Where did we come from?
Why are we here?
Where are we going to go from here?
Of all the answers that I have received for the above in the past three decades I am most comfortable with the following:
I came from eternity -I am an extension of the Divine Source or Energy (what you call it depends on whether you believe in God or not. But that is of no consequence to me. It is more comforting for me personally to think of the Divine Source or Great Energy as God. More real. But that's me)
I am here because I wanted to be here
I am going to go back home
Fine. I am here because I wanted to be here. But why did I want to be here in the first place? There should've been a reason right? Something here must have attracted me immensely to make me want to come here. Or I must have wanted to do something different and unique, something only I could do -that could've been a motivation for me to want to come here.
.....So there you are...I spend my life trying to figure out why did I want to come into this world in the first place? What was the reason? What was the purpose?
However, it is nice to know that I am going nowhere without finding that....or rather without fulfilling the purpose for which I came here...
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Observing life
I went for a funeral last evening...actually it was the eve of the funeral. The man of the house was lying in the mortuarty of a local hospital awaiting the arrival of relatives from Kerala, who rarely visited him when he was alive, but he would not and could not be given his farewell without the presence of the ubiquitous relatives.
So, there I was, standing next to the widow, not knowing what to say to her (I don't think I will ever know what to say to someone in such situations), squeezing her shoulders, hoping I was applying the right kind of pressure, which would convey my condolensces to her. Firstly, I wasn't supposed to be here. The widow was my mother's friend. Since my mother couldn't make it I was representing mommy dear and doing a very bad job of it. It was an akward situation. The wife didn't know what to say to me nor did I. So there we stood, she weeping gently and me breathing -yes, just breathing. Breath is the only thing that never fails you no matter what the situation is. It doesn't stop. The day it stops...somebody else would be standing there just like me...breathing and not knowing what to say, but breathing!
One often encounters humour in the house of the dead. It is not civilized or kind to laugh, so you just cough and shuffle your feet desperately trying to camflouge that little smile that is always trying escape through the corners of your mouth. I don't know whether it has happened to others or it is just me...I somehow tend to see things that makes me laugh or atleast crack a smile in the worst of situations. Some say that is a gift, I say it is downright uncomfortable -for me!
Once I finished squeezing the widow's shoulders and reached a point where any more `squeezing' would cross over to being considered `bodily assault' I quitely moved to the sidelines and began doing what I love doing -people watching.
As it is the case in India, there were many women surrounding the widow, consoling and comforting her. And again mouring in India is never silent -it is always loud, noisy and filled with sounds human chatter. So there were all these women, around a dozen of them, indulging in a kind of serial-monologue of sorts. The conversations were highly random. What happened? How did he die? Did you inform so and so? When are the relatives coming? Now what will she do? Oh he had a good death? Drink some tea? Who's gone to get the shamiana? We need more chairs. More people would be coming? Oh how did he die? I can spare some chairs from my house. Btw, you still have my chair.....
you get my point....it was thoughts, half sentences, full sentences, just a word...but there was a method to the madness. The aim was to fill the gaps. The silences. Because `silence' is a zone that the widow should not be allowed to step into right now. So, there she was, the widow, sitting in the middle of these cackling women. Sometimes what they said made her cry, at times she was forced to thing of practical matters which would take her mind off the tragedy. So the game continued.
It is in these conversations that you find a lot to laugh.
At some point the lady began to weep inconsolably. That is when the woman sitting next to her, in her mid forties, tall, clad in a cotton saree and still carrying the remnants of morning household chores on her...trying to console the weeping widow. "Don't cry," she said softly first. She repeated the same again and again. And each time the softness in her voice edged away. And finally, she told the widow sternly, "Stop crying. All this crying will not help you." What she said next made me chuckle. "Now all you can do is pray. Pray to God that you should also die fast. Pray that he takes you too. Soon." I am sure I saw the widow visibly go stiff for a moment. She was surprised and shocked no doubt. And I am also sure that I saw the widow slowly move away from the circle of this woman's arms and gently onto the shoulders of the woman on the right.
It was truly a comical situation....
So, there I was, standing next to the widow, not knowing what to say to her (I don't think I will ever know what to say to someone in such situations), squeezing her shoulders, hoping I was applying the right kind of pressure, which would convey my condolensces to her. Firstly, I wasn't supposed to be here. The widow was my mother's friend. Since my mother couldn't make it I was representing mommy dear and doing a very bad job of it. It was an akward situation. The wife didn't know what to say to me nor did I. So there we stood, she weeping gently and me breathing -yes, just breathing. Breath is the only thing that never fails you no matter what the situation is. It doesn't stop. The day it stops...somebody else would be standing there just like me...breathing and not knowing what to say, but breathing!
One often encounters humour in the house of the dead. It is not civilized or kind to laugh, so you just cough and shuffle your feet desperately trying to camflouge that little smile that is always trying escape through the corners of your mouth. I don't know whether it has happened to others or it is just me...I somehow tend to see things that makes me laugh or atleast crack a smile in the worst of situations. Some say that is a gift, I say it is downright uncomfortable -for me!
Once I finished squeezing the widow's shoulders and reached a point where any more `squeezing' would cross over to being considered `bodily assault' I quitely moved to the sidelines and began doing what I love doing -people watching.
