Thursday, 14 December 2017
Monday, 11 December 2017
Friday, 8 December 2017
amilies just happen. Nobody gets to choose them. Of all the people, I know this pretty well. However, I have to admit that sometimes I don’t understand the concept of family. Does that only mean blood relations? If that’s the case, I have no recollection of my biological family. Aditya and Shraddha say that I was just two days old when they held me in their hands and brought me to our home. They say that I am that bundle of joy which not only brought them together but gave them a reason to move on in life. As far as I am concerned, they are my family; my life. The humble yet elegantly furnished 2BHK apartments in East Bangalore is my home. The balcony with grass carpet, several pots of plants and a swing is my favorite spot in the house.
Often I sit next to Shraddha on the beige couch in the living room or snuggle under Adi’s feet rested against a warm rug. Sometimes we watch movies together and I would be sitting between them; their hands around me. They never say no if I nuzzle their nose or ears. That’s what I love about them. They never get bored of me.
Sometimes when Aditya’s mother visits, she gets hysterical seeing me jump on the king sized mattress in the bedroom. She would shout at me and shoo me away. When I think about it, I realize that she has never beaten me up. Probably because she knows that her son and daughter in law would not like it. I am their baby and that’s what they call me. My name sounds so beautiful when they say it. It makes me feel like I could do anything for them; that I should listen to them.
When I am bored, I play with my toys or simply run around the house. When I am tired, I would sit in the balcony and observe Adi and Shraddha. I have to tell you that they look very good together. Adi is tall with a wheatish complexion and athletic body. He is a fitness freak. He never misses his morning jog with me. It is a delight to see him patiently tolerating my tantrums at times. His hair is always well-kept and I have to tell you that he is pretty obsessed with it. If Adi ever gets irritated by me, it should be because I messed his hair. And we all have a problem, don’t we? We often do what we are repeatedly asked not to do. More so when we also know that it is harmless! Another reason why I love to do that is because if Shraddha is around, Adi would give a desperate glance at her and she would start giggling.
I love that smile. In fact, I know each and every movement as if captured in slow motion. First, she would lift her right eyebrows and slightly nod her head. Then, closes her eyes until her smile becomes wide enough to showcase her perfectly aligned teeth. She would look down and move her head from left to right. Finally, she would look up and lock eyes with Adi for a micro second. And then, in a fake irritated voice she would say, “Baby! How many times have I asked you not to do it?” As soon as I hear that I would withdraw myself from Adi and snuggle under his feet until he gently touches me. Sometimes, if Shraddha is in a playful mood, she would also join in ruffling Adi’s hair. Adi’s helplessness would make Shraddha giggle. Then, she would kiss him on his ears and on my forehead. Shraddha is moderately tall and very petite. Her hair is short, accentuating her high cheekbones and sharp nose. Her beauty lies in her fragility.
Of late, I just sit on the balcony and stare at our family photograph hung in the living room. It was taken when we had gone on a road trip to Coorg. I hate long drives and road trips. But, Shraddha and Adi love it. And, I love to see their childlike enthusiasm while planning a trip and exploring new places. Sometimes, I sit in the front seat. But, mostly I stretch across the backseat with my favorite toy lying next to me. I also glance through the windows and see the trees vanishing rapidly. For a second they are just next to me. But in no time, they disappear. This nearness and distance would make me philosophical too. I mean, think about it. In life, some people come. They become integral part of our lives. They start influencing our behavior and emotions. And boom! They just disappear like a firefly. But, in that limited time, they spread light and happiness; touch your soul. However, those smiles and the related ideas of how they spread happiness seems likes a distance dream now. With each passing day, my life is turning into a nightmare for which there are two reasons.
Firstly, Adi and Shraddha don’t talk to each other anymore. If they talk, it would end up in a long and unpleasant argument. They watch no movies together or sleep in that king sized mattress. I miss snuggling next to them. Adi often comes home late and dozes off on the couch in the living room. Shraddha would remain distracted most of the times. Either she would be crying or remain irritated with almost everything. But, she never shouts at me. These days, she hardly sits idle. She would be trying new recipe and give everything to the neighbor’s maid. Next day the maid would be happily explaining how delicious the food was and how her children enjoyed it. Shraddha, however, would only be half listening, focusing on the new cuisine in progress. But, I would be in tears as a mute observer because only I know that Shraddha didn’t taste a bit of it. Neither did Adi. In fact, I don’t even remember the last time we ate our food together.
