Something New.

Hello everyone :)
I know it been a while that nothing new has graced your computer screen from Myriad Musings for quite sometime. I just started with a new a blog on tumblr a couple of days back. I would love it if you guys, would take some time out and spare a few minutes to to my new venture. It's something special and the posts are very close to my heart. Please visit it often, as I will be posting lots of stuff from now on. I'll be humbled.
This DOESNOT mean that I'll not my update my blogspot account. It was my very first venture and this firstborn will reside in my heart forever and I will post special stuff on it now and then.

Here's  my new Blog,
The link :
Sagas of the almost

PLEASE visit.
Eager for your views.

Much much Love,
Rushika.

Her, Rains and bundles of nostalgia.

Before I start typing these 'precious' little words out of  my pretty little laptop, I would like to tell you that I cried buckets and buckets today. The last time I cried like this was when I was around 14 when, Stallion, a pretty little jet-raven colored street puppy who wandered near my house and whom I loved and adored till death, was crushed to death when she was around 2 months old by a speeding jeep. And when I sit down to cry, that crying isn't just for the event that has made me weep. I literally sit in my room, head ducked between my knees and recall every trivial sad detail about my past experiences and the things that deeply affected me. It's a bloody awful habit if you ask me. But it also gives me this incredible let-out, a brilliant catharsis. Getting pack to the point, why I cried.

I watched Her today. A wonderful romantic science-fiction heart-stopping film. And words fail me to describe how beautifully crafted that film was. There wasn't a single second where I felt unconnected. Here's this dialogue that Amy Adams says to Joaquin Phoenix which pretty much explains the kind of person I am.

And there's one more line that Theodore says. It's heart-breaking and nostalgic and just...
                                                       

     And also I feel like marrying Scarlett Johansson's incredibly wonderful voice. I loved the conversations between Samantha and Theodore.  They make you question about the world and mostly about human existence.The ending scene where Amy Adams and Joaquin Phoenix sit on the roof and watch the sun rise, sent a ripple through my veins. But the thing that really moved me was,  THE MOON SONG. This song, is so hauntingly beautiful. Karen O's voice! God. It evoked almost everything in me.
                  Days like these are so rare. Days like these make you question about what significance you have in this hugely ginormous world. Whether or not you are gonna get crushed like an ant in the world that fails to  stop functioning. Days like these make you wander off to a very dreamy sleep. And on days like these, when you wake up from that 'very-dreamy' sleep to make yourself a cup of tea, your nostrils are intoxicated with the smell of wet earth and your feet somehow lead you to the window and your heart skips a beat to watch the rain pour heavily on the roof.
         You can cry and then feel better about life. On days like these you can give your shoulders a break for carrying the weight of your hugely pregnant brain that constantly brims with tension and hustle-bustle. On days like these you just sit back and wonder while your heart swells up with a million unanswered questions.                         

Suzie Hope

Suzie Hope stood underneath the dim yellow lights of the street lamp that hovered on top of her head. She was keenly examining the bruise on her left wrist that was inflicted on her two days ago. "It's yellowing around now; it isn't half as bad as the one on the back" she muttered to herself hinting a sense of relief in her voice. Suzie Hope, a woman of 25, never ever considered herself a beauty of any sorts. She had sleek chestnut brown hair that stretched up till  her hip bone and her skin comprised of a light olive complexion with a spectrum of moles scattered unevenly all over her face. The only physical attribute that she found appealing about herself were her eyes. She considered them her mirrors because whenever the pair of them peered over someone or something they could seek and penetrate right through them, like a determined arrow targeting its prey. Her hazel coloured iris shone beautifully today, as she accentuated them with a tinge of brown kohl. Like I mentioned, in her opinion Suzie was a tanned little girl whose eyes were too 'royal' for her. Rosie, always commented on this self deprecating habit of Suzie. "You are alluring, my precious. When will this sink through that beautifully sculpted skull of yours?" she always used to say in a ringing, high-pitched tone that Suzie loved. A smile danced on her lips when she recalled Rosie's comment. "Beauty here hardly matters...everyone's the same" Suzie told herself and mentally answered Rosie.

Suzie looked around from left to right. From the corner of her eyes, she looked at the dog who was intrigued at the sight of her shimmery silver bracelet that adorned her left wrist, cleverly concealing her purple-yellow bruise. She moved her hand up and down which made the bracelet shine and the dog was left amused, crisply wagging his tail and scrunching the sheet of crisp leaves as he made his way to examine the object that had caught his undivided attention. To Suzie's delight the dog sat beside her, licked her bare ankle and then carefully nuzzled at her feet. She bent and gave him a quick scruff on his back whispering, " Go away now, Buddy, I gotta get cracking with work." The dog howled disinterestingly and dozed off to sleep on Suzie's beige pumps. She sighed, carefully moved her feet so as not to disturb the four legged wonder and walked briskly towards the pavement that overlooked the main road.