As it is the case in India, there were many women surrounding the widow, consoling and comforting her. And again mouring in India is never silent -it is always loud, noisy and filled with sounds human chatter. So there were all these women, around a dozen of them, indulging in a kind of serial-monologue of sorts. The conversations were highly random. What happened? How did he die? Did you inform so and so? When are the relatives coming? Now what will she do? Oh he had a good death? Drink some tea? Who's gone to get the shamiana? We need more chairs. More people would be coming? Oh how did he die? I can spare some chairs from my house. Btw, you still have my chair.....
you get my point....it was thoughts, half sentences, full sentences, just a word...but there was a method to the madness. The aim was to fill the gaps. The silences. Because `silence' is a zone that the widow should not be allowed to step into right now. So, there she was, the widow, sitting in the middle of these cackling women. Sometimes what they said made her cry, at times she was forced to thing of practical matters which would take her mind off the tragedy. So the game continued.
It is in these conversations that you find a lot to laugh.
At some point the lady began to weep inconsolably. That is when the woman sitting next to her, in her mid forties, tall, clad in a cotton saree and still carrying the remnants of morning household chores on her...trying to console the weeping widow. "Don't cry," she said softly first. She repeated the same again and again. And each time the softness in her voice edged away. And finally, she told the widow sternly, "Stop crying. All this crying will not help you." What she said next made me chuckle. "Now all you can do is pray. Pray to God that you should also die fast. Pray that he takes you too. Soon." I am sure I saw the widow visibly go stiff for a moment. She was surprised and shocked no doubt. And I am also sure that I saw the widow slowly move away from the circle of this woman's arms and gently onto the shoulders of the woman on the right.
It was truly a comical situation....
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Random Thoughts
How many times have you heard beauty pagent winners say, "Oh my friends sent my photos for the competition....I had no idea whatsoever..." Or "my friends said that I should be a model...so they sent my photos....without my knowledge....they thought I would be terrific and recommended my name...."
If you are someone who is familiar with sites like Fropper and Orkut then you should be familiar with this phrase in mails that you receive from the opposite sex: "My friends think i have a sense of humor....they think I am energetic (i swear i got that one in my mailbox today)....they say I am a terrific guy and that I am intelligent, smart and goodlooking...." I am saying....Morons don't you'll have brains that functions? Can't you'll think for your ownself....?
Well there is more to this than meets the eye...I think as a society we have been brought up to feel guilty and ashamed to express any kind of sentiments or thoughts that would make us believe that we are good, beautiful, an acheiver, sensible, smart, a winner etc...Others can say it, but you can't and shouldn't. They make you feel guilty for being ambitious...if say your aim in life is to make money or be rich they think you are materialistic...or if you say, i want to be a beauty queen then you are viewed as beauty with no brains....If you do voice your ambitios or say nice things about yourse you are considered a horrible pompous creature....so what do you do, you cook up friends...imaginary friends that would be your mouthpiece...they would say all the things that you want said about you, do all the things that you want to do...if you win you take the credit and if you lose they take the fall....no harm...at the same time, your golden halo remains intact.
I just want to hear one beauty queen say honestly, "Yes I sent my own photos to the beauty pagent...i want to win it...make pots of money...and get into movies...AND that doesn't make me either dumb or stupid."
Then I can die happily.
----------------------------------------------
Why do Indian newsreaders scream the news on our tellies instead of read the news. There is a stiff competition between Rajdeep Sardesai, Arnab, and numerous journos on Headlines Today, CNN IBN, TIMES NOW, and NDTV as to who can scream the best.....Since all these guys are good at aping the western television, they should try and copy the newscasters of CNN and BBC....they don't scream the news they READ the news...and we can understand just fine.
-----------------------------------------------
There should be a law that imposes penalty on all journalists who commit the following crimes:
1. Those who believe that interviewing is only about asking questions and not about listening to the answers.
2. Those who think the only way one can be a top journalist in this country is by screaming down the person you are interviewing.
3. Those who never let the other person get even a word in...
4. Those who prompt...hmmm...hmmmm...hmmmm...during an interview. There is especially one journo in TIMES NOW...who drives me crazy with her nasal...hmmmm...hmm..hmm...Oh for chrissake...didn't they teach you in journalism college to shut your freaking mouth and not make a sound when the other person is speaking...
5. All newscasters who think it is fashionable to read news without punctuation marks.......
there's more to come...
--------------------------------------------
Have you notice how our so called talk-show/walk show tigers turn into purring cats when they interview beautiful women from Bollywood...? Why?
--------------------------------------------
I recently read that a mother and her youngest son together killed the older son because the latter was an alcoholic and an abusive one to boot....why didn't someone tell them about AA....that would've been a more suitable way to deal with alcoholics in the house...
-------------------------------------------
If you are someone who is familiar with sites like Fropper and Orkut then you should be familiar with this phrase in mails that you receive from the opposite sex: "My friends think i have a sense of humor....they think I am energetic (i swear i got that one in my mailbox today)....they say I am a terrific guy and that I am intelligent, smart and goodlooking...." I am saying....Morons don't you'll have brains that functions? Can't you'll think for your ownself....?
Well there is more to this than meets the eye...I think as a society we have been brought up to feel guilty and ashamed to express any kind of sentiments or thoughts that would make us believe that we are good, beautiful, an acheiver, sensible, smart, a winner etc...Others can say it, but you can't and shouldn't. They make you feel guilty for being ambitious...if say your aim in life is to make money or be rich they think you are materialistic...or if you say, i want to be a beauty queen then you are viewed as beauty with no brains....If you do voice your ambitios or say nice things about yourse you are considered a horrible pompous creature....so what do you do, you cook up friends...imaginary friends that would be your mouthpiece...they would say all the things that you want said about you, do all the things that you want to do...if you win you take the credit and if you lose they take the fall....no harm...at the same time, your golden halo remains intact.
