No, Wrin dear, I am not changing it to ‘just My Brain’. And no, the title’s not too long.
Well, hello there. Three days ago, it was C&C Fac’s 3rd anniversary, and even though my 12th board exams are literally starting in 17 days (yes, I counted), I’ve come out of this blogging exile just for this anniversary post, which is basically the only tradition over here.
Heartbreak’s a searing
pain with no gain but a lot
of weight from ice-cream.
Scene: 7 p.m., my room, time for my Physics tuition and my Physics/Chemistry tutor is making notes of Magnetic Effects of Electric Current in my register. A little context here- he makes notes of a particular topic and then explains it to me. He’s also a Reiki healer, an astrologer, a numerologist and a tarot reader. Science+Pseudoscience= What the hell.
My Brain: Why doesn’t he hurry up? It’s been a minute already. I’m bored.
Me: I know. Me too. *Drums fingers on table*
My Brain: You should stop doing that. It’s rude and obnoxious, not to mention monotonous.
Me: Maybe I should drum the Doctor Who theme, then. Much more entertaining.
My Brain: You know what else would be entertaining? Telling him what a load of bullcrap his astrology is.
Me: Because that’s not rude and obnoxious.
Click here to read the previous parts.
A steady breeze rustled the leaves of the trees in Nehru Park and made the clothes hanging out on the railings of the houses surrounding it flutter ghostily. The Park was deserted, the time being 2 A.M., except for three people who were standing in a triangle near the henna bushes.
A tall bespectacled girl with tangled brown hair stood at one end, her usually alert grey eyes heavy and tired. But she still stood upright, never slouching.
“I gave everything for this.” She locked eyes with the denimmed boy at the apex of the triangle. “You have to.”
Before he had a chance to reply, however, the short girl with a long black ponytail at the other end addressed him.
“I know you’re not a bad person,” she said, her soft brown eyes pleading. “What we had was not all fake, you know. We laughed at your name, remember?” She was trying to be strong and not let them see her cry. “I beat you at badminton.” She smiled sorrowfully.
The tall girl was starting to say something, but the boy didn’t hear it. A loud ringing filled his ears and-
Wrinkles: I see you’ve titled this post like a 5-year-old. ‘A Conversation with Wrinkles?’ No one’s gonna read it.
Me: Five-year-olds don’t blog.
Wrinkles: None except you. Retitle it. Right now.
Me(grinning smugly): That’s gonna cause a paradox, Wrin dear. Besides, do you not remember our last conversation? I’m gonna stay true to my word.
Wrinkles: I do, but the readers won’t, and this post will be a flop, so change it right now. And stop titling my dialogues with ‘Wrinkles’. Do it right now, or-
Me: Or? What’re you gonna do? Jump out of my head and kill both of us? Continue reading
Yeah, yeah, I couldn’t find a good enough rhyme for ‘Walt Whitman’ that would also fit the theme of this parody, so, bear with me. But did you not read that properly? It’s a parody, folks! (That too after nine months, like my brain was pregnant with it and has finally birthed it today- get it? I’ll just see myself out).
Now the reason why I’ve decided to write a parody after such a long time is that I’ve completed a hundred posts on the Factory. *Shower of confetti* *Fountain of Appy Fizz since I’m not old enough for champagne* *Virtual applause which is the only kind I’ll get* You see that featured image, folks? That’s what it means.
This is my hundred-and-first post, and I wanted to do something which was both special and enjoyable (so a letter to my first-post self was out, which was my initial idea). Today I’ve parodied Walt Whitman’s ‘The Voice of the Rain‘, which is a wonderful poem (I mean, come on, it’s Walt Whitman) and which is also in our English textbook this year. You should go read it if you haven’t. Now, on to the parody:
As is evident from the title of this post, I’m starting a new series. It’s something I’ve been meaning to do for a while now, but have been stalling it. This is the first part, and of course, there’s a lot more to come. Here’s to a new beginning.
My Brain (singing): I’ve been a liar, been a thief, been a lover, been a cheat-
Me: Oi, liar and cheat, stop singing and help me out with a blog post.
My Brain: Oh, how annoying you are. Can’t you ever go help yourself? Type out one of the stories you wrote last week.
Me: I am annoying? Oh, look who’s talking. And is the mind palace I created after I watched Sherlock of no use? It’s the One-Year Anniversary of my blog.
After half a year, I’ve finally made up another parody. The original poem is ‘Invictus’ by W.E. Henley and it’s truly a wonderful poem. Do read it here if you haven’t yet. This is also the first time I’ll be commenting on current events on my blog through this very parody. The current event I’m talking about is the Padmaavat riots in India and my Indian fellas would know all about it since it’s all people are talking about these days. Despite all this tension, I’m comforted by the fact that at least the movie was able to release today. If you couldn’t make head or tail of the previous two lines, you can read about the controversy here.
Today, I’m not expressing myself through either poetry or prose. This is just a raw post, of me talking to- not my brain this time- but to you. With no literary coverings. If that’s not what you’d like to read, you can just skip this post- I won’t hold it against you. I promise.