Writing Marathon

Your best friend from college has invited you to her wedding. You haven’t seen her for years, so you’re excited to catch up. But when you arrive at the wedding, you discover that your best friend’s groom is someone from your past—and you realize you must stop the wedding at all costs.


The Diary

Jan 20th, India time

Finally I am on the plane. After much of thinking I have convinced myself that no one misses a best friend's wedding when there is a chance of making it. So though it is just last week she has called me and announced her wedding, I have decided to make it.

I hate flight journeys, especially the long ones. First thing there is hardly anything interesting outside the window. Second the food choice is so limited. Third no body seems to be really interested in any conversation. And here I am about to make a 19 hour flight to the United States to attend my friend's wedding.

My co-passenger had been here and fast asleep, when I boarded. He is still sleeping and also snoring. You bet, I will have a wonderful journey ;)


Jan 20th, US time

Finally I am here. Dog Tired. But it was very nice of Aisha to be on time..! ;)
We almost yelled and hugged each other "Aisha.!" "Anu..!".
All through the car drive we had so much to talk about. About the snoring co-passenger,my wonderful job, Indian traffic, US recession, her marriage and our past crushes..

It is always good to be with friends...isn't it? :)


Jan 28th

One week stay has just flown by.I had been so occupied, that I did not have time to write to you.

In these 7 days,I have used every second to unwind myself. It was just wonderful..to roam around in the college campus, eat the canteen food, and then shop like 'never before'. Well we did stumble over the most interesting topic "The groom", but we just talked about things in general and discussed no details.

"why??" hmmmm...why because we are not supposed to. Thanks to the crazy deal we made in our college days, that we do not meet, discuss or know about each others groom until the D -day. We wanted to have it as a 'surprise'..! So here I am with the guy's info. Mr.X is handsome, loving, romantic and loves shopping ;) I am dying to know more..but Aisha is so adamant..!

Aisha is having a christian wedding and that is the most exciting part for me. I have watched the christian weddings in the movies - My best friend's wedding, Bride wars, 27 dresses..Especially I love the scene when the bride enters the hall and walks towards the groom. So I am waiting to see it live now..!

ok.ok.bye good night..someone is calling me down stairs..!

Jan 29th

The D-day has dawned and it is beautiful. I dressed up fast and went down stairs into Aisha's room. She looked gorgeous and her nervous smile told me how exactly she was feeling. I went up to her and gave her an assuring hug "All is well, that ends well. And don't look so scared". I said and walked out of the room for the fear i might just get too emotional. One suffers from 'losing friend syndrome' especially in these times, you know.

Anyway time to go now. I will update you about the wedding and details when I come back..or may be tomorrow.

Feb 1st

I reached home today. Yup, back from the big wedding. Yes,I have to tell you everything and skip no detail. So on that day..

We were all at the church on time. I seated myself with some of the friends and waited for the count down to begin. The music began..Aisha entered in her white clad gown, her hair beautifully made up, her hands softly holding Joseph uncle and her eyes beaming. It was so much like the movie. At this second I had turned to look at the boy, to see his expression of happiness. And the moment I saw, I sensed the disaster. Yes..there was something wrong about it. About the groom standing there..
It was something I knew, but just would not strike my memory. Something to do with his face, his eyes..and lo..! it struck me.

My face turned red. I had to do something and I had to do it fast. I stood up and hurriedly walked towards the couple now ready to exchange their rings. "Sure! what a surprise I had looking at Aisha's groom." I told myself as I flighted the stairs .I stood there for a second and whispered in the bride's ear "Aisha, this marriage cannot happen."
She was startled "what are you talking? Get lost". she hissed.

"No you idiot. That guy is fake. Pull his mustache and beard, you will know". I said suppressing my rage.

"What the hell?Get lost" she raised her voice. "Aisha! look at him once. He looks so tensed and that is because he recognizes me".

I did not wait for her to react. I was so full with fury that I walked up to this guy and gave him a tight loud slap. That blow was enough to pull out his one side of the beard, that now hung at his chin.