I just want to hear one beauty queen say honestly, "Yes I sent my own photos to the beauty pagent...i want to win it...make pots of money...and get into movies...AND that doesn't make me either dumb or stupid."
Then I can die happily.
----------------------------------------------
Why do Indian newsreaders scream the news on our tellies instead of read the news. There is a stiff competition between Rajdeep Sardesai, Arnab, and numerous journos on Headlines Today, CNN IBN, TIMES NOW, and NDTV as to who can scream the best.....Since all these guys are good at aping the western television, they should try and copy the newscasters of CNN and BBC....they don't scream the news they READ the news...and we can understand just fine.
-----------------------------------------------
There should be a law that imposes penalty on all journalists who commit the following crimes:
1. Those who believe that interviewing is only about asking questions and not about listening to the answers.
2. Those who think the only way one can be a top journalist in this country is by screaming down the person you are interviewing.
3. Those who never let the other person get even a word in...
4. Those who prompt...hmmm...hmmmm...hmmmm...during an interview. There is especially one journo in TIMES NOW...who drives me crazy with her nasal...hmmmm...hmm..hmm...Oh for chrissake...didn't they teach you in journalism college to shut your freaking mouth and not make a sound when the other person is speaking...
5. All newscasters who think it is fashionable to read news without punctuation marks.......
there's more to come...
--------------------------------------------
Have you notice how our so called talk-show/walk show tigers turn into purring cats when they interview beautiful women from Bollywood...? Why?
--------------------------------------------
I recently read that a mother and her youngest son together killed the older son because the latter was an alcoholic and an abusive one to boot....why didn't someone tell them about AA....that would've been a more suitable way to deal with alcoholics in the house...
-------------------------------------------
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Awww....!
Following the devastating tsunami in December 2004 that killed hundreds of thousands of people and displaced millions in Southeast Asia, people across the world opened their hearts and wallets to help.The effects of the tsunami were felt in many coastal countries, and not just by humans.When Owen, a wild baby hippopotamus, was washed away from his herd on the coast of Kenya, he was left orphaned. The following day, nearby villagers came to Owen's rescue, bringing him to a local wildlife park. There the search for a surrogate parent led little Owen to Mzee, a cranky 130-year-old giant tortoise. The frightened hippo adopted the old tortoise as his parent. It seemed like love at first sight as Mzee, who was a loner for years, instantly accepted the baby hippo as his own. The pair began eating together and sleeping side by side.Today, more than two years later, Owen still follows Mzee around the park. Owen and Mzee have formed such a tight bond, workers at the park are worried that Owen is acting too much like a tortoise. They have brought in another hippo to teach Owen how to act a little more hippo-like.
When I discovered why I came into this world
I finally found the answer to the question that I have been asking for a long, long time now. At one point in time I was sure that I was going to die without discovering the answer to my question. It was a simple question: Why did I come into this world? What was the purpose?
As I was growing up, I didn't pay much attention to finding the answers, since I beleived that the answer would ultimately find its way to me in the form of the choices that I would be making in my life -personal and professional. But that was not to be so.
With each birthday celebration there was an urgency in me to find the answer to that all important question, which was slowly eating at me. I mean, I knew I wasn't born to just live and die. There was something that I was meant to do in this world. Something that people usually call, mission, vision, dream, goal...whatever....I too had my mission, vision, dreams, goals and whatever...only that none of those `items' never lasted long enough for me to say, "Aha this it it...this is the reason I was born." None of the M.V.D.G.Ws felt right. I was never consumed by any of those. I lost interest quickly...I never enjoyed doing what I did for long....Now, if those things that I were doing in life where the right reasons for which I came into this world then I shouldn't find it difficult or boring or downright miserable doing those things....I should be enjoying them. I should be filled with joy ....But no such luc. It was indeed a NO..Until two weeks ago....
Finally, when I found the answer I was stumped. For some strange reason I always thought the answer, when it finally came, would be something on the lines of -Oh, you came to this world to be the next Oprah Winfrey or Steven Speilberg or Richard Branson (yeah, yeah....very materialistic and ambitious of me!) or someone really great and famous and rich and wonderful....(yeah, more materialistic)So, finally when I got my answer to the question that I was looking for I did a doubletake. I wondered aloud -Is that it? Is that why I came into this world? Is that the purpose of my exsistence? Are you sure? Would you like to check your books once again and let me know...I can wait you know....afterall I have waited for so long.....But then the answer was crystal clear -I came into this world for just one purpose -to live every moment of my life joyously. Yes. That was it. Yup, it did sound a little trivial even to me...but that was it...I CAME INTO THIS WORLD TO LIVE EVERY MOMENT OF MY LIFE JOYOUSLY -THAT WS MY PURPOSE.
I have heard many people (read people who always claimed to know what their mission in life was very early in life) say, that Universe/life always gives you little glimpses of your purpose or mission in life early on. And as you grow older these glimpses becomes visible signposts -some are smart to notice them and go in the right direction and some like me take a little longer or wait till the signposts turn into huge billboards. If I were to pursue that line of thought, then yes, Universe did give me numerous hints of my purpose in life.
There were times when I would be engulfed in sheer, unexplicable joy that I could literally feel bubbling from within and overflowing....for no apparent rhyme or reason. Sometimes, everything around me would be collapsing yet I would feel this extreme happiness inside of me -a joy that transcended all understanding. Sometimes it would be so visible that I have had friends and others walk up to me ask, "Oh, my you look so happy. What's happening? New Man in your life?" (The last bit always bugged me. It would bug you too if the "new man" last came into your life some 100 years ago...) But then, the point is, I never realised during all those times that it was God (to me) and Universe (to those who don't believe in God) showing me little signs as to what my purpose in life was. TO LIVE JOYOUSLY.
