Staying off the Internet…

So, the internet has become an inseparable part of our daily lives. I spend my days switching from youtube to instagram to facebook to twitter and the day passes without having accomplished much of anything. I cannot even imagine how I would spend my day without the internet.

So I wondered, could I spend a day without internet? What would I even do? I guess it would be a challenge. Only one way to find out. I am going to be offline for a whole day, starting right now, I guess. So, ba-bye! I will share my experience of staying off the internet for 24 hours tomorrow or the day after! Have a nice day, and keep smiling.

If you want to keep tabs on me (whether or not i stayed offline), my ig, twitter and other links are:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/sauravsaysso?s=09

Insta: https://www.instagram.com/saurav.says.so/

SC: https://www.snapchat.com/add/saurav.saysso

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Wishing upon a Shooting Star

When I was little, I hoped to one day wish upon a shooting star. I had a list of things I would wish from that shining object in the sky so far.

But years went by without me seeing a star shooting through the sky to grant a wish of mine. And Blink-182 told me through one of their songs that the star I would wish upon, did not shine.

More years went by and doubts started forming in my head. As I attended high school, my books of science confirmed that the stars, light years away, were in fact dead.

Soon I forgot my wishes as time passed and my life went on. And one day, I woke up, unable to fall back asleep, decided to go for a walk before the rising of the sun.

As I was heading out, I unintentionally glanced at the dark, night sky. There I saw the shooting star that had for years acted shy.

I smiled with joy, looking at it, unable to wish from the list I had forgotten to hoard. But for some reason I felt warmth inside, so I closed my eyes and wished to keep feeling that in my life, a happiness beyond something I can word.


Please leave your thoughts and suggestions in the comments.
My other socials:
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/saurav.says.so/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/sauravsaysso

Life is…

Sometimes, our life seems difficult. Dreams break like an egg. Daily routine becomes plain and bland, like a cup of flour. But then friends and family come in, raising hopes and spirits like baking powder, adding sweetness to life like spoons and spoons of sugar. Sure most times are hard, but there are also moments of pure bliss, that flows into our life like milk. Life is a mixture of all this, both good and bad, and although it might be lumpy at times, it soon becomes smooth like a batter. We pour our heart out, like pouring the batter into a pan, but end up feeling empty like the mixing bowl. We are lost, and don’t know how things will end up. We wonder what will be. Life heats up and we feel the change, like the batter in the oven. We seem to be failing,over and over again. However, struggling through it with the help of friends and family, our lives become sweeter, and we rise, taller than before. Finally, things cool down, and we are filled with joy like layers of icing. Even if its not perfect, we are covered in happiness like frosting. In the end, even if our life is filled with imperfections, we still bring a smile on someone’s face…

Because life is like making a cake.

P.S. if you like my posts, follow me, because even if I can’t say when, I can say that there will be more.😅

Why I write…

65 days. It has been 65 days since I last posted in my blog. Why did I stop? I do not know. I could say I was too busy with college and pre-board exams and what not, but that would just be making excuses. I did not post because I did not write. I did not write because I forgot why I write. However, now I remember.

I write because I like it. It is as simple as that. I like writing, letting my emotions take form of words in a paper, creating characters and giving them powers and abilities that I will never have. I like writing because through it I can create a world of my imagination, where the sky is red and the apple is blue, and Hedwig never died. I can create an alternate universe where my workshop teacher is a vampire slayer, my classmate is a ghost in an abandoned lighthouse. I can give life to non living things, make windows sentient, and have them argue with each other. I can see my words rhyme, and create a detective who solves a crime. All that was cramped inside my head, I can let it all flow out, and even if its crazy, stupid or weird, I feel proud, and I like that feeling.

Why do I share it?

I don’t know. I write, and I could keep it to myself. But I feel like I should share it. Everytime before I post, I am afraid. Afraid of being judged, afraid of being criticised, afraid of being misunderstood, or afraid of being understood correctly and being laughed at. I ask myself, “Is this worth it?” but before I think of the answer, I share it. Then I realise. In this big, big world, there will always be atleast one person who might read my writing, be inspired by it, or relate to it, or enjoy it, or just find some joy from reading it. For someone out there, I am giving shape to their own imagination. Every post I write, is like a letter, telling that one person, “You are not alone.” Realising this reminds me why I write. Even if my writings are bad, stupid, crazy, weird or just a plain trash, for that one person, it is a beautiful trash. So, I write, and I share, because for that one person that I didn’t even know existed, my writing might be just what they needed. That is what I think, because that is how I feel when I hear other’s stories. I relate to them, and I hope someone relates to me.

So, if you are that person who was waiting for my post, I am sorry that I haven’t posted for so long. I am going to write and post when I can. I guess college can really get in the way of my blog.(I should correct that in my bio.) Sorry, if this post was unusual. I usually hand-write a draft, and then upload it, making some adjustments, which I did not do with this post, because I thought it should be more honest and straight from the heart. So, stay awesome. And if you are facing a tough time, hold your head high, look up at the sky, and give a big smile. Nothing lasts forever. Not even my break from blogging.

