Monday, 9 June 2014

Immortalizing Maya Angelou




The thought of being a stranger to Maya Angelou and her works, all these years, throttles me. And, I know, if it weren’t for her death, I would’ve still been a stranger.  

Thankfully, Vidya Sury’s insightful post on her, made me realize what I had been missing all these years: about 7 autobiographical books and many more books on poems.

A life well-lived, despite hailing from a broken family, despite being a victim of child abuse, despite being a madam and a prostitute, despite all odds stacked against her, Maya led a meaningful life and wrote meaningful books.  “I know Why the Caged birds sings” being one among them.

Sadly, she is no more. But I wanted a piece of this magnetic women in my blog. A pic, a quote …anything that would help me remind me of her every now and then. Anything, which would help me immortalize her in my memories. And what better to immortalize her than to recount her awe-inspiring quotes. 

So, here goes my favorite ones:









There are so many of them, that it became almost impossible for me to narrow down to my favorite one.  But this one caught my attention and set me on a thinking trail.
 
“To grow up is to stop putting blame on parents”


― Maya Angelou, Becoming Myself: Reflections on Growing Up Female

I’ve been blaming my parents for all the wrongs in life. I know there’s an expiry date to blaming them. But for me it was an easy way out of my misery. But after reading this quote, I felt, how wrong I was in holding them responsible for all the emotional upheavals in my life.  It's high time that i take charge of my life and emotions and let not the small ups and downs of my life disturb the mental balance of my parents, let alone mine. 



John Green, in his book "The Fault in Our Stars says,“You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect.” However, i couldn't agree with this amazing author's take on language. For me language resurrects, helps immortalize the people we love, in our memories forever.


  



 
Write Tribe Wednesday Prompt: To elaborate on Maya Angelou's quotes.
  

Sunday, 18 May 2014

Love @ Airforce


On seeing the cover page I thought: Oh! Now even the Airforce officers are writing books. But as soon as I opened the book to read the intro, I realized that I was wrong, for the book was written by a Maths teacher and not by an Airforce personnel. Yes, this debutante author Gaurav Sharma is a Maths teacher who has done this extraordinary job of publishing a book.(Uff, when I’ll come up with mine, the whole world seems busy writing.) 

Talking about the book, the author has done a good job, given that it is his debut novel. The characters, JCO Awasthi, and his wife Divya; Wing Commander Dr.Shabd, and his married love interest, Soumya; Soumya’s husband, Wing Commander Shandilya, and Dr.Sharmistha are all well fleshed out. Kudos to the author for attempting a subject he probably was unfamiliar with : The Indian Airforce and discrimination faced by its non-commissioned personnel’s at the hands of its officers (or does he have any relative in the force, whatever the case may be, the R&D that went into developing the story is appreciable.)     

Story: Wing Commander Shabd Mishra is in love with Soumya―a girl whom he loved since his school days. But sadly, Soumya is already married to some Wing Commander Shandilya. JCO Awasthi, common friend of Shabd and Soumya acts as a middleman and is trying his best to instill some sense in  Shabd, by repeatedly requesting him to forget Soumya and get married, for he considers it immoral to yearn for a woman, who's already married. But, Shabd has turned deaf ears to Awashi’s requests. What happens next? Go ahead, and read the book. 

My 2 cents
This is was the first time I read something on the Airforce, and I liked it. But the problem with the book is, I wanted to fall in love with it, I wanted to fall in love with the story, as I always do, but ended up liking it. Who does not love A GOOD BOOK HANGOVER? No, I didn't get that from the book.

So,what I am saying is, the plot is average, but the flow is good. There are punctuation errors here and there, but the overall language is good. And yes, there are big words generously sprinkled all over the book. So, do sit down with a dictionary or a notepad to jot down these words. In my case, I jotted them down. Whenever, time permits, I’ll look for their meanings (doesn’t the general rule of writing say that use smaller words instead of the bigger ones?)

