Guess Who Has A Typewriter Now?

“You must write every single day of your life... You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads... may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.”
― Ray Bradbury

Oh God! 

Take a look at my typewriter. Isn't it a beauty?

I have been lusting for a typewriter ever since ever. And a vintage one, at that.

And look what I got this birthday? A beautiful typewriter. My joy knew no bounds when I saw it. 

As I sit in front of the typewriter and try to write, I couldn't fathom the number of typographical errors I was making. Little did I know Ms Word was making my job a lot easier. 

While technology has been making (and will make) our jobs feasible and more easier, the joy of holding on to the old fashioned methods of writing - the good old typewriters, a paper and a pen, and the smell of ink will drift you into a whole new world.

The best part is it reduces your typographical and grammatical errors too. More focus, eh?

Now, let us go back and look at that picture. Isn't it a beauty? 

http://site.xavier.edu/polt/typewriters/typers.html

Home: A Short Story

As the plane took off, I kept staring down at the country I was leaving behind. Momentarily or forever.

"I am going home," I murmured in disbelief. How long has it been? A good fifteen years?

Home. India. Home. Hyderabad.

The very thought of home made me wince. It brought back all the unpleasant memories of my childhood, the awful moments spent anticipating the worst to come, evenings spent aimlessly along the Necklace road, the lonely youth, and all the days spent with books and copious amounts of coffee.

I found home in a continent far away from home. I found home in a place called Pasadena which was familiar only on a map fifteen years ago. I found family in a place I never thought I would end up in. The unforeseen circumstances life puts us in.

On a rather sunny day, when I was taking a stroll back from a friend's place, I received a call from my cousin bearing the news of my father's death. I was to go back to Hyderabad, he said. I am the only son, he convinced. And, I am the final fragment of the family that was left, he warned.

I sit back and think of all the dreadful moments I have spent with my father. I cannot forget the fact that he loathed my mother all her life - harassing and abusing her, making her life a hell to live in. I was no exception to the terrible treatment. I received my share. Everyday. Every evening. I recollect all the moments I spent envying my friends who had fathers who went cycling and made paper boats along with them, read stories to them in the night, and had dinners with them. I was deprived of the tiniest joys and festivities. 

I loved my mother dearly. I recollect the days she would come to pick me up from school, wearing a cotton saree with vermillion on her forehead. As we walked from the school to home, her bangles emanated a joyous jingle. It was that sound that I missed the past fifteen years, the jingle that used to tiptoe into my room to check if I was asleep well in the nights, the jingle that surrounded me as she cleaned my room, fed me, and giggled with me.

I fish out my wallet and look at her picture. My mother. I murmur, fondly. 

As a reclusive teenager, I felt lost when my mother died. The pain was excruciating. My mother was the only person who understood me and stood by my side in the whole wide world, and I saw her burn and reduce into ashes in front of my eyes. I still remember the way my father behaved on that day and my abhorrence for him increased to a whole new level and that was the moment I realized I had to leave India and look out for myself.

A new country. Different people. Cultural difference. Demanding course structures. And the pain of losing my mother.

The past fifteen years passed on as quickly as a whirlwind without a thought of my father. I have studied, travelled, met interesting people, travelled a little more, fell in love, got my heart broken, got on with my life, and made decent amount of money. My house is a mantel of memories that brought me an immense amount of joy yet there was something that gave me restless nights.

Was it the forgotten bond with my father? Or the home that I left behind more than a decade ago? Was it the responsibility that I left behind selfishly? I never figured it out all these years, but may be, it was the guilt of leaving my father - a punishment that was too severe.

I have maintained no forms of communication with him, and I wondered how he led the final stages of his life. Surely, the surly old man would have reformed! He would have repented for all the mistakes he has done. I will learn everything about the last fifteen years tomorrow. I will make up for all the time. I said it to myself, more or less out of guilt.

But as I lean back trying to get some sleep, I knew there will always be a part of me that will hate my father. 

And, It Was A Happy Birthday!

“The cake had a trick candle that wouldn't go out, so I didn't get my wish. Which was just that it would always be like this, that my life could be a party just for me.” 

― Janet Fitch

I turned 23 this Wednesday and I had one of the best birthdays ever. 

But let me warn you, it is not an extremely great feeling, you know? Just a while ago, I was a teenager listening to heavy rock music, and I blink my eyes and whoa, I am 23 now. Just for the record, I do not enjoy heavy rock music any longer.

It is a little scary to know that you are growing older and all that. I know some of you won't agree with me, some will, and those big 3 0s would literally roll their eyes at me and say, look at us and talk, kid. But yes, whatever. I am growing old.

