WAYS OF READING- END TERM ASSIGNMENT AND SELF-REFLECTIVE ESSAY- CHAYANIKA VERMA

PROMPT NO. 2

One

October 2, 2009         

Dear Diary,

It was nearly midnight and we were still dancing. Jaded feet did not bother us as we both were passionate about coming closer to each other and feel each other’s presence, so intimately. I could feel the deep and warm breath that he exhaled through his nostrils, straight away penetrating into the skin of my neck. A mere breath could mingle up so many butterflies in my stomach- I did not know that. He curled his arms around my waist, bringing me more close to his face. It was as if all of my blood gushed through the streams and I knew he liked the natural blush on my cheeks. I could feel his soft fingers, so warm, coupling with my epidermis. With one hand on the waist, the other was now close to my jaw line. He caressed my cheek with his thumb- only thumb, while the rest of the fingers were behind my neck. My hand went in parallel position to his cheek, caressing in the same manner, as he was. He was trying to say something but I could not hear his words properly- maybe because of music or...      

Woof-woof, bow-wow, bow-wow, woof-woof... I turned around and still found him studying. I was agitated and wanted to throw a mug full of water on his face. “Abhi tak kyun nahi soya? Kya dikkat hai? Lights off karde, please.” He smirked, shook his head and continued with his studies.

He was saying something, yes, now I could listen to him properly- 

“είσαι όμορφη, μου αρέσεις τόσο πολύ” 1

 “ευχαριστώ. κι εμένα μου αρέσεις” 2, I replied, with a smile.

But wait, I could not comprehend! What was he trying to say? Why could not I grasp his language?

I could not even understand what I said to him. I was trying hard to remember what all we said next

but aah! Never mind, I was happy to be with him. I checked out his display picture on whatsapp and

to my surprise found his status to be coinciding with my thoughts- 

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.

I snuggled down in my blanket while trying to comprehend what all we both said, in a foreign language. I fell into a sound sleep and next when I opened my eyes, I was in Greece. Greece has always been my dream destination and will always be even if it gets ticked off from my bucket list. We were already in a hotel room which had such a beautiful sight. There were huge glass windows, through which my gaze infiltrated into the deep blue sea. Such a sight! Finally I was here with him and obviously hoping for the best to happen. While standing near the huge glass window, I felt his hands camouflaging with my abdomen. It was as if something was trickling down my whole body and my red cheeks were contrasting with the bright yellow sunlight outside. It was a warm sunny day and we decided to rest for a while in the room only. After sometime I was swimming in our private pool and sensed a gaze behind me. It was him, staring with absolute adoration while standing in boxer briefs behind the glass window. It was Noah Centineo. But how come his face transformed into Noah’s? Never mind, I could sense his looks that were trying to accumulate around my drenched body. I swirled inside the pool and it was his face again, which was now calling me out, towards the beach bench. I could hear the beach waves which were far from our room and feel the sunlight drying up my body. The sound of the waves was clear enough, just like a downpour...

It was three in the morning and the rain hadn’t stopped yet. The temperature had gone down and I had to switch off the fan. Because of cold weather, I also had to get out of the cozy blanket to relieve my bladder. To my surprise I still found him awake, this time, using his cell phone. “Phone band kar, chal soja ab.”

“Mujhe gaane sunne hain, tang mat karo.”

“Phone rakh raha hai ya nahi? Mumy ko uthaaun?”

 “Yaaaaaaaaar didi! Kya problem hai yaar aapko! Acha ek last gana sun ke so raha hu.”

“Mujhe bhi suna fir. Bandar kahi ka!”

Mom knew that my brother had slept late as he was preparing for his exams, so woke him up late in the morning; little did she know that I slept earlier and got up at same time, assuring her that I too was awake, explaining him some topic.   

...

We were going to meet after months. There were tornadoes of excitement going on in my belly. Why am I getting so eager to see him, I questioned myself. Of course I was aware, yet unaware of the answer. I inhaled a deep breath and calmed myself down, “Just pretend that you don’t care. Pretend; just pretend that his presence doesn’t matter at all. Be normal. Don’t talk too much. No need to smile excessively- (what if he falls for my smile, yet again?)” I was waiting for our mutual friend to call while sitting on my couch wearing a red t-shirt dress with purple strips and a light shade of brown on my lips. And here we were in front of each other, after months. It was only after we had come back that I realized we were wearing same color! His t-shirt was of same color- red and purple. How is that even possible? Why am I given another reason to not to chuck him out of my heart. Why?

...

“I am sorry.”

“Por qué lo sientes ahora? 3

“Sorry for breaking your heart.”

