An Orange Cloud

before diving into this, make sure youre upto date with the story!! check out the first 4 chapters (i called them episodes before) by clicking on this link :  i cant sing okaaay lets begin!! . “What are you giggling about, N?” he says to me in a dramatically villainy voice but with a whiff of goofiness. It’s Madhan. Our drums guy. What do they call them? Yes, drummer.  “You’re too young to understand my humour M” I say with a smug. “GOD IT’S JUST 1 MONTH. You’re older by one month N; you make it seem like a whole year.” He says pouting. Madhan literally looks like a teddy bear. He is not very scrawny and not very round. He is a perfect blend of muscle and fat. He has a charming smile and eyes to die for, my friend’s words, not mine. Unlike Aditya who is the heartthrob of many, Madhan is actually residing in all the girls’ hearts. He has an easy going personality and eyes that always search for mischief. On the stage he is a completely different person. If Aditya and I didn’t e...

  I love my wife a lot. I love her so much and I make sure to be a green flag as they say on the Internet and tell her that every day, every hour.  We are high school sweethearts; years have gone by and she aged like a fine wine. Her eyes shine like golden apple under the sunlight (my only reason to go with her on morning walks). She has really pretty curly hair flowing down her shoulders; she braids it but I love it more when she lets the breeze play with her locks. “You should have children; they complete your life and marriage” say our relatives. She completes me and I her, I think to myself inside while smile awkwardly out. As for our marriage, we tried but later discovered she had ovarian cancer and had to let the baggage be taken away, metaphorically and literally. Since then we stopped dreaming about little humans in our sweet home. Sometimes we feel lonely but we feel better as we hear are next door neighbor fail miserably at pacifying her 3 month old.  I love my ...

Diary entry “Never end a conversation on a bad note” I see this quote everyday in some sorts of ways. In many stories the ending is the same tragedy, the other person dies. And the guilt and regret eats the surviving person alive.  Survivor’s guilt, they call it. But I was not even in the same car when this happened. Today is Sunday, a bright day. But my plan for today doesn’t include a minute of ‘bathing in the autumn sun’ or ‘ruffling in the park’ or even ‘looking out the window daydreaming’. I am strictly busy. I have exams and I cannot afford to slip any minutes now. “Your marks are in your hands. All the time. Our job is done and the rest 80% is yours to be done” the words of my statistics teacher echoes in my head. My brain is filling with dopamine, I love studying. It’s great about it people don’t get it. You learn new things and they test you on it. What’s so worrisome about it?  It is so ironic that I think this yet I still have my heart palpitating at my study schedu...