While I am enjoying the afterglow of my birthday and stuffing myself with more cake, I wonder if there is any difference in me when I turned 22 and now. I wonder if I have done something worthwhile in the past one year. I wonder if I learned something - useful or not. Have I gained any experiences?

The answer to all - yes, I have. And I know for a fact that I will keep getting better. Also, I am sure I will get even better by the time I turn 24. 

As I look into the past one year, I think of all the things I have done. I met new people, I made new friends. I have visited a lot of new places, watched good movies, read some wonderful books, ate a lot of delicious food, got rid of some toxic people and reunited with some good old friends, experienced euphoria, bitter sadness, experienced vulnerability and strength, I have written a lot of things, and earned the much coveted freedom from corporate slavery. Touchwood!

I made memories. 

And, I know for a reason that with every passing birthday, we will always have a handful of things that we have done and will remain with you. I am glad I too have them.

Thanks to everyone who were a part of my life, and are a part of my life. You all have given me many stories and I will keep building many more.

Thank you Anirudh, Asisha, Sugumar, Supadha, Haritha, Harish, Kiriti, Amrutha, Anwesha, Suguna! You guys have seen the worst in me and let us just hope you won't see anything more horrible. The worst case scenario factor has reached a saturation point, right? And let me not forget, you guys are all part of the big, major memories I have made. 

Here's to growing old, feeling utterly weird about your age and all that, getting busier with your lives, partners, losing touch with the moronic side of the youth and oh, the carelessness. This too shall pass!

IT WAS ONE HELL OF A BIRTHDAY, PEOPLE!

A Way Back Into Love: A Short Story

She watched him as he tossed and turned in bed. His eyes closed, his brows creased, a tiny ray of light from the table lamp danced on his dimple. She wanted to run her fingers on it. 

She looked at him. She looked at him and wondered how things have been changing between them. She thought of the days when her world entirely revolved around this man. She looked at this man, and reminisced all the memories that were spent on the streets, goofing around, falling more and more in love.

She sighed and looked at him, and asked herself, "Is he a stranger now?" 

She put her book away, and turned the light off. 

Yet another night was spent staring at the ceiling. 

The next morning, she woke up to see the other side of the bed vacant. Unoccupied.

She panicked, and rushed out of the bedroom only to find him in the kitchen, making some coffee and whistling a joyous tune. For a moment, she felt she had lost him forever, and the very sight of him made her smile like a child.

He turned back to find her staring at him intently.

Coffee? 

Absolutely!

It rained whole night, leaving them without any choice but to stay indoors. He hated the rain unless she was with him. He hated having coffee unless it was with her. It was a day of his exceptions and even if he was happy, he did not give it away.

As he set the table, she looked at him, something snapped within her and couldn't control her tears any longer.

"Things have changed between us. When I could not find you beside me this morning, I thought you left me for good. I was scared that I would never see you again," she blurted out indistinct words in between her sobs.

He took her arms into his.

"I have spent innumerable sleepless nights going through myriad thoughts. I do not remember at what point of time we started drifting apart, but we did and both of us failed to notice it. 

I miss all that we were, and all that we could be. I want to go back to what we were. Small steps, baby?"

"For you, a thousand times over," she said and squealed in joy. 

"Oh, how I missed this," he knew what he had to do now.

He absorbed the silence around them. He looked at the raindrops dripping on the window sill. He listened to the music that was softly playing in the head. He closed his eyes, and smiled his glorious dimpled smile. 

They found a way back into love!

Of Lost Love, Forgotten Emotions!

“When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.” 

― George R.R. Martin

Sometimes, in a world full of a million people and their zillion dreams, we all drift into a moment where simple things mattered. The moments where we had boundless love, memories that were actually moments, sweet sense of joy, and bitter sadness that held us together.

Lost love. Forgotten emotions. Bittersweet memories. Nostalgia.

It is quite astonishing how the long talks about serendipity, love, heartbreak and the metaphors cannot justify the ethereal feeling of lost love.

While the memories are long gone and the pain has faded, I can still write about the lost love. Fondly!

Love is like a bowl of freshly made ice-cream. An ice-cream that has the best of cream, chocolate chips, and sprinkles. It has an aroma that reminds you of all the best moments in your life.

On a beautiful, rainy day, you sit in your favourite cafe, and savour your bowl of ice-cream. You enjoy it without thinking about anything, and when you finish it, you keep craving for more. Lost love, it ends in a fleeting moment, breaking your heart away, it makes you lose your senses, and after all the pain, you still crave it.

Emotions! So much for being a human.

Lost love, you leave a part of yourself there, and walk out in the storming rain, and this is when you cannot stop thinking about the repercussions, the dire consequences, and oh, the gory future.

You take time. The pain eventually fades. You smile. You are happy.

You take some more time. The pain completely fades. You laugh. You are infectiously happy.

