a (love) story

the bonny lass with hair as fair
as the morning shining sun,
would look out her palace window in despair
gloomily, grumblingly, glum.
waiting for her charming prince,
who would be caring, loving, and sweet,
it had been a while since
she had been swept off her feet.

born to the queen and king,
who were now turning rather old,
in thirty days to exchange a ring
she had been strictly told.
on the day that they would wed,
she had been promised white horses and doves,
the one problem that wasn't said:
the bonny lass had never been in love.

each day suitors came,
from kingdoms far away,
with many deeds to their name,
to hear what the princess had to say.
each day rode in handsome lads,
tall and short, young and old,
every type their kingdom had,
cowardly, timid, brave and bold.

and so our young lass
dolled up every single day,
she was asked to withhold her sass
and appear pretty, merry, coy and gay,
her tiny waist was tied
in a corset rather tight,
while she silently sighed,
everyone oblivious to he plight.

her yellow hair was brushed
rather shyly by her maid,
over the princess she did fuss
while her hair she quietly made.
she parted the golden strands,
with fingers delicate and thin,
with patience and soft hands,
the only time the princess did grin.

each day for twenty days
the princess met new men,
by her parents' rules she did play,
but they were flustered when
they saw her dwindling interest,
about her they worried,
they just wanted her best,
but, ah, love cannot be hurried.

and thus on the thirtieth day,
the princess blushingly confessed
the kingdom didn't know what to say,
but soon the couple was blessed.
a smile replaced the frowns,
admittedly they made an enchanting pair,
especially in the two bride gowns -
the princess and the girl who brushed her hair.

~ a love story

A Breathing Paradox

A BREATHING PARADOX 

Sleep eludes me some nights,
Though beckon as I might.
I sweet-talk it into coming,
Until I hear morning birds humming.
Yet sometimes I spend hours in bed,
Asleep when my pillow is hit by my head.
These times are not rare,
To find me peacefully asleep and blissfully unaware.
I ask myself, how can it be?
Two clashing souls alive in me?

Some days I curl my short locks,
I wear my favourite cream frock.
Spraying perfume on my wrists,
Adorning bracelets onto my fists.
But ah - I may not always pluck my brows,
I often forget to wash my blouse.
My eyes I may not line,
My skirt may bear stains of white wine.
I ask myself, how can it be?
Two clashing souls alive in me?

When it's cold,
I wish I had someone's hand to hold.
"You're beautiful", he'd shyly confess,
Even when I looked like a mess.
But I also enjoy solitude,
And escape someone else's swinging moods.
To walk by myself in the snow,
Directionless, wherever I wish to go.
I ask myself, how can it be?
Two clashing souls alive in me?

I can't even look people in the eye,
And can't open up no matter how I try.
I sit in a corner, dejected
From society, feeling rejected.
And yet, there are days when I skip, not walk!
When I can endlessly talk!
I can throw my head back and laugh till I cry,
You'd think me anything but shy.
Again, I ask myself : how can it be?
Why are two clashing souls alive in me?

An Exclusive Interview With A Ravishing Beauty : Part II

Lovelies!

I know I am a forgetful buffoon and it's been several decades since I've updated you regarding my ever eventful life. Let me give you a quick recap, in order of relevance :

My hair is golden again.

I now (for some reason) run a bakery wherein I...well, bake.

I have graduated from 12th grade!

It is true, fellow kiddies. I am done with Physics and Chemistry  but probably not Maths (damn) and Economics (YASS). I will probably go to either Uni of Glasgow or Exeter in two months which means I have only two months to do everything I wanted to do after school, ie go on a roadtrip, learn the guitar, start a vlog, become a millionaire, write a book, become thin and maybe even good looking, you know, your average 18 year old (okay, 17 and nine months) wish list.

Side note, have you noticed how whenever I mention my age on this blog, I am always three months
away from my birthday?

No?

Nobody cares that much?

Cool, me neither.

GETTING TO DA POINT NOW.

So today is the third of June! That lovely time is once again upon us, ladies and gentleboys (I do not know why I say this. My sister says it. I do whatever my sister does. #healthy).
It's the second birthday of my blogggggg! Butterbeer all around!

Do you know what that means?

YESSSS!

Welcome to :

An Exclusive Interview With A Ravishing Beauty : Part II

AK: Hello, and welcome back! I am your exotic host, and today we shall be closely viewing the life of a fellow jobless oaf, namely, AK!
AK: Thankyou, thankyou very much. It is indeed an honour to be back here. I have so much to share-

AK: Okie cool story Anshi. So, are you excited about embarking on your second year, even though you have approximately seven and a half readers left?
AK: *patting eyes with tissue* I sure am. And it's eight and a half. And don't you worry, that did not stop me from mentioning in all my college essays about how I love to write, and even run a moderately successful humour based blog with more than 8,000 views.

AK: Is that true?
AK: Next question.

AK: Tell me about your bakery. I don't really care but it's 11.30 in the afternoon and I clearly have nothing better to do with my time.
AK: Ah, yes. The bakery. It's called "BakeBaby."

AK: Okay.
AK: Do you want to know the story behind it?

AK: Frankly, no. But neither did your college interviewers yesterday, but you still told them, so shoot.
AK: *Nervous laughter with hints of unresolved childhood trauma* So in the national treasure Bridesmaids Kristen Wiig (ie the Goddess) runs a bakery called Cake Baby.

