen a lot. Often the addressee has been part of tragically comic scenarios herself where wrong exits have made too many cameos. In th...

(This blog post is written for the Blogathon competition hosted by Women's Web in collaboration with the Maya App, copy the link-> http://www.womensweb.in/2016/10/periodpride-blogathon/ or click on the hashtag #PeriodPride ) In whispers and giggles it had entered our ears 'a girl had bled', a bleeding girl is lonely, but a herd of bleeding girls is celebration. A girls first blush is celebrated in Assam as Tuloni Biya, she is kept inside the house for three days, on the fourth evening she is decked up as bride and a great feast is organised, it’s a coming of  age ceremony, a celebration of blooming into a woman, a tradition both praised and frowned upon. Growing up in Assam had made me attend many Tuloni Biyas, though my own close friends failed to invite me in their own celebrations [traitors]. Being a Bengali I never got my own feast, Bongs are on the hushier side of washing the bloody undies in public. This ritual is celebrated by the whole community; i...