Finally, when I did find the answer to my all important question in life -I knew it was THE and ONLY answer. It was the right answer. I knew it -in my gut! There was this feeling of having come back home for good. But that still left me with a sub-question -There should be more to this answer, what is it? And there was....
I love creating. Yes. That's what I call all that I do. Writing new stories. Articles. Making documentaries. Creating new projects -even if it meant redecorating my house - to me it was creating...everything was a new project and every project was a new creation and eveyr new creation propelled me to the next level in life. I just loved the process of such deliberate creation. I would be involved body, mind and soul in each of these projects. Complete it. And then move on. When I completed a project I lost interest in it. I very rarely went back to it. My parents and friends thought I was drifting. Especially my father who thought I didn't have it in me to be interested in anything for long. My pastor was happy that I was single....But I knew in my heart that I was not a drifter. I just loved creating different things. Finish it. And move on to the next thing. But then society has a knack of making you doubt your own truths. And that's what happened to me. Over a period of time I begin to see myself as someone who was without an anchor -a rolling stone...and that anguish only increased my questioning -why did I come into this world? To do what?
Each one of us create our own world. We create our own reality. And creation is meant to happen only from a joyous state. Such creations always expands the universe. Think of any invention and you will understand what I mean. You might ask, why should we expand the universe? The universe evolves constantly and for it to evolve constantly it needs to expand and it can expand only through our creations or our individual realities and in order to do that you need to be in a joyous state, for that is what we were to begin with -pure, positive, joyous souls (for those who blieve in God) or pure, positive, joyous Energy (for those who believe in the Big Bang Theory -either which way it works....
Confusing? It is not, for those who want to understand.....for the universe always functions on the most important law -Ask and you shall receive -the law of attraction! Think about it.
As I was growing up, I didn't pay much attention to finding the answers, since I beleived that the answer would ultimately find its way to me in the form of the choices that I would be making in my life -personal and professional. But that was not to be so.
With each birthday celebration there was an urgency in me to find the answer to that all important question, which was slowly eating at me. I mean, I knew I wasn't born to just live and die. There was something that I was meant to do in this world. Something that people usually call, mission, vision, dream, goal...whatever....I too had my mission, vision, dreams, goals and whatever...only that none of those `items' never lasted long enough for me to say, "Aha this it it...this is the reason I was born." None of the M.V.D.G.Ws felt right. I was never consumed by any of those. I lost interest quickly...I never enjoyed doing what I did for long....Now, if those things that I were doing in life where the right reasons for which I came into this world then I shouldn't find it difficult or boring or downright miserable doing those things....I should be enjoying them. I should be filled with joy ....But no such luc. It was indeed a NO..Until two weeks ago....
Finally, when I found the answer I was stumped. For some strange reason I always thought the answer, when it finally came, would be something on the lines of -Oh, you came to this world to be the next Oprah Winfrey or Steven Speilberg or Richard Branson (yeah, yeah....very materialistic and ambitious of me!) or someone really great and famous and rich and wonderful....(yeah, more materialistic)So, finally when I got my answer to the question that I was looking for I did a doubletake. I wondered aloud -Is that it? Is that why I came into this world? Is that the purpose of my exsistence? Are you sure? Would you like to check your books once again and let me know...I can wait you know....afterall I have waited for so long.....But then the answer was crystal clear -I came into this world for just one purpose -to live every moment of my life joyously. Yes. That was it. Yup, it did sound a little trivial even to me...but that was it...I CAME INTO THIS WORLD TO LIVE EVERY MOMENT OF MY LIFE JOYOUSLY -THAT WS MY PURPOSE.
I have heard many people (read people who always claimed to know what their mission in life was very early in life) say, that Universe/life always gives you little glimpses of your purpose or mission in life early on. And as you grow older these glimpses becomes visible signposts -some are smart to notice them and go in the right direction and some like me take a little longer or wait till the signposts turn into huge billboards. If I were to pursue that line of thought, then yes, Universe did give me numerous hints of my purpose in life.
There were times when I would be engulfed in sheer, unexplicable joy that I could literally feel bubbling from within and overflowing....for no apparent rhyme or reason. Sometimes, everything around me would be collapsing yet I would feel this extreme happiness inside of me -a joy that transcended all understanding. Sometimes it would be so visible that I have had friends and others walk up to me ask, "Oh, my you look so happy. What's happening? New Man in your life?" (The last bit always bugged me. It would bug you too if the "new man" last came into your life some 100 years ago...) But then, the point is, I never realised during all those times that it was God (to me) and Universe (to those who don't believe in God) showing me little signs as to what my purpose in life was. TO LIVE JOYOUSLY.
Finally, when I did find the answer to my all important question in life -I knew it was THE and ONLY answer. It was the right answer. I knew it -in my gut! There was this feeling of having come back home for good. But that still left me with a sub-question -There should be more to this answer, what is it? And there was....
I love creating. Yes. That's what I call all that I do. Writing new stories. Articles. Making documentaries. Creating new projects -even if it meant redecorating my house - to me it was creating...everything was a new project and every project was a new creation and eveyr new creation propelled me to the next level in life. I just loved the process of such deliberate creation. I would be involved body, mind and soul in each of these projects. Complete it. And then move on. When I completed a project I lost interest in it. I very rarely went back to it. My parents and friends thought I was drifting. Especially my father who thought I didn't have it in me to be interested in anything for long. My pastor was happy that I was single....But I knew in my heart that I was not a drifter. I just loved creating different things. Finish it. And move on to the next thing. But then society has a knack of making you doubt your own truths. And that's what happened to me. Over a period of time I begin to see myself as someone who was without an anchor -a rolling stone...and that anguish only increased my questioning -why did I come into this world? To do what?
