Dare

#D

The future belongs to those who dare to dream. But what does it take to dare do something? Sheer courage. Most of the times, our fears are greater than the real problems itself. When I was a kid, I was lonely and did not have many friends. But when I wanted to make friends, I was scared. I was scared if my classmates would accept me or even include me in their circle. I was afraid of big groups because I assumed successful kids were those who studied well. Little did I know that just daring to dream would get me connected with everyone even if I faked the relationship.

I devised a method. I skipped my classmates and made friends with my seniors. This, gave me a sense of social acceptance. Subsequently, my classmates learnt that I have already been acknowledged as a successful kid in popularity circle and accepted me heartily.

But until then I was on the apprehension confinement and dared not take the first step towards climbing my success ladder. I had low self esteem because I imagined that only studiousness was the way to making friends. But I detested studying already and thought I was incapable of anything, destined to be a loser. This is a small example to what daring can help you do.

There is nothing in life that cannot be acquired when you dare to do whatever it takes. Many at times hurdles come in the form of family, friends and financial crunch. But there is more than one way to a skin cat. Find an alternative to the means that you take to get what you want. The key to this is staying positive and never giving up on yourself. If you want to handle something in a particular way, envisage the reactions to your action. Plan how you can do it better. This way, daring will never sound as terrorised as the word is meant to sound.

When you dare to do the right things that you want in simple things, you will eventually learn to dare to do bigger things in life. Are you daring?

Comfort

#C

Comfort is that state when you are as immersed as gulab jamun in a jeera like state of affair. It sounds delicious like the jamun and luxurious like it's texture. But do you remember that jamun is a perishable item and needs to be eaten within a span of time?

Same is life. If you stay in your comfort zone and do not attempt to move out, you would either be forced to move or perish. But coming out of it isn't as heartening as staying inside. What should one do to undergo transition?

Start different things, the fun way. In comfort zone it is easier to experiment small things than falling into the sea and learning to swim. For instance, if you have been spending your leisure reading Facebook jokes, may be you can spend a part of that time in reading books or newspapers. If you've been walking everyday to exercise, take the extra effort to experiment yoga or Zumba. After all, you will be benefitted because of this.

Remember, it is not always comfortable to stay in the comfort zone because some day when the storm howls and you are thrown into the ocean, it is easier to grapple if you already know swimming than fighting for life and learning it the hard way. When you are gifted with comfort, it is only the span to equip yourself for tough times in life’s circle. Make use of it and come out successful. 

What is your comfort and how are you going to make use of it? Tell me about it.

Blog

#B

There is something fantasizing about blogs just like stamps. Peoplewhom you have never known before visit it and comment on it. I startedblogging in my first year of under graduation. My first post was a fantasy story. My luck, it got published in a book soon. 

There is more than just that about blogging. The pleasure of writing is duly rewarded both by acting as an archive as well as getting feedback. The exciting part is that strangers whose real identity is also unknownget to pass by your life through their comments. That awe of totally unknown person dropping by, is inexplicable.

As a child I used to write and show it to my classmates. Again my luck, they were all very appreciative of it and encouraged me more. I got my identity through my poetry. I felt unique and proud of it. I was still an average person. Little did I know that this quality wouldlead me into an interesting career. My undergraduation was engineering and I detested it all along. My solace back then was blog which
incepted even before orkut. Being a blogger gave me a ticket to theworld of writers and encouraged my writing.

Today, I'm out of engineering and a successful journalist. But blog was my first published platform and I'm happy that I'm still keeping it alive through this challenge. Some pleasures in life dont need grandeur. It is solely dependent on self satisfaction and blog has fulfilled that desire throughout. Thanks to google!

Abandon

Here begins my #AtoZChallenge again :)

#A

How does it feel when someone turned you on and left?
- Switch

Do you know what it is to feel abandoned? Truth is, you do. Because no one ever has crossed life without being at least ditched by one person whom you knew. And, all of us would have either deliberately or inevitably avoided someone who knew us. So, what is the dharma behind ignoring and getting ignored? Let's separate this into two parts.