Go for it if you love Indie fiction: because, my mantra is to read everything that hits the market: Good or bad. I give it 2.5/5.
A complete TIME-PASS book.

I thank the author for a copy.

Wednesday, 5 March 2014

Finding inspiration within me and around

I am a quote addict. i will always have one on the desktop and one at the workstation. Quotes simply inspire me to work harder and a little more harder. But there are times when i get fed up with them as well and love to laze around and sleep the whole day. But then guilt pangs surface and i back at my lapi looking for a new quote to charge up my doodling spirits. The one quote that i chanced upon recently was by Marie Curie.

Here's it goes.

There are times when i doubt my writing skills. In all those uncertain times i seek refuge in this quote. Everyone is gifted with something, she says and one must persevere and above all have the confidence to achieve that thing at whatever cost. Truly, one must go after one's goals with a steely resolve and give all that we've got to achieve it.

No Arms. No Legs. NO WORRIES! (just key in these words in google to find a video of this amazing man)
I saw the pic of Nick Vujicic in Ahmedabad Times a decade back and since then this pic has stayed in the recesses of my mind. . 

 Nick has no legs and arms, but he has been able to inspire the world with his beautiful words. There is no adversity that can stop you, and Nick is the perfect example of that. He shares his happiness and motivates those who are constantly worried and dealing with life’s challenges in the most joyous way. 

I bring this man and his deeds to my mind whenever i have drowned myself in negative thoughts, whenever i'have drained of all my positive energy. 

If he can, why can't i.

Write Tribe Festival of Words 3 - Day 5 - Inspiring Stories





I too had a love story



I recently finished reading, "I too had a Love Story," by Ravinder Singh. Why should you read this book? Because it's author's true love story that met with a tragic end. And, yeah it's quite filmy. The flow is seamless, English is very Indian, and of course the bookworms can finish the book in one sitting. So if you love, love stories, though you may not be necessarily romantic at heart, and looking for a very very light read, this book is definitely meant for you. In fact, the whole box set by Ravinder Singh is a light read.

The box set contains 3 lovely love books.

1. I too had a Love story
2. Can Love Happen Twice
3. Love Stories That Touched My Heart

In midst of muttu's cries and smiles, i've managed to finish the first and the third and i am all eager to start with the second one. Talking about the third book, "Love Stories that Touched My Heart," the book comprises 24 love stories written by various newbie authors and edited by Ravinder Singh. It also includes a love story by one of our blogger friends as well. Guess who? Of course it has to be Dr.Roshan Radhakrishnan who blogs at http://www.godyears.net. This is one book that you'd love of all the three, given the variety it brings to the fore. All love stories are exceptional...some make you smile, some make you cry and some may leave you cold hearted and some are good enough to send a chill down your spine.

So what are you waiting for? Go get one for your shelf.
I'm taking part in the Write Tribe Festival of Words -3

Monday, 3 March 2014

Muttu and the Dim Light

 My Muttu

You have to see this to believe it!!!But for me it's a routine thing: to watch my baby chat with his dearest friend, the dim light, on and off. And I tell you, it's a sight to behold. My going-to-be-four-month-old, holds silent sign conversations with his dim light friend in his bedroom. He smiles. He chuckles. And goes huh...huh...huh...huh for a while, while communicating with his friend. Seeing him do this often, i've made it a point to include the dim light in all our conversations as well. Pointing towards the light i tell him more often than not, "muttu speak to the light, while i am filling your feeding bottle; muttu stop crying, rather share your grief with your light friend;  "muttu, look, look here's your light friend and now have your milk, and stop being so fussy and cranky." Of course, muttu obeys: he's too small to fall into the disobedience trap. In fact, i carry out the routine chores in the house, leaving him in the company of his light friend and muttu will keep staring and will keep conversing with it for quite some time...though this technique has not come to my rescue in the recent times. Anyway, be it dawn or dusk the dim light is always on in his room.