Each one of us create our own world. We create our own reality. And creation is meant to happen only from a joyous state. Such creations always expands the universe. Think of any invention and you will understand what I mean. You might ask, why should we expand the universe? The universe evolves constantly and for it to evolve constantly it needs to expand and it can expand only through our creations or our individual realities and in order to do that you need to be in a joyous state, for that is what we were to begin with -pure, positive, joyous souls (for those who blieve in God) or pure, positive, joyous Energy (for those who believe in the Big Bang Theory -either which way it works....
Confusing? It is not, for those who want to understand.....for the universe always functions on the most important law -Ask and you shall receive -the law of attraction! Think about it.
Monday, May 21, 2007
From Kevin Robert's brain box -CEO Worldwide of Saatchi & Saatchi
(From the archives of Dream Scope)
Thoughts on….On your way to win the world.
1.Make the small decisions with your head; the big ones with your heart. Your heart is the compass that points to your happiness.
2.Decide what it is you will never do. It’s hard to decide exactly what you will do. Maybe it's not possible; perhaps your goals may change. Improve your chances of a good decision by telling yourself what you absolutely will not do. Minimizes your chances of unhappiness - of finding yourself in a job that you hate, that goes nowhere.
3.Take responsibility for your own happiness. In your hearts, you know - or you will know - what it will take to make you happy. You are responsible for getting there. Your happiness is too valuable to surrender to someone else.
4.Prepare yourself to get lucky. Luck happens when preparation meets opportunity. All of you here will get opportunities in life. You’ll get chances to make your own luck. If you're prepared.
5.Pursue failure. It’s the only way to achieve meaningful success. I’ve been successful in my pursuit of failure - several times. A genius is a person who makes the same mistake. Once. You won't know your limits till you crash up against them.
6.Don’t look back. Life is too short to spend it gazing into the rear-view mirror. You’ll make mistakes; if you obsess over them, you'll keep making them.
7.Ask dumb questions. The "what if" question is the best question of all. A great question is at least as valuable as a great answer. It’s how you get to create world-changing ideas.
8.Avoid moderation. Be hot, or cold, but not lukewarm. Nothing succeeds like excess. And only abuse your bodies on the weekend.
9.Turn your peaks into a plateau. For all of us, there are times and places when we're right in the zone. For most people, these occasions are rare and unpredictable. We use so little of our capacity for so much that is so important - work, family, love.
10.One final thought. The words that sum up my life; nothing is impossible. Believe it.
Writing advice by famous authors
Famous writers reveal and explain elements of their craft.
I don’t actually com
pose in longhand. I lie back in a long chair and make notes, you know, bits of dialogue and then another bit of description. You see, I don’t try to make it continuous. Then I work at the typewriter. I find one system that works very well with me is to sit at the typewriter and have a pad on my desk, on which I write out the next bit of the story, maybe a bit of dialogue or description by hand, and then transfer it to the machine. But I make several drafts. The stuff I do on the typewriter isn’t the final version. I mess it about a lot with ink, and put in bits and alter adjectives and things, and then make a fair copy of it. The great thing I like working on the typewriter. It rather inspires me.
P.G.Wodehouse, 1971
I start with a concept that outrages me, something that bothers the hell out of me. I think arresting fiction is written out of a sense of outrage. I try to find something with an underpinning of reality. I generally go back over recent history looking for a situation where the events have a conceivable official explanation but where the solution might be other than it is purported to be.
Robert Ludlum, 1977
You should spend thirty minutes a day thinking about sex. The purpose of this is to get yourself sexually
excited, which builds tremendous amounts of energy and then carry that into your work. Get yourself in that extreme state of being next to madness. Keep yourself in, not necessarily a frenzied state, but in a state of great intensity. The kind of state you would be in before going to bed with your partner. That heightened state when you are in a carnal embrace: Time stops and nothing else matters. You should always writer with an erection. Even if you are a woman.
Tom Robbins, 1988
I had no
time to write –zero time. But I figured I could make time if I could carve out little segments. I knew it would be a slow process, but I didn’t care because I was in no hurry. I learned two very valuable lessons in doing that. One, you can’t get in a hurry. Two, write every day if you want to see your novel completed. My goal was to write a page a day. Some days I could only find thirty minutes, some days two hours. Sometime I would write five or six pages, sometimes, just one. But writing every single day is of utmost importance. Especially like most beginning writers, you have another full-time job.
John Grisham 1993.
(More to come….)
I don’t actually com
pose in longhand. I lie back in a long chair and make notes, you know, bits of dialogue and then another bit of description. You see, I don’t try to make it continuous. Then I work at the typewriter. I find one system that works very well with me is to sit at the typewriter and have a pad on my desk, on which I write out the next bit of the story, maybe a bit of dialogue or description by hand, and then transfer it to the machine. But I make several drafts. The stuff I do on the typewriter isn’t the final version. I mess it about a lot with ink, and put in bits and alter adjectives and things, and then make a fair copy of it. The great thing I like working on the typewriter. It rather inspires me.P.G.Wodehouse, 1971
I start with a concept that outrages me, something that bothers the hell out of me. I think arresting fiction is written out of a sense of outrage. I try to find something with an underpinning of reality. I generally go back over recent history looking for a situation where the events have a conceivable official explanation but where the solution might be other than it is purported to be.
