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.
  

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.

[This review is part of Reader Cosmos Book ReviewInitiative] 

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.

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.)

   

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

'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 12^th 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 .