There were loud gasps and whispers in the hall.

"So Mr.Prithvi Pai, this was your business trip , eh?"

Aisha slowly came by my side and asked in a trembling voice" Who is this Anu? Do you know him?"

"Oh yes dear..! This is my new boss from America. He proposed me last week and said he had be back in a month and wanted me to have an answer. And this is his business trip Aisha!"

Hearing it Aisha's face went pale..and slowly colored to red. she piercingly stared at this guy and gave him another loud slap and walked away.

Obviously marriage was called off, but only after some hungama and drama.

The next day, Aisha came to drop me at the airport. Before we bid good bye, she hugged me "thanks yaar..you saved me"..she said.

"And thanks to you too..you saved me." I hugged and smiled. I waited for a second and hesitatingly added " And Aish, our deal is called off. No more surprises. You know,just in case" I chuckled and walked towards the check in counter. she smilingly nodded and bid good bye.


No.Don't even ask how i feel. I feel stupid and happy. Stupid because my sensibility had failed in judging people. Proud because I almost had an adventure and saved so many lives and their happiness.

Ok got to sleep now. Have a long day tomorrow. Have to wake up early and begin my search for a job.

Good night..!

P.S. Seriously, I thought these things happen in movies and not real lives.

Writing Marathon

An Open letter to Someone...

Note: The below write is simply my imagination. In my words I have attempted to express the vice called 'Gossip'. The word "I" is not directed towards me :)

Dear Gossip,

Finally I have mustered courage to write you our 'end of friendship' letter. Yes it takes some amount of courage to give up bad habits and quit weak attitudes while abandoning vices. You are one such thing (habit, attitude, temptation - whatever you call it) that I will abandon for ever. I will never be able to love you ever again, not after what I have come to know of you. Do not think this to be a spontaneous decision taken on the spur of the moment. I have pondered over it for many days now.

Every time you were around, I loved it. I loved you for the superior feeling you gave me.The feeling "See I am better than her". You seemed to exist in my every conversation with friends, relatives, neighbors. When I came to know you exist in bigger circles, it worked as a motivation than a caution.Foolishly I thought it as a virtue and not a vice.

When few good people told me that you were my foe and to be trusted I shrugged and took it easily. I told them I was just talking and not gossiping.

If you remember many years passed this way. The effects of your friendship, I observed, only when my friends began to dislike me. Few were courteous enough to hide it and few bold enough to express. When I spoke to them while you were around, they dismissed me and my conversations. This social seclusion was painful. I began to feel aloof, as though I was an untouchable..! I was irked by every one's behavior and pondered over my demeanor.

You led me to think about other people. And always about others. What they did? What they thought? Why they did what they did? Surprisingly I had never sensed the amount of exhaustion I had, when I engaged in such meaningless conversations.
You are not some specific form per se, dear gossip, but you are the mixture of all negative emotions.I felt jealous so I spoke of my neighbor, I felt hatred so I gossiped about my owner, My ego was hurt so I spoke about my boss. You are a camouflage of my weakness..! My faculties of mind digressed so much and had no good exercise. It fell lame and sailed in boredom.

The more I think of our friendship, the more resentful I grow...

My dear Gossip, thus I have resolved to end our courtship, here with this letter, forever. And this will be my last correspondence.
hence forth make no effort to me..or even tress pass into the terrains of my mind and heart.

Good bye...and never see you.

Writing Marathon

The writeup is a response to a writing prompt I read somewhere. The prompt is like this :

You open the mail and receive a letter from one of your favorite childhood toys, explaining what the toy has been up to all these years since you have moved on. Some of it comes as a shock to you. What’s even more shocking is the reason the toy is contacting you.


A Letter From Your Favorite Childhood Toy

I generally wake up early. Early is 5. And my day always starts with a coffee. So on that usual day, with my hot coffee in my hand I was browsing my mails. I archived the important ones, deleted the spams, shifted few to personal folder. And there was one more unread mail.What caught my special attention was that the email had no sender name.'Surprising' I thought, and clicked it to read on. The first two lines took me by a great surprise and did not make any sense.