First, getting ignored. Why do someone have to ignore us for no fault of ours? Do we deserve it? There is something called ‘sonder’ which means everyone have their personal space and life, miles apart from yours. You are not their priority and integral part of another’s life. This truth is not easy to take as it slaps you hard. To grapple with such a situation you should make yourself as interesting as possible for the maximum time you spend with in your life is yourself. Cultivate exciting hobbies. Learn new ones and keep exploring your likes. Make friends with yourself and stand independent irrespective of how people around you see you. Your self esteem has the power to influence what others think about you. Don't be too much guilty for your mistakes and chide yourself for faults. Rectify your mistakes and love yourself more than ever.

Second part is easy to handle except for the guilt. Some importunate or innocent soul probably counted you their dearest and you had to avoid them because you were not comfortable with that person. Remember the sonder rule in getting ignored. It's okay to pass on bad things as you receive them, at least that could get you a feeling of balance in life. (More importantly don't forget to pass on the good deeds too). Don't hurt anyone, but politely drift away if that's the best for you. After all friends are by choice and your choices strengthen or weaken you. If it is strength that matters, you can very well categorise people as asset and liability without hurting them and letting go because ‘you’ should be your first priority and it is equally important that you don't hurt yourself as much as not hurting others.

Sometimes it is unavoidable to avoid someone but it is avoidable to get yourself irked. Be and do the best thing for yourself and make your tick mark with righteousness to know you are doing the right thing.

Beautiful Day

That feeling I get when I enter Valluvar Kottam High Road is something special. The smell of earth, that serenity even amidst a bustling road, green trees, shady roads and a nostalgic conscientiousness radiating like a magnetic field from my school in the next street take me back to old days when I used to wait at the Valluvar Kottam bus stop in my higher secondary. In fact I was introduced to Valluvar Kottam even before my schooling. My dad used to bring me here to feed me. Despite my attachment with my mother and detachment with father like most kids do, whenever I see the place, it makes me feel proud about he having been the primary parent in my childhood as per the consensus in our family.

As I entered the Kottam to report for an exhibition, I saw a number of handicrafts and jewelery stalls lined up ostensibly. While I gently lifted an unique ear ring, I came to know the expensive price. When the inborn quality of women is to shop, the second is to bargain. Chennai has been my home since birth but somewhere life here is based on a bargain. I followed the general ritual of bargainers by pretending to leave when the shopkeeper refused to budge with the desired rate and it worked just the traditional way. He accepted to sell his jewel for the price I asked. One such shopkeeper, when relenting, passed an innuendo on my face. He called me a miser. Ouch, that hurt! I hastily checked back my wallet and reassured that I had to save enough money for the travelling way back home and tried answering that remark with my South Indian Hindi.

                                    
Instead of defending, he tried to flatter me by helping me choose the best among those unique ear rings. I was confused if he found my Hindi cute or suddenly found me beautiful. Whatever might have been the case with him, I indignantly snapped the pair and hurriedly paid the cash I quoted. Without looking back, I hated for my second encounter with the unfair world of bargaining. I wanted to take an auto for a minimum distance! When it comes to plying by meter, auto men show high on reluctance meter. As usual I brought in my woman trait and convinced the third auto to accept cash for the minimum distance as stipulated by the rules. (Even that meant five rupees extra to the fixed minimum meter rate).

On my way to the railway station I carried my wet tissue everywhere searching for a dustbin, trying to be that good citizen who keeps her city clean. Accidentally, I mistook a green cupboard for a dustbin and was imminent to throw the waste there. Disappointed at the realization, I carried it back until I got down at my station and decided to add it to one of the junk pile lying on the roads. My scout for the next auto began but this time, I did not bother to bargain because the auto stand has fixed rate on their own terms and bargaining would only mean I need to walk all the way home without getting an auto to ride.