Secondly, I am feeling unwell; as if death is approaching me. I know that sounds weird. After all, no one knows when they would die or when anyone would die for that matter. But, I know. I feel like I am connected to some strange network which sends me signals of death. Well, death has never scared me. I think that the only truth and certainty is death. In fact, I don’t understand why people fret so much about it. If you ask me what is the most awesome aspect of life, I would say death! But then, I secretly wish that the connection sending these signals dies instead of me. As I said, I am not scared of death. But, I just don’t want to die now. If I do, Shraddha would be alone. But, isn’t death inevitable? Icing on the cake is that I don’t feel like eating anything. I know it sounds ironical. Still. How can I eat when Shraddha is starving; when Adi and Shraddha are fighting? Apart from being a silent observer, I wish I was deaf also. Having said that, I don’t think it would help. Melancholy has strange vibes. It always connects to the bleeding heart and ensures that you bleed to death. The home which was once warm and cozy has transformed into a mansion surrounded by cold walls; enveloped by eerie silence. But, silence doesn’t bother me anymore though they are always deafening. In any case, it is far better than the arguments between Adi and Shraddha.
“Dhachu, will you please get ready?” Adi requested after the afternoon brunch. Unmindful of Adi’s watchful yet concerned eyes, Shraddha continued to clean the sparkling kitchen.
“Are you listening to me? What is wrong with you? We have to leave in an hour. Otherwise it will be too late”, Adi pleaded.
“Adi, I am not coming. Baby needs me. I can’t leave Baby alone and go with you”, Shraddha said while rearranging the vessels in the cabinet.
“You are not a good liar Dhachu and you know that. Why don’t you look at me and tell me what is stopping you?” Adi asked while cornering her.
“Adi, when we knew that I could never bear a child, I suggested separation. You asked me to shun those old fashioned thoughts and told me that we are progressive enough to make peace with it, didn’t you?” Shraddha broke down. “Now what is suddenly wrong with you? Why are you behind my life and forcing me to do everything differently?” Tears escaped from her eyes like a prisoner freed from jail. Maybe it was the tone, I moved away from Adi’s feet and sat on the couch.
“Dhachu, I am not forcing you. I am only pleading. Please listen to me. I still say that we are not old fashioned. It’s been almost ten years since we knew that we can never have a child. After convincing you for a year, you agreed to adopt Baby. And now Baby is nine years old and almost dying. What’s next Shraddha? Adopt another one? Or mourn for Baby all our life? What is your plan? I have tried my best to explain why you should come with me. And I am tierd now. I am so very tired. Baby will also be gone. Then what? Tell me Dhachu. Please tell me. What will we do when Baby dies?”
“Adi, did you just say Baby is dying?” Shraddha’s voice was quivering and was barely audible. For the first time I understood why they were fighting. They were fighting because of me. I was the anchor that was holding them together. Now they are afraid that my absence would kill the relationship which they have lovingly built over so many years. It was not the first time Adi and Shraddha were fighting. But, I knew that this is not going to be similar to the arguments they have been having so far where Adi would yell and storm out of the house. I would run towards Shraddha and cuddle close to her. She would hug me with those slender hands and bury her face against the warmth of my body. Slowly, I would be feeling the hotness of her tears drenching my soul; tearing it apart. I would helplessly wish to tell her that everything would be alright soon. Or something like I am there for you. But, I would be too scared to move. So I would just rest my head on her lap.
“Yes, that’s what I said. Baby is dying. Its better you accept that fact, Dhachu. Didn’t we know this all along? Since the day we held Baby in our hands? Baby’s sickness is killing you. I cannot see this anymore. Please listen to me. Get ready and come with me. Trust me please. Will I do anything that would harm you?” Adi pulled Dhachu closer to him and she started sobbing uncontrollably.
