The Sixth & The Seventh: On Beliefs in Love & Similar Things

Hey guys,

Yeah, I know this is also a couple days late but in my defence; time really flies by when you’re sorta unwell and on tumblr at the same time. So I’ve decided to combine two days’ worth of posts at the same time and maybe, when I’m a little better write an extra one on another day.

Have you ever fallen in love with fictional characters? So much so that often, you wondered why your reality was cursed and they weren’t real? Because I sure as hell have – in fact, in my head, the only place true love exists is a fictional world. I’m not talking motherly love, friendly love and other stuff – romantic love, the significant others, the soul mates, the lovers, something I don’t truly believe exists in our world, or well it doesn’t seem to exist around me.

People love each other, sure, they love their partners, their husbands, their wives, their girlfriends, boyfriends, and they do. But having read so many books, watched so many TV shows and movies where the love portrayed is incomparable, incomprehensible and irrevocable I find it hard to believe it exists in the world we live in, in the society we belong to.


Trust, an integral part of being in any relationship is missing, more often than not, and to be honest, my generation isn’t really bothered about it. And here’s my deal – I can’t fathom why I have to put all my trust in one person and hope that they won’t crush it? I’m a huge cynic, especially when it comes to romance and love and all that jazz. I like reading about it in books, it’s cute with fictional couples but if I were to see a real life couple do what book-couples do, I’d probably gag. And I think that’s a testament to the culture I’ve been brought up in.

Here in India, kissing is illegal and punishable by law. I’ve seen people on beaches and other places kiss and make-out under dupattas and hiding behind bushes. As a nation I suppose, we’re not too open about sharing our affections in public and that’s another reason I think love isn’t really all that possible. Because if love is so pure and makes people happier and nicer, why should anyone have to hide it? (I’m looking at you, Section 377.)

I’ve rambled on a bit; I think I’ve lost my point. Ah, all I’m saying is that I’m sure true love exists, all that soul-mates and ‘the one’ stuff is probably true, but until I get a sample or an example of the same, I’m a little hesitant to believe in it. After all, the same people who once loved their partners, their husbands, their wives, girlfriends and boyfriends often end up breaking up, or trapped in unhappy marriages and hating each other or murder (the last one’s probably less popular). Love exists, but that true, all-consuming love probably doesn’t.

I’ve had several crushes; there was a point in my early college life that I had a mini-crush on a new boy every single day. I spent the better part of last year dragging my friend down during free lectures to look at this one boy I had a big crush on. It ended soon enough, as it always does. But here’s the thing eh, every time I have a crush I just know, that I won’t agree to a date should the guy ask me out. And I’m not so interested that I ask them out either. I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I don’t want to date. I find it time consuming and fairly useless as I know we’ll probably break up in a month, a year or soon enough.


And the part of me putting expiration dates on relationships that haven’t even seen the light of day is the same part that doesn’t really believe in true love and soul mates and stuff like that. But I do hope, whenever I think about this, that I’m wrong and someday we’ll all find our significant others, whether platonically or romantically.

Until tomorrow,

Nia Carnelio.



The Fifth on The Sixth: On InDesign, NaNoWriMo and Fanfiction

Hey guys,

If you’re wondering why I didn’t write yesterday (you’re probably not, to be honest) I was a bit caught up navigating Adobe InDesign and watching Doctor Who and one of them took up literally the whole day and I am sorry to say it wasn’t Doctor Who.

InDesign is probably the most frustrating thing I’ve ever encountered and that’s saying because I’m still trying to map out Eleven’s and River’s timelines and how the hell they are so complicated?

I’ve been working on getting the hang of InDesign because being one of the editors of the English department’s annual journal apparently requires me to have skills in laying out papers. A few months ago, my co-OGs handled all of the layouts for Raga (Malhar’s official publication) and I was mercifully free. I do remember them having to slave over my trashy layouts when we were laying out the Rules and Regulations.

I didn't try...too much.
I didn’t try…too much.

So, I decided to take a break from the laptop (also because mother has been kind pissed about all the time I spend online – radiation and other similar concerns) and post The Fifth on the Sixth. Don’t worry; I’ll post the Sixth in a while too. I’ve been reading Demon Road in the meantime and I’m almost halfway through it. It’s a fairly large book and interesting too. So far (spoilers) a serial killer has been digested by a car, we’ve met a wonderfully talkative Irish chap and our protagonist is demon (with a little less brain power than I’d like but you can’t have everything in life), pretty cool, yeah?

