Strange

Chapter D: Vendetta opines

I believe that girls are strange. Since I belong to the same species, I will not rule out the possibility that I may be queer too.

I say this because of two particular girls in my mind right now. Miss Rihanna and Miss Petunia. In increasing order of bafflement they arouse in me. No, that’s strange.I wasn't thinking about these two. Actually I had two boys in my mind whom I associate with the aforementioned girls. Both these males smoke. Mr. Adam updates facebook statuses which read: “Marijuana should be legalised”. R always makes it a point to frown and speak as abominably about A’s tobacco habits as best she can. Mr. Drake apparently told P about his sad story of lost father, not so sophisticated background and his consequent entry into the world of chain smokers. P was once too close to me (a fact that sometimes embarrasses me; but hey she was my best friend then. This fact is undeniable and the fun we had together unmatchable. No, she was a crazy being, determined to pull me down and so, embarrassment is justifiable and validates the fact that I’m sane after-all.) . She would often confide in that the only thing she detested about her otherwise perfect boyfriend is smoking. She hates smokers. Why then she befriended D who cooked up this unfortunate tale and served it with a pinch of wanton and garnished it with puffs of smoke? A too has a grievous saga to explain his affinity towards the world of tobacco. Well, he hasn't shared this saga actually with R but she told me once that his life back home is tough. Upsetting. Inhuman.

So?

I maintain that there are thousand excuses to do wrong. Not a single reason. D added in his tale, to gain the sympathetic shoulder, that he never wanted to smoke. Also he is ever since meaning to quit. If you have this much insight and are that much willing to correct the incorrect, do it! A says that he knows that this habit is cancerous but he does not wish to give up the solace. I say shut up! Along with yourself, you are breeding many innocent and imbecile passive smokers. To these two pretty ladies, I can only grimace. One had been my best friend earlier, the other still earlier. Both these missies have all the brains in the world. In comparison to me, I mean. If they are so good at academics and daily chores, respectively, why cannot they acknowledge the simple fact that befriending a wrong-doer makes them abettors too? They are committing the sin of tolerating tobacco. Strange I call them. Not senseless though. R and P do know that smoking is bad and sad stories are bull-shit. They aren't senseless. Only strange ,by remaining nonchalant to this tobacco thing. 

Join the dots

Each word is like a dot. A drop. Each word strives to come together and form a story. All the dots together give shape to any shape. Every drop counts to form an ocean.

In order to fare well in CAT, I am trying to improve my vocabulary. Improving lexicon through reading novels and newspaper is a secondary objective. The main purpose is to satiate my hunger for stories, exotic plots, breathtaking locales and debonair people. So, the new words that I come across do not lodge into my memory as permanent residents. They register themselves as foreign tourists (the words/phrases English has borrowed from sister languages), visitors (words that I found new/interesting but remembered for only some time) and many a times as useless acquaintances (whose meaning I may decipher from the context but cannot use in my own sentences).  This handicap incapacitates me.  Every time this sinking feeling addles my preparation. To overcome this debility, I have decided to write something every now and then. This little paragraph/ poem/dialogue will contain all the words I learn that day. I wish to continue this to the acme of perfection. Within a few days, I would like to see my fears allaying. This millstone must be dealt with. With this kind of determination I thus herald a journey towards verbal cynosure.