The Girl on the Train

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You know that realization when you read the first few pages of a book and you feel the protagonist is just like you? Every characteristic of them reminds you of a trait you have. That's how I felt when I started reading Rachel Watson's story. But the feeling soon changed. Her character progressed to be more muddled, raw and messed up.

The Girl on the Train is a smooth, easy read. Racy and engrossing. The climax grips you. Makes your heart beat faster. Just like a thriller should be.

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Remember...

That man whom you see in the same lift as you every time you take the lift to your office floor?
That girl in the metro whom you notice standing at the same spot near the window every morning?
That old lady whom you always find singing to herself when you are out for a run in the park?

Those familiar strangers. We all have a list of them. They all take up some space in our mind, in our thoughts, even if it's just for a couple of minutes a day. We try to imagine their lives. We construe their stories. We cook up their quirks. We relate to their mannerisms.

Rachel Watson did the same. She was just like you and me. Her only mistake - she stretched this seemingly innocuous habit into a frustrating, annoying obsession. Conceiving stories around strangers. Imagining herself in their stories. Fighting hard to be a part of their stories. In the end, it messes up her life even more.

Moral of the story? Sometimes, it's better to be strangers. We are meant to stay strangers in certain stories.

I met a timekeeper

I met a timekeeper.

As I climbed up the steep steps of the clock tower and entered the top chamber, he welcomed me with a smile.

The pride in his eyes preceded his age.

The stories he had were far in number than the wrinkles on his face.

The job he was proud of even 40 years later.

Below him lay a market brimming with people from around the world, and he sat separated from the cacophony in his chamber, manning and winding a 105-year-old clock.  

Yet, the smile did not leave his face.

Yet, the solitary job did not dull his warmth.

Yet, the years gone by did not leave him bitter.

A Wall of Fog

Image source

He opened his eyes as he felt something solid under his feet and tried to gain balance. It was like someone had picked him up, and plopped him gently on the ground. Now eyes wide open, it did not seem like a normal ground. It didn't seem like anywhere he'd been before. There was an eerie silence, and yet his ears were ringing. The ringing that he felt after listening to loud music constantly. In front of him was a wall of thick fog, the kind that he experienced every winter; but this time he did not feel cold. 

Gingerly, he took a step further, hoping to see what lay on the other side of the fog. But it continued with him, it was like a tunnel, not dark, yet not lit up. He kept walking. With no recollection of time. With no memory of how long he had been walking. "Is it a dream?", he wondered, looking at his hands. And a shiver ran down his spine. His hands looked the same, yet weren't like his. The jagged lines had smoothed out. The calloused edges had eased. The ugly scar, just below his right thumb had faded. Instinctively, his hand moved to his forehead, fingers searching for the stitches, which he presumed would still be raw. But all he could feel was smooth skin. No pain. No stitches. Flustered, he shook his head to break away from the dream, closed his eyes and turned around.

"Take a deep breath."

"Count to five."

"It always works." 

He willed himself, opening his eyes. But, he was still there. Amidst deep fog. He continued walking, knowing that the dream would eventually end. Until he heard his name.

He blinked and the fog had disappeared. And in front of him, stood an old gentle man. Gentle, the first thing he thought of looking at the man. His kind eyes. His warm smile. His soft voice. Calling out his name. He responded, "Where am I?"

"In transition."

"Before I get to choose between heaven or hell?" He chuckled.

The old man smiled. "You don't get to choose, because there is no hell or heaven."

"Then why am I here?"

"To answer one question."

He sighed. Eyes expectant.

"Who would you be?", the old man continued. 

"If they wipe away your work?

If they strip you off your talents?

If they seize all your possessions?

If they take away all your money?

If they un-changed what you have changed?

If they take away what you have brought?

If they destroy what you have created?

If they forget who you are?

Would you still be you?"

The old man's kind eyes were piercing him now. Probing for an answer. He held out a glimmering shard of glass to him. "Look into this mirror. You will know the answer."

He took the mirror in his hands. The razor-sharp edges not hurting his fingers. Taking a deep breath, he held up the mirror in front of his face. The mirror reflected a thick wall of fog, instead of his reflection. In the mirror, in his own reflection, he did not exist. He had ceased.

There's a story.

Cinemagraph source

There's a story. Look around.

It's hiding in the corner. It's perching on the window sill. It's snoozing on your bedside table.

There's a story. Think back.

In the deep recesses of your mind. In that summer from long ago. In that fight which made you burst into angry hot tears.

There's a story. Listen up.

In the giggles of the girls crossing the street. In the sniffle of the old man smoking a pipe. In the sound of glass shattering and echoing across the house.

There's a story. In our solitude. In our union.

In our memories. In our future.

There's a story. Within you.