She reached her spot within 10 minutes. And as she caught her breath a Blue Toyota Corrolla stopped by. The window next to the passenger seat rolled down automatically and from the driver's seat peeped a man wearing a cowboy hat. He looked almost 50 and had a wheatish complexion. "Hotel Blue Mountain, I will drop you to your place by early morning." he said to Suzie, as if it seemed the most obvious thing in the world to do and she was quick enough to realise that it was his routine and with 5 years of experience she could make out that this man was only bothered about.....and seemed perfectly harmless. "Ah! out of all the occupations in the world this was the one that was destined for me. Out of all the other occupations this was the one that made me such an ideal judge of man's character." Suzie said out aloud in her head. "No need for that. I will walk by myself when the work's done. Just let me make one call." Suzie told the cowboy hat. "Hey Rosie....Yes....Blue Mountain....Don't wait up for me, sweetie. I'll come back by 8, tomorrow morning. Go to sleep.....goodnight." She let out a sigh pressed the red button of her cellphone and tossed it in her black duffel bag.  She glanced at the man behind the staring wheel and could sense that he was didn't like to be waited for long, he had the most exasperated look spread on his oval face. "Angry....Oh no....I don't want that.." putting beside her thoughts Suzie gulped the bitter taste that had invaded her mouth and quickly slipped into the passenger seat.
..........and within minutes Suzie could see her night at blue mountain. And within minutes Suzie let go of herself to be that person whom she never, even in her nightmares had dreamed of being. Suzie Hope let all her hopes out.




The first post of January fiction. *pats herself in delight*
(Dedicated to all the women who are involved in the flesh trade and whose miseries are beyond words.)

An ode to you, the 365th day of the year.

First.
Au Revoir 2013.
2014, here I am saying a heartfelt hi to you.

New year's eve seems like
a perfect time to display some
narcissistic love:)

Largely, across the globe, all over the universe, you are worshipped, celebrated and looked up to. You are a steady diet of hundreds of songs, thousands of sitcom episodes, gazillions of movies. Millions of bloggers publish a post on you. You are the reason people, dress up, get high, loose their lives, fill their hearts with 'resolutions'. Earlier this time of the year, you were welcomed expectedly, with open arms like a pregnant mother awaiting to celebrate the delivery of the cocoon that harvested in her womb for 9 months and just like that, soon you too like a grown up child who is all set to face the wrath and thunder of the world, bid all of us goodbye.You fill the eyes of people with hope, urgency and a kind of demand that is hard to brush off easily. Millions, push their sorrows away and let a brave grin dance on their face, because they consider you legendary, something that needs to be welcomed with extraordinary affection and warmth. For some you were like a breath of fresh air, giving them immense happiness, love and satisfaction and for some you were like the hopeless hurricane that refuses to leave the grounds of earth inspite of everyone's earnest payers. You are optimism. You are pessimism. You are nostalgia. You are melancholy.You are heaps and tonnes of shady adjectives all rolled into one. Hard to believe that you will leave all of us in a lurch today. You will be buried in that coffin whose tombstone some might feel like visiting and some might be not.
To me, you weren't the one who would be worth to cherish for. The amount of percentage of good was humongously low than bad. But you gave me some people, some wonderful souls whom I'd like to be in touch with for eternity. You gave me this unexplained kind of power that I never thought I even possess. I've grown 'that-little-bit-more'. So, for that I will thank you. With bottom base corner of my heart, I am bidding you Sayonara, forgetting the bad as an unpleasant memory and the good as a beautiful one.
2014, is the turning point of my life. This is where my quest begins, where it all starts, this is where I am supposed to say, "Bring it on, baby!"
And I am beginning it with these two beauties. The loves of my life.

I wish I could make this man my
soulmate. Well he is, in my dreams. His presence is mystical.
Murakami. You are a god. To me, atleast.

Come on!
Who on earth doesn't like a nirvana-full
bite of my favorite red velvet?

A happy and an eventful new year to all the people who read this blog.

Much Love,
R.


p.s- 2014, be nice to me, please?

So much me.

“What are you going to do with your life?" In one way or another it seemed that people had been asking her this forever; teachers, her parents, friends at three in the morning, but the question had never seemed this pressing and still she was no nearer an answer... "Live each day as if it's your last', that was the conventional advice, but really, who had the energy for that? What if it rained or you felt a bit glandy? It just wasn't practical. Better by far to be good and courageous and bold and to make difference. Not change the world exactly, but the bit around you. Cherish your friends, stay true to your principles, live passionately and fully and well. Experience new things. Love and be loved, if you ever get the chance.” 

- David Nicholls, One day.

These past couple of months have been like a whiplash for me. Introspections, Intospections, Introspections. (Double that) There was a mammoth of turmoil that had been infesting on my heart, sucking up all the flavours, gulping it down with immense satisfaction. More than that, when I was questioned by my friends that why do I look so spooked these days, I just shrugged and said, "feeling..umm..a bit empty".

