har dil jo pyar karega woh khana khaye ga.

About two months ago, we had to give our juniors a welcome party, as all senior classes must. Twas quite a nice one too; we had a rather good time ridiculing them as much as possible without being criminally offensive while they sat there looking sad... And the food, oh what lovely food was had! 

*cue rapturous music*

The leftovers were seen being furtively carted off to the male hostel once the thing was over, and I waved goodbye to them as they passed by, for I knew no one would see or hear from them again.

But wait! The next day my friend and I espy one of our girls walking about with a little plate full of kababs. Kababs that look suspiciously like the ones I had so mournfully bid adieu to the night before. I am flabbergasted and I am bamboozled. 

'What!' I ask her. 'But where! But how!'

It turns out her boy had brought her the food. How sweet of him.

I turn to my friend and a conclusion is wordlessly, simultaneously reached, a very important one at that:

Scene on kar lo. Kabab milein ge.

Anything for food.

(cake like) inconsistency

I fear that this may be one of those nights that are spent embroiled in existential crises and extensive cleaning of rooms and laundering of clothes, nights spent rooting out chips wrappers and empty juiceboxes from corners and crevices and filling up garbage bags, nights that end with a nice shower and an intense need to sleep for the longest time possible. The latter part will not be possible though I fear, for classes are to be had in the morning and studying has to be done; for this, this utter beghairati, can go on no more.

your orange peels have fallen

(a precarious tower in flames

cemented with seeds and

white, lacy, membrane)

'motherfucking cocksucker motherfucking shitfucker what am I doing?'

'pudd na bano'

Today my mother told me to stop being such a fart.

I do miss her. :')

KEEP CALM MY GLUTEUS MAXIMUS

I have begun hating this poor once-cool World War Two poster.

It is everywhere.

People are misusing it.

It is everywhere.

Misuse I tell you. Keep calm and happy birthday? Testicles, I say.

Next thing you know this'll be pooping up, excuse the pun.

peopel pls.

I was going to tell you about how the moon looked like a giant luminescent ball tonight, 
                              
                                                      suspended in the inky sky                                                                                           
by invisible threads. shining bright like lamplight.

I wanted to ask you if it was the same all the way up there, the moon, whether it looked as beautiful from there as it did from here.


but I couldn't 
because we are not the way we used to be.