I apologize if this post felt awkward.

P.S. if you like my posts, follow me, because even if I can’t say when, I can say that there will be more.😅

That didn’t go as f***ing Planned

“That didn’t go as f***ing planned.” I don’t know who came up with this quote, but this describes the story of my life in six words. I don’t usually plan, but when I do, it never goes according to the plan. I plan a trip, a gathering, or sinply a study time for my exams, and in the end, I am left with a disoriented chaos. My plans have failed, surprisingly, so many times that I am no longer surprised at their failure. However, with age comes wisdom. I have become wiser, and now, when I am about to plan or do something, my wise soul tells me, “This isn’t going to go as f***ing planned.”

(If you like my posts, remember to like them, share, comment what you think, and follow my blog for more. You are also welcome to connect with me on other social sites like facebook and instagram. Stay awesome. 😊)

A Rant of a Forty year old Me… probably

I don’t remember how many seasons have gone by since then, but I remember it was spring. Back then I was unaware of the consequences that day would bring. It started as a day like any other, and like always, I expected what lied ahead to be a bother. That day for me was a holiday, but I was not expecting anything awesome to come my way.

I was doing my own thing, when I got a call, and what I heard left me jumping around the hall. It was from my girlfriend, and she was back, and it had been many years since we sat down with a joke to crack. I got dressed and raced liks a jet, back to the place we first met.

Later I met her and she said she had something to say. I listened quietly and did as she asked, for she always got her way. I did as she asked and followed her home, where she told her father about us, and when I saw his glare, I knew then that I was trapped in a cage, unable to roam.

(If you like my posts, remember to like them, share, comment what you think, and follow my blog for more. You are also welcome to connect with me on other social sites like facebook and instagram. Stay awesome. 😊)

The Cherry Blossom Tree

Kenshi Tora looked at the cherry blossom tree in his garden. The pink leaves falling from the tree looked beautiful. It was a view of serenity. However, he could not feel it. He was the head of his clan, The Tora, meaning the tiger, and the pouncing tiger in the clan’s flag had seen many battles. The leaves falling in serenity reminded him of those battles, with the crimson blood and the chaos.

Kenshi was the Daimyo of his region, a feudal Baron of Japan. He was considered to be the strongest and bravest among his peers, his might overshadowed only by the Emperor himself. A thousand men with swords made by the best blacksmiths in the region followed him. They were his samurai who followed his every command. They would die and kill on his word, but alas, in this time of countless wars and battles, many would fall, and they wouldn’t stand up again, even if the Baron commanded them to. A bitter truth that Kenshi had realized after seeing countless men fall before him, their blood dropping, like the leaves of a Cherry blossom tree.

Kenshi had gained a lot over the years with his strenght and might. Wealth and power, they all grew after every fight. Although Baron Tora had gained a lot from the countless wars of feudal Japan, Kenshi Tora had lost much more. He saw his father bleed out in the field of battle. He had seperated with his friends in the battleground, like leaves seperating from a branch, never to unite again. But his greatest loss came elsewhere, far away feom the bloody massacres of battle.

It was after his dominant victory of the Northern provinces. It was his greatest achievement to date, and he could not wait to return home to share the news with his family. He returned with his men, full of joy from the win. However, that joy did not last long, for as soon as he opened the door to his room, he felt weak and fell to his knees. His men rushed to him, but they too were dumb at the sight in front of them. His wife, in a beautiful Kimono with cherry blossom leaves printed on it, was lying motionless on the bed with their infant son, blood coming out of their slashed throats.

It had been three years, but the pink leaves falling from the tree reminded Kenshi of that ill fated night, of the helplessness he felt. No matter how hard he tried to forget, he was once again grief stricken by the reminder of his greatest loss. This was too much. He did not want to be reminded again. He picked up his axe and chopped down tge Cherry Blossom tree.

(If you like my posts, remember to like them, share, comment what you think, and follow my blog for more. You are also welcome to connect with me on other social sites like facebook and instagram. Stay awesome. 😊)

A God for Me…

When I was little, my mother used to hold my hand and take me to temples. She had some faith in God, and that faith had transferred to me. However, as I grew taller, my faith in God grew smaller. It was not that I had lost all faith in God, just that I did not have the same faith that my mother had.

As I grew older, my thoughts became bolder. I still bowed my head at temples but it was more out of respect for my family’s beliefs and society’s culture. I was praying to a God I did not believe in. God never answered my prayers, or maybe he did and I am not aware of it. I do not understand this idea of God that the society follows. To be more precise, I doubt the forms and powers associated with God. Maybe there is someone who is watching over us, but I don’t think there i any point in asking for help. “God helps those who help themselves.”, this quote is what I believe in and what I follow. Although “God” has been referred to in the quote, the quote just means that we should put in the effort ourselves, without waiting for others. That is precisely what I do.