Robert Ludlum, 1977
You should spend thirty minutes a day thinking about sex. The purpose of this is to get yourself sexually
excited, which builds tremendous amounts of energy and then carry that into your work. Get yourself in that extreme state of being next to madness. Keep yourself in, not necessarily a frenzied state, but in a state of great intensity. The kind of state you would be in before going to bed with your partner. That heightened state when you are in a carnal embrace: Time stops and nothing else matters. You should always writer with an erection. Even if you are a woman.Tom Robbins, 1988
I had no
time to write –zero time. But I figured I could make time if I could carve out little segments. I knew it would be a slow process, but I didn’t care because I was in no hurry. I learned two very valuable lessons in doing that. One, you can’t get in a hurry. Two, write every day if you want to see your novel completed. My goal was to write a page a day. Some days I could only find thirty minutes, some days two hours. Sometime I would write five or six pages, sometimes, just one. But writing every single day is of utmost importance. Especially like most beginning writers, you have another full-time job.John Grisham 1993.
(More to come….)
The art of letting go and moving on in life
There are three things that all humans should absolutely learn to do:
When you like/love someone tell them –be it mom, dad, sibling, friend, husband, lover, children….for god’s sake TELL THEM. Then learn the art of letting go and finally learn to move on in life.
My friends say, “Yes, you need to tell people how you feel about them, but when it is between a man and a woman and if the woman happens to like the man then she should do anything but tell him.” My question: Why? Friends answer: “Men like to chase and not be chased. A woman should always wait for the man to make the first move. If she doesn’t 99% of the time the man loses interest. That’s the law of nature.” They might have a point there. But I still prefer to stick to my guns. When you like a person (irrespective of the gender) you need to let them know your feelings. It is based on a simple logic: When somebody tells me that they like me or they appreciate me (I mean genuinely), my heart floods with a joy that adds a zing to my step. It is a beautiful feeling. Humans are social animals and we feed off each other’s energies, vibrations and love. So, I presume, it is the same joy that would warm the cockles of the heart of the other person who hears it from me about how I feel about him/her. Why then hide those feelings that are pure, positive and all love? Why play mind games? Why wait for the other person to discover your untold feelings? And if he or she doesn’t `discover' then set out to manipulate their actions till you get what you want? Life is too short to play complicated games. So I say when you like someone tell them –it doesn’t matter that you are a woman.
I will always carry the regret of not expressing my feelings towards a relative and then it was too late. She meant the world to me and on the day I saw her face down in the well in the backyard I knew I would never be able to tell her how much I loved her and what joy she brought into my life. I never want to repeat that mistaket ever in my life.
One must also be prepared for the consequences of our actions. It is here that my friends are absolutely true in their analysis. Nine out of ten times, men are unable to handle a woman expressing her feelings towards them. They become Olympic sprinters on a 100 mt dash. Even when you want to convince them that you are not thinking of walking down the aisle with them for the next thousand years, they get the hibee jeebes. They become so damn nervous that they don’t listen to what you have to say: I like you and all I want to do is get to know you better and see where it goes. So before you reach the third word in the sentence the man is in the next town. Still, no matter how painful the rejection is I believe one should always be true to their feelings.
Well, you tell the person how you feel and your feelings aren’t reciprocated. Then what do you do. It is here that we need to learn the art of LETTING GO. Which a nurse in a hospital in Bangalore refused to do. Apparently, the young woman was unable to accept the fact that her boyfriend wanted to end the relationship with her. So she decided to confront him with a bottle of acid. In the ensuing fracas the man escaped the furious acidic fumes but the woman was not so lucky. Today, she is in the same hospital where she worked, with 80% burns fighting for her life. Was the man worth it? Never in a zillion years is anyone worth your life.
This is what I don’t understand –when somebody doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, then what use is it to want that man/woman in your life? Do you genuinely think you can be happy with such an arrangement? Don’t we all deserve the best? Why should we settle down for the second best?
You cannot change how people feel towards you. It has to come from within them. Only those feelings last. They might have genuine reasons for not reciprocating your feelings. Or they might be plain jerks. No matter what, their rejection is not a reflection of who you are and what you are as a person. It is just the universe telling you –He/she is not for you. There is someone better and more deserving waiting for you. Let go. You do all that you have to do and then let go. However, clichéd it might sound, it is true that if he/she is meant for you they will come back otherwise they were never meant to be in your life to begin with.
Letting go is easier said than done. What makes it easier is the ability to follow the principle of Moving On in life. Firstly, never sweep the incident under the carpet. Acknowledge you are hurt and disappointed. And that you feel as unworthy as a kitchen rag. That you want to turn your man into a rare steak and feed him to your dogs. But then your grieving period should come with an expiry date. Anything between 24 hours to two weeks should be ideal or whatever works for you, let it not be a life-long venture. During this period, talk to your friends, write a journal, and get all the venom, the sadness, the hurt, the pain -everything out of your system. It is cathartic. Learn to be more forgiving of your mistakes. Then when your time is up, get ready to see the other side. Maybe the person did you a favor by being honest about his/her feelings. Maybe he or she is a wonderful person it is just that they are not for you. They have someone else waiting for them out there in the world just like you have someone waiting for you. But until and unless, you let go of this person, the universe will not bring you the one that is truly meant for you.
Think of the good times that you had together. Forgive each other for the hurt that you have caused. And move on in life, carrying only the sweet memories of the past and hope for the future. Remember, only when you let go, you gain something.
When you like/love someone tell them –be it mom, dad, sibling, friend, husband, lover, children….for god’s sake TELL THEM. Then learn the art of letting go and finally learn to move on in life.
