RichiPedia

Experience, my friend, is the best teacher. Time, equally so. My parents tell me that I don't need to make the same mistakes that they made, in order to learn. So, I make mistakes of my own, then regret making them and take lessons from each one of them. So, here goes. Don't let anyone treat you like their booty call. You're definitely not it. Unless you believe in that kind of a thing, then you might as well be one, I guess. There are far better things you can be, than a booty call for some jerk. Most importantly, don't be your ex's booty call. Period. Never give in to lust. It always screws things up. For you, to say the least. They say, lust is one of the deadly sins; today I understand why. It will destroy you mentally, steal your piece of mind and wreck you emotionally.  It is not everybody's cup of tea. Don't say you weren't warned. Do not tolerate nuisance. Not from anyone. Make sure the line is never crossed. What's off limits, sho...

An eerie quietness fills the room   Something doesn't seem right today He is waiting for me in bed I slip into the blanket that covers his body I tell him that he needs to be well He doesn't listen to me I am yearning to hear him speak He doesn't talk much I am waiting for his words of wisdom He hardly even says anything I remind him of his strength  His body is weak  I feed him naan khatai and imarti each day He is thinning by the day I bring him his favourite food He doesn't eat two square meals in a day I cook him his favourite mutton biryani He can't eat two square meals in a day I bring him filter coffee from the nukkad of the street He can hardly even drink water  I ask him if he'd like to dance with me He can't stand on his two feet  I try to put him to sleep His eyes are tired of being shut  I stay quiet for a few minutes  He reaches for my hand I can't stop the tears from running do...

Wind o' wind, carry my message, will you? Blow hard, blow fast,  Stop when you find him, Then hit him hard, and harder, Now, calm down a little, and some more, Relax around him, engulf him in your force, Hush now, settle down quietly, Let him breathe. Let him breathe the scent you carry, The scent that will remind him Of the beads of sweat that covered Our entwined bodies at 2 o'clock that night.  Oh wind, carry the scent of that night, And of lavender candles that burned  To keep us warm until we fell asleep, Asleep on the cold floor of my room Dear Wind, remind him of the heat From our bodies, kissing the floor beneath. And the shivers that ran through me, The goosebumps that rose on his skin, The feeling of him against me, His lips against mine,  Oh wind, remind him, tell him, hurt him Just like he hurt me. Touch his soul and leave him, just like he left me. Th...

I am lying in bed idly. A few random thoughts rule my head. I don’t remember putting the lights out. I begin to fidget with the switch of my bedside lamp. *click* On.  *click* Off.  Repeat. My phone beeps. It’s him. Hi . My heart races exceptionally fast; it might as well give Usain Bolt a run for his money. Oh, no. I am just exaggerating here. It’s the first time in days that he’s bothered to text me. We talk sometimes. No. I talk. Always. He just listens. Sometimes, he speaks.  But, he never talks.  I don’t reply immediately. I take my own sweet time to type out a text. Two minutes later my thumb hovers over the send button.  Damn, that will look desperate. I retype Hi at least 7 times, using different textual tones each time. (What are textual tones, anyway? We don’t know but we still know, right?!) After   twenty minutes of contemplation whether to punctuate using a full stop or an exclamation mark, I hit send. Hi. :) The conversati...

What is ego? It is essentially the definition of you, for you and by you. It might as well be the factor that separates you from the rest of the world, giving you some sense of superiority over others. The roots of human ego lie in the 3 M’s: Me, Mine and Myself. The whole story begins right here. It is this ego that doesn’t let us use our full potential to nurture relationships. It prevents us from doing what is right and needful because too often, we are blinded by what we want. The ego wants to want more than it wants to have. Here, I am mostly going to talk about how ego transforms relationships and the effect it has on the people involved.    A lot of times, we find ourselves contemplating whether we should initiate or wait for the other to do so. Ending up with thoughts like “Woh bhi toh kar sakta/sakti hai. Main hi kyun karu?”  But, you know what, this happens only when someone has made us feel insignificant with their intentional or unintentional actio...

I'm sitting in the balcony of my room at Club Mahindra Binsar Villa as I write this. It is shortly after dawn and the sun is nowhere to be seen even though it is past its rise time. I'm surrounded by clouds on all four sides and I could, well, literally be on cloud nine or ten or whatever, for that matter. I hear a lot of sounds but mostly silence. It is these sounds that I love: the rain pouring hard on the wooden floor of my balcony, the peaceful nature, the distant and the distance, and most importantly the sound within myself. My personal diary that is no longer personal.  I start to feel a little cold with a drop in temperature that this rain has brought. I start to feel a little cold on the outside and the inside. By now, the clouds are engulfing me and I can hardly see beyond a few feet. Rubbing my arms to seek warmth, I grab my sweatshirt which I brought with me to the balcony, and wear it over my white tee shirt that is wrinkled from the nig...

Tonight is no different.   I twist and turn in bed like every other night.   The events of the day run a recap through my subconscious mind.   Nothing special. I twist and turn as grief takes over. One quiet sob. And another. And another. Before I know it, my sister is awake, holding me tight, asking me what's wrong. She's 15. How is she supposed to understand the so-called problems of adulthood? What do I explain her?   So she just holds me close while I cry the heck out of me.   It's not the kind of crying that babies do. It's not the cry for milk or for a toy or for a video game, nor is it for a dress or a party.   It's over a guy. A lost love.   No, he wasn't my boyfriend and he never could be. There are more kinds of love that can blossom between a guy and a girl, than you think. This was one of those different kinds.   Simply because we were different - together and individually. I don't know why I cry over him but I ...