Post written as part of Freewrite for Write Tribe. (Both my kids are down with viral, so pardon me if i am unable to visit and comment on your blog posts.)

   I'm taking part in the Write Tribe Festival of Words -3

Saturday, 1 March 2014

When dreams turn real

She woke up with a start. Breathless, she found beads of sweat dotting her brows. A raw fear passed through her. Shaking herself out of the dream, she rushed to the washroom to get ready for the airport. Draped herself in a lovely yellow colored mulberry silk saree that hugged her picture-perfect frame perfectly; a black dot on the forehead and long silver jumkas that almost reached her shoulders followed.

The clock struck 3: Time to leave for the airport, she thought, as her hubby's plane would land anytime.

At the airport, passengers and visitors were running to and fro. There was a huge ball of fire on the runaway: airport officials were announcing of a crash landing.

The dream was unfolding right in front of her eyes: could she shake off this as well, she thought.

The post is part of 9-sentence fiction hosted by Write Tribe Festival of Words- 3

I'm taking part in the Write Tribe Festival of Words -3



Sunday, 23 February 2014

'Bloody Maths'

Oops!!! Did I just say that? But then being a dabba in Maths, I believe, this is the most apt and most honest word that describes my feelings towards the subject, SERIOUSLY. My Maths papers were always dripping with blood marks, sorry red marks, so much so that if you squeeze it, you’ll get enough red to fill an IV bottle.
 Hmm…Did you say, I am exaggerating? Huh! You should have seen my answer sheets.
On hindsight, Maths periods in school were ultra-devastating. The sight of the teacher in itself gave me heartburns, because I knew, once again, I would have no answer to her volley of stupid questions. In fact, i cherished those days when she was absent - haash chalo aaj jaan chutti.

However, I believe, despite my huge dislike for Math, I might have hated this subject a little less, had my Maths teacher being a little less serious-minded. (She was a devil in angels clothing.) When she knew that three-fourths of the class is weak in Maths, instead of throwing her weight around, she could’ve helped us by being friendly and innovating new methods of teaching us. But no, she thought she was right in being stern and serious and it was our fault and fault in our stars if we were not doing well in Maths.  (Perhaps, she took pride in the fact, that only the best and brightest could clear her question papers.) 

Damnit!!! How could she find fault with students when all that she did was scribble some formulas on the board and then go blah…blah…blah…about them. Hello mam!!!This is something that even a kid from 12th standard could do. Being a teacher, that too a Maths teacher, you should’ve been more careful and devised ways that made Maths seem less devious and easy to understand.  But no, you struck to your conventional methods and made life hell for us kids.

And yes, only my father knew how to put you in place during those PTA meetings. Was he not right in arguing with you, when he said, (no he shouted from rooftops for the entire school to hear), that when his kid could score good, better and average marks in rest of the subjects, how come she always failed in Maths. So, there was something wrong with the teacher and not the student. Of course, the Maths teacher used to go numb and dumb in front of my father. She had no right answers to my father’s relevant questions. Sadly, only when my father’s voice boomed across our  school corridors, were the only times she realized that probably she could do something to help me do better. But the next day, she was her usual self, ranting out formulas to the board. Hmmm…some people never change.    
                                                                    ***
Tenth standard prelims were just over. The teacher had summoned my father once again. Of course, there was no change in my Maths marks. AGGRRRRRR…SHE HAD LITERALLY PAINTED MY PAPER IN RED.

Who will talk down whom was the big question in my mind now? Will my father be the winner as usual, or my Maths teacher will have an upper hand.

Ohmigod…You won’t believe this.

For the first time in my schooling years, the Maths teacher and father spoke cordially. It was literally a bolt from the blue for me then. In face, all their seriousness had been swept off in thin air. My Maths teacher was in a jolly good mood and told my father that she had set the paper really tough, so all the red marks mean nothing. And since, I was able to reach the border line I am quite capable of scoring far more and better in the boards.