Now, for some news on the NaNoWriMo front: I have absolutely none. It’s been six days and I haven’t penned a word for NaNo yet and you know what the scary part is? I might not, in the next few days either. I still don’t know whether I’m doing NaNo this year or not. Because I don’t want to start off for the first week, then lose steam for the next two and then hurriedly finish 50K in the final week. It is madness and it takes a negative toll on me and that’s not even counting how much time I spend writing when I should be studying for my forthcoming CIAs or blogging or interning or something. I dunno, maybe I’ll do in December or January or not at all. I’m still working things out on the NaNoWriMo front but I will keep you guys posted.

I hoping I can at least write some one-shots in the hopes of writing something this month. Something that is not a blog post, an article or an answer in an exam paper.

In other news, I only have a little over a week before college re-opens and that means I only have seven more days in Doha. It sucks that we can never stay long enough for my mom’s birthday on the 21st but we’re used to it now. But more importantly, I am not ready for the holidays to be done. I’ve been living life in a very peaceful way – reading and watching shows and catching up on some needed fanfiction (Mostly Scorose, but I did read Jily on October 31st).


Fanfiction is important to me, I try and read something someone else has written to take the story I love so much forward and appreciate the effort they put into it. I’ve read beautifully written fanfiction (grammatically correct too) with amazingly conceptualized characteristics (next-gen, marauders) and I can say I’ve been blown away. I’ve read horribly plotted, terribly written books that have gotten published and compared to that, fanfiction is absolute good. I adore fanfiction and I think everyone should read some of it.


My holidays are going well, and hopefully I won’t be taking any more breaks (I seem to be getting the hang of InDesign, finally). Apologies if you think this was a filler post, because I swear I had something to write about but I seem to have forgotten the topic. It’ll come back to me soon, I hope.

Until tomorrow,

Nia Carnelio.



The Fourth: Of Reading & Happiness

Hey guys,

Earlier this year, somewhere around March after my first year end semester exams, I read some 2015 debuts and ARCs. Last year, I read only 18 books. I didn’t even hit 20, what even was that year and I’m sure the year before that would’ve been in the single digits. My reading has decreased drastically since I left school and entered college and this year, I managed to figure out why.

It’s because I walked into a college where a majority of the students devour Austen and Marquez for their daily breakfast. Everyone around me reads the classics from Bronte to Dickens and then there are those that have the nonfiction books along with their morning newspaper.


Where’s a girl like me who likes her books young adult and very much contemporary fit in? For about two, three years I tried. I tried reading the classics, had my friends gift me Wuthering Heights (untouched as ever) and Lord of the Flies (read for college reading, liked it immensely) for my birthdays and watched as the number of fiction books I read that year drop and slowly fade out of sight.

But then I saw that one of my old school mates ran a book blog, primarily young adult fiction book reviews and I was in price to reevaluate my choice in books. At the start of the year I decided I would read already fifty books, that goodreads challege really inspired me to keep going. My friend, Salonie joined in too as did Christina. Now, Salonie and I have this friendly (pfft) competition of who can read more books, which she’s currently winning. We’re both reading 65 books now and I’m so bloody happy to say that I’ve read over 50 books this year and more than 16,000 pages. Now, that’s not much compared to the other readers but for me that’s huge. Seeing as I barely hit 18 last year and that counting books I had to read for my literature course.


I have finally begun accepting my live for young adult and new adult books, contemporary, fantasy, science fiction and best of all, dystopia. I rarely shy away anymore when someone picks up the book I’m reading and asks me, “Why on earth are you reading about teenage vampires?” (Vampire Academy books). I like it. And it’s none of their business which books I choose to read and love. I’m not judging you for reading books that are outdated and fairly old and boring, then you don’t need to judge my choices, thanks.

Reading has always been a source of happiness for me. Escaping into a book, feeling one with the characters and loving the plots and twists and turns has always been home for me. But now I’ve come to realize, life is too bloody short and the list of books I want to read is too bloody long for me to keep reading books I’m not enjoying or interested in.

I’ve started to DNF (Did Not Finish) books, because it is alright not to like a book and it is especially alright to not like a book millions love and rave about. Life is all about making choices that make YOU happy, not others. And there are too many brilliant books in the world for you to continue reading that dull, boring old book. It’s alright, leave it be and maybe the next one will blow you off your feet.


It’s been a tricky time, accepting who I am and what I love reading. And I’m slowly beginning to see why so many people stop doing the things they love because of what others say about it. Well, here my advice, screw them. If you want to read all about how intricate politics is, go for it my friend, if you want to read Pride and Prejudice for the hundredth time, I don’t see why someone else saying something about it should stop you. Screw those elitist readers who believe that there is one particular type of book that you just read at your age /status for your gender. Pah, you want to read erotica, go read it, if you like some Chicklit make sure to bash the head of the person who calls you girly like it’s an a insult with a massive Sophie Kinsella.

As for me, you’ll find me reading the books of my choice, I’m not too bothered about what my classmates in Literature class think about me reading a contemporary romance novel, I’m pretty much done with them elitist readers.