" Hi you must have forgotten me by now. I am your doll in a red frock, that your mom got me to you as a gift in your 1st grade" " The mail might surprise you but I urge you to read it further."

Thoroughly curious, with no delay I read on " So do you remember me? Remember the game of King and Queen? And remember my surprise birthday party?

I had to stop and think. Who was this? My doll? Or was it some prank by my brother? Or some weird game like Jumanji? All these questions and their answers seemed unreasonable. I began to read the lines again " Red Frock..Mom's gift...King and Queen..1st grade" Oh ya this is my doll..!! My doll Thi.....! "But wait a minute. This must be crazy" I thought. " My doll, which I had about 20 years ago, is writing me an email?" More curious , I went back to read the pending lines.

" I was a dear and a good friend of yours. I remember how you loved to plait my hair and dress me up. Of course I remember your brother and his pranks. I remember the window where I always stood until you came back from school. I remember the beautiful garden and our place beneath the Gulmohar tree. Well, it was a good life with only good things around.
I would not blame you for forgetting to take me along with you. The day you were leaving (the town)it was my mistake to fall off beneath the bed and your maid's mistake to take me rather steal me away"

My head seemed to reel. The story I was reading was true word to word, but the fact (call it anything) that my doll after all these years coming back and narrating to me this story was weird..! How ever I decided against drawing any conclusions and continued to read..

"Your maid that evening took me to her little abode. Her kids were so excited, they grabbed me and ran into the back yard. I played different games with them - soiling myself in the back yard, getting drenched under the tap water. It was fun :) After a couple of months, one day a huge storm hit the slum town. Hundreds of people vacated their houses. The maid's family was one of the few to vacate the town that night with their things, but unfortunately they forgot to take me. That whole night i lay in the hut, but before dawn break, gale of winds and floods hit the place again. This time I was swept way.Floating amidst the dirty waters I traveled a few miles, before making my place on a debris. I waited there the whole night before being picked up by the municipality truck. In one of the municipality garbage rooms, when the workers were segregating things, I came up and must have looked better to their eyes despite my broken leg, torn clothes and disheveled hair, that one of the guys handed me over to a shop guy (whom one of them had known) instead of throwing me in the recycle bin.

I found myself being engrossed in the story'Quite an adventure you have had my doll' I thought and continued to read..

"The shop guy was my new life giver. He fixed my broken leg, made new golden hair, gave a dress and shelved me in his shop. So that became my new place. It was interesting to observe the customers, their bargains, their happy and disappointed faces. After almost a month of my stay there, one day a young girl pointed me to her mom. So in minutes the hands exchanged me. The new girl whom I call " little one who never spoke" was very good to me. I had a royal treatment. I lay on a satin bed beside her. I got new dresses, hair clips, and shoes almost every day. Surprisingly she did everything like playing, dressing, feeding..everything except talking to me :) My stay with her rather ended unexpectedly when they took me to a pilgrimage along with them. While traveling in a boat I slipped off the little ones hand and fell into the river. Before the girl to yell to rescue me, gusts of winds suddenly passed by and I was swept away in the water within seconds. Surprising some may call it, but destiny is what I call."

'Then what happened? Did you land up in some river bed? ' I anxiously thought to myself. Just then 'A' entered the room, and asked ' what are you up to, this early morning?' 'Nothing 'A' just reading about my doll' I said paying half attention. 'Your doll'??
I was in no mood to explain him the half story I had read, so I said ' Is it OK if we can talk later about this?' (He understood the meaning hidden in the question and left me..)

