How do you feel when people advise you?
There are three kinds of people in this world.
Firstly, there are those who hear the advising person uttering just one word. Bla.
Secondly, there are those who actually hear what the advising person is saying and feel that he is making a lot of sense.
Thirdly, there are those who hear an advice, ponder about it and finally make up their mind to change the stupid idiotic kind of lives they are living. Continue reading
A dozen bananas, five chickoos, three guavas, two boxes of strawberries, two pomegranates, one huge canary melon and lots of grapes. This is my menu for today.
Over the last few months, I have spent more money on fruits than on anything else. I have delayed holiday trips, I have avoided eat outs, I have avoided movies, I have avoided summer shopping, I have avoided spending on books but I have not been able to avoid spending on fruits. Moreover, I have begun to dislike the regular spicy food and I have fallen in love with the natural sweetness and nourishment of the fruits.
Has it helped me? Yes! Continue reading
“Doesn’t she look like Aishwarya Rai?” I said to Rajan.
She was gorgeous. I have always had this habit of falling in love with beautiful things, words, people and I fell for her on the first day I saw her. It was the first day of the sixth standard in school, back in 1996. The teacher was getting along with the introductions of the newly admitted students and she was one of them. I was waiting for her turn desperately, dying to know her name, looking for an excuse to ask her a question about her earlier school, or where she lived, or her hobbies, anything! Continue reading
I was getting ready for college when my uncle called from the hospital. She was no more. I didn’t know whether to feel sad that she has died or to feel happy that she has died at last. The news of her death wasn’t shocking to us but her loss was unacceptable. She was only 70. She was a cancer patient. She was a cancer survivor for the most part of her life. She, my grandmother, my mother’s mother was a woman of substance, and she was a woman I hadn’t spoken to nicely in a long time.
I had visited the hospital just two days ago. She was put on life support system. I didn’t agree with the idea of putting her on a life support system. She wasn’t conscious. The doctors too had told us already to take her home and wait till she breathes her last. She was a fighter, and so were her children. They chose not to give up yet, they chose to fight against the disease that was enjoying the destruction of organs. Her children decided to make it easier for her to leave. They didn’t want her to wither away in pain. One by one, her tissues started to fail. Liver stopped responding, kidneys stopped performing, lungs gave way, but she, somehow, thrived on. Continue reading
Many stories begin when we decide to pay attention towards something that is awkward and out of the normal. This one is no different. This is the story of a girl. Or perhaps I should say this is the story of a father. I tend to change my stance because we are, at birth, equal halves of both of our parents. With time, the one parent who inspires us more, takes over the other half part, carves our identity and makes us a certain person for the rest of our lives. The same happened with the girl whose story I am going to tell you now. Her father used to tell her everyday that she is beautiful. Some of the days she believed him. The other days, she was unable to trust the soothing words and wouldn’t react at the love his father poured at her. During those sad days, when nothing could cheer her up, she felt a darkness growing around her. A darkness. Constantly. Growing. Continue reading
Continued from The Leaf Plucker
Before I decided to pick up my father’s axe and become a woodcutter, I was a shepherd. My family possessed multiple herds of cattle. It included sheep, goats and buffaloes. We lived among many other families and moved places after every few months. The main reason for such nomadic lifestyle was to keep our cattle alive and be able to feed it. When the number of animals grew more than we could handle, we would sell them. The money helped us relocate. It would take months before we decided to settle in on a new location. It irritated me to leave our place of living every year and find a new one. My father told me it was not necessary, but it was a tradition. Our ancestors had been traveling all around the country. It was not in our blood to settle down at one location and be able to raise our families in normal human social structure. I always found it difficult to understand. So, when my father died, I decided to break off. I took my share of cattle and set out to find a new place for myself, where I could settle down for the rest of my life. Continue reading
People like to read stories with a happy ending. But that is about the books. In real life, our stories have no ending, no beginning either. Every day brings a new story, every hour brings a new twist to the story. We all hope that someday, life will settle down, it will slow down and we will enjoy the things that matter to us the most. I hoped that too. Before I moved to the mountains, I dreamt about it for as long as I remember. I always wanted to live on a mountain. The greenery of the mountains always had a calling for me. The countless trees, the stream of water passing between the two mountains, or a distant village in a valley, the sight promised itself to be worth cherishing every day. Continue reading