So, read what makes you happy.

When an amazing book ends.
When an amazing book ends.

Until tomorrow,
Nia Carnelio.


The Third: To the Phils, The Rons, The Kevins and To Me

Hey guys,

This is going up later than I planned, but I got caught up doing things at home. This post has been coming along since a while, all in my head of course and I thought it was time I put it into words.

Have you ever noticed that in every duo, every trio, every group, there is always someone who is left out, someone who is considered lesser or inferior to the others even though they might not be? Someone who has lesser fans, lesser friends outside that group / trio, someone who is less popular, whose achievements aren’t taken into account during comparison? I think you do.

From the internet YouTuber duo, Dan and Phil, more commonly known as Danisnotonfire and AmazingPhil, everybody knows and assumes Dan is more famous than Phil and it is true. Phil only recently hit three million subscribers, having been on YouTube from 2006 whereas Dan has about five million. And that’s not to say Dan isn’t brilliant, because he absolutely is. But even though they’re both essentially similar and good at what they do, Dan is viewed as better. Phil is amazing (zing!), he is, he chooses not to swear on his channel so younger viewers can watch his videos too and as the older sister of a very inquisitive and interested-in-YouTube ten year old, I am very thankful for that. I do think Phil doesn’t get the credit, the popularity and the love that he deserves. And I am happy that he and Dan have such a wonderful friendship so that these things don’t come between them, they are enough for each other and they are so very good at being that.

Among trios, I think the prime example is Ron Weasely.

If you haven’t heard about the Harry Potter series, then you’ve been living under a rock, especially now that it even has a play as the eight part being released in 2016. Everyone knows of Harry Potter, the titular character, the hero. And everybody knows Granger too, the intelligent one, the smartest witch of her age. Everyone knows Ron too. The best friend, the funny sidekick who left his friends and wasn’t very brave once.


Ron Weasley gets a lot of flak for that decision for leaving his best friends in a forest but we all know that if we were put in a tent at seventeen, with a locket that magnified our malevolent aspects with no news of a family we loved, we’d probably do the same or worse, wouldn’t return as he had. Ron is loyal and excuse you, he is brilliant too. Or did you forget the eleven year old who fought his way across McGonagall’s chess set? He was kind, helpful and brave. He was Harry’s best friend and confidante. He defended Harry at every step and so what if he made a mistake. We all do. But talking about how people treat him or view him, it’s always as inferior to Harry and Hermione. As someone who got in with the popular crowd. As Peter Pettigrew with the Marauders. But then, Pettigrew didn’t have any qualities. That was Ron’s fear too, being inferior as we saw when he faced Slytherin’s locket. But again, having that kind of friendship where the trio views themselves and each other as equal is really important and necessary and helpful.

Before I talk about myself in this context, my final example is of Kevin Olusola from Pentatonix. The cello player is the beatboxer of the a capella group and is a Yale Graduate who is fluent in mandarin. Yet sometimes, I feel like he gets far less credit for his talent than the others. As a black person he is also part of a minority. Even then I get the feeling the crowd prefers the rest of the four and sometimes, subconsciously what the group puts out is along the same lines. But then I watch them interact with each and I realise how much they all respect each other and how very important they are to the group.

In all three aspects, it is the outsiders who sow the doubts in the minds. And that’s the way it happens with me. Since middle school I suppose, when I was quite the snob I have always tried far too hard to fit in, to be liked, to be worthy of the group I was with. I spent my seventh and eight grade recess breaks with the toppers in my year and every time they spoke about their marks, I felt a little bit inferior. As a loser, in simple words. I soon discovered better friends of course, but this little inferiority complex, this feeling of I don’t belong with them, I’m not smart enough usually came around pretty quickly. It started when my then best friend refused to let me so with her during break because I want tall enough or in the same house (ruby, school houses were divided by color and I was in topaz) to sit with her and her friends. Funny how that’s still haunting me.

Even now, the friends I have are brilliant. Each one of them is good at academics, they study hard and study to achieve their marks. They work hard to reach the position they want to, the earn the respect they gain. They are amazing people, kind and they have welcomed me as I am, the eccentric, weird little fangirl.

9i But every now and then I wonder, how does the world see us. Do they see a bunch of smart, academically brilliant people and one misfit desperately trying to belong or do they see us as a bunch of diversely talented people who happen to like each other because of how well we go together?

It’s questions like these that keep me up at night. They make me think, am I the Phil, the Ron, the Kevin of my friend group? And even if I am, is that so bad, as long as my friends know the real me and believe in me.

It’s not easy to let go of such insecurities. But I’m trying and on most days, I can do it effortlessly. Some days though it takes a bit of reminding and remembering that I am pretty cool too.