I was in tears too. I wanted to run towards them and nestle next to them. But I didn’t want to do that. In fact, I wanted to disappear; like a vapour. I wish I had an Invisibility Cloak like Shraddha’s favorite Harry Potter. I silently walked across the living room and sat on the balcony. I noticed a young couple walking across the street. The man was holding a small baby whose excited eyes were wandering everywhere and the woman was carrying a couple of grocery bags. They were walking in silence, but there was peace. Unlike Adi and Shraddha, I thought.
I do not recall when I fell asleep. But the sound of thunder made me jump and I rushed into the bedroom. I was so terrified that I crawled under the cot and fell asleep again. When I opened my eyes, there was only darkness around me. I did not know what time of the night it was. I searched for Adi and Shraddha. But, they were nowhere to be seen. However, I noticed that they had left food for me and I half-heartedly had that. A strange discomfort started hovering around me. It was past midnight and the signals of death reached out to me again; this time stronger than usual.
I restlessly started walking around our house. I was panicking and hoped Adi and Shraddha came back home soon. I knew that it was getting late enough to be worried. I once again stepped into the balcony and looked down. Except for a drenched street dog that was lying down miserably near the gate, there was not a soul to be seen anywhere. Rain water had puddled under the lamp post. A breeze ruffled the mango tree in the courtyard and a few twigs fell down and broke. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Did I hear a soft knock at the door? I turned back with relief. I rushed to the door and impatiently waited.
Adi walked in and I started jumping in joy. He then pointed his fingers towards the door and I saw Shraddha holding a baby in arms. Her eyes were swollen and I knew she had cried a lot. She looked at me with a smile and walked inside. I didn’t jump on her. I didn’t want to scare the sleeping baby. I followed her. She walked into the bedroom and carefully placed the baby on the bed. Both Adi and Shraddha sat on either side of the baby and I was uncertain about what I should be doing. Suddenly, I felt like an alien. I felt like I am not their baby anymore. Tears started to roll down my eyes.
Adi noticed it and he walked towards me. He drew me close to him and urged, “Baby, that’s Nainika. Promise me that you will be her big brother and take care of her. Come on. Come on. Give me your promise”. I promised him and he ushered me towards the baby. I have never seen a baby in such close proximity before. She was so tiny. So were her feet, fingers, nails, lips and ears. And eyes? They were like a thin line drawn across face. Her face was perfect round and hair straight. I knew that she would grow up to be more beautiful than Shraddha. Strangely, she looked like a miniature version of Shraddha – fragile. I rested my head on her little stomach which was going up and down to the rhythmic tune of her breathing. Of course, I didn’t let my weight bother her. I just wanted to feel her warmth. Shraddha pulled me closer to her and started sobbing again. There was a mix of happiness and sadness in her face. We sat there like that for some time. Later, when they went to sleep, Nainika was placed in between them. I looked at them with a sad face. I was about to turn and go to the balcony when they made some space for me. I carefully jumped onto our bed and happily laid next to Nainika.
I don’t know for how long I had been asleep. I opened my eyes and looked towards Nainika. Her tiny hands were holding my ears. I was afraid to move. I didn’t want to disturb her sleep. In fact, I didn’t want to disturb anyone in my family. I looked at Shraddha. And then, at Adi. Tears rolled down my eyes. I felt thankful and happy for having a wonderful family like this. I closed my eyes.
In no time, darkness shrouded and silence followed. Signals of death got disconnected. I was at peace.
Tuesday, 5 December 2017
Sunday, 3 December 2017
Tuesday, 28 November 2017
“True best friends never fail on understanding, forgiving, and being there for one another no matter what situation that they might be in or having with one another because of the fact of that no matter if it’s two males or females love should always be there as if brothers or sisters if their what we call best friends.”
― Jonathan Anthony Burkett, Friends 2 Lovers: The Unthinkable
Sunday, 26 November 2017
ust a few moments before, I was trying to open a website and it was taking forever to load. I was wondering if it’s because of poor connectivity and automatically typed “Google” to see if that opens. Voila! It did and I was confirmed that there is no network issues. This ewould have become a habit for most of us and in fact, I remember reading sometime before that people type “Google” to check the network availability. But, this simple instinctive action also made me think. I wondered about how our lives have changed over last 10 years due to extensive use of internet and emergence of smartphones.