"I was in the waters for two days and nights before the Ganges carefully brought me to the foot steps of 'Varanasi'.Surprising that no one noticed me. When the day dawned, a swami (pious man with spiritual powers) came by to the river for morning prayers. His eyes fell on me instantly and he almost grabbed me with eagerness. 'Of what use might I be to him' I thought. The swami hurried back to his abode, called for his disciples and hastily whispered something to them. At his behest they changed my garb, tied some sacred threads round my neck and lay me down in the center of lit candles. I lay there for hours. It must be sometime in the midnight that the disciples and the pious man came in, encircled me and sat with closed eyes. They must have sat there for a long time, because before the dawn struck, I slipped the time and fell asleep.

I knew what happened the moment I regained my consciousness. Something about me was different. I could sense the man's hand on my skin. The Pious man held me and said ' There you are'! And yes there I was dumb struck..I could understand his language. Doll's have no feelings, but I could sense something like fear, confusion in my heart.
"Yes you can now sense" he said and smiled "Oh God ..! he is a mind reader..! And am thinking! But Doll's do not think!" "You can not only think but also talk my dear" he said " "I can what??" surprised my hand involuntarily raised to my lips. "Ooh God..!I can move my hand too..!" Something has terribly gone wrong , I desperately thought. The pious mind reader, with an air of pride said "Haha.Nothing much happened.You are just a doll to whom I have given a life. Now you are my wondrous creation who will bring me name and fame."

I understood the meaning of his words only as time passed. I gradually grasped his intentions and realized what he had meant by getting name and fame. I was his money maker. They had taught me some sentences and words, which I was supposed to tell out in sequence to each devotee who came near me and asked his/her question. Words like 'Yes, No , Time will tell, Have faith, Donation, Swami's grace' were taught. When ever I uttered the words as an answer either the devotee would turn euphoric(this, if the answer suited him) or look perplexedly at the swami (this,when they could not link my answer to their question) . That is when the swami or the disciples intervened and took the lead.

I smiled reading this. What a smart swami he should have been. Made fools of people.


" The initial days were very good. I loved the attention and the treatment. I sometimes used to laugh within at the way how the richest men too turned out to be simpletons. My one blink or one smile would bring them down to tears.
Years went by and the saint became quite popular. Along with popularity his greed for money and power grew too. He began using me and peoples' innocence.Others' weakness became his asset, he loved people's troubles, because every grave trouble had a high price tag to it. As time passed, I began to see all this. I could no longer laugh over people's tears. My false answers were giving them a false hope and this i could no longer bare. So I slowly began to protest. I tried to explain him about the things I felt towards people. But instead of paying heed to my words he in turn hurt and tortured me with his words and acts.
But you know, I never deterred. On one such evenings, I questioned him " Why only me? why was it not any other doll from the shop?" To this he smiled and said " That is because you do not have a name" Not quite understanding, when I asked him again, he explained " Any living or non living thing that is stole away from some one or that has a specific name,is not eligible for this practice. And as you have no name and neither we know who you belong to, you are well worth of this practice" he laughed. I then understood why he was so happy to see me in the river that day.

I knew I had a name, but how could i remember it? It was 20 years ago that you had named me and none of my care takers after you ever addressed me with any name. It is destiny's will that I saw your advertisement in a paper( I was wrapped in it when i was being taken to some one's house). And so here I am, after using all my occult powers, able to contact you.
The swami had said "The person who owns you has to repeat your name three times, show me a proof that he owns you, only then will you be released from this bondage and become a normal doll again"

My dear please help me out. Please. Am tired of this 'life'. I was better living like a doll with no feelings and pleasures. These pleasures I have realized lead me to sadness as much as they bring happiness. In earnest, I pray release me from this bondage

I know this does not make any sense -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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My Address :
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My mind was blank. I closed my eyes for a while. This had to be crazy and I had to be crazy if I believe this. No one is going any where.Trying to take off the thought..I slowly dozed off.


SCENE CHANGE

I was on the streets of the town, engrossed in finding the address. A man who looked familiar about the place directed me to the address. With in minutes I was in the Ashram (Abode of the pious saints and swamis). My heart was thumping hard, as I sat in the hall waiting for the swami to come. Many unsettling thoughts with which I had come all this long,kept barging in "Is this for real? Am i making a fool of myself? What if this is true..and what if he is not ready to give my doll?"