So here’s to us, the Phils and the Rons and the Kevins. Screw the world, believe in yourself. Because your best friends, your group and your fans love you no matter what.

Until tomorrow,
Nia Carnelio.


The Second: Of Journeys of Change

Hey guys,

Welcome to the second day of NaBloPoMo on my blog. Yesterday, I wrote on depression, today I write on “A journey of change in a belief I’ve had” given by Salonie, another friend from college and a fellow blogger at Whoa!.

I’m picking my belief in religious faith. Two years ago, on Halloween I wrote on the topic of my religious faith: Born on Halloween. But a lot has changed since I was sixteen.

I’ve been studying anthropology for the past year and a half, and one of the papers is Anthropology of Religion. And I have learned so much, so much from those lectures. From learning how religion is a man-made creation for the stability and the order in the society to understanding how very commercialized it has become, to the different levels of faith the youth holds today in religion I have now gathered several perspectives with respect to religion and the way we practice it.

Living in India means you’re subjected some festival or the other being celebrated every month. From the big ones like Holi, Navratri, Easter and the forthcoming ones –  Diwali and Christmas, you are either religious or an idiot.

It’s been a while coming, but now my faith in my religion has slowly declined. There’s just a little bit left, after all, I’ve got over fifteen years of conditioning to get through. I’m not an atheist, I am simply hovering somewhere around agnostic and the I-believe-but-I-don’t-understand. Most of it stems from how people act when they are religious. Often, humanity is forgone to be religious and having seen that all around me, all the time, it has me questioning my faith. People who pray religiously, give their offerings to the religious institutions are the same people who may come home and engage in spousal abuse, the same people who might fight to deprive LGBTQ+ people their rights, the same people who might force their children to follow the path they set, with no regards for the dreams of the child / youth. Sometimes, I feel as though people selectively listen to that which they want to from their scriptures.


Yeah, you fast on religious days but then I hear you insult the person who is eating a rather large meal – maybe they’re hungry, maybe they want to, it’s none of your business. I feel so confused when I see someone acting one way in front of someone who is high up on the religious authority level and another way with their junior.

Another thing that irks me is so many religions, including the one I some-what follow are so very patriarchal in nature. As a staunch feminist who believes in equality for both the sexes, this is something I cannot get behind. I simply don’t get the need for only male priests, only male authorities in religious institutions. And then there’s the fact, that most of the people who are entrusted with guiding the people are biased with their own thoughts and beliefs and may not make an effort to be inclusive or educated about the different aspects to people, their personality and their choices. And more often than not, all of these leaders have given the wrong information to masses that follow them blindly, adding to the misogyny / misandry / inequality in today’s world.


As someone who values humour as a powerful tool of change in today’s world, the fact that some religious people cannot take jokes on their belief or their religion (when it’s not personal, of course) I wonder how much they tolerate vs. accept everyone else. And then when they actively try to reinstate old, out-dated ideas of social systems that should be way past their expiry date, it leaves me fuming. How lovely of them to make judgements on others as they pray to be saved on Judgement Day.

When I was younger, I blindly followed all that was taught to me during Sunday School and told to me during sermons. I never bothered going online or reading up about the things told to me, I accepted them as true. But having chosen Arts as my stream and picking Sociology as my subject back when I was fifteen was one of the best things I ever did. It taught me to look beyond what was told to me, to seek knowledge and understand on my own. So I asked questions when I was studying for the sacrament of Confirmation, but nobody ever really answered me. They shushed me. Well, it seems they shushed me right out of the religion.

I think of myself as more spiritual now than religious, I have hopefully gone from blind faith into the light of knowledge as they put it. But I still have parents, relatives and friends who would rather see me back in a church rather than not, so here’s hoping they understand that I am free to make my own choices, and unfortunately for them, the time I believed people and their messages blindly has passed.

Have you ever dealt with a change in your belief – religious or otherwise? How did you manage? I’m still learning to deal with the changes this has created in my life.

Until tomorrow,

Nia Carnelio



The First: On Depression & Educating Yourself

Hey guys,

So, it’s the first of November. People across the world are attempting to write fifty thousand words in the month of November. And I am writing thirty posts this month, of which, this is the first. My first prompt was given by Christina, a fellow blogger and my friend from college. You can find her at Cartoon Heart. It seems she has been reading a lot of Sylvia Plath (she says so) because the first thing she told me when I asked her for a prompt was ‘Depression’.

Depression is very touchy subject for a lot of people, often because of the way it is represented in the media. I first learned about it back in eleventh grade or junior college, during our psychology lectures. Even then, the full understanding of mental illness and its impact upon people wasn’t very clear to me. It took tumblr, Twitter and people raising their voices for me to comprehend how stigmatized depression is today’s society. People are quick to dismiss mental illness as something that is different from physical illness or injury. Simply because you cannot see the part of the body being affected, does not mean you can dismiss it as a figment of somebody’s imagination.