Hey! This is not an exhaustive list and I’ll be delighted if you add more…
· Alarm clocks – where have they vanished? I still remember the small timepiece my mother had which didn’t need batteries, but need to be keyed regularly. She used to religiously set the alarm every night before bedtime and place it next to her pillow. It is a vivid childhood memory, if you ask me. As a teenager, I also had an alarm clock (with batteries of course). It was pink in color (obviously) and in the model of a doll whose cap would jump up and down when the alarm goes on. But today, like most of us, I’ve a smartphone and rely on it.
· Speaking about alarm clocks, I think of watches. They were the primary and only source to check time. For many, it used to be a part of identity. I had a Timex watch which I received as a gift from my aunt and it was almost like a part of my body throughout my school life. Now, I may have watches and I occasionally wear them too. But, I consider it to be more an accessory than a necessity. Even when I have them on, I check the mobile (or laptop indeed) to know the time. It’s almost the same case with the wall clock. It’s more an ornament now than a useful object. After all, the mobile phone shows more accurate time, doesn’t it?
· It was not long time before when the mornings of every festivals used to be spent in calling near and dear ones and wishing them. Of course, before the telephones happened, the entire day used to be spent in visiting people. It’s almost the same case with birthdays and anniversaries. Some personal time was spent in making the special day more special. But now, isn’t everyone just a WhatsApp ping away?
· And birthdays! How much effort was taken once to remember the dates! Now, Facebook does that for us. If, by any chance, someone has deactivated the birthday notification and if he/she belongs to our close circle, a reminder will pop up in the smart phone. Obviously, we would have set that up!
· Isn’t the smell of printed newspapers on our doorsteps now more a memory than a part of our daily life? Of course, we get to know the news on a real time basis. But, the joy of piping hot coffee on the table and a crumpled newspaper in hand is immeasurable.
· Books – There are ebooks indeed. Cheaper; hence more affordable. But, the smell of books - The feel of them in our hands or the completeness they give even as they lie on the bookshelf with dust particles enveloping them!
· I guess that our parents would have learnt cooking from their parents or from cookery books or by shamelessly asking someone to share the recipe of good food they just served. But, we rely more on internet for the same. Needless to say, we get to know the recipes for more exotic menus; but the taste of mom’s food? Can we really match that; ever reach somewhere near that if not match that?
· Now, there is a lot of issues on piracy and we know that already. Movie going used to be an event by itself. Going to the theater in advance and get the tickets for a show that would be scheduled later that day... Then, with the family and friends, go for it with hot snacks packed for munching during intermission. It was a memory - A family/friends time!
· Writing – the sound of pen on paper is a melody on its own. If you make mistakes you have to strike them down or use erasers; no backspace mind you! Long letters were once a part of our lives, which could be preserved and cherished for a lifetime. Now, they are replaced with “k” and “hmm”. Of course, “Wassup” and “Tc”. These messages might come instantly, but waiting for a letter comes with sweet fruits and the taste of those fruits are a figment of memory now.
· Letters reminds me of greeting cards. Aww! I so-so miss them. Finding the right greeting card, filling it with our thoughts and amateur doodles was a task. Yet, that task was fulfilling than the current practice of searching images online and forwarding the same!
I am not saying that internet or smart phone has ruined our lives. It’s a boon to connect with loved ones who are physically or geographically separated. It makes it easier to be connected with them on a real time basis. It is also a source of knowledge; learning is unlimited. It lets us explore and know more. Am I not sharing my thoughts because I have good internet connection and a laptop with MS Word? Else, I would have, probably, taken a book/paper and wrote them down. No one other than me would have read that! Sigh.