Why do I doubt the belief and faith the society has on God? I am not sure. I respect the belief the society has, but I don’t have the faith they have or the belief in the notion that “God will look after you.” I am not sure if I could be called an atheist, because I still think there may be a God, of form and with qualities that is completely different from how they have been perceived so far.

Then, what is a God for me? If God is a creator, for me that would be my mom. If God is a provider, for me that would be my father. If God is someone that gives hope, for me that would be my family. If God is someone that brings joy, for me that would be my friends. If God is someone strong, who helps others, for me, that is what I strive to be. So what about “the” God? He/She/They, for me, are probably busy doing their own thing.

So, I am still here, alive and well, and my choices of my beliefs has not betrayed me so far. My mom still makes me go to temples, but I do it now out of respect for her. I haven’t gone on a crusade to influence ithers and change their beliefs because it is their choice. I am happy with my decisions and have no regrets. Sure, I hit a few bumps here and there, but now I make an effort to get back on track myself, and not wait there, asking for help, and when things work out, it feels like an achievement. I see others searching for Gods in temples. A God for me, however, is in everyone around me.

I am sorry if this was not that good. It just felt wrong to abandon it after writing it down. Afterall, no writing is trash. So, be sure to like it, comment what you think, follow my blog  for more and share it.😊

The Old Lady

The old lady sat on the footpath smoking a cigarette. In front of her was a piece of tarpaulin, and on top of it wad a big pile of gooseberries. She was sitting there to sell them, and this was her source of incomeher daily routine. She did not remember how long had it been since she started selling them on that footpath, but she knew it had been long. For she had been there when the giant building behind her was called the Royal Nepal Airlines Corporation, and it had been about ten years since the Royals were removed.

She used to sell gooseberries in Ason, the busiest place in Kathmandu, Nepal, for retail shopping. However she had to move because the local shopkeepers didn’t like her setting shop outside their doorsteps. She was walking away from that place, when she had discovered the giant building, and the bus park in front of it. The mass of people flowing in and out had motivated her to set up her makeshift  shop there. For some time her business bloomed. She didn’t have land to grow gooseberries, so she had to buy them in order to sale, but the profit was big enough for her to not care.

Many years had passed since those days. For some reason, the number of people in the bus park went up, but her customers went down. Forget the profit, she could barely make money needed to survive the day. On bad days, there were no customers at all, and she had to go to bed with an empty stomach. Today was one of those bad days.

She had been sitting in that bus park since nine in the morning, but her income was dead, so she should be mourning. She looked at the pile of gooseberries in front of her. It was not the best she had ever sold, but she did not have the money to buy better ones. It was getting late, and no matter how many people passed by, no one seemed to notice her. Dejected, she started packing her berries. Looks like her family would go to bed hungry today too. No, she thought. She had to manage some money, some loan, for she could not let her family down.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a young boy in a college dress. He seemed to be interested in the gooseberries. He asked if they were for sale. She apologised and said they were not that good. He said he didn’t mind, and bought some and walked away.

The old lady didn’t know where he came from, or where he would go, but she knew one thing, and that was, she had some money to take home.

(If you like my posts, remember to like them, share, comment what you think, and follow my blog for more. You are also welcome to connect with me on other social sites like facebook and instagram. Stay awesome. 😊)

The Red Landline Phone

“But why?”, she asked, holding back her tears, barely holding the phone, but there was no reply. Her love had cut the call without replying. She stood there, her silence interrupted only by the distinct beep of the landline phone.

She was devastated. Her Romeo had broken up with her, saying that she was not her Juliet anymore. He didn’t give any other reason for leaving her, and on top of that, he had done it over the phone. This was just too much. She spinned the dial of the telephone to get a reply, because he was leaving her without saying why. However, he didn’t pick up, no matter how many times she tried. She sat down, unable to comprehend the situation. What had she done wrong? She didn’t know. She had loved him unconditionally, and he did too, at least she believed so. They had been together for years, and now he had left her in tears.

The worst part was that he didn’t give a reason. Was she really that worthless, that he didn’t think it was necessary to tell her why? She didn’t know. She only knew she loved him, but he didn’t love her, and this made her cry. Maybe it was her fault, she started blaming herself. Maybe she was no good, she thought, as she remembered all the quarrels and the fights they fought. Whose fault had it been then? It was probably hers, she thought. No, it was definitely her fault, thats why he left her, she concluded, her heart getting weaker with the growing pain.

This was too much. She couldn’t take it anymore. There was no end to this and she didn’t know where to go, or at whom to shout. So, she found a solution to get all the pain out. She took a knife and cut her wrist open with a slight moan, her blood coloring the floor red, just like the landline phone.

(If you like my posts, remember to like them, share, comment what you think, and follow my blog for more. You are also welcome to connect with me on other social sites like facebook and instagram. Stay awesome. 😊)