Tired over the evening’s encounter, I threw myself on the chair and sat glued to it until my alarm kept reminding me to water the plants. Filling up my hunger first, I quenched their thirst and hit the done button on my mobile alarm. As I unzipped my handbag, my heart leaped excitedly to look at the gorgeous jewels I had bought. It seemed like my days exhaustion had after all turned out rewarding and come to an abrupt halt. I put on that exquisite ear ring and flashed before the mirror. My unfair world suddenly evaporated into merriness and spawn an expectation to look forward to the day when I would be dazzling in those jewels. It made up my spirit and my day ended so beautiful.

                                      

Fire of Truth

She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf. The weather outside too was dismal. The dark clouds seemed to conspire the region as Erica's mind was filled with anguish and guilt.

Erica felt the queen in Starbucks logo smile at her insidiously. Was this all happening inside her head or was it a direful day that she was undergoing, she wondered. Her legs were quivering and her hands longed to rest but she dissembled calm and paid the counter.

Anjan would be waiting for Erica at the marriage hall as her bridegroom and their family were anticipating her any moment now. Even the police men might get a week off but not Erica, who was an ardent journalist. She was more committed to work than Anjan and today she was faced with a question of whom she wanted to marry, Anjan or her job.

Dressed in silk dhoti chanting prayers in front of sacred fire, Anjan's heart thumped faster. He did not know where Erica was. He had assured his parents about her punctuality for the marriage and they were forced to trust him. Their relationship had not been a bed of roses. After five long years Anjan had convinced his parents to get married with the love of his life, a Christian girl. Rosy aunty had succumbed to her daughter's wish after her wild behaviour when she was refused marriage with Anjan, a brahmin boy. If things went awry today, they would forever lose their parents' trust.

'Would I alternatively get married with a random girl from the marriage hall if Erica doesnt arrive like in most movies how the bride gets married to a random guy if the groom fails to marry for some reason?' pondered Anjan. His mind paced rapidly and went into a blur just as the smoke from the fire blurred his vision. Tears were flowing from his eyes, he did not know if it was due to fear or physical irritation that it was all happening.

Erica knew what integrity was but her blood stained scarf narrated a different story and she was mired in a moral crisis between her profession and marriage. Her long eyelashes hid the pain her pupil said, if only anyone strained enough to look deep into her eyes. Anjan would read it if at all there was time, enough time for them to unite before they tied the knot.

Erica was a crime reporter but now, she might have been mistaken for a criminal by the police. They would have framed her as the accussed as the news would have already been making its rounds.

Several lights flashed as Mastaan Kasab lay on the floor in blood shed with his curly unkempt hair appearing like bees swarming his face and  blood splattered neck. The press photographers were already there and the reporters would not miss out a feather from the place. But did they know what had happened? Erica's mobile was switched off and she could neither reach out for help nor be communicated for clarification. She had not informed anybody about her sting operation. Would Anjan rescue her like the filmy heroes? She yearned to be in his arms but there was no time for pampering and she had to act, real quick!

'Come on Erica, pick my call, we are losing our game with the world that said we cant get married,' said Anjan to himself as the computerised voice informed him that Erica's phone was switched off and that she could not be reached. 'One last attempt and if it fails, I would face the music,' thought Anjan as he desperately dialled Erica for the nth time.

His heart leapt as there was a ring! The cell phone line connected and he was shouting like crazy in the middle of the loud wedding drums that were percussioned as a part of a marriage with no bride. He was literally facing the music and could not hear anything from his end. He didnt know if she picked the call to reassure her presence or let him down. He perspired even more as he imagined the large garland on him like a snake strangling him to death. He didnt know if he was anxious or embarrassed to face the situation but he had to go by the flow.

'Anjan was not just another man. He was a fighter, he would not let his girl go in deep waters,' prayed Erica. Going back to the marriage might get her arrested if she showed up. As Erica walked on the pavement in front of the cafe, the wind carassed her wavy hair and tried to teach her some tranquility even under the dark clouds of Chennai.

Caffeine had already given her some energy to revive the tediousness of the morning and awakened the nervous system of her brain. Kasab and she were not enemies in personal life. He worked as a shopkeeper in a meat stall at Kodambakkam. Inside his shop were meat of many kinds that people have never known he had. They were human meat.He was a child trafficker who used young girls for flesh trade and later killed them for pleasure.