I sometimes feel that people are virtually connected all the time, but the emotional intimacy and belongingness that was once shared is evaporating into thin air. We are so engrossed to internet and smart phone with the object of learning more, knowing more, be more updated or stay virtually connected with others that we tend to forget the person sitting next to us. We are always looking at the screen that we miss the hues of nature, meows and caws. We tend to forget that life is about making real memories; not just the ones collated by the Facebook. I think even social media understand the need for making memories. May be that’s why we get occasional messages from them saying “Memories”. But, cherishing them at heart is more important than stacking them in the WWW. When we are old and fragile, I am sure that we would like to reminisce them through a phantasmagoria generated by ourselves and not by the social media.
Never forget that little things matters – ONLY little things matters!
Let’s be smart like the smart phone and be wise like the WWW. Let’s learn when to shut them out and when to embrace them and not the people around us! Just an idea for this New Year’s resolution… Do I make sense?
Friday, 24 November 2017
It's amazing how strangers could become friends; a part of each other’s life.
But, not as amazing as how friends could become strangers;
Forgetting the bond and killing the memories!
They say, that’s how life is.
I say, maybe! That’s how memories are made J
Monday, 20 November 2017
The beauty about painting or any form of art is that it acts as a medium that helps in making the dreams come true.
It’s a big dream for me to see snow. Snow covered roads, trees, buildings and what not. And those pearl-like snowfall that decorates your soul is a pleasure to watch, I assume. So it’s been in my bucket list for as long as I remember.
But when I painted this, I felt as if my dreams were coming true… That’s the magic of art, I believe!
Friday, 17 November 2017
Kalpathy Theru (Car Festival/Ratholsavam) took place between 8th and 16th of November, 2017. It is one of the most famous and very old festival celebrated in the town.
The event begins with flag hoisting in all these 4 temples.
The streets of Kalpathy, beautifully lit… Kalpathy theru is an emotion and an event which the natives look forward to year after year. The real beauty lies in the fact that it is celebrated by everyone in Palakkad surpassing the religious diversity.
The beauty of the theru lies in it’s simplicity and the wonderful streamers made of white-paper, called netti maalai in Tamizh.
The car festival is celebrated in 4 temples, spread across 4 different aggraharam/villages in Palakkad – Kalpathy, Mandakkarai, Old Kalpathy and Chathapuram.
The theru is made of wood and has intricate wooden work.
It resembles to the theru in Kumbakonam and Tanjavur of Tamil Nadu because the natives of the Kalpathy are said to have migrated from those places a few 100 years ago.
Lord Ganesha of Mandakkarai– on Day 4 of the ratholsavam
Lord Viswanathaswamy of Kalpathy – on Day 4 of the ratholsavam
Lord Krishna of Old Kalpathy– on Day 4 of the ratholsavam
|Lord Ganesha of Chathapuram – on Day 5 of the ratholsavam|
|Lord Krishna of Old Kalpathy– on Day 5 of the ratholsavam|
Lord Viswanathaswamy of Kalpathy – on Day 5 of the ratholsavam
Lord Ganesha of Mandakkarai– on Day 5 of the ratholsavam
Each day the God will be seated in different Vaahanam (vehicle) and goes around 5 adjacent agraharam
This is one of my personal favorite. Lord Krishna of Old Kalpathy decked up as Mohini. I loved this even better this time because of the beautiful candy pink sari!
The ever handsome and majestic Lord Ganesha of Mandakkarai
|It is also a time for family get together and reunions with old friends|
A lot of shops come up and it’s also shopping time.
Some of the must-buys includes glass bangles, kumkum, puffed rice and vessels made of stones.
No festival in Kerala would be complete without Panchavaadhyam.
Tuesday, 14 November 2017
rapped within the constraints of the dustbin, the little teddy bear wished that his playmate doesn’t thrown the child within himself. It hoped that his playmate preserved his inner child and the childlike enthusiasm forever!
PS: Happy Children’s Day people. Never feel old. Stay young at heart always! J
Friday, 10 November 2017
Details of the Book
Original Title : Confessions of a Shopaholic
No. of Pages : 368 pages
ISBN : 0440241413 (ISBN13: 9780440241416)
Language : English
From the book blurb
Becky Bloomwood has a fabulous flat in London’s trendiest neighborhood, a troupe of glamorous socialite friends, and a closet brimming with the season’s must-haves. The only trouble is, she can’t actually afford it—not any of it. Her job writing at Successful Saving magazine not only bores her to tears, it doesn’t pay much at all. And lately Becky’s been chased by dismal letters from the bank—letters with large red sums she can’t bear to read. She tries cutting back. But none of her efforts succeeds. Her only consolation is to buy herself something… just a little something.