My friends say, “Yes, you need to tell people how you feel about them, but when it is between a man and a woman and if the woman happens to like the man then she should do anything but tell him.” My question: Why? Friends answer: “Men like to chase and not be chased. A woman should always wait for the man to make the first move. If she doesn’t 99% of the time the man loses interest. That’s the law of nature.” They might have a point there. But I still prefer to stick to my guns. When you like a person (irrespective of the gender) you need to let them know your feelings. It is based on a simple logic: When somebody tells me that they like me or they appreciate me (I mean genuinely), my heart floods with a joy that adds a zing to my step. It is a beautiful feeling. Humans are social animals and we feed off each other’s energies, vibrations and love. So, I presume, it is the same joy that would warm the cockles of the heart of the other person who hears it from me about how I feel about him/her. Why then hide those feelings that are pure, positive and all love? Why play mind games? Why wait for the other person to discover your untold feelings? And if he or she doesn’t `discover' then set out to manipulate their actions till you get what you want? Life is too short to play complicated games. So I say when you like someone tell them –it doesn’t matter that you are a woman.
I will always carry the regret of not expressing my feelings towards a relative and then it was too late. She meant the world to me and on the day I saw her face down in the well in the backyard I knew I would never be able to tell her how much I loved her and what joy she brought into my life. I never want to repeat that mistaket ever in my life.
One must also be prepared for the consequences of our actions. It is here that my friends are absolutely true in their analysis. Nine out of ten times, men are unable to handle a woman expressing her feelings towards them. They become Olympic sprinters on a 100 mt dash. Even when you want to convince them that you are not thinking of walking down the aisle with them for the next thousand years, they get the hibee jeebes. They become so damn nervous that they don’t listen to what you have to say: I like you and all I want to do is get to know you better and see where it goes. So before you reach the third word in the sentence the man is in the next town. Still, no matter how painful the rejection is I believe one should always be true to their feelings.
Well, you tell the person how you feel and your feelings aren’t reciprocated. Then what do you do. It is here that we need to learn the art of LETTING GO. Which a nurse in a hospital in Bangalore refused to do. Apparently, the young woman was unable to accept the fact that her boyfriend wanted to end the relationship with her. So she decided to confront him with a bottle of acid. In the ensuing fracas the man escaped the furious acidic fumes but the woman was not so lucky. Today, she is in the same hospital where she worked, with 80% burns fighting for her life. Was the man worth it? Never in a zillion years is anyone worth your life.
This is what I don’t understand –when somebody doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, then what use is it to want that man/woman in your life? Do you genuinely think you can be happy with such an arrangement? Don’t we all deserve the best? Why should we settle down for the second best?
You cannot change how people feel towards you. It has to come from within them. Only those feelings last. They might have genuine reasons for not reciprocating your feelings. Or they might be plain jerks. No matter what, their rejection is not a reflection of who you are and what you are as a person. It is just the universe telling you –He/she is not for you. There is someone better and more deserving waiting for you. Let go. You do all that you have to do and then let go. However, clichéd it might sound, it is true that if he/she is meant for you they will come back otherwise they were never meant to be in your life to begin with.
Letting go is easier said than done. What makes it easier is the ability to follow the principle of Moving On in life. Firstly, never sweep the incident under the carpet. Acknowledge you are hurt and disappointed. And that you feel as unworthy as a kitchen rag. That you want to turn your man into a rare steak and feed him to your dogs. But then your grieving period should come with an expiry date. Anything between 24 hours to two weeks should be ideal or whatever works for you, let it not be a life-long venture. During this period, talk to your friends, write a journal, and get all the venom, the sadness, the hurt, the pain -everything out of your system. It is cathartic. Learn to be more forgiving of your mistakes. Then when your time is up, get ready to see the other side. Maybe the person did you a favor by being honest about his/her feelings. Maybe he or she is a wonderful person it is just that they are not for you. They have someone else waiting for them out there in the world just like you have someone waiting for you. But until and unless, you let go of this person, the universe will not bring you the one that is truly meant for you.
Think of the good times that you had together. Forgive each other for the hurt that you have caused. And move on in life, carrying only the sweet memories of the past and hope for the future. Remember, only when you let go, you gain something.
Naked Demi Moore Syndrome
This was written by Erma Bombeck, world renowned columnist in 1991, soon after a very pregnant Demi Moore posed naked on the cover of Vanity Fair magazine known as the MOTHER OF ALL COVERS. The cover photograph took the world by storm. I came across this column in one of my old collection-piles. It was funny when I read it the first time. It still is….and some of my friends who have become mothers since say, “Very true.”
Second Pregnancies Erase Any Modesty
Since Demi Moore’s Vanity Fair appearance, which gives new meaning to “mother of all covers,” I’ve read a host of male reactions. They range from “disgusting” to “shocking” to “breathtakingly beautiful.”
As a mother, I feel bound to tell you: You are missing the point. This is Demi Moore’s second child. I’ll repeat that. This is Demi Moore’s second child. Translated, that means modesty is no longer a word in her vocabulary.
I am willing to bet that before the birth of her first offspring, she wore weights in the hems of her maternity tops. She demurely crossed her legs at the ankles at all times and requested two sheets in the gynecologist’s office. All that changed when she entered the hospital to deliver.
There is a stream of men we have never seen before who whip in and out of our hospital rooms like they are caught in a revolving door. They invade our bare chests with stethoscopes and throw back the sheets to “take a look at what we have here.” They pump, probe, squeeze and push on every part of our bodies. Hey interrupt our baths to inquire about our irregularities and watch us struggle with the hospital gowns that are too small to set a cocktail glass on.
