Tuesday, 20 January 2015

A bunch.

The ultimate fake flower sketch
Street Art
Minion in my control
Lip's don't lie
Let's bloom our separate ways.
No colour, colour.

Bed cover Times, since 1979.


The Hallucinating Village

Feet, just feet.

Anchor, Anchors.

I call them glowy flowers.

- Ragini Zutshi Anand

Sunday, 11 January 2015

Excerpt of a story (It's a work in progress)

This is an EXCERPT of the first chapter of a story I'm writing, hoping it will get published once I'm done with it - taking a lot of time.
(I have written a lot more but though making a blog post of just a couple of paragraphs will be enough. Some parts have been cropped out so as to not give away the story, but the entire post will make sense.)
Till then, sit back and read this, let me know what you think of course and if you have any suggestions, run them by me!


She was a bit ahead of me. Suddenly everything was blocked out. I could only see her. She stood there, pressing an iPhone 5c green coloured against her ear, she had a frantic expression on her face. It was obvious that something serious had happened.

Dressed in black jeans and a white Hogwarts sweatshirt (harry potter fan i guessed), she had all my attention.

I could see her blue green eyes brimming with tears.

Then one tear fell. She waved her hand in front of her face as soon as it fell to dry her face. She blinked and all of a sudden all the tears fell. But she didn’t make a sobbing sound. Instead she pocketed the phone and started off in a sprint in my direction, people surprised by her speed and making way and then staring behind her.

Her brown hair was open at the time. It was wavy, and a few strands were flying into her face, disrupting her eyesight. I stood staring at her, just staring. Not even realising she may need help.


So I ran, ran as fast as I could. Noticing that people were staring at me now and not at the girl; They would probably think I’m chasing her, troubling her. Typical Indian pea brains.

But it’s true, if I saw this scene from an onlooker’s perspective, I would probably beat up the guy left right and centre, in this case myself. But I was trying to help, so to cut the chase short I decided to call out her name. Problem? I didn't know her name. So instead I started screaming, “Hey! You! Lady running like crazy! STOP!”

She heard and stopped, turning sharply while removing her hair from her face.

I waved at her while running, motioning her to stop. I reached her panting for breath, and made eye contact. Her eyes, that were full of tears just about 30 seconds back, were now full of feelings of anger and impatience, the tears subdued now. Still damp with tears, the area underneath her eyes was shiny. Height around 5’7, she was fair. But the expressions on her face screamed that she was in a hurry, and at the moment pissed off, probably because of me.

I smiled. She didn't return one. After a second she rolled her eyes and said in the most irritated manner, 



Rolling her eyes, she turned and started running again, leaving me absolutely speechless. Her phone rang again; I could hear the “OLD PHONE” ringtone. Answering quickly she was now looking for something, her car. She located it, and crossed the road fast. A Mercedes, the latest one mind you, was waiting there for her. She sat in it and before she even shut the door the car sped away.

That was the first conversation I had had with her. Just two words, one said with a lot of disgust and one with a lot of admiration.

- Ragini Zutshi Anand
People staring

Tuesday, 6 January 2015

Photo frames.

As a kid, and even now, I notice a slight yet major difference between the houses of my friends and that of my own.
Now don't worry, this isn't an emotional write up. It's about photo frames.
Yup. I'm making a blog post about photo frames.
Going back to how I started, I noticed as a kid that my house lacked photo frames; or in comparison to other homes had fewer in number. It's not as if my family doesn't have pictures. We have pictures printed and stacked up in huge bags in our store room. We have a few photos in photo frames placed randomly along the corridors of my home, but not any on the wall. All we have on the walls are classy paintings, clocks and mirrors.

A LOT of mirrors according to my friends. 

Addressing this issue, we have no excuse. But if there was to be one, it would probably be our technology. Being part of a tech savvy family, these days pictures are taken via our iPhones / smartphones and preserved in the camera roll - prone to being deleted at one touch. Its sheer laziness that 
accompanies that and makes it a shameful excuse. 
Our Canons, Pentaxs and Nikons sit in cupboards collecting dust, being taken out only during holidays to exotic places and not to click at home anymore. 

That's it. Thanks for reading! Tell me what you'd like to read next! 

- Ragini Zutshi Anand

Friday, 2 January 2015

My Dream...

My Dream...

What you're about to read may sound very cliché, but it is true. 

I'll be frank, I do want a good job, one that's not a 9 to 5; I do want to earn a lot of money; lead a luxurious life; eat AMAZING food; travel the world and buy houses in various parts of the world. But - I want to get that all with MY money, not my parent's.

I want to be independent. 

I've promised my parents a house in Goa, a trip to various places like Turkey and Italy, and many more things, but only after I achieve something(s). 

I want to help and give back to society, 
build our country and see it grow. 
I want to start an NGO, help whoever I can. 

This being a dream of mine since the age of 6, I really hope it comes true some day. Because all that money in my bank account, and all the land I may own won't give me as much happiness as seeing the smile on a poor kid's face for providing him or her a world class education. 
The money in my bank account isn't going to come with me to wherever I may go after I die, be it heaven, hell, a grave or the "afterlife".

Sounds so deep right?
The post just went from nice and pragmatic to extremely soppy, but I did warn you.

- Ragini Zutshi Anand