One or maybe a dozen. You could be the hero in a few. A villain in some. And just a stranger in the rest.

You and me. Each of us. We all have a story.

So...

Dust off your notebook.

Dial up the number.

Knock on the long forgotten door.

Open up.

Share your story.

Someone is listening.

Why I Write.

How sometimes words resonate with you, tug your heart and make you feel as if the writer wrote them especially for you.

"I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say."

- Flannery O'Connor 

Word.  

That strange thing called LOVE

Source: Tumblr

When I was a kid, the first definition of love came from the movies (read SRK movies). Even if he was the bad guy, I believed his love was the right kind of love. And then came the books, the Danielle Steels, the Nora Roberts, the Eric Segals, the Nicholas Sparks, the Cecilia Aherns, it goes on. And then when I began grasping English movies, it was more of Nicholas Sparks, Disneys, Pixars, and it goes on.

Every movie, every book, dripping with love, soaked in mush, drizzled with tears, twisted, construed and shaped the definition of love in a new way. There was everything. Young love. Old love. Long distance love. Disastrous love. Comic love, Emotional love. Mismatched love. Rich love. Poor love.

When did we start referring to books to talk about true love?

It's made up, isn't it? It's the writer's definition of love. It's a play of words.

And with the zillion definitions of love, came a zillion conditions.

It's not love if he can't call you every morning.

It's not love if she can't cook for you every day.

It's not love if he goes out with his friends.

It's not love if she doesn't give up eggs for you.

It's not love if he doesn't say I love you every day.

It's not love if she stopped dressing up for you.

When did we start talking of "unconditional" love as something unique, something elusive?

I've never heard of conditional love. I doubt if anyone has.

What led me to this speculation was a recent conversation I had with a friend. She was a little miffed with how movies showcase over-the-top, too-good-to-be-true, too-illogical-to-be-real kind of love stories. All I could say to calm her down was, "It's fiction. It's a fictional love. Don't let some movie or book define what love means to you. Find your own definition. Create your own definition."

P.S. I am still all for sappy movies. Will continue to be.

Bring back the memes (Or what they were called in 185 BC)

Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed? 

Preferably closed.

Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel?  

Only when I really like them.

Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out?  

Tucked in.  

Do you like to use post-it notes? 

Not so much. But I'd like to own post-its in a 100 colours (*hoarder alert*)

Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees?  

Bear. 

Do you always smile for pictures?  

Always, unless I'm making a face.

What is your biggest pet peeve?

Grammar. Mouth odour. Grammar. 

Do you ever count your steps when you walk? 

Jeez, they have apps for those kind of things!

Have you ever peed in the woods?  

Yep. As a kid.

What about pooped in the woods?  

Ditto.

Do you ever dance even if there's no music playing?  

Yes. But the music IS playing, in my head.

Do you chew your pens and pencils? 

Not anymore.

What is your Song of the week? 

Pehli baar (Dil Dhadakne Do) 

Is it okay for guys to wear pink?  

It sure is!

What is your favorite food? 

That will be a separate blog post. Thanks for the idea!

What movies could you watch over and over and still love? 

ZNMD, Rock On, The Notebook.

Were you ever a boy/girl scout?  

Yes.

When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper?  

Would writing a letter on a card count?

What is your usual bedtime?  

I'm a nocturnal animal.

Are you lazy? 

On weekends, yes. On weekdays, sometimes.

Photo only for dream visual reference. 

R.E.F.R.E.S.H.

Just what this blog needs. A refresh!

Probably a zillion things have changed since the last time I posted something here. A few things still remain. My love for writing. My love for books. 

Who do I blame for my absence? *cough* My job.

A job that I love. A job that gives me new experiences quite regularly. A job where I get to indulge in my love for writing. 

So how ironic is it, that the same job leaves me with no time for "personal" writing?

So, this is an attempt to revive my blog, to take out time for personal writing, to fall in love again with blogging!

Amen.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane - A Review

Though it's been a while since I finished the book. The feeling that you get after having just read the book has faded, but before it gets completely wiped out, I want to put down what I felt about the book.

You know as a kid, the secrets that you shared just with yourself, the stories that were just for your mind, the dreams that only you could see, this book reminds you of that. The feeling of safety and security, that your dreams give you, that the voices in your head give you, how it is sometimes greater than that given by the people around you.

Simply written, this book gets over before you know it. You know, when you like a book so much, that you find it ending sooner than you wanted it to. The book gifts you illusions. You swim in fantasy. You live with the boy. You run along with the boy, away from the demons, towards that safety. You wish that darkness would end. You shiver in the rain, shudder with the thunder. And then you wake up. The world's bright and clean again. You are safe. You are content. You know you are being looked after.