Finally a story arises that Becky actually cares about, and her front-page article catalyzes a chain of events that will transform her life—and the lives of those around her—forever.
Madeleine Wickham (born 12 December 1969) is a bestselling British author under her pseudonym, Sophie Kinsella. Educated at New College, Oxford, she worked as a financial journalist before turning to fiction. She is best known for writing a popular series of chick-lit novels. The Shopaholic novels series focuses on the misadventures of Becky Bloomwood, a financial journalist who cannot manage her own finances. The books follows her life from when her credit card debt first become overwhelming ("The Secret Dreamworld of a Shopaholic") to the latest book on being married and having a child ("Shopaholic & Baby"). Throughout the entire series, her obsession with shopping and the complications that imparts on her life are central themes.
What I think
I say, there are three types of people in this world:
· People who shop only necessities; if and only if it is necessary
· People who enjoy shopping and spend time in the activity; not necessarily money. They know their limits and always stick to the budget.
· People who LOVE shopping and SPEND money on shopping - shopaholics.
Well, as the book’s name suggests, Rebecca Bloomwood aka Becky is a shopaholic. She buys stuffs that she doesn’t need, will not be used and cannot be afforded. She is obsessed with sales, discounts and freebies. She is crazy about shopping and Sophie Kinsella’s The Secret Dreamworld of a Shopaholic, first in the Shopaholic series, is all about how Becky’s life is affected because of her addiction!
To begin with, the cover page is catchy and apt. It gives a sneak peek into Becky’s life. The book blurb sets the expectations. The narrative flows with rehearsed ease, often making us laugh aloud. Characters like Suz, Luke, Becky’s parents and neighbors, bank manager among many others are also well established.
Becky as a character is funny and has a lot of sense of humor. Her thoughts are often quirky and mostly crazy. As a result, the fun moments seems to be a natural part of the story, rather than enforced. Certain expressions like an excited “really!” and a dreamy “People will call me the girl in …” are sure to become a part of our day to day conversation style.
Becky’s addiction to shop and the related descriptions become boring and redundant because of the book’s volume. It would have been more gripping and unputdownable if it was at least a hundred pages lesser!
In short, the book is a must read for all the three types of people I have mentioned above because it is a fun-read - a perfect excuse to be cocooned within the warmth of one’s home and have a good hearty laugh!
Enjoy shopping with Becky!
Some words that stole my heart
· Shopping is actually very similar to farming a field. You can't keep buying the same thing, you have to have a bit of variety. Otherwise you get bored and stop enjoying yourself.
· I love new clothes. If everyone could just wear new clothes every day, I reckon depression wouldn’t exist anymore.
· Cut Back or Make More Money
· So I buy it. The most perfect little cardigan in the world. People will call me the Girl in the Gray Cardigan. I’ll be able to live in it. Really, it’s an investment.
· If a man doesn’t fit, you can’t exchange him seven days later for a gorgeous cashmere sweater.
Tuesday, 7 November 2017
There was an awkward pause.
Then, eyes danced around in anticipation of a perfect escape.
Yet heart was beating faster than ever with the explicit wish to be trapped.
A subtle shy smile creaked in her face, adding colors to her cheeks.
She took his spoon and savored the ice cream.
A lifelong affair to share almost everything thus began...!
Saturday, 4 November 2017
Monday, 30 October 2017
Saturday, 28 October 2017
Through a friend, I came to know about an app named “Your Quotes”. It has a similar layout like Instagram which allows you to upload images and use tags. You may follow others and be followed. Of course, like and comment on the posts. The difference between Your Quotes and Instagram is that in the former are supposed to share tiny write-ups and in Instagram, well as we all know, photographs!! I have to tell you that this is a great source of inspiration because everyday prompts are shared too. Try it. And share your thoughts!
