Day 17 - Writing challenge; Time, space, courage?

Exactly 1 month since I last published.

Where is the time going?

The world we live in has unlocked many dimensions, new rules, mottos and hashtags.

It feels hard to belong sometimes, but where do we go?

Its not like we can teleport to another planet.

In this lifetime, even if we don't do a lot,

I wish for everyone to know in their heart 

That they did the very best they can.

Life is complex.

Breathing takes courage.

Not even oxygen is free when you're fighting for your life.

But time, 

Oh, time is the greatest mystery.

Can you believe we are in the age we are in right now?

Our childhoods seem like a gazillion years ago, but it was just 20-30 years ago.

Makes us wonder, what to hold onto. 

Will everything pass.

If everything will pass, should we bother as much

If we don't, how to feel.

Isn't life about feeling

And feeling equals living?

Not always. Not when you know what you want

In this lifetime.

Have you taken the time to know yourself?

There's little time only left darling

What's more important.

What will matter.

Ask these questions to yourself

Answer them truthfully.

Pursue them, 

Passionately, at any cost

Hashtag WhateverItTakes

Is there a universal answer to this

The generic answer would be 

Leave the world better than you found it.

Moral answer would be

Live a good life

But an honest answer will be

Something only you can answer

I think

Its not about the life lived.

Its about the person you were in the time that you got to live.

Make it count.

Make it count.

Make it count.

Tomorrow is not promised.

Present can be messy, but its so so worth it.

You got it boo.

Day 16 - Writing challenge; no goals, no problem

"Push through the pain" is total bull.

Except during childbirth, this phrase makes absolutely no sense. 

But we hear it often and even use it ourselves, as a way of motivating ourselves.

More bull.

People are not built to keep taking it. 

We are not mothers. 

We are humans.

If you are feeling weak, stressed or confused - take that break.

Sit idly. Postpone that work. Lie down.

Do anything except pushing through.

You have to stop the Q-tip when there's resistance - Chandler Bing

Limitations are God's boundary to man's greed.

We are not supposed to be suspended between heaven and earth.

We are terrestrial. Stay grounded.

That makes us mediocre, you think.

According to whom? - Getsy Jenita

You first set the standard for your life, then you dream.

I see people chasing the dream without callback.

That is a dangerous way to live.

Its exciting definitely, indulge even.

But don't make that your life.

6000 years since the world was put together for humans.

All's been done. 

There is nothing new under the sun - Song of Solomon

Don't go cray-cray; live intentionally, mindfully, watchfully, fearfully even.

Slow steps. Slow praise. Slow pace. 

Slow the eff down.

No need to push through.

If anything, rein in.

Day 15 - Writing Challenge; unlike any man you ever knew

There was once a rich man who had two sons. The elder one was obedient, enduring and kind. Typical first-child syndrome. The youngest was carefree, reckless and without ambition. The wealthy father loved his sons greatly. He did not withhold any good thing from them.

The younger son being taken in his youthful frolic spent his days and night with his friends. Foolish company one might add as every time his friends were together, there was debauchery, drugs and poverty of the mind. His father kept a watchful eye on him, however the demands of juvenile escapades were far too discreet and he escaped the admonition of the good man of the house.

Days turned to months, and as roots get stronger in the mire, the boy could not bring himself out of this demonic hole. Friends abandoned him as money ran dry. With much shame he resolved to find his own employment and not return to his home of birth. But the truth is he had no skill or talent. He went starving for most days without even a meal or drink. Ended up laying in a pig sty with no room to stay. He ate the swine's feed and drank muddied water.

Every night he wailed bitterly, heart-broke thinking of the fortress he grew up in. The many servants who were there to assist at a snap of a finger. Copious amounts of food and drink that was available at all times of the day. Above all he was the favourite to his father. He thought to himself, even if I were a servant at my father's palace, I would have a better life that this.

One morning he decided to leave this hell hole and walked toward home. His heart beating out of his chest, agonized, guilt-ridden, full of shame yet with a glimmer of hope because he knew the heart of his father.