Neil Gaiman has this wonderful flair. A way with words that makes them utterly beautiful to read. And then ponder. One of my favourites by him:

Things I can't do anymore*

1. Listen to cassettes

2. Fit into school uniform

3. Give a written exam

4. Carry snacks from outside into theaters

5. Take naps on weekdays

Images from pinterest.

What I have learnt in my 20s

The title says it all. Someday my kids (and their kids) will read this. Get inspired. And have the best 20s ever.

Oh well, scratch that. I'd be happy if they survive happily enough.

What inspired me to write this, apart from the fact that I am in my 20s were the sad, depressing lists of "what to do in your 20s", "what not to do in your 20s", blah blah blog posts that have been making the rounds on the internet. Okay, I get it, you made mistakes. You were dissatisfied about how your 20s turned out to be. But dolling out advice like meet 4 good people, change 2 jobs, have 3 mentors, THAT is just sad.

Here I share a list of what I have learnt/am still learning in my 20s. You are free to learn from it. Free to disregard. Free to disregard and come back later and say, you were so right! And you are free to help me extend it.

1. Travel. Travel often. Don't wait for college to get over. Don't wait for holidays. Don't wait to get your entire group of friends together. Travel wherever possible. Near. Far. With two friends or ten. 

2. Enjoy college. Really enjoy. Fall in love. Make friends. Be good to your friends. They'll be with you for life. Ensure that they have good stories to share with your children.

3. Don't regret choosing whatever course you end up doing. In the long run, it's the experience and education that matters. Not the qualification.

4. Begin saving up early. It's a habit that takes ages to develop. The sooner you start off, the richer you'll be.

5. Learn when to say no and when to say yes. If it's an adventure, say YES. If its something, you'll have to take to your grave without sharing, say NO.

6. Be good to your parents. Talk to them often. Call them up often. Share what you feel. They might not always understand. But they'll be glad that you shared.

7. Don't get a tattoo too early. Wait out the urge. Wait until you have the perfect design. Believe me, it will take time.

8. Live in a hostel. Live with roommates. Live away from home. It teaches you a lot. You learn to appreciate your home and your family. You learn from the new people you live with. You learn to adjust. You learn to change. You learn to try new things. 

9. Don't give up on someone if they don't agree to your reasoning/philosophy/outlook. Even your closest of friends will have opinions that differ from yours. Differences don't make people wrong, they just make them different. 

10. Avoid judging people at every step. They all have had a different upbringing. They all have had a different battle to fight. Behind every behavior is a reason. Try to find that reason.

11. Don't be embarrassed about your parents. Or grandparents. Add them on facebook if they send you a request. Appreciate if they comment/like your photos. Little things about you make them proud. It may not be a big deal for you. But it is for them. 

12. Read. Read often. Experiment with all kinds of genres. Start working on your personal library. Avoid ebooks. They don't smell good enough. 

13. Learn to enjoy your own company. Head out alone. Go shopping. Go for movies. Go for coffee. You have no idea, how handy this practice can be.

14. When something looks/seems too good to be true, more often than not, it is actually too good to be true.

15. Age is never ever proportional to maturity. You can find a mature soul in a 15 year old. You can also find a juvenile in a 35 year old.

Note: All pictures are from pinterest.com and do NOT belong to me.

When?

When do you stop giggling?
When do you stop dozing off with a smile?
When do you stop acting like a child?
When do you stop being elated?
When do you stop loving surprises?
When do you stop hoping?
When do you stop dreaming?
When do you stop living in the moment?
When do you stop trusting?

When do you start complaining?
When do you start being paranoid?
When do you start dreading the morning after?
When do you start loathing?
When do you start tolerating?
When do you start surrendering?
When do you start giving in?
When do you start giving up?

There is a thin line. A very thin line between when we start and when we stop.

GROWING UP.

It will be big and scary.

It will be real and thrilling.

It will cut old ties.

It will build new connections.

It will give bruises and scrapes.

It will heal old wounds.

It will fade old memories.

It will create new stories.

Images from: here

And the Mountains Echoed

Something was amiss. Like one of the characters in the book, Pari who feels something was missing in life... I felt something was amiss in the story.

Khaled Housseini is a brilliant writer. He has a way of describing relationships, depicting people so vividly... with all their varied nuances. It makes you feel like you know the characters personally, it makes you feel what the characters feel. I had picked up the book, "And the Mountains Echoed" with as much conviction.

It had a lovely beginning, but somewhere along the middle, it got all got disarrayed. At times it made me feel like I was watching a poorly edited film, where it gets confusing to know which is the past and which is the present. In the book, there were certain characters who were not talked about in detail, while certain characters who weren't a actual part of the story were discussed at length, making me wonder why. But then again it's just my perspective that I share here.