I have never suffered from depression, but from the way people speak about it and from what I have read and studied about it, it involves acute sadness for days and months and involves an inability to generate interest in doing things – everyday or otherwise. It isn’t something you can simply will your mind to ‘get over’ or ‘snap out of’. If you can’t snap out of a fractured arm or a broken ankle, you can’t snap out of a depressed state of being. This is your brain being affected, the primary organ in everybody’s life – the one that pretty much keeps you, ‘you’. I am not going to cite research and statistics, if you’re interested you can Google it. What I am going to tell you is how many people, including teenagers suffer from it across the world.


People my age shouldn’t have to feel hopelessness and despair; they should be out enjoying life, studying about the world and making relationships to last a lifetime. What is happening is far from it – the change in the way people treat each other, the constant worry about being number one or being one of the top ten to secure a place in the highly competitive society, broken families thanks to the decreasing value of love and trust are among the causes that lead to depression. It sucks, it sucks when you can’t motivate yourself to do anything to help yourself – you just can’t.

What can help is a good support system – good friends, observant family members who pay attention to you and understand what you’re going through. I know living in India equals people who often scoff at the idea of a mental illness, and then immediately stigmatize it. Why though? Why should be ashamed of seeking help for your mental health and security? If you were to attempt to bandage your fractured arm on your own, wouldn’t they say, “Isn’t it better / safer if you went to the doctor to get this done? You might make it worse if you delay getting help.” Why should it be any different when you seek help from a psychologist or a psychiatrist?


This is one of the primary reasons I am so happy and supportive when celebrities reveal their struggles with depression and other mental illnesses. Actress Deepika Padukone opened up about her depression and now she has opened up a foundation named ‘Live Love Laugh’ to help those who are battling depression. This gives out the message that it is okay to talk about it, it is okay to seek help.

If you have friends who suffer from depression, please make a point to support them – emotionally and mentally. Simply be there for them, it might take some time but they will respond and hopefully, they will not be another statistic in the growing numbers of suicide cases across the globe taking place due to depression. Make sure your friends and family know that they can confide in you if they ever want to talk. If you happen to be battling with depression, feel free to message me and talk to me. It doesn’t have to be about helping you overcome depression, we can discuss books and TV shows.


Please don’t joke about being depressed or make comments like “You look depressed, what’s up?” if you’re simply talking about mundane things. Sadness and depression aren’t the same things. Try and understand what so many people around you might be going through, depression is a silent spectator in our lives and we might help each other fight it off. Take care of yourselves and the people around you.


Until tomorrow,

Nia Carnelio.



ALL THE OTP FEELS: James & Lily Edition

Hey guys,

Depending on where you live, you’re either done with Halloween or just getting ready to go out for a party, either way, hope you’ve had / will have a great one. I’ve simply been sleeping and reading all through the day – just like I do every day.

Just wanted to drop in and let you know of my plans for November, I have done NaNoWriMo in both 2013 & 2014, but I’m still undecided about doing it this year. If I do end up writing this year, it’ll be fairly low-key. I think I might try my hand at fanfiction this time. I seem to have ended my supply of good ones. And since I only believe enough in two couples to read about their love lives in several hundred ways – James & Lily Potter and Scorpius and Rose Malfoy, I might make it a time travel fic or something – but more on that later, that is, if I manage to motivate myself enough to write 50K this year.

What I AM going to do this month is write thirty blog posts on this blog AND on my book blog. Yes, it’s a lot, yes it is going time consuming and confusing and everything but I have to. This entire year, I have edited more than I have written and for someone who claims writing is her passion that is seriously not done. And so with NaBloPoMo, I am forcing myself to write, even if it is just a hundred words chronicling my day (my days are fairly boring, all I do is read and binge-watch shows). I last did NaBloPoMo back in 2013, which was the year I started my blog but I seem to have lost that writing streak. I’ve got friends giving me prompts for the post and I’ve also noted some things I would like to write about, it’s been a while guys and I really miss writing.

If you want to give me a prompt or get me to write on a particular topic, this is the ideal time. Comment below and I’ll try and write on the topic you give me.

In other news, Halloween is also the death anniversary of my number one OTP, James and Lily Potter. Their love is canon and according to the books, their stag-doe patronuses signified they were soul mates. On the other hand, Snape’s doe was the symbol of unrequited love. And he was also the biggest dickhead of all time.