I had thought of a plan. So when the swami came in..I bowed down to his feet. In a dramatic voice i said " swami I have a problem, I heard you have a doll..which will help me........................................................................................
.........................."
After listening to my fake story, he slowly nodded his head and with a smile signaled the disciple to get the doll. As I waited for it, my heart was filled with some unknown excitement. Look at me, I am here, traveling some thousand miles, as a response to an email from my doll. I smiled within. I remembered how much I had cried for forgetting my doll. I had got many new ones, but this one always was my first. More surprising was the fact that this was the only doll to which I gave a name. None of my others had one. Coincidental that destiny involved me in such a crazy story.

I know it was too filmy, but my eyes went watery the moment I saw my doll. She was just the same. Her golden hair, blue eyes, black shoes. Memories of my childhood flashed back...my mother and I deciding her name, the place where she stood, the picture we all took together.

The rest of the events you can guess! I yelled out my doll's name thrice..."Oh it is my 'Thithali' (Butterfly)! Made some drama, showed the pics and literally grabbed my doll from the swami's hand and walked away smiling. I think it was just a fraction of a second that I and Thithali looked and recognized each other. When I uttered out her name, as told by the swami, she lost all powers and became a normal doll again. But that one glance I had of her..I saw how grateful and happy she was to see me.

As i walked back to the bus stand, I was thinking of calling my mom...and then 'A'. I was brimming with eagerness to tell them all the story.

In the city bus, my curious co-passenger commented "That is a pretty doll. For your daughter?"

I said 'No..for me'
Quite surprised now she asked "You play with doll now???"

"OK Nan, tell her the whole story" I thought, and said " Well actually yes and no. This is a 20 year old doll with which I had played when I was young. It was with this swami here all this while, so I came back to take it. Now I have it, I think I might want to play again" I smiled.

I am sure the lady could not comprehend what I said, but luckily the railway station stop arrived and I did not have to answer her further questions. I smiling said "If you excuse me. My stop." I got up, made my way through and happily walked away :)

Writing Marathon

Here I begin to post another one.

I love Green,Blue, Red, Pink, Violet, Black and Grey. I like to choose a different colour each day based on my mood. Well if asked 'a colour for life time' I rather like to have 'Green' on me. Green to me is defined as a calm, elegant and a resilient colour. It has an underlying power that calmly yet strongly projects its intentions and justifies its deeds. I am not sure if this is me or this is how I like to be. But how nice would it be..if every colour really had personified traits..and wearing them would really change one's traits!

What is your T-shirt colour and why?

Writing Marathon

Here I post my much awaited blog...

Purdue...my experience

'Purdue' is one experience which will eternally remain in my treasured memories. Apart from the package of a wonderful campus, beautiful place, good people, loads of time and umpteen opportunities, it also carries a special sentiment of being my first stay at the united states of America.

'A' had chosen the best abode for us to stay. I was flattered then for his attention to detail and shrewdness at house work, and still flattered now :) It was a beautiful house with a beautiful view. It opened its windows to a beautiful valley..and this was the best part.

The first 3 months of Purdue was a crazy winter, but I enjoyed every bit of it. I loved playing in the snow and appreciating the white clad trees, grounds and buildings. I remember how i had excitedly ran out of the car...on to the white pastures of snow and jumped there like a crazy girl..and pestering A to take pics and pics and pics! Remembering the other night when the wind hit the town at 75 miles an hour and how we spent the whole night guarding ourselves from the harsh weather and the strong gales send chills to my spine.

I enjoyed all the seasons in my stay. Got to see the beauty of autumm for the 1st time..The changing of colours and shredding of those leaves..it was a sight to watch. Purdue had lot of gardens and greens spread all over..so in a way every street..was a sight to watch :)

I always had a good day..something at hand to do.My good friend 'M' got me to participate in dance..through her I met new friends and through them I got opportunities...we performed dance shows, choreographed dances, put up few exhibits, took up some classes...and we had good friends circle organizing satsangs and get togethers..this way the whole year was filled with activities.