As I finish this book, I miss that feeling of warmth, friendship and family that had enveloped me after his last two books. I was waiting for an echo, but even after the turning the last page, there was a lull.


Images from here and here.

A little something...

They say you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams. I say, reality is better than your dreams when you finally figure out what you love to do. And if at times work gives you sleepless nights, its worth the effort. 

As a kid I dreamt a thousand dreams. I wanted to be a hair stylist, a fashion designer, a dancer, a software programmer and what not. Today I am glad I am not any of one them. Life hasn't turned out the way I dreamt it would. And I couldn't be more glad.

p.s. A post after months. Phew. *dusts away the cobwebs* 

Image from here.

The Plan (A Story)

 “I have planned it for the 21st of next month; I think that’ll be enough time for you to prepare.” Imran said, ticking a few points in his planner.

“Okay, I am sure, I’ll be done with the arrangements and booking by then”, Aman nodded.

“All the best then”, Imran smiled, “I’ll be looking forward to see your work”.

“Thanks, it is going to be a wonderful experience working on this.”

“Thank you for your time.”

They stand up and shake hands. Aman takes a leave.

A few tables away, two ladies are sitting and talking:

“He assured me, he can arrange everything by 21st November.”

“That’s perfect, you’ll have enough time.”

“I hope so.”

“Don’t worry dear, it’s going to turn out perfect”, Ramya assured Zara.

“I hope it does”. She smiles nervously.

Ramya’s phone starts buzzing.

“Hey, I need to take this call. You order for me, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Alright.”

Imran was nervous. For the first time in his life. He’d never planned something this big for someone so close to his heart. He just wanted it to work out. He took out his tab to check the next appointment, relieved to know that there was only one left for the day, he put it down and looked around the café. It appeared to be busier than usual. And then his eyes fell upon her. He could make out the eagerness in her eyes. It had always been easy for him to read people’s faces. But this face seemed a little different. It wasn’t that of a stranger. He knew how those eyes would look when angry. He knew how the lines would form on the forehead when she would think something serious. His eyes moved to her hands.  There wasn’t any ring on her finger. He felt he knew how those fingers would tap the table when anxious, and then…

She tapped her fingers on the table and scrolled through her cell with the other hand. Why had she started feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden? She looked up to glanced around. As her eyes fell on the table at the right, she met with two eyes staring right back at her. They each held the gaze for the same time and then looked away.

“Hey did you order for us?”, Ramya asked, hurrying up to the table.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I got lost in my thoughts and forgot.”

“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll have to leave. Ash is caught up with work, so I will have to pick up Rehaan from school. I’m so sorry to cut it short”

“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to apologise.”

“Do you want me to drop you somewhere?”

"No, I think I’ll stay here and have a coffee before heading home.”

“Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow then.”

“Yea, Bbye,”

“Bye.”

He went up to the counter and ordered himself a coffee. While waiting for the change, suddenly he smelled a familiar fragrance. It made him turn and look at the side. And there she was again. Talking away cheerfully with the cashier.

Without planning, he blurted out, “Can I join you?”

She is a bit taken aback, “I think so”.

They find a table and sit down.

After a few minutes of silence and coffee sips, he asks her, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Neither did I”

“So what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I’m going to meet mom in the evening, and you?”

“Oh, I have a meeting in an hour”, he looks at his watch “and I better be leaving now”.

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight.”

Smiles, hugs and kisses. They leave. Separately.

Making sure he’s not in her sight anymore, he takes out his cell and dials a number. She hails a cab, open the door and gets inside. Takes out her cell and dials a number. 

 

“Guess what dude, I’m going to propose her!”

“Mom, I found you a son in law!”

Images are from here and here.

Meme musings

 When bored, what better way to while time than answer random questions! :D

1. What do you think about your handwriting?

• Looks good on sunny afternoons
• Is as grave and gray as the rain clouds
• Is seemingly fluid like music
• Looks like it just came out of the grave 

 Looks good on sunny afternoons!

 

2. Will you ever try bungee jumping from any of these places?

• The Eiffel Tower
• The Leaning tower of Pisa
• Mount Everest
• Burj Khalifa
• Grand Canyons

 

I'd fancy the Eiffel Tower.

 

3. Which of the following animals do you want to be in your next life?

• Shark
• Alligator
• Saber Tooth tiger
• T-Rex
• Elephant

An elephant!

4. Which of the following professions attract you the most?

• Bartender
• Cruise ship commander
• Navy Seal
• NYPD forensic detective
• Chef
• Advertising Media professional
• IRS executive
• Lawyer

 

For all the stories they get to hear.

5. Do you believe in life after death?

• Yes
• No

 

Well it does sound fascinating!

Questions are taken from here.
Images are from here, here, here, here and here.