Working for Freedom Today, the most popular neighbourhood newspaper, she had a nose for news especially in her area and she sniffed filth inside Kasab's stall. Posing to be a pimp, she visited his stall as his customer a couple of times and pretended to be interested in pedophile activities. Kasab promised her five teenage girls for a day for a sum of fifty thousand rupees at 8 am on Friday.

At first, Erica wanted to procrastinate the plan because it was her wedding day. But on a second thought, she felt that she could not risk the lives of innocent children for her wedding plans and she agreed to it. She had not taken the assistance of police because she knew that there were police officials too involved in this trade. She had to provide a trenchant evidence catching Kasab red handed and bust him with an exclusive child racketing story.

On Friday,it was a humid morning with the sun's fiery emitting early. Dressed in sexy blue shorts that revealed her finely chiselled thighs and frilly white sleevless shirt, well tucked in and extra tightened with a brown leather belt, she set out confidently with her stockings on. She had the cash ready. She had saved it for the past one month, foregoing a costly reception saree. She had everything that she needed in her handbag. In case, she was caught by any officials, she had her press card for identity.She stuffed the cash well inside the bag and put her pen, notepad and id card hurriedly into it as she left for the shop.

She didnt want to give out Kasab to anyone until she got to know all the people who were behind this plot.She checked the watch when she reached. It was 7.55 am and Kasab was eagerly awaiting Erica. In her usual pretentious husky voice for him, she enquired him about the girls. He seemed more than pleased to usher her inside a room. As Erica moved in to receive the girls, she was faced with a locked door. For a moment, she thought that something went wrong. She looked back at Kasab to learn that he demanded the cash first before she could see the children.

'Ah Kasu, dont you trust me?' she sweetly asked but Kasab did not budge. Tensed inside, Erica had to conceal it on her face. She swiftly opened the bag and swayed her hands into it in search of the cash. Hastily, she pulled out a stash and showed him for assurance. She did not realise the things that fell out of her bag during the act as she was keen about the cash. Her ID card slipped out and fell on Kasab's toe. Before Erica could notice it, it was too late and Kasab was already alarmed.

He slapped her arm and ran for his knife. Erica had no place to exit. She was trapped. In the wink of her eye, she was at knife point, imminent to get killed.She struggled to keep him from stabbing. Suddenly she remembered the nail cutter knife in her pocket and tried to reach it with one hand still fighting to keep away Kasab's knife. Writhing out of control she fell on the ground as she managed to pull out the nail cutter.

As Kasab aimed for her neck in more fury, she dug a scar into his bare foot expecting him to fall down. Contrarily, he stood firm but his aim slipped into a mark in Erica's hand and the knife fell accidentally. Picking upon the chance, Erica caught it before him and threatened to slash him with it. As an experienced butcher, Kasab could see from her face that she had no idea as how to even poke someone with a knife. He gutsily proceeded forward to grab it. Pchak! A streak of blood splashed on Erica's face as she slit Kasab's neck. Panick stricken, she was transfixed for a moment. Her senses reminded her that she was now a murderer and she had to escape. Hurriedly wiping her face with her scarf she wrapped the knife into it and got out.

The road was busy and an auto man was fishing for people to take a ride. She blankly got inside it and was shivering in fear. 'Where should we go ma'am?' asked the auto man. The immediate place Erica could think of was Nungambakkam. 'Starbucks, Nungambakkam,' she said with no idea what she was doing.

It was 11.45 am and Erica was lost in her thoughts, still standing on the pavement. She felt the police handcuffing her from the back, she let out a shrill but it was a woman in rags who looked like a beggar. Absent mindedly, she reached for her bag but the woman stopped her. She could see the police car rushing inside and froze. She was now cornered and had the only option to surrender. Erica gave up all hopes and stood still as the inspector got out of the car and approached her. 'I know.. But this is all.. all.. a misunderstood folly. I.. I..,' she gasped for words trying to explain in vain. 'Shall we go to our in law's house?' the inspector demanded. Erica could understand the metaphor for jail and broke down.