But on odd nights, you hold a glass of whiskey in your hand, and reminisce all the good old moments where simply things made your life beautiful. As you listen to your favourite track by Coldplay, and swoon over Chris Martin's magical voice, you think of all the little moments that made your life alive and pink.

Lost love, amidst all the grandeur and morbid details of life, you made sense. You keep us, the hopeless romantics, emotionally alive. Even when everything makes us numb, the tiny detail of you makes us squeal in the night.

And it is strange how you still make sense in spite of being lost for an eternity!

Oh, Please, No Relationships!

“I mean, if the relationship can't survive the long term, why on earth would it be worth my time and energy for the short term?” 

― Nicholas Sparks

Long gone are the days when lovers would make everlasting promises, vows of their undying, unfathomably immortal love. 

Long gone are the days when a man and a woman wrote letters to each other, distance never mattered, and no problem was bigger than their relationship.

We are in 2014 now. Welcome to the world of commitment phobia!

While you all are free to roll your eyes, I would like to present a closer, and to be precise, a much clearer picture to you.

The man:

It is indeed a challenging phase for a man to make a woman fall in love with him. He will possibly do everything to impress her, he will ditch his friends momentarily and spend all his time, energy, and talent on wooing the girl.

He will travel twenty kilometers to get her an ice-cream because she has a craving. 

You look like you have been bitten by the Aphrodite. You are perfect. (Oh come on, even Aamir Khan isn't perfect.)

I will do anything for you, you are worth every risk, he says. I will make sure you never shed a tear, you will be treated like the most precious thing, he says.

There you go, the woman falls in love. The following two months are so ethereal, they are SO Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts that you might wonder if your life was based on your favourite romantic comedy.

If only life was a movie!

Reality hits you, son. 

You want to crawl out of the relationship so badly that you want your gorgeous one to drop dead. You want to go back to the days of being single, where a beer can with your guy friends gave you more joy than the supposedly most beautiful woman in the world.

All of a sudden, you want your life to be Indian Jones. And not some filthy romantic comedy. 

Love eventually fades, you say that, and you walk away. It is alright to be selfish.

You deserve better things. It is not you, it is me. (If she was so good in the first place, why would you let her pass?)

And then, you turn into a freak who becomes notoriously serious about career overnight. *Slow claps*

The woman:

I have no clue why the world says that women turn prettier and rosier when in love.

We basically don a pair of rose tinted glasses and go oblivious to all the things happening around us. In a relationship, a man and a woman function differently. 

In the initial stages of a relationship, while a man showers a woman with an obscene amount of attention, the woman does not. And she turns insanely, neurotically obsessed with you in the later stages, and the man simply wants to play FIFA or whatever with his male fraternity.

In the initial stages, you take an effort to dress up for your man, laugh at this eternally stupid jokes, and think he is utterly intelligent, and sometimes, you tend to give in to men with an IQ way lower than yours. 

Happens! You've put on your tinted glasses, didn't you? You did not just turn almost blind, you have turned deaf as well.

Days pass, and you regain your wits little by little.

You don't dress up for him any longer. Yet, your whole world orbits around him. How ridiculous is that? You do not give him any space. You scare him off.

You have a problem with everything he does. His jokes turn lame, his habits annoy you. 

My love has not turned obsolete. I need to save the relationship, you say it yourself and to that best friend between tearful sobs.

You give another shot at trying to reform the man. The poor soul does almost everything to turn into an image that he is not. Because he loves you, and your obnoxiously self centered habits do not annoy him yet.

Finally, you break up with him saying he is not the man you fell in love with. CLASSIC!

Why don't you just save yourself the heart-ache and avoid this eternally messed up thing? For we are in the era of commitment phobia where we let go of our relationships because of petty things which would not have mattered to lovers decades ago.

Disclaimer: Folks who are leading the fairy tale love story, this post isn't for you. The earth is still revolving around the Sun because of awesome people like you. 

Should You Sell Your Dreams For A Lucrative Corporate Job?

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” 

― H. Jackson Brown Jr., P.S. I Love You

You remember how as a child you would dream, dream to do wonderful things, and as you grow up, you cling on to these dreams, hoping one day you will achieve all those innocent dreams you have had as a child.

Sadly, reality comes into the picture when you turn into an adult. The dreams you've had as a child eventually fade and sometimes, you give in to the pressure that is thrusted upon you by your parents, family, extended family, and oh, how can I forget, the neighbours. 

You have mortgages to take care of, bills to pay, and you know, the dream of turning into something awesome takes a back seat. You are confused! Questions like "Painter? What will you earn? Ten cents? Not everyone can become a Pablo Picasso, you know", "Why can't you become an Engineer? Software industry has a better prospect", "Musician? You should get an MBA