I am 17, I am that stage of my life where with each step I am writing the destiny that lies ahead of me. And to tell you the truth I am clueless trying to figure everything and everyone out. Every day has something different to offer, every one changes overnight. I miss so many things right now. Like so so so many things. Growing up sucks. I miss Rocky- my cheeky 'elder-brother' of a dog. He would've have been 18 this year, if he was here; fooling around with me. I miss my Grandad. What a man!
Liberal, funny, kind, loving.
Probably he's the only person who would set everything alright with giving me just the required piece of advice. He knew me inside out. He's the one who inculcated in me, the habits of reading and writing as a kid. By the time I had reached class 5, I had already taken a liking towards Robert Frost and Khalil Gibran, while children my age were busy toying around with pokemon (don't blame them though; always been a bit of a weirdo) And the best part with him was that he was always eager to learn everything new. I still remember, teaching him how to eat wontons. He was one cool man.
Won't talk about him much. Thinking that he's not with me anymore saddens the misery out of me. But, I sure as hell know, that he's watching over me from his place in Orion, with a Sidney Sheldon book in his hand. And he were alive right now, we both would probably be hotly debating about India's take on homosexuality. Capital offence? seriously?
Miss you, Dadu. A lot.
I had my exams recently, and I spent much of November locked up in my room, only coming out by Dad's-"Time for Lunch, beta" and Mom's- "Are you alive, in there?" Saying books and music are helping me going through these weird phases lately, is an understatement. They help me miraculously. Anoushka shankar, lana del rey, John Mayer, Broken bells, Ynidi halda, lots of books and sleep have been amazingly helpful.
God, I am sounding like a person who's been asked to join the Al-Qaeda and can't make up her mind!
Nevermind. I know this post is nothing but a summing up of what's been happening all this while. And I am here to assure you, that I'll have a few post's of fiction coming right up. This was just a little part of me screaming out a bit of self-assurance that- I am going to be just fine:)

Snowflakes in summer.

She walked with a stupor that no one else could pull off.                

Her eyes whispering the thoughts of fading immortality.                      

Arms loose with burden of the scanty flesh.

The bitter reason behind those unpainted nails.

Yes, she spoke a million untold stories.

She walked with a stupor that no one else could pull off.

A jute bag that hung lightly on those incumbent shoulders.

She didn't complain though.

Somehow she perceived the brunt as pleasure.

Yes, she spoke a million untold stories.

She walked with a stupor that no one else could pull off.

Her dampened hair beating the fury of Medusa's.

A voice with a glint of sharpness.

That short-lived sharpness plunging into the bed of seas.

Yes, she spoke a million untold stories.

She walked with a stupor that no one else could pull off.
Call her Alice, Call her Athena.
Paint her crimson, drench her in black.
Because she believes that no colors could be put in the box called 'favorites'.
Each had their poise, each infused with a breath of life.
Yes, she spoke a million untold stories.

She walked with stupor that no one else could pull off.
Her shaggy coat, her vivid smile.
Her auburn face, her wretched cries.
Her brilliant fingers, her futile tries.
She would probably take a subway or board a bus.
Taking the window seat, her eyes gazing outside.
And there she is, amidst the herd.
Her mind brewing a chain of thoughts.
Remember?
She told a million untold stories?

p.s- the poem is open-ended.
p.p.s- No, this blog is not dying a natural death.
p.p.p.s- I'll post more often.
Okay Ta-ta & good night!:)

We almost had it all.

And I heard Rolling in the deep, AGAIN! god! Adlele! everytime I hear her singing, a shiver runs down my spine. She makes everything overwhelming. The lyrics just make too much sense these days.

That tall sharpened pencil that keeps stumbling and rolling on your study table, the one that you put behind your ears or use it to keep your hair tightly wrapped around in a bun, carelessly slide it in your lips and drift away to a whirlwind of thoughts, if's & buts and possibilities.
That tip, that very tip. It's filled with so much power.
We see our dreams, our future, who we want to be right with our eyes wide opened. We live to see. See to live. Our aims, aspirations, goals. We want them bad. We want them soon. We want them now. But however we end up convincing our nerve cells to give it some time, wait for it and then bask in the after glory when it has been achieved. Without thinking we hatch a conspiracy about our future, we want them filled with every kind of object, person, situation, or melo-drama. Yeah, we become greedy, selfish and demanding. We become everything that we shouldn't.

And then all of a sudden, that tall pencil rolls by, falls down and you're left there. Naked, exposed, vulnerable and incomplete. Your dreams get shattered, your hopes get twisted and lips stop to twitch.
You pick the broken lead, take a good long glance at it. Clasp them within your fingers and throw it away with a heavy heart. As if those dreams crashed right at that precise moment when the tip touched the ground. And you're left there all alone, with your dreams to mend and hearts to look after. You look away at another direction, take a deep breath while closing your eyes, turn your head around and there, you're left murmuring, - Almost had it all.