“Por favor no lo sientas. Es tarde ahora.” 4

“No, please don’t say that. I’m ready to mend my mistakes. Te casarías conmigo?” 5

Crying in happy tears, “Sí” 6

My brother woke me up as he was scared of hearing me cry. He was bewildered after seeing me in

such a state. Was I really crying? Was I so loud? Perhaps he was just exaggerating. I know it would 

not have been a loud cry because I was happily crying. I must have been sobbing or just making 

sounds; he surely exaggerated. Next morning my brother told everything that happened to me last

 night to mom and she simply informed me about a state of burden of soul when we keep our hands 

on the chest. Because of such burden, we tend to behave according to our ongoing dream(s). Most of 

the times we just make heavy and deep sounds and if it is an extreme case, we perhaps cry. I was in 

dilemma after hearing all this. So was it all because of my hands that were accidentally placed on my

chest? Was it not because of my actual happiness? But how can this happiness be real? It must have

been really a burden on my soul.

...

We were married and happy and so were our parents. It was a small gathering that accumulated in a

temple in Himachal Pradesh. It was all happening according to what we had planned and discussed.

I was wearing a bright red kanjeevaram saree (recreation of mother’s bridal look) and he was dressed

up in white shervaani. It was such a jovial moment, for both of us. While moving around the holy 

fire he gently took hold of my right hand, stirring up my heartbeat and I could feel the softness of

his gentle hands, prominently in front of everyone. There was a spark in his eyes that was utterly 

soothing. I could not help myself from smiling continuously and I did not even have any sense of

 my aching cheeks. We were finally married. The musical instruments were playing to top of the 

beat. It was loud enough; very loud...

Penn-penn

Pepen-pepen 

Penn-penn 

Pepen-pepen

Pepepepen-pepe-Pepepepen

“Chitraaaaaaaaaaaaaa, uth jaldi, dikh niche baraat jaadi kuski di. Dikh kiyaan nacha de lok” 7

 my mom exclaimed.

“Kya hai yaar, itni achi neend se utha dia. Pta hai kitna acha sapna laga hua tha!”

“Ae sone da time h koi? Sanjha kun saunda? Uthiyaa hun. Jaldi.” 8

And my lovely dream was shattered again, even while taking an evening nap. 

All my dreams are shattering away, Save me! 

I’m drowning

into an ocean of emotions.

I am drowning deep, my body is unable to move, it’s stuck and I am motionless.

Still, 

I am drowning without any resistance, giving up my patience.

As if something has pounded my heart

it just sank, sank deep, into

Nowhere.

Goodnight dear diary, and thanks for hearing my unreal realities. 

Love,

Chitra 

...

Chitra got hold of her diary, almost after nine years when she was looking for something in the store 

room. She could not resist herself from reading out her feelings which she used to express to her diary

and to nobody else. The smile on her face would not think of going away, not at all. She sat there 

anticipating her life captured and penned down on rough pages of off white color with various

beautiful but dry flowers and leaves. The ink had also faded away, just like the flowers and leaves,

leaving the off white pages deprived of the wholeness- of her feelings and of her life. The pages of

her bright diary had rotten from here and there and also, disrupted from its original location. Perhaps

some were used for making paper planes or paper boats- who knows? She was not much anxious

about the lost pages but she was happy in finding out the ones which were adorned with extra beautiful

flowers. She sat there remembering how she used to gather various flowers and buds or leaves in order

to decorate her diary.

Chitra did not think of her as a good writer when she was a young girl but now, she was mesmerized by

her own thought process. She blew away the thought thinking that earlier there were no complexities 

and responsibilities in her life as there are now. “It was all a teenage love-crush thing that surfaced up

in my life”, she thought while reading her entry of October 2009. But she knew she was madly in love

with him. She had always dreamt of him- consciously or unconsciously, she always had him on her

mind. Even when she was going through her diary, drops of sweat tickled down her back and her toe

nails were evidently blue. There was something in her writings that froze her first but then lit up an

unburnt spark in her body. The incomplete and shattered link was now piling up again in her mind,

body and soul. She was unaware of the controlling power that his memory had on her.

She was also unaware of the drops of red sweat flowing down her forehead because of excessive 

vermilion in the parting of the hair. When she wiped off the sweat with her yellow dupatta, she 

suddenly came out of that baggage of memories. She was in a state of shock and fear gripped her 

while leaving her whole body damp with sweat. She knew she could not even think of love anymore.

Love had lost its meaning the day she married Him. Love was not written in reciprocal terms in her 

life and she always cribbed about it, but silently.                     

Two

Chitra almost lost ten kilos and the worst part of all, she was impregnated by Him. For her, Love had very different notions. These notions were gradually developing and enhancing with time when her parents decided and signed her life with Him. She was happy, not with Him but with him, in her dream world- unreal real world, communicating in a language that nobody understood, not even her when she came back to the real reality of her life...

_____________________________________________________________________

Note: I have constructed this short story on the basis of my fictional upcoming book called, “Ishtiaq”. So apparently there are many chapters/short stories in the book but here only Chapter One and an insight to Chapter Two has been given.

Also, Greek and Spanish are used with the help of google translator.   