I always enjoyed the bus rides from my home..taking the bus, and visiting 'A' at his department.Sitting in his lab..and passing time..visiting the library..reading books and checking out videos, walking back to 'A' department and together having lunch.Sometime we friends used to go around in buses and shop at Walmart, Vons, Tipp Mall, Dollar tree, Hobby Lobby..I enjoyed all this as much as am enjoying by narrating to you those days..!

I and 'A' had found out many ways to unwind ourselves.A drive through our favourite roads..a walk in happy hollow park..or on the wabash river bridge...or to just got out for dining..!We loved going out and I think we have tasted almost all cuisines there. Being a university town, having the creme of cuisines was expected. I loved 'shaukin' Indian fast food restaurant and 'Mexican grill'. 'A' had known a way to cheer up my moods..take me to either of them :) Then we had' Panera Bread' (it was a must, if we visited the mall)..'Blue Nile' (Loved the food but hated the grim faced host)..'Khana Khazana' ('A' preferred it to 'Taj Mahal' since it was close by;)) and then there was 'Olive Garden'. OG was stored for special occasions..when we really needed a break..when we rejoiced some eventful day or when we celebrated our anniversary of engagement, valentines day et.al :)

In the end of December we had the good times with my parents-in-law. While they were here..our time seemed to run all the more fast.Together we had been to visit 'A's convocation. How excited we were..! We showed them around our favourites routes, took them to our favourite restaurants, made them meet our friends. It was nothing but happiness with them.

To list out there are many more..and those will be just further details. After marriage some one asked me...where were I and 'A' having a 'only 2 of us' trip..we had no plans then and when I came down here..only then did I know that I was about have a complete one year of an awesome and an exciting trip :)

Everything that is beautiful has to come to an end..and one day there came the time when we had to leave. My heart was heavy with sadness. More than me, 'A' was low. His 6 years of life was spent here..he knew every road..and every turn. That familiar he was. We were going to miss Purdue. Our drives..our walks..our shopping...our friends and our home.

As I packed everything..I could not stop thinking and remembering all those wonderful moments this place had given. Every room in the house had a memory.It just looked like yesterday that we had landed at the Purdue bus stand...and just like yesterday when I had first seen the snow... and just like yesterday of everything I had seen there. Time goes by so fast I thought and looking at my house..I whispered "Thanks for everything" :)

I am in a new place now. It is historic and beautiful. It will have lot of things to give us too. There might come a day when we will leave this and go to a new place but after many years and so many years..when we hear 'Purdue'..am sure..the memories will reopen again....the door of our house..the sofa set...our beautiful balcony...the bus stop...the campus we roamed, the 'Pay less' store....our restaurants..laundry..theatre...shops and the first glance of snow. Purdue will never and cannot be replaced :)

Writing Marathon

The third post of my marathon. I searched for writing prompts and came across 'write about a scary incidents with your professor'


Srilatha Madam and her drawing class

I do not remember..well I do not have any scary incidents in my college days. I was cautious enough not to get into any. But yes, in my school days I had involved myself in many pranks and enjoyed being mischevious at times :)

So my drawing teacher's name was Srilatha. Hefty, creative, talented, humourous, stubborn and strict were the words to describe her then. One day, the project of the art class was stiching. I was dissapointed the minute I heard it. I dejected stiching and hated it from every corner of my heart. Thankfully in my school we enjoyed the freedom of speech and expression. So I told my madam, that I am not interested in doing the flower stiching on the hanky. This way went our conversation.

Me- Ma'm please just for today I will not do this.

Madam - Nothing like that. Just do it.

Me - Ma'm but am not interested in stiching..please ma'm

Madam - This has become a game for you. Just keep quite and do as I say.

Me - Ma'm but...

Madam - Shut up will you???

