A Drifter

Life seems to be changing its pattern very frequently.
And, I change my passions, obsessions, habits and even friends accordingly.
Without really missing the old ones as if they belong to an another era.
Thus giving undue profundity to the sham 'Living in the Moment'.
And,  being A Drifter in the real sense.

Stream of consciousness

The thing that you’ll read below is an effort to revive my non-filmi writing (an informal new year resolution that I’d put a few hundred words on paper without really being bothered about the outcome), I doubt if you’ll gain anything by reading it. The purpose of putting it up here is to show off my pearly handwriting.

Writing using paper and a pen is a tedious business, not at all romantic as some people make it out to be. Yet I always imagine or dream of doing that. I envy people who can fill up pages while attending a press conference or sitting in a seminar, while I have to be alert and make an effort to remember everything that is being said. The cell phone or the tablet has been a boon for me as I can note down a few points or type out questions I wish to ask. Here also sometimes, I have to convince people that I am not engrossed in a video game or distracted by a sms or an email. 

There is one advantage of writing in a book for me and that is the fact that I am not distracted by a new notification in FB, or updates on twitter or a new email in the inbox. 

The other good thing about writing like this is the fact that it curbs my tendency to be overly dependent on online dictionary to check if the new word blinking in my head is apt in the context that I wish to use it. This is the first time I am trying to put something this long on paper after my student days. Once in a while I used to write letters to my friends after that, but, that too has stopped for a long time now.

One Breath Away by Heather Gudenkauf

I haven't updated this space for a long while now. There are not many reasons or excuses for that except for lethargy or laziness. Some posts die in my head while in formation stage itself and a few die after I have jotted ('typed' would be the right term here) down a few lines or even words. And, as I'm thinking about it now I feel that writing about life when it is happening, it is better to write about something with the benefit of hindsight.

But, this post isn't about any happening or an event in my life, it is just about a book that I recently read (I may be wrong as 'reading' also can be a happening or an event), One Breath Away by Heather Gudenkauf. It is a book for anyone who loves fast paced books with some depth and multi-dimensional characters, and also for those interested in creative writing as such. It shows you how to structure a narrative interestingly by revealing a mystery on every page, peeling off a layer from the characters to show the motive behind their action.

An unidentified assailant with a gun enters a school in a fictitious small town called Broken Branch, Iowa State, USA and makes a classroom full of third graders hostage along with their teacher. The story goes on to show how the school, police, parents and the town in general reacts to the situation. The tale is weaved from the perspective of five characters directly effected by the incident; Holly, a burn victim recuperating in a hospital in Arizona. Her two children Augie and P. J are under the care of her father and are the students of the ill-fated school. Augie, a teenager, who had to shift school mid-term because of her mother's accident. Mrs. Oliver, the teacher in the class that is taken hostage. Meg, a single mother and police officer in Broken Branch, whose child Maria is the student of the same school, but, has taken a day off before the spring vacation to spend some time with her dad Tim. And, finally Will, a farmer and the grandfather of Augie and P. J.

As this intricate and intense story moves forward from character to character and from first person to third person format we get to see how interconnected small communities are and an untoward incident effects every single person in the locality.

For me, the vividly etched mind-scape of Mrs. Oliver and teenager Augie worked wonderfully as it showed how two persons of different ages and different mentality act similarly in a given situation. And, I'm sure Mrs. Oliver will remind you of your best loved teachers.

A line from this book that will stay with me is: “the easiest way to save face is to keep the lower half shut”.

PS. With this I shun the romantic notion that you need to smell the paper to enjoy a book. For me e-books are convenient to handle physically as I don't have to hold them and turn the pages. I doubt if I'd have finished reading this book it was in physical form.

It's a tightrope walk

Being aware of your limitations yet not letting them depress you or stop you from doing what you can takes effort.

After the coming of twitter and facebook single line posts have disappeared from blogs, otherwise I remember many popular bloggers posting single line thoughts or recommending something to read many times in a day.

The above thought came to me in the afternoon and as usual I saved it in my phone with the intention of copying in fb and twitter later. Then this idea struck me why not use the blog? I've always felt that a blog deserves respect and it shouldn't be used unless you've something substantial to say. So, I've posted this thought here just to fight my long held notion.

I'd started preparing the background for a longer post about how this thought sprouted and the vague experience behind it. Then said to myself "What the hell...".

Anyway, this has become a long post of respectable length for this blog.

A Poem

Wishing that a poem comes to me now.

Just to let you know how precious you are.

To describe the effect your crackling voice has on me.

And, to be reassured that true love

doesn't diminish with the distance

or the lapse of time.

Why?

Why do bowels play truant?