FOOTNOTES-

1. είσαι όμορφη, μου αρέσεις τόσο πολύ - You are beautiful, I like you so much. (In Greek)

2. ευχαριστώ. κι εμένα μου αρέσεις- Thanks. I like you too. (In Greek)

3. Por qué lo sientes ahora?- Why are you sorry now? (In Spanish)

4. Por favor no lo sientas. es tarde ahora- Please don’t be sorry. It is late now. (In Spanish)

5. Te casarías conmigo- Will you marry me? (In Spanish)

6. Sí- Yes. (In Spanish)

7. Chitraaaaaaaaaaaaaa, uth jaldi, dikh niche baraat jaadi kuski di. Dikh kiyaan nacha de lok- 

Chitra, get up now, come and have a look, the groom is making way to his wedding place. See how 

frivolously people are dancing. (In Pahadi)

8. Ae sone da time h koi? Sanjha kun saunda? Uthiyaa hun. Jaldi- Is this the sleeping time? 

Who sleeps at the evening? Get up right now. (In Pahadi)

*******************************************************************************

*******************************************************************************

SELF-REFLECTIVE ESSAY

“Gurur Brahmaa Gurur Vishnu

Gurur Devo Maheshwarah

Guru Saakshaata Parabrahma

Tasmai Shri Guruve Namah”



Before beginning the self reflective essay, I would like to dedicate the above mantra to you,

Akhil Sir. It is rightly said that a good guidance by a Guru is very essential in one’s life and I 

must express my gratitude to you for igniting the spark in me that I could now appreciate and 

get hold of my capabilities in much better way than before. As Jean Shinoda Bolen has aptly said,

“When you recover or discover something that nourishes your soul and brings joy, care enough 

about yourself to make room for it in your life”, the things which I have now discovered about my

potentiality to express my feelings and thoughts without any fear of being judged, have imprinted

me with utter positivity. 

To be really frank, initially I was not sure enough whether to go for this course or not. When I read

the course outline, I could not and did not encourage myself enough to take this course. Here, I 

express all my gratitude to these three people- Swati, Kanika and Rashi. Only because of their

constant pressure to say yes for this course made me write this essay at the end! Although it was
definitely a peer pressure from their side but ultimately it bloomed and the outcomes were

constructive. I missed the first lecture of the course which ultimately landed me in a situation

of dilemma in the second lecture. I was completely blank and insecure which almost led me to

drop this course. But because of constant support and pressure, I finally made up my mind and

ended up registering officially. 

With time I actually began to enjoy this course. I felt inhibited at first but then I realized that this

is the space where I can express and deliver my thoughts unreservedly! Beginning with poems

and ending with novels, this course taught me each and everything extensively. I could not have

ever imagined in my life that poetry could be read and studied in various ways, and that too

wonderfully. All the poems that we had read and analyzed in the class have left a special

imprint in my heart. My primary realization was that I cannot write poems, so I did not even 

persuade myself in at least giving it a try. It was only after the sessions on poetry that I could 

gather confidence and write evocatively about my feelings. The cherry on the cake? – When 

everyone in the class including you, sir, appreciated my skills. Your valuable feedback was 

enough for me to be on cloud nine for rest of the month. I was able to distinguish between my 

strengths and weaknesses in this genre. 

Along with poetry, I thought to attempt graphic short story. It was quite an experience doing that.

The fact that I am good at drawing and sketching, I thought it’d be easier to do that. But I did not 

sense the hard work behind some great graphic novels, again which was familiarized by you in 

much detail. It was only after when I completed just 12 panels that I realized how time 

consuming it is. It took me abundant efforts and hard work to complete the story, which ultimately

gave me satisfaction of creating something new, of my own. It was solely because of you and your 

creative interventions throughout the semester that helped me build confidence in speaking my

heart out and believing and appreciating my masterpieces.

I would also like to express my gratitude to all my classmates. Because of their perspectives, 

analysis, thoughts and feelings, my thought process have gained a lot. It had only aided my 

creative thinking process and I’m thankful to them for being such great classmates. I did not

have much interest in writing, but I can surely say that after attending this course I have indulged

myself in expressing as much as I can. Lately I have been writing short poems and quotations

because of which I feel extraordinarily light and happy. I can now sense that writing down your

feelings or thoughts relieves you a lot (at least in my case it does). 




Writing down a story is a task; an exhausting task. While writing my end term essay, I had this 

question on my mind that how much efforts and presence of mind is required to write even such 

short story, then how do great writers manage to portray their story so efficiently? Hats off to all

the writers in the world, it is definitely not an easy task! Well, I am very contended with my own 

story because I know there is no right or wrong, it’s just how well one expresses the idea. All this 

confidence that I have gained is undoubtedly through this course. Also because of doing this 

course, the mere idea of writing a novella gives me goose bumps. I have this budding notion of 

writing a novella some day, with you being the editor of that book, sir. I don’t know when it will

happen but thanks to you for at least instigating the idea of writing and expressing, creatively.