Her words seemed unbelievable to my ears. I stood there...simply stunned. 


The post is part of cadbury5Star contest held in collaboration with indiblogger . 


               


Tuesday, 11 February 2014

English Vinglish

Every human being should know two languages: the language of society and language of signs. One serves to communicate with other people, the other serves to understand God’s message.
―Paulo Coelho

Literally speaking, the world eats, speaks and sleeps English these days. And there is no argument here. With 67 countries using English as their first or second language, English automatically scores over Mandarin as the language of the society. It is the most WIDELY SPOKEN, most WIDELY READ, and most WIDELY WRITTEN language of the world, a language that's capable of single-handedly linking several nations together. In fact, going forward, Chinese will speak more of English than Mandarin, thereby becoming the number one English speaking country in the world.

Flags of English speaking countries

    
So, when Coelho spoke about language of society, in all probability, he meant English. It is no more considered an elitist language, but the language of a common man…language of AAM AADM in India...the language of the masses… a language that’s powering the growth of modern India.

The rise of BPO and KPO culture in India, in turn, the rise of urban middle class can be solely credited to increased use of English language. The city of Bengaluru is best known as the “The silicone Valley Of India” because of its ever growing English speaking IT populace. Little wonder, even Narendra Modi, BJP’s Prime Ministerial candidate, keeps harping upon the importance of English education in all his election speeches. 

For us Indians English is our second language. But some of us are so fluent in English that we can give any native speaker a run for their money. Many from affluent families have, in fact, ditched their native tongue and have taken to speaking English almost all the time: and I proudly proclaim that I am one of them.  I speak English at every given opportunity. Some people, including my dearest mom is not in favor for this. As she calls me: ANGREZ KI BETI.  But what I want to tell her is: "Mommy dear why don’t you understand that if i know the language what’s wrong in flaunting it, more so when English is being treated as the IT language of this century. Moreover, you made it a point to get me educated in an English medium school, so you too, in a way, acknowledge the rising importance of English across the globe.  So, then why bother me now."   

Why should you learn Queen’s Lingo?

    You become a part of the educated and sophisticated crowd. Your status gets elevated automatically. 

     Your confidence level shoots up and it positively contributes to your personality.

     You can earn your bread and butter with ease, what with IT companies coming up in every nook and cranny.

     You get to read the best of the books, from Salman Rushdie to William Faulkner.

     You can travel anywhere in the world for work and education as universe becomes a level playing field. 

Inspired by its growing importance and acceptance, all my non-English speaking neighbors have put their children in English medium schools. Though they are pakka Gujjus and can hardly speak and read the language, but these locals have not let these disadvantages deter their spirit. On the other hand, their steely determination to introduce their kids to the word’s most widely used language has inspired them hire tutors to help their kids cope with it. 

So if given an opportunity to go to UK for further studies, i look forward to pursuing English literature and creative writing; that too from none other than Oxford University. Yes, to be the best, you've to be among the best. Yours truly  being an aspiring author, a degree in English literature from UK, I believe, will help me polish my skills as a writer and probably will be my passport to international fame and prosperity. Considering the Queen’s Lingo originated here, I believe this is the best country to polish my English reading, writing skills.

About a year ago, I thought my English was par excellence, until one of my colleagues pointed out that I make silly punctuation errors. Okay, fine, I will work on it, I told her.  This colleague of mine is quite allergic to Indian authors and being an editor for a decade this female finds all Indian authors BELOW AVERAGE. In her words “the kind of punctuation errors these published authors make is really sickening. How could they? Indian writers are really pathetic in grammar, and that’s the reason why I don’t read them. I only read foreign authors”.