His father saw him miles away, as though anticipating his return every minute of every day. Even though he looked unrecognizable, dirty and reeking. It did not deter his steps as he ran towards his son for an embrace. 

Whatever the son did, it did not matter.

However far he had gone, it did not matter.

What lengths his iniquities were, it did not matter.

That lost son is you and me. Whatever we have done, it does not matter to our Father in Heaven. We can return to him at any time. You cannot find such a love except with this man who volunteered to give His life for you in return for your love.

Day 14 - Writing challenge; Sheela & Rajendran

Sheela Rajendran is obsessed with laces. From handkerchief frills, curtains, dresses and even tea towels, her love for laces was far known. A beautiful woman. Kind, tender, sheepish-looking smile but genuine nonetheless. Big eyes but not Indian looking, rather middle east. Overweight but not obese. Wheat-ish and pale at the same time. A school teacher for middle-school. Soft to touch, snuggly and amiable. 

Her natural love for children was amplified in her tenderness and teaching prowess. A woman is most fulfilled in the design she was made, whether she believes it or not. And such woman do glow like a picture of devotion and contentment.

A woman's heart however is as deep as an ocean. The secrets she hold, her own people cannot fathom.

Mr. Rajendran was of noble birth and erudite. His gentlemanly and tall stature added to his credit. He was a shy man. They say that in his capacity as secretary to the minister of education, he has helped many underprivileged students overseeing the lack of requirements they must fulfill. He believed in duty, integrity and dignity for all. He inherited this job because of his father's passing and was working for the government in the ministry of education wing.

The story of Sheela and Rajendran is one of love, not of romance for they both are siblings. 

Day 13 - Writing challenge; two girls and a guy at crossroads

The year was 2002. Sonali was going to be 15 in a couple of months. Her father lived in Rajasthan for work. He was a tradesman. Her parents were somewhat estranged. It was not common knowledge but there was a man who visited Sonali mother often. 

So it was speculated. Nothing discussed. Scandalous in the eyes of their neighbors.

The unlabeled and unorthodox relationship she shared with her mother and 'uncle' was one she only truly knew. Her mother also sent her away to study in a convent up in the hills for all her school years. Her mother, being a mother did what she had to do to protect herself and her child. But the 11th std school year was over and Sonali had to come home for the holidays.

Around that time Kamini's family came to live in the same apartment. Her parents were in the textile business. Well-off, sophisticated and too busy to spend time with their children. In some way Kamini and Sonali were new to this place. Their souls perhaps spoke and made them meet each other. 

In the 90s, teenage girls were tired adults in a child's body. Yet they had their innocence. They celebrated birthdays together, went roadside shopping together, rode rented bicycles together and started growing closer. However they never spoke openly about what was going on in their lives. Their feelings, fears, shame, secrets.

One day something happened. Sonali had gone to collect her marksheets from school and when returning in the train along with her classmates, she met a guy. Probably in his late teens or early twenties. They sat across each other two boxes away in the same coach. Their eyes had met once accidently, and both were seeking occasion to have their eyes meet again intentionally but accidently.

Infatuation, desire, passion, adoration, obsession they all work together when you hit puberty. How you act when those moments of fleeting highs find you is backed by what you saw, experienced and witnessed in your childhood. Being the fearless girl she is, Sonali signaled Lucky to meet her at the end of the coach. They chatted, exchanged landline numbers with instructions on when to call, how many rings and so.

Sonali shared her wild adventure with Kamini who listened open mouthed and wide eyed. Suddenly the phone rang twice and stopped. Both laughed boisterously and Sonali had a naughty idea. Kamini decided to play imposter with Lucky. She spoke in a sweet, exaggerated, over-the-top voice in giggly chuckles as teenagers do. The girls laughed again bringing the roof down after hanging up. 

Sonali found this game of fooling Lucky more amusing and enjoyable that actually talking to him. Kamini on the other hand, having never had any opportunity or courage to meet or talk to a guy, felt like the apple had fallen on her lap. She thought of him day and night, waited for their calls, debated within herself whether to reveal her identity or maintain herself as Sonali.

Lucky liked the way Sonali looked. That's why he gave her his number. If I tell him the truth, will he feel deceived. But it was me all along. My voice, my jokes, my heart and my love.