When she said this, I was offended. The young devil in me...got hurt. I uninterestedly took the piece of cloth the needle and thread and began to stitch. My teacher did not stop there. She was closly observing my needle and thread work..and said 'What are you doing? You are 14 years old and you do not even know to stitch? I will tell your mother.' I would have just shrugged it off if she had said it in private, but there was a whole class of 12 students listening to our conversation. I was tight lipped..then a minute later when my teacher was engrossed in teaching others..i slowly got up went near a window and on the wooden window sill i scribbled in pencil ' stupid srilatha teacher. she should be thrown out'. Relieved i came and sat without her noticing me, but I was unaware that my class mate watched me. When I came and sat , she gestured 'I saw what you were doing'. To that I gave a cheerful smile of victory and carried on.

Days passed and one bad day I and my class mate had a fight. A big fight, that we stopped talking to each other for days and weeks. Then on one such bad day we had the drawing class, and I was busy sketching..when we all heard a loud voice reading ' stupid srilatha teacher. she should be thrown out'. My heart skipped a beat. I raised my head to see my friend trumphing over my red face..! Then she continued " Madam..this looks like nandita's writing and I saw her scribbling something one day"

Now it was my teacher's turn. I still remember her face...fuming and boiling. What else can we expect her to say than "get lost". Leave alone an explanation she did not even give me a second to look at my sorry cut face.

Things changed after some days. I went and apologized her for my behaviour..and she forgave me. But in my life I will always remember the incident, my teacher and her face :)

Writing Marathon

The second post of the writing marathon. I took the last lines of the poem and made them the beginning of my write up. Here it goes..


Two Roads diverged in a yellow wood..

Two Roads diverged in a yellow wood,
I took the less traveled by,
and that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

Treading on the roads, all of us at some milestone of our lives think in these lines.
Many questions pass through our mind. Many 'Ifs' many 'buts' and so many 'what ifs'.
This is my story of one such retrospection.

"One day when we were traveling back to my home town I suddenly asked my father " Daddy how would it be to take up journalism as my graduation course?" Pleasantly surprised he encouraged me about taking up the course. I still do not know what made the thought barge into my mind, but that thought and my thereby actions had made all the difference.
I took up arts in graduation and specialised in journalism, Psychology and English Literature. Taking up these courses was the best thing to happen in the path of my education. My studies in these fields evoked my latent flares for all forms of Arts. It was also a platform to explore within, and treat myself in things like painting, music, dance etc.
All along the way I had received discouragements in taking up course like this. Questions were raised about the demand in the market for such careers, about the value of science and art subjects , about pursuing dance as form of career and many more. Thankfully none of them deterred me.
In the later years though my field of work changed, I always had arts as an underlying current. I did not know if I could make a living out of them, but I was sure that they made my living worthwhile."

"My reverance for Arts greatly increased when I stepped into this new land, America. I saw people looking out for oppurtunities to teach their kids Indian dance, music, to engage their kids in painting, drama, story reading et.al And when they approached me I was nothing but overjoyed to teach them..! With my partner's loved support I taught them with all my interest and dedication.I did not earn a penny in my year's stay here, but i have thorougly enjoyed my valuble time."

"I some times now think..what if I had taken the other road by the fear of others? I would have been someone else who I am not today."

It is no offense for the reader, for I do not accredit Arts as the only noble profession or path. It is solely my interest and personal story. What I meant to express is... "If you are an Msc grad..and if you are teaching in a government college..and if you are only earning xz amount and if you are happy about it..then I say it is the best thing to happen to you"
It is Ok if we are not competing with the world, it OK if the job has not much demand and it is definetly OK if others are not liking it. What matters is 'if we are happy'..what matters is 'if we like the job..what matters is 'if we are at peace with ourselves'

Agreed many of us are in the wrong places at the right time. Things happen that way, but that should not hold us back from becoming or doing what we want to?! As long as our zeal and intent do not diminish we will find a way to make our work and living worthwhile.


I hope my thoughts will trigger you to retrospect your journey.