There should be a sign over every delivery room in the country: Here enters the last modest woman on the face of the Earth!
When I delivered my second child, I shared a room with a young woman giving birth to her first. She was so modest that when she was examined, she turned her head to the wall and bit her lips until they bled. Two days after she delivered, she approached a man in the hall and said, “Doctor, I am nursing. Does this look normal to you?” and proceeded to drop her robe. A nurse guided her to her room and told her she had just bared herself to a maintenance man.
The loss of modesty is a given. You have no control over it. From that day on your body is never your own. Your children will not only watch you when you shower they will bring along their little friends. Why you are using the bathroom they will unlock the door with a shish-kebab skewer. You sit at the breakfast table with your robe open. It doesn’t matter anymore.
After I left the hospital following the birth of my first child, I somehow knew I would never be the same again. At that time, what I was feeling didn’t have a name. After this summer, I suspect it will be known as the Demi Moore syndrome.
Second Pregnancies Erase Any Modesty
Since Demi Moore’s Vanity Fair appearance, which gives new meaning to “mother of all covers,” I’ve read a host of male reactions. They range from “disgusting” to “shocking” to “breathtakingly beautiful.”
As a mother, I feel bound to tell you: You are missing the point. This is Demi Moore’s second child. I’ll repeat that. This is Demi Moore’s second child. Translated, that means modesty is no longer a word in her vocabulary.
I am willing to bet that before the birth of her first offspring, she wore weights in the hems of her maternity tops. She demurely crossed her legs at the ankles at all times and requested two sheets in the gynecologist’s office. All that changed when she entered the hospital to deliver.
There is a stream of men we have never seen before who whip in and out of our hospital rooms like they are caught in a revolving door. They invade our bare chests with stethoscopes and throw back the sheets to “take a look at what we have here.” They pump, probe, squeeze and push on every part of our bodies. Hey interrupt our baths to inquire about our irregularities and watch us struggle with the hospital gowns that are too small to set a cocktail glass on.
There should be a sign over every delivery room in the country: Here enters the last modest woman on the face of the Earth!
When I delivered my second child, I shared a room with a young woman giving birth to her first. She was so modest that when she was examined, she turned her head to the wall and bit her lips until they bled. Two days after she delivered, she approached a man in the hall and said, “Doctor, I am nursing. Does this look normal to you?” and proceeded to drop her robe. A nurse guided her to her room and told her she had just bared herself to a maintenance man.
The loss of modesty is a given. You have no control over it. From that day on your body is never your own. Your children will not only watch you when you shower they will bring along their little friends. Why you are using the bathroom they will unlock the door with a shish-kebab skewer. You sit at the breakfast table with your robe open. It doesn’t matter anymore.
After I left the hospital following the birth of my first child, I somehow knew I would never be the same again. At that time, what I was feeling didn’t have a name. After this summer, I suspect it will be known as the Demi Moore syndrome.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Give me some of my past, just one more time...
Change is the only constant in life. It is inevitable. It is necessary.And its definitions are always cliched! But no matter what, the `new’ always makes your heart pine for `certain moments’ of the old; those special moments of a time gone by. Even if the `new’ is wonderful the heart hangs around certain exceptional moments of the past. Moments that will never be repeated. Moments those come with the rider –`one time only’.
There are definite `Moments’ in life that can never be had, ever again. But you want to –just one more time…..Wonderful school days of yore, carefree time spent with college mates who thought that the future was nothing but rosy and all will remain young, happy, untroubled and together –forever. The thump of an adolescent heart when it discovers love for the first time (okay, fine it was infatuation, but the 15 year old heart didn’t know it at that time). The first time your boyfriend took your hand in his and the sensation that ran right through your veins all the way to your toes. The first kiss – (in my opinion, highly overrated) when you expected the world to come to a standstill (and you waited and waited and waited, but it never happened) still the strangely sweet sensation that you felt in your heart moments before your untouched lips were marked forever would never be felt ever again. The first time you heard someone say `I love you’ to you and how your body morphed into an imaginary eagle soaring high in the clear blue skies, thinking it was going to last forever. Soon you realize it’s not to be. But that first heady sensation was so truly marvelous. Moments before you meet a person with whom you shared a great chemistry over the phone line for months together. You might continue to have that chemistry but the earlier one was dearer. The chase before the catch. Precious moments of being wooed and pursued before you give in. The moments of courtship before copulation. Moments that are unique and will never be repeated again.
These treasured memories are cloaked in nothing but sheer joy and pleasure and untainted by the vagaries of life. And they are felt just once and are never repetitive. These memories are important for they are the catalysts of change. They push you forward in life. From one stage to another. They prompt you to take the next step into another realm. Hurling you into the thick of change; of a future filled with promise and hope. But there is no going back to where you came from. The minute you step on to the next stage the previous one becomes a `memory’ –lost in the past for eternity.
And these memories fade with time, no matter how desperately you try to hold on to them. Ultimately what you are left with is a dull ache of things gone by and an outline of what once was. You pine for them. You yearn for them. You hope to have just one more tryst with those precious moments embedded in your past. But the truth that you can’t makes change all the more painful and poignant.
Recently, I made numerous memories to be stored in the treasure chest of life. I know I can never have those moments in life ever again. I wish I had somehow found a way to prolong those moments, but all special moments come with a time limit; an expiry date. Those moments launched me into the next phase in life. But like all humanity, I know I will pine for just one more dalliance with those special moments from my past, in the twilight years of my life, crying silently – “just one more time….”
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