AK: Doesn't she shut that bakery down due to bankrup-
Ak: So I told my sister I'm going to name my bakery Cake Baby. But she came up with the brilliant idea that it should be called Bake Baby. Why, you may ask?

AK: I'm not askin-
AK: Because then when the bakery is really famous, and I have advertisements on TV, after the commercial finishes, a tiny baby voice will whisper "Bake Baby."

AK: ...
AK: ...

AK: *clears throat* I hear you'll be perusing your combined degree from the UK?
AK: I may have to sell both my kidneys, but yes. I will do anything to adopt their accent.

AK: Their...what?
AK: Their education.

AK: Right...And why did you choose both psychology and economics as your majors?
AK: Obviously, for very well thought out reasons. Not because I liked them both and was too lazy to choose one. Yeah, come on AK, it's not like the thought of having two majors is freaking me out okay. It's not like I'm afraid of not understanding psychology since I've, you know, never studied it in my life! Hahahahahaha. Maybe you're afraid. Have you thought about that? Hahahahaha maybe you're the one who's scared of college. Maybe you're the one who fantasizes about being married to Eddie Redmayne.

AK: That is true. We are the same person, you moron.
AK: Can we talk about Eddie Redmayne now?

AK: No.
AK: I love Eddie Redmayne.

AK: I want you to leave now.
AK: Are you going to watch Les Miserables?

AK: Probably.
AK: Ask me one more question. Ask me what my favorite movie is.

AK: Do I have to?
AK: I know you have nothing better to do. I know you're going to go watch Les Miserables - behind the scenes. I know you. I know-

AK: What is your favorite movie?
AK: How does one really choose a favorite? I can give you my top three, and maybe throw in a free autograph but that's all you're getting you cheeky minx-

AK: If you wind this up quickly I will tell you a fun fact about Eddie Redmayne.
AK: 1. The Social Network
       2. Les Miserables
       3. 10 Things I Hate About You

AK: That is really exciting. It is.
AK: Fun fact time!

AK: Fun Fact : Eddie Redmayne is married!
AK: i crie

Thankyou for reading! Thankyou for sticking with Siriusly Riddikuls, seriously ridiculous though it may be! I know I rarely update, and my content may not be that good, but it really keeps me going to see that even two years down the line, there is still somebody reading my silly stuff every single day. I promise to try my best to make you laugh, dear readers, because you guys da best. Love and hugs from Anoushka.

Struggling

And my mother stood in the doorway
Smiling at me as I dipped pieces of bread
into egg.
While I giggled, she shook her head
Saying how happy she was
That I was out of bed
And laughing.

And later that night,
We were watching a show
on the TV.
It was so bad, it made me laugh out loud,
And again my mother said
How I hadn't laughed that much in days.

And I tried listening to music
But I was just reminded of the past
I tried reading books
But I was going too fast
I didn't have the patience anymore
To stop and read all the words
I was being absurd
I just wanted the task to be done
But my efforts to do it were none.

And I finally stumbled across one song
that made me happy.
But then I listened to it far too long
When I showered the next day
and heard it again,
I remembered all the pain.

And still later that night,
I looked in my mirror
As I ran my purple brush
Through my golden strands
And the reflection mimicked my hands.
A smile seemed to leer
on my face
And I thought it queer:
For I usually hated the girl in the mirror.
But not this time.

And the next day I told Him how
I didn't feel as miserable now.
How I listened to One Republic all night,
How I finally put up a fight
With my own self
And conquered my sorrow
At least until tomorrow.

What He Saw

At five, he saw with his eyes so wide,
A plane across the sky gleam and glide.
At five, he did wonder and think,
About these flying objects; didn't sleep a wink.
At five, he searched the sky, running around in his street,
Hoping to catch a glimpse of this treasure so sweet.

At ten, he saw his paper plane sore ever so high,
With envy the other kids did sigh.
At ten, he tore a sheet from his book,
Expertly folding down the corners and crooks.
At ten, he crafted a plane out of his hands,
And made it fly across imaginary lands.

At fifteen, he saw his mother carefully wipe
Her eyes, her smudged kohl left a wobbly stripe.
At fifteen, he touched his father's feet and asked for his blessing,
Told his sister he'd be home soon, she needn't be fussing.
At fifteen, he kissed his girlfriend goodbye (promising he'll see her again),
As he left home to train, and at last fly a plane.

At twenty, he saw his name printed on the uniform,
He had undeniably stirred up quite the storm -
At twenty, those twice his age listened to him when he spoke,
Everyone agreed his leadership skills could persuade and provoke.
At twenty, his fellow men marvelled as he led the forces with remarkable skill,
With fear, the hearts of his enemies stood still.

He never saw twenty five.

Pain

Soft hands, and arms pearly white,
It really was a heart wrenching sight.
Of this maiden so fair,
Her face now contorted with despair.
Left paralysed by the searing pain,
She tries to fight the agonizing strain.
Her creamy skin bears red slashes,
Her life before her flashes    
As she looks around at the blood her own,
Making her weak till the marrow of her bone.                    
Her head spins as she cries for help,
The world deaf to her wails and yelps.
She holds her hand still,
As the blood continues to spill.
She draws breath in through her teeth,
As the pool of blood gathers at her feet.
Her face now adorned with beads of sweat,
She thinks of her past actions with regret.
Down her cheeks, her tears do crawl,
To tumble down into the red waterfall.
Catching her pathetic reflection in the mirror,
She angrily looks around for her killer -  
But her bloodied razor lies forgotten, forlorn and sad;
At shaving her arms, she'd always been bad.