Three cheers to Life.

Here’s to the invincible;

Here’s to the defeated.

Here’s to the unborn;

Here’s to the departed.

Here’s to those who have loved and lost;

One for the lonely ones.

Here’s to the punks;

Here’s to the Class Acts.

Hurray to the new mothers;

Alas to the jaded ones.

This is for the strange girl on the train;

Or the Queen Bee in High School.

Two for that Man Who Never Moves,

Three for the Millionaires.

Here’s to the broken dreams;

Here’s to the City That Never Sleeps.

Another for the learning that never ends;

And for the society that never bends.

Here’s to love

New, Young or Old.

Here’s to heartbreaks & reunions;

And three cheers for sweet revenge.

Applause for the Lamborghinis and Padminis;

And to the creator of confectioneries.

Here’s to Chai, Coffee etcetera;

And love for the sand in my shoes.

Here’s to childhood & mysterious bruises;

Here’s to adolescence & mysterious hormones;

Here’s to adulthood & mysterious woes.

Here’s to never growing up.

Here’s to the underdogs, the dark horse;

And the comforting smell of books.

Here’s to words unsaid, the tear that were never shed;

Here’s to stupidity;

‘Nother one for eccentricity.

Here’s to originality;

One for adulation & emulation.

Three cheers to the Beautiful World;

Three cheers to the Cruel One;

Three cheers to Life!

The Mooting Story

The drama. The new places. The Boy Who Stole My Window Seat. Sunrise up high. Mesmerising. The useless researcher. The bossy one. The nice one. The worry. The defeats; the relief. The victories; the surprise.

The alcohol. New people. History, architecture, colours. The smell of Hyderabad. The funny Hindi. Fighting. Crying. Anger. Stress. Grilling. Shopping. Loud people. Cold showers. Indian toilets. Unsanitary conditions. That cute boy. Irrelevant. The warmth of new love. Long conversations. Roaming tariffs.

Bad food. Good food. New food. No food. 

Humongous college. Fancy people. Not so fancy people. The printed hoodies. The short skirt & the valedictory. That boy and his analogies. His stories; with or without morals. A new good friend.

A flight that was almost missed. That cabbie who ripped us off. Rajasthan. Rajasthan is magical. Hawa Mahal. Sweet Lord! Wasted girls. The heartbroken boy. The disappointment at qualifying. The relief of not qualifying. The exhaustion. Black pants, white shirt, uncomfortable shoes.

Secrets shared. Scars revealed. Perfumes exchanged. Lack of sleep. Comfortable journeys. Uncomfortable journeys. So much gossip. Finishing each other’s sentences. That LOUD phone, when it rang.

South Indian Chinese. The bus ride home. Kunda. Atlas. Places in Africa (?). Arguments. Kurkure. Ice cream & old Hindi songs.

The new researcher. An old friend. Rules broken. Jantar Mantar. We no understand. The lazy girl. Sun allergies. Gatte ki Sabzi. A day well spent. The ride uphill. Blow dried hair. So many pictures. The scary army truck. We almost die. The cool fort. The pretty outsides, the degraded insides. Your Lordship? Seniors cursed. Deathly deadlines. “International Magnitude.” Fatigue. Beautiful memories. Lessons learnt. So much love. Friends made. Sometimes strengthened.

But, what happens in a Moot, stays in a Moot.