Nine to Five

O nce upon a time, when I was young(er), the tiny world around me was religiously devoted towards the preparation for the rest of their lives. Plans, charts, objectives, desires and goals. They sought ‘stable’ and relatively popular educational options, following the trail of many ‘successful’ people. I, on the other hand, stood my ground, refusing to ride the bandwagon. I had my qualms about jumping into a world full of engineers and doctors, not that these professions are not alluring, but they did not intrigue ME at the time. As a child I never had one favourite subject. Each year heard me declare my love for one or more subjects. Science, language, mathematics, history, fine arts, performing arts, have all held me in rapture at one point or the other. For far too long, I had planted one foot on the ground, while the other on a boat, strongly threatening to float away. And then, I decided to dive. Letting the waves and current lap me up in their flow, I felt like Gu...

Are you/ were you at some point an avid reader?  Then you must have  quipped "the book was better" more than once. As a dancer, I learnt early on how one expresses with every tiny gesture. With a pen in my hand, thick sheets of paper underneath, being able to put words to my expressions makes me feel alive. Maybe my eyes do tell a story, but its often the ink that intricately elaborates it. Words, thus, are an insight into an author's life. Written pieces, even the smallest sentence, of pure fictional origin, somehow draws its first breath from its writer.  The pen is fuelled with ink dipped in experiences that left the writer's soul parched or inspired.  If you are nodding your head, or agreeing to this someway, then the rest of the blog would be much relatable. If you have any questions, you may turn back or continue to read with skepticism surrounding every word henceforth.  If writing, the act of creating narratives from an expression or idea, ...

Have you heard of date on skype?  Well I have one, ever so often with my family. Recently, I 'Skype-d' with my grandmother and she just couldn't get over the image of me sitting in front of her. Well, almost in front of her. Amazed, she asked my mother if my video was a pre-recorded message. Her amazement multiplied when I started a conversation with her. 'Just like on a phone but with video', she exclaimed! My nephew on the other hand, sitting in her lap seemed very comfortable with my digital presence. He started an online game with me as if this was as good as us prancing around the house with his action figures and bat-mobiles. I could start telling this story with the usual 'once upon time', for it feels like fairy tale. A tale we've lived and forgotten so easily. I should begin at the beginning. When I was still a child. My cousins and I used to write to each other, especially during the vacations. I remember waiting weeks for the lette...

Saturday morning, 10:30 a.m. I walked down the library aisles, looking for food for thought. From a corner shelf, the word "Foundation" caught my eyes.  I couldn't believe it. It was the same edition, the same cover in shades of orange and red. The author who had catapulted me into science fiction. Isaac Asimov... As i opened the book, i crumbled to the floor and was soon lost...  We, humans, are essentially emotional beings.  We rely on our emotions to guide us through the various experiences we go through.  We are hoarders of memories and love to keep piling on the stock every now and then .  More often than not, we run back to this rather large, infinite castle and feel "nostalgic".  If you were to close your eyes now and rush back to one such event, what do you think the walls will be made of? Well apologies for the building association, it seems to be an educational hazard (architecture has ruined me for all other professions...) Wha...