I’m gonna make a bulleted list of all my James-Lily points. Bear in mind, these are simply my views and most of them have been seen on tumblr, the huge amount of fanfiction I’ve read. All I’m doing is expressing them in my own words:


  • James and Lily were literally perfect for each other. If you tell me he was a dick and teased people, I will very kindly remind you he was only fifteen and at fifteen, boys and girls tend to be dicks to each other. He was a bully, sure, but he grew out of it.


  • Otherwise, Lily Evans who was probably the smartest witch of her time wouldn’t have loved him enough to marry him. That is more that can be said for Snape, who continued to be a bully all the way into adulthood. From terrorizing an eleven year old to become his boggart (bear in mind Neville’s parents were tortured by Death Eaters, yet he didn’t have Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange as his boggarts) and then humiliated a fourteen year old Hermione about her buck teeth and then of course, his unashamed partiality towards his own house. He did many right things, he helped keep Harry safe, he protected Draco but what he did to those kids was inexcusable and unnecessary and the world forgot all about that when he muttered “Always” – the words of man who can’t move on in my opinion.



  • James and Lily loved each other, until the very end. They got married at nineteen, had a child at twenty. They were teenagers when they fell in love and chose to spend the rest of their lives together. I will forever hold a grudge against the movies for the horrible casting they had for James and Lily. They cast adults well into their forties as James and Lily. But that sucks, because James and Lily died young, their tragic love story was cut short before they even had time together. And then when they did the flashback casting, they put pink ribbons in Lily’s hair, flattened James’ hair and made him wear perfectly ironed shirts which were even buttoned up. As someone pointed out on tumblr, Marauder James Potter would never have flat hair (that is completely un-canon) or have perfect shirts after a gruelling exam. Utter nonsense. The only thing they cast right was Alan Rickman as Snape.


  • Rickman was one of the major reasons for Snape’s positive acceptance. It was also because of him that they had to cast middle-aged folks as Harry’s parents. But dear god, this is also when I realized that contrary to what idiots believe Harry Potter is not only for children. Characters in this book aren’t only black and white, you’ve got characters who are horrible but have done good deeds too (Snape) and others like Pettigrew who had their own motivations about their choices which eventually led to the death and murder of numerous people.


I think I’ve made my thoughts clear on the issue of James and Lily. They are my OTP and I will go to the ends of the earth to protect their love. Prepare for some Anti-Snily, Anti-Snape pictures I’ve saved and have helped me realized the truth of Snape’s personality.

5f50311617c9c2e854b79b421e0eaad9 snape-patronus-thing-e1423631534354

Jily is and will remain my OTP. If you would like to add something, feel free to do so. I don’t mean that Snape didn’t help Harry, all I’m saying, he was a dick. Good thing for him, you can be a dick and be helpful. What you don’t deserve is a middle name. Harry could’ve named Albus Severus anything – Remus, Arthur – HAGRID?! The only reason I’ll accept Harry naming his kid after a bully who abused his parents is:


Click the pictures to view them properly, thanks.

Jily is my OTP. Thank you for reading about my love.


First of thirty posts.

Until tomorrow,

Nia Carnelio.

[It’s 10:30 in Doha, but 1 AM in India, so I’m gonna count this as a November post but I might write another tomorrow too.]

The One Where I’m Out Of Sorts

I’d like to think that it’s not just because of one or two things that happened in the fairly recent past, this, whatever it is, has been bubbling under the surface for a couple of months at the very least in my opinion – probably sometime around the 3rd of July, yeah?

Today’s post is just a culmination of a very, very stressful week. With eight different papers, a load of lectures, some really annoying feelings and even the odd fight thrown into the mix, it has not been an easy time.

For the first time today, I travelled by first class. For those of you who do not live in Mumbai, here’s some much needed context: there are local trains that transport you from one location in the city to another in my city and there are two types of compartments- first class and second class. For three and a half years of my college life, I’ve travelled by the second class – my best friend was with me, I took empty trains and I liked it more than the first class.

But now, with a recovering dislocated knee my mother finally cajoled me into taking a first class pass (regardless of my concerns of how useless it was, along with a complete waste of money I could be spending on books) and I made one yesterday. So this morning was my very first morning in the first class compartment of my Churchgate train (first legal ride, at least – that’s a story for another day).

From the moment I passed the green striped compartments in favour for the orange and blue ones I felt out of my skin. Standing in the compartment, waiting for the goddamn train to move on I wondered if the people sitting in front of me could recognize I didn’t belong there, or rather didn’t want to. Always having judged them as pretentious; overly concerned about their clothes and hair and perfumes rather than letting a fourth person sit, I felt like an outsider the whole time. I felt like a child playing with their parent’s stuff, pretending to be someone they’re not.