She was taken into the car to the nearest place. She bowed down in guilt and didnt want to face the police station. To her shock, her parents were standing! She almost fainted. When she opened her eyes, she was lying on the bed room, clad in a saree with jewels. 'Call out the bride,' ordered an elderly voice and Erica was ushered inside a hall packed with her relatives. Anjan was sitting in the middle looking tired before fire. But a strange kind of happiness was dancing in his eyes.Erica was ushered beside him and he lifted up the nuptial rope and gently tied it around her neck. 'This is definitely a dream and I have to know whats happening,' said Erica to herself but people would not let her go and she had to stay put until other rituals went on. After hours of chanting and other formalities, Erica and Anjan were finally declared married and let go inside a decorated room for their first night.

Erica could not contain herself. Her head was paining troublesomely and she threw herself on the bed looking confused at Anjan.

'When you tried calling me, I sent my brother-in-law Arun athimber to Kodambakkam, where you usually get stories from. Athimber called back to say that there was a murder and called for his friend George, the city commissioner. George rushed to the spot and investigated the people. There were cries from the meat shop and the police found children inside. They gave the details of their parents and informed that they heard voices from their room about a lady fighting with Kasab,' offered Anjan.

Before Erica could open her mouth to shoot her endless questions, Anjan interrupted again. 'Arun athimber is a secret CID agent. His office is also at Kodambakkam and he used to nudge me about your weird dressing and visiting of meat shop for the past few days. He had followed you till yesterday and I insisted him to stay with me today. But once I sent him for you, he cracked the case with his credentials and safely brought you back for marriage.The lady that the inspector brought along was the mother of a rescued child and she wanted to see her saviour right away. We might need to visit the station for their investigation and give out a testimony.'

Everything was in place now and Erica did not know how long she slept before she awoke for the sensational story she wrote for Freedom Today from the first person point of view. It was her biggest break and her colleagues were in awe about her guts.'How did you have the courage to do such a thing all alone?' her Editor asked. 'When you do a good thing for a benefit greater than for yourself, success is assured,' she replied as her face glowed confidently in the fire of truth.

Death

I havent given much of a thought about my death. I remember being taught by my Christian teachers at school that everyone should go to heaven when we die and I have aspired for it. My goal in life was set with my building interest in English. A lesson about Kalpana Chawla intrigued me to aim for the stars. Her dedication and passion for her work fuelled me to strengthen my goal and I yearned to become a journalist. When I was doing my masters, my first experience in reporting for a subject called journalistic skills, showed me the first taste of journalism for my thirsty aspiration to become a reporter. That night I could not sleep. I woke up my mother in the middle of the night and said that if I died that moment, my soul would rest in peace. But the desire to accompish more was much empowering than the contentment and I progressed.

I have yet not thought how I wanted to die. I asked my boyfriend how he wanted to die. Apparently, he too had not given it a thought. He vaguely said that he wanted to provide free amneties for at least 10000 people before his death. My idea of charity is different from his and I debated that charity should contribute towards one's development and not comfort with laziness. Abdul Kalam's death was perfect. He died peacefully and just the way he wanted. He advised people to dream, work for it and achieve it. Im sure he wanted to die while teaching.

Given a chance to die at work, I am not sure if I want that. But before dying, I know I have to complete the purpose of my span on earth by making a positive difference in another's life. I would not choose the path of Teresa and give out myself for service. Rather I want to be a good person to those who raised me and to my new family. Of course one cannot be a perfectionist but at once I have secured enough for their future and mine, I will give back to the society whatever I can and wait for god to reward me. When I die, I want to die a peaceful way like Kalam and yet be happy when my soul departs my body.

Kalam's recent speech at Shillong on the lines of knowledge which according to him is an integration of creativity, courage and righteousness rings a bell in me. I read an alarming quote somewhere that said that a successful business can be executed when u do it for a purpose greater than oneself. I want to go that extra mile to work and make others happy in the righteous way. That goal alone can make one successful. When you love unconditionally,it hurts.But when you work unconditionally, it rewards!