Point taken. For this colleague of mine,  grammar is the be all and end all of English. "Damn with the story" she says, " first of all, get your grammar correct." So of late, influenced by her pep talk I’ve started  Grishaming a lot. Mitch Albom and Dan Browns have taken  over Chetan Bhagat and Preeti Shenoy.  But then we do have good Indian English writers, and plenty of them in fact, who have made us proud on the international scene. These extraordinary writers of Indian origin  include Salman Rushdie, Jhumpa Lahri, Arvind Adiga, Amitav Ghosh etc, etc. And who’s the writer of  'A Suitable Boy? Ya, Vikram Seth. All these Indian authors have great  body of work to their credit. But one common thing that binds these authors is their foreign degrees. So, you see, they are not purely home bred authors. If it were not for their foreign degrees, I don't think these authors could have come this far. In other words, it is by virtue of their foreign degrees they could come up with truly great work of art that got them international attention and accolades.

So, if at all, I am given an opportunity to travel to UK on study visa, I look forward to studying English Literature and creative writing in the company of greats. Who knows if i am able to pursue this course, i  may even bag the Man Booker Prize, going forward. Ouch!!!Did i say that.


This post is part of Knowledge is Great contest being held on Indiblogger. 

Friday, 24 January 2014

Choice






"It's pitch dark outside; seems to be a forest.”
Ragini could hear her heart beat violently against her chest. It was now or never for her. The tyre couldn’t have chosen a better time to get punctured. Somewhere, behind the bushes she heard a tiger roar. Time was running out of her hands. She had a choice to make: become a wild’s animal prey and have her body torn apart, or be a prey to her kidnapper’s animal instinct and have her dignity torn into pieces.

Ragini jumped out of the car and ran toward the jungle wiping away her tears.


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Saturday, 18 January 2014

Chotu Dada




“Me...I'm CHOTU DADA.”

“Ah!!!… What? Chotu Dada?”

 “Hmm…that’s an interesting name?”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes?”

“Ah!!! I've been named so by my friends." And I too think they've given me an interesting name, probably because of the job i specialize in?”

“Oh!!! So, you've undertaken a job as well."

“Yes, protection of Sonu, Monu, Shambu, Tina, Meena, Rohan, Sohan who live on streets against beggar mafia goons.” 

“Oh! “Protection of kids living on streets against beggar mafia.” That’s a great job, you are doing.”  

“Ya, and, please don’t go by my looks.  I am ferocious creature, though I am only 2ft tall, my jaw can beat a tiger’s jaw hands down, my nails can be likened to a cat’s, my athletic skills can make a Cheetah jealous, moreover, I am more cunning than a fox could ever be.”

“That’s a great combination of varied skill sets. I am impressed.”

“Now, can you elaborate on your job a little?”

“Why not. My gang consists of 6 members. All ferocious and dangerous like me. We can easily nose beforehand, any trouble that’s about to brew on the city streets. My street friends can manage their basic needs easily. But what bothers me more is their security. Beggar mafia groups are lurking around every street corner. So I and my gang members have to be on high alert and protect our friends from them. Once they fall into their clutches, you know what they’ll do to them. They can maim them, blind them and then turn them into beggars in no time. I don’t want my friends to go through these suffering. You people have done precious little about the safety of street kids, so me and friends have taken it on ourselves to fight these mafia people tooth and nail."

                                    X_________x____________X

P.S. - According to official figures, as many as 44,000 children fall into the clutches of the beggar mafia in India each year and of these, hundreds are deliberately mutilated. However, some charities say that the figure could be as high as a million. Most of the victims are under ten.


Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1127056/The-real-Slumdog-Millionaires-Behind-cinema-fantasy-mafia-gangs-deliberately-crippling-children-profit.html#ixzz2qnUGFRMg 

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Saturday, 11 January 2014

Hollow Love!



He was bald, bent and black;
She was brown-eyed, beautiful, but blind;
Love blossomed, despite the bothering differences.
Her blindness is curable, said the doc
She wept in joy; but he in sadness, for the differences might bother them now.



This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.



The White Tiger - Aravind Adiga

This Booker prize winner was on my bookshelf I don’t for how long. Attempted reading it before, but then dumped it because t...