But that is life, isn’t it? Constantly forcing us to change, to adapt – ask me about this in a week or maybe even tomorrow and I might be familiar with it. Even if I do long for the far more open second class (wider spaces), the nice and friendly people (the lady next to me elbowed me four times and didn’t apologize once) and the kids – so many kids in second class, they do bring a smile on my face every time I play some little meaningless game with them. And since almost all first class ladies are fat, I am forced to sit in the smaller spaces. Sigh.

But feeling out of sorts has been happening on a larger scale since I missed a major chunk of my college term sitting at home and nursing a dislocated knee. Major FOMO happened and the effects of it are reaching me around now. And then almost everyone I know is either doing this fest, heading that or doing something and here I am studying (not well) for CIAs that I should have given back in July. And somehow I feel like I have lost my potential along the way, that now I am a mere shell of my former talented self. And it’s not like my academic achievements are anything to boast about – so that above average feeling I had? Slowly disappearing and making me feel more inadequate that anything.

I think I just expected a lot more of myself by the time I turned eighteen. I had many dreams, several ways in which things would work out in my favour and now that they might not, it scares me. It scares the fuck out of me and I can’t do anything about it and I wonder how much of my ‘whole’ life I have in front of me to achieve anything that someone hasn’t already done? Anything I want to do, or can do well is being done better or in the best way by someone else. How then do I cope with this sense of complete and utter failure?

From worrying about how the Xavierites in the first class along with me who get on at Bandra and Andheri will judge me, who will critically analyse my outfit better than I analysed my poetry paper, to feeling like an outsider among my own friends, to feeling like an idiot or completely lost when they speak about things I don’t know, to not knowing if they wonder why she’s studying literature if she can’t spell benign or received correctly to getting average marks and not feeling like I want to study any more, it’s not been a good time for me. This is probably one of the few times I’ve wallowed in self-doubt and self-pity, usually I make a point of shoving it down so deep it can’t be found unless something like this triggers it. And this is also one of the very personal things I’m sharing about my life, which is why this isn’t being shared on FB with my friends like I normally do.

I’ll probably get my confident persona back soon, I hope.

Until then I’ll bury my insecurities by reading books, battling them with sarcasm and more CIAs.

I'm trying to believe this.
I’m trying to believe this.

Also, my book blog is now live (changed that summer blog ) – Books, Feels & Tears. Maybe check it out?

More reading of The Duff (which is how I feel right about now), and then on to attack Developmental Psychology.

Until next time,





But where is that chance?
But where is that chance?

Of Memories and Feels

They say some things never end. Some things live on, even if it is in our memories.

Malhar is one such thing.

From the times of Junior College, from applying to Raga for the free t-shirts and thinking that writing was the only thing I was proficient in, until last night, when I looked at all my volunteers with my co-OGs and OC and thought, “We made this, this is our department,” it’s been a long journey. But it’s been one of the best ones.

Everything ends on 17th August, the stage is pulled down, banners folded, stalls demolished. Diaries are looked at fondly, photos are clicked, the department t-shirts a proud uniform upon ourselves. But for me, Malhar is eternal; the memories shall remain for ever.


You nervously apply for the position you want, writing your app with the triple the amount of dedication and care you gave to your exam papers, getting it beta read and approved by your friends. You send it in, sometime before the clock strikes midnight, hoping your internet doesn’t choose this moment to act up and then you wait.

An email comes back, a call is made, an interview scheduled. You prepare, you wonder if this will be the year you make it. Your best friends wish you luck, some of them have made it and you couldn’t be happier, the others are taking the same journey with you. ‘Best of luck’ wishes are exchanged before the interview; you grin and make your way. And then you wait.

A few days later, a call comes. You look at the number on your phone, tinged with apprehension. Is it that call again? You pick up. You’ve made it. Everything begins the next day. You go to sleep with a huge smile on your face, dreaming of the memories you will be making in the next few months.

Your name is on the page, along with all those who’ve made it. Your best friends are there too, some aren’t. But life isn’t always equal and fair. You wake up the next morning, you make it college, wondering if everyone on the train knows your life is about to be completely different in the next few months by that look on your face.

You meet your team; you meet the person who took your interview. He tells you, you’ve got the thing you wanted. You’re handling the one thing you desire the most. You wonder if you can do it, but you stifle that insecurity down. You know you will do it, even if it kills you.

Summer holidays involved sleeping and lazing around. Now, they involve plans, deadlines, layouts and meetings. Everything is discussed minutely. Sometimes you wonder if all this will amount in the end or is it just a small speck in the book of the universe. “Eh,” you say as you go back to ideating and brainstorming.

You learn your Co-OG isn’t so bad after all, maybe you judged her too fast. You think, I really fucking like these people and that’s a good thing, I’ve got four months to spend with them. You get to know your team; you co-ordinate schedules to travel together, your WhatsApp chats have them as the first people you chat with, and as the month ends, you know the dream is becoming a reality.