Thursday, 26 October 2017
There is nothing more enlightening than self-introspection, they say. I am still not sure how true or important that is. However, when I sat down and read all the posts that I have posted on October 26th over last five years, I think it makes sense. What’s the big deal about that date; this date? Well, my little baby blog turns six today!
I was reading what I have written on this special date over the years and realized that so much has changed. I have started writing and less. I spend less time with my baby. Does that mean I think less or observe less? Certainly not. I would rather say that I have become lazy over the years, apart from getting writer’s block every now and then. Long stories are replaced with micro-fictions. So are poems and haikus. But, my paintings have added more colors to my otherwise dull and dark life.
Sometimes, I think I lack clarity. Most of the times I wish I spend more time in romancing words, shunning the cynicism and laziness. These two feelings are a bane for a writer as much as they are for anyone. They do not let you do what you want, suffocating you with stories and thoughts that you wish to share. That’s when such special days play a vital role. They make you sit back and ponder. They force you to wear those thinking hats, peer through the spectacles and not stare at the vacuum but articulate. They remind you what you used to be and inspire you to give it another chance. Life is all about chances, isn’t it? The risks taken and mistakes made would be more memorable than the safe and laid back choices made. The light at the end of the tunnel and the smile that touched your soul would be remembered as a result of which the terrifying dark alley and the salty tears which kissed your cheeks would be deleted. Mind you, it’s a Shift+Delete!
Some people say that I live in the past. Many of us do, don’t we? Because it gives an opportunity to be creative and develop what-if scenarios. I am one among the many who likes to do that too. And who doesn’t like to rewrite or restart. They sound more positive than accepting failures and heartbreaks. It is an experience; a lesson taught. And present is all about evaluating them and consciously deciding to not repeat them in future. I might be a proud mother of Locomente. But, I am no saint. I have made mistakes. But, I carry them as scars which I am not ashamed of. I am proud of them because even the tantalizing moon is not perfect. No one is! Perfection is subjective; an illusion.
The last six years has been a learning ground for me. I have erred. I have been lame and even redundant. They taught me to laugh at myself and insisted that I can be a better person. At the same time, it has changed the way people look at me. Some people think that Locomente is my biography though I used to remind them that I have a personal journal for that. I tell them that if someone writes purely out of personal experiences, Agatha Christie should be serial killer and JK Rowling must be flying around on a broomstick. If that’s the case, what’s role of creativity and fantasy. But honestly, I don’t care anymore. I have realized that people comment, no matter what. Problem is we care for their comments and design our lives to get the best comments from them. Think about it – if not why “comment” plays a key role in all the social sites like Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and even blog! There is always other side to the coin; good and bad coexist. Smartness lies in recognizing the grey area and accepting it.
More than once I have poetically explained how peace might feel like – “when silence speaks”. Sometimes, silence urges us to listen to details and understand the nuances otherwise lost in blaring noise. Most of the times, it could be so addictive that we might forget how sound could be. And that’s what has happened with me, I guess. I still love to romance words. But, it has become a private affair than a PDA. Do I detest PDA? NO. I love that. And that’s why I am letting my thoughts flow through my fingers and tap on the right alphabets although I know how incoherent I sound. After all, I know that all is fair in love and war. And I am in a war with myself wherein I force my thoughts to express my love for words.
Anyways, I have digressed a lot. That’s what happens when kids start growing up. After a point, we don’t know whether we should give due regard to their age or remain in a constant struggle to accept the fact that they are growing up with individual identity. I know that Locomente has an identity of its own - as a writer, dreamer and reviewer. I think I should not try to shrink that image; if not add more dimensions to it.
As a final note, when I was silent and unsure, whenever I came out of my shell and wrote something, my dear friends, you read; you commented. It means everything to me. Thanks for that. I dedicate this post to all of you who have spent their valuable time in not only reading but also commenting. You motivate me. You inspire me. THANK YOU again. Looking forward for at least a forever with you...
And… how can I not say this?
HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOCOMENTE!!!
6 years as Locomente… 2193 days… 1598 posts… 139 followers… 495k page views…
You mean a lot to me. You let me fly and remember that I don’t take you for granted.
As I always say, “miles to go before I sleep”!