She was too involved and too invested to let anything ruin what she had.

The new school year was about to begin.

Sonali had to leave.

Lucky wanted to meet.

Kamini was cornered.

What do you think happened next? 

Day 12 - Writing challenge; welcome to my Ted talk

Something happened in the past two days. Nothing to be alarmed, but it can be the beginning of something good for me. Let me share more when I am in a better headspace. 

For the longest time, I never thought there was an epidemic of loneliness though I read about it often  and it was a topic of discussion with my friends too. In fact I thought much worse. If you're lonely, either you have too much in your head and distancing yourself unknowingly from the people that care for you or you're just guilty or heartbroken about something, and you don't want to deal with people.

In both cases, it's your fault. 

To put it compassionately, you have the power to change it. 

But its not as easy as it sounds. The people in our world today say and feel they need people, but don't behave like it. 

It's the age old problem,

Want to lose weight, but won't stop eating.

Want to score high, but won't give up on distractions

Want to make friends, but won't speak to strangers

Even this has many complications. You can't stop eating, because you're an emotional eater. You're eating your feelings. You can't give up distractions, because you have trained yourself for receiving dopamine hits every 2 minutes. You can't exist without your phone. You can't walk up to strangers, because people can be dangerous and you are complicated to be heard and understood. Its too much work.

What then is the solution?

Do it anyway. Get messy. Be misunderstood. Have people look down upon you. What's the big deal?

Your life. Your way.

Hello main character energy!

Life is complicated as is, we don't have to make things any worse. Just be unashamed of what you feel and think. Do it. Take that risk. Be miserable, you will eventually feel better.

From personal experience, it has been the most painful path doing the things I didn't want to do, but it's twice as rewarding. You literally become a new person. 

Yes, you will look and feel different.

I encourage you to get out of whatever glumness and deadness you have inside of you.

The fact that we are given a new day is proof God and Life is not done with us yet. Don't limit yourself of whatever experiences designed for you. Do something wild. Do something weird. Do something silly. Do something new.

Your later self will be proud of you.

Last week I wrote my first two lines for the book I planned to write. No idea what the theme is going to be or what genre, but starting somewhere. Today I learned about ICP but in writing. ICP in marketing is Ideal Customer Profile. Whenever I write any marketing/brand message, I write for the ICP and not a general audience. So today while I was researching, I learned that I too should write for one person who will read my book. There is an exercise as to figuring out who that ICP will be, which I will be doing soon. Exciting times.

Any news from you guys? any masala.. fresh goss? 

Lemme know :P

Day -11 Writing challenge; sweet bobby, catfishing & crime

As much as I enjoy a good mystery genre in books and sometimes in a film, I have not been too keen to watch crime documentaries. But today, I let myself pick something in random and had a disturbing few hours. 

I too was catfished once; its funny now because the time it happened even the word catfish wasn't coined. For better context you will have to google 'sweet bobby' to decipher the rest of the post. It was riveting. The big eye-opener was, I realized I understand psycho. 

At the end when Kirat discovered that her very cousin Simran was the person behind the screen, I too was dumbfounded. How can a 17 year school girl go to such lengths to violate and manipulate her sister? That too she kept up this charade for 9 years potentially ruining the life of Kirat in her prime years. It was appalling to recognize the capacity for viciousness taking shape in such a young person.

Being the inquisitive person that I am, I didn't just watch the documentary, I researched where are they now? What are they doing - you know I had to feed by curiosity. After going through many investigative reports, I read something which further piqued my angst. In a letter which Simran wrote Kirat which was undisclosed for legal reasons but paraphrased, she believed that we were both in a dark place and living in this kind of fantasy world that she created was bringing both of us some kind of happiness and joy.

Simran justified her nuttiness and actually believed that she was helping Kirat by creating a fantasy in which she was a good person. This part blew my mind. 

Every crime is justifiable when you see it from their point of view. So who is at fault and who defines where the line should be drawn? If you say government or personal ethics or religious values, then what are the consequences and reward for those who flout and those who abide by it?

What's your endgame?