Not letting me focus.

Reminding me to invoke Gods

And, pray that this night passes off without disasters

Or making me take refuge in sleep

Or endless games of Solitaire

Just as a distraction.



PS: experimenting to be creative about a mundane situation. Sorry, if it sounds crass to you.

Blog Impact

The title of this post is inspired from newspapers/channels, it is used when their report or a story gets positive response or makes powers to be act to redress a grievance or correct a mistake.

I always thought that my blog is just read by a few people close to me or people I coax to read by mailing them the link of a new post (blowing my own trumpet, in short), never thinking that it would be of any consequence as such. 

More than anything else, it is writing practise; trying to make an incidence in my life or articulating my own thoughts or just putting the words rambling in my head into this space. The most common thing behind all these things is timidity or you can call it laziness, I've to force myself to type word after word as if some fear is holding me back.

This post about how a breath analyser played tricks  with my cab-driver friend Robert was similarly written. But, surprisingly it has put him in the Caravan Magazine.

It so happened that I'd put additional info that Robert performed Chavittunatakam. Reading that Minu Ittyipe (one of my first writer-journalist friend) mailed me asking his me his number and came out with this beautiful write-up about him.

In fact, Minu has helped in alleviating my guilt  a little as I'd talked to Robert and one of his uncle at length about their passion for Chavittunatakam wishing to write about it somewhere but, somehow couldn't do it. Above all, Robert is very happy and excited to see his story in print, he says: “now, I can show this book to friends who tease me as being a king when I refuse to join them in fun and frolic citing a rehearsal or a performance”.

So, thank you Minu Ittyipe.

Death has its own charm

Death has its own charm

Not the thoughts of another world

Or the joys promised therein

It is just dropping the burden of guilt

Or the craving for love

And, experiencing the calm buzz

Of a motor that has just been switched off.

Note:

The first line of this was throbbing in my head from early last week. I kept adding and deleting lines to it, not wishing it to have negative connotations. And, yesterday I came across these lines from Yann Martel’s Life of Pi, which gave me the impetus to finish it:

The reason death sticks so closely isn't biological necessity – it's envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly, losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud.

Dichotomy

Dichotomy was one of my favourite words when I started learning this language seriously in my mid or late teens. I used look at it in the dictionary without really being able to grasp the essence of it. So, this word never came into my (don’t know everyone who aspires to write may be having a wish to use a new word he/she comes across) writing.


Recently, it struck me again; I was talking to a friend and out of the blue he asked ‘how do you sustain your cheer?’ (people dealing with me closely do know that I’m not always cheerful, I become sad, depressed, angry and even vicious sometimes), I just said ‘it is my normal state, I don’t do anything special for it.’ Still, the look of enquiry was in tact on his face, so I continued ‘look at the bigger picture, be grateful for what you have, be focussed, try not to think of things that are beyond your control etc. etc.’


Then ‘dichotomy’ resurfaced from somewhere inside, whatever I said was opposite to what we are conditioned to think ‘live in this moment, here and now’. In fact, we reverse the thought process of ‘here and now’ when the individual moments become miserable, fooling ourselves that everything will be hunky-dory once these miserable moments pass. Basically, we are just expected to carry on even if we are miserable in this moment or the future looks bleak.


Isn’t this the real essence of ‘dichotomy’? Which no dictionary can explain...


A similar post is here


I wrote the poem Lost to use the word oblivion.

On Life Without Limits by Nick Vujicic

I have done this write-up for the next issue of Success & Ability.

Your smile becomes the most important weapon in your armoury to survive in this world when you possess a deformed body (let the political correctness be set aside for a while). Anyone born with severe physical disabilities maybe aware of this fact subconsciously as I was, but it struck me or came to the fore into my consciousness when I saw Nick Vujicic's picture on the cover of his book 'Life Without Limits: Inspiration for a ridiculously good life'. I have been staring at his face for nearly a month now, sometimes straight and sometimes guiltily from the corner of my eyes as he was lying on my table and I was doing something else instead of reading his book. Coming back to the smile; it dawned on me that the smile on his face conveyed that he was normal, accessible and happy despite having no limbs.

Nick was born with Phocomelia (born without limbs), and who went on to become world renowned public speaker spreading the message of hope and faith among the down trodden and less fortunate in the slums Mumbai and Cairo, and to the far flung regions in South Africa and Indonesia. 

I have not read many biographical books about disabled people as I feel I would have to relive my own life through that person's story as there are always some universal similarities in such stories. So, you have to brace yourself first and even take a break when things become overbearing.