College begins and your work is now out for everyone to see. As you proofread the first one, you anticipate the response, hoping it’ll be what you want it to be. And it is. You love it, they love it. And now, it is time for you to start taking interviews, for you to face nervous applicants, one you were for two years.

But then life happens to you. And you’re both thankful and frustrated. You can’t fathom, why me, why now of all times possible. But you power through. You wanted this and you want to do this through whatever happens. Major FOMO takes place, you miss out on loads of stuff but it’s okay. What matters most is still happening. You wait.

And then you return and are back in the frenzy, back in the eye of the tornado and you wonder how you lived without it. You meet the volunteers who didn’t know you, you love them and you know they’re a great team. You watch them bonding together and you know how amazing that feels, having been in that desk yourself, but nothing compares to knowing you helped form these friendships, these bonds.

Finally, after countless meetings, plans, agendas and discussions, the days arrive. You’re handed the t-shirts a day before. Unfortunately, being the idiot you are, you lose them. Frantic with worry when you discover this loss in the night, you wonder what the fuck is wrong with you. Your co-OG tells you she’s getting you one, you’re still upset. But you know it’s happening and nothing can dampen that.

You find them in the comps room; you’d spend hours there the previous evening. Of course. And now, it is officially here.

The beginning of the end.

The days go by in a blur, the newsletters come in, your name is on the Editors column instead of the Writers one, you’re wearing a t-shirt which says Organiser, you helped organise something for the one of the biggest college fests of your city.

And as day two comes to a close, you know there’s a special part of the night just for you guys. The workforce, and you revel in it. You dance, you sing, you scream. You do the YMCA with your best friends. It’s tradition, even if it is only the second year.

A sleepover happens. You eat as you discuss the day, with flailing hands and excited smiles. You sleep like a rock for maybe four hours before you’re up. It hits you. This is the day when it all comes to an end. The last time that t-shirt matters, the last time you will be an Organiser.

You cry. It’s almost over. You don’t know how to handle it. The day slowly draws to an end. The last events happen in the foyer, the quad and as you hear the music dying you know it’s over.

You meet with your volunteers, you pack up, and you all sit together. They give you those cards and chocolates and certificates and you clap, clap, clap. You have tears in your eyes. The end is nigh.

You go down, but not before the last few pictures are taken. You bid goodbye to the rooms you called home. And you all laugh and grin as you dance in the crowd, all together, one last time maybe.

The ceremony starts, you watch your best friend take the stage. You make funny comments with your best friend who sits next to you, you grin at the fact that one of you has made it up there. You still have the tears. Your own OC comes up; you clap so hard your hands might fall off. You laugh, you smile and you think, “Fuck, how can this be the end?”

But it is.

You get up silently, the memories warring with you. You want to say something, do something, but you do nothing. You hug everyone for the last time, give a watery smile and make your way out of the gate. You see the lights go off, one by one. People stream out; every t-shirt colour slowly makes their way home.

It’s over. But it is not the end.

Malhar will never end. No matter what happens, no matter how it got over.

We make Malhar what it is. And Malhar is life.

ARC August & BookTubeAThon TBR Lists!

Hey guys,

While my summer blog is being revamped into my book blog, here’s a post on my #ARCAugust & Book – Tube – A – Thon TBR books. While BookTubeAThon runs from August 3rd until August 8th. Here are the challenges and my books for the same:

The challenges:
1// Read a book with blue on the cover: The HitchHiker’s Guide To The Galaxy by Douglas Adams.
2// Read a book by an author who shares the same first letter of your last name: Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare
3// Read someone else’s favourite book: Still undecided.
4// Read the last book you acquired: Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi.
5// Finish a book without letting go of it: The Two Tinkles I was published in. Comics for Children.
6// Read a book you really want to read: Him by Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy.
7// Read seven books: For my seventh book, I plan on reading Daughter of Smoke & Bone by Laini Taylor.

I’m probably not gonna finish these books with Malhar right around the corner as well as CIAs breathing down my neck, but I have to give it a shot.


Other than that, I also plan on doing ARC August, I’ve already linked up my blog and here are the ARCs I hope to finish this month:

Physical ARCs:

  1. Becoming Jinn
  2. Denton Little’s DeathDate
  3. Until The Beginning


  1. Everything Everything
  2. Another Day
  3. The Scorpion Rules
  4. The DUFF
  5. This Is Where It Ends
  6. Half Bad
  7. A Thousand Nights
  8. A Whole New World

So, that’s a lot of books and not as much time. But then, as they say, it is better to have started than not read at all.


Until next time,

Nia Carnelio.

P.S – You can follow my progress (if I make any, that is) on twitter where I spend most of my time: @niacarnelio or on Goodreads (friend and follow me) – Nia Carnelio. Cheers!