The other thing, Nick being a motivational speaker, takes the tone of one while writing this book, believing that every reader who has taken up his may be feeling low or depressed and seeking to change his/her life for the better as he writes in the beginning; To wish for change will change nothing. To make the decision to take action right now will change everything! Initially, we (those of us who have casually picked up the book to read an interesting life story) may find it difficult to plunge into this book so to speak. It becomes easier once we get used to the tone.

Nick begins his story right at his birth, about how his mother refused to see or touch him out of shock. Nick's mother who was a nurse and a midwife at that was worried through the pregnancy period of her first born but the doctors had allayed her fears and even the Ultra Sound Scan reports hadn't shown any complications. His parents had started talking about this when Nick was a teenager and had started prodding them about his birth.

Nick's childhood was normal as it could be with two younger siblings and number of cousins. He was an adventure loving kid and had even learnt to be in an upright position by thrusting his forehead to the wall. He goes on to say that however confident and determined he was externally, doubts and dark thoughts always haunted him in private. He used to pray to God every night for a miracle and hoped he would have at least one limb when he woke up. But obviously that never happened and the depression led him to attempt suicide by drowning in the bathtub. This phase was but temporary as people around him (mainly his parents) made him realise that his birth was according to the plan of God and that it had its purpose that would be revealed to him one day.

Nick, an Australian of Siberian descent had migrated to California, USA with his family for the better medical facilities there, realised that he was good at public speaking as a teenager when he started seeing what positive impact he has on the members in the audience.

'Life Without Limits' is structured very thoughtfully with the foundation of optimism, hopes and dreams leading to attitude of gratitude and in the end realising one's life's purpose.

A book's purpose is supposed to open a new world to the reader and Nick Vijucic opens up a 'ridiculously good world' with his book, whatever your faith or beliefs are and fills you with positivity.

One more attempt in fiction

Full of possibilities....

Uncouth

He was literate according to the official statistics because he could write his name in his mother tongue and even in English using Capital letters. This was a thing to be proud of when you know that there are millions around you who used thumb impression wherever their signature was required. And, he took small pride in it. Economically too he had brought his immediate family a few notches higher than the people of his group, sending his three children to school and college, earning and investing in enough so that the children would inherit his legacy in equal proportion without any major disputes. His calculations for life and thereafter would have made any Chartered Accountant unashamedly become his disciple.

House of Cards

Life is always on I'll teach you a lesson son! gear, especially when you are feeling least vulnerable or feel a little high on confidence about tackling a situation (because you've been through similar things before and got out nearly undamaged in the past). It isn't about a warlike scenario or some extraordinary circumstances that I'm talking about, sometimes even going through your daily functions when you are at peace with yourself leave alone cheerful (oblivious of the fact that something may go wrong). This is the time it strikes; a bolt from the blue ( as the cliché goes), virtually pushing you to the brink.

You may have put a lifetime to train your mind to tackle such situations smoothly. But,at that moment everything seems to be falling apart like a House of Cards. Your faith, your belief just evaporate.

Eventually you survive, regroup, maybe a little bruised, maybe scarred. Because, you are programmed for self-preservation and to cheerfully continue the charade. 

Practice

A few days back I made a long face in front of an online friend using emoticon saying that I wasn't getting a sentence as good as I wished. She reassuringly said: “you'll get it, just keep trying.” Next she typed something like “you don't practice, if you practice daily it'd be lot easier for you.” She meant writing (or should I say typing), I know every writing manual or 'How to write' book says: “put away a few words daily – Practice.”

But, I never paid heed to it. Being lazy to type, my excuse being, writing is just an extension of thinking. So, as long as I can think I can write. And, thoughts are rumbling in my head throughout the day or to be precise until this laptop comes in front of me, then more important things sprout up seeking my attention, checking emails is the foremost. Then looking for friends online and telling Hi to few of them. The list goes on like this, and the actual writing rarely happens, sacrificing the thoughts that glowed during the day in the subconscious as being mundane or pedestrian not deserving the effort to be typed out and shared by the night.

Here is a glimpse of the Master Writer Marquez's take on practice in the beginning of his book Strange Pilgrims.

When I began Chronicles of Death Foretold, in 1979, I confirmed the fact that in pauses between books I tended to lose the habit of writing and it was becoming more and more difficult for me to begin again. That is why between October 1980 and March 1984, I set myself the task of writing a weekly opinion column for newspapers in several countries, a s a kind of discipline for keeping my arm in shape. Then it occurred to me that my struggle with the material in the notebook was still a problem of literary genres and they should really be newspaper pieces, not stories. Except after publishing five columns based on the notebook, I changed my mind again: They would be better as films. That was how five movies and a television serial were made.

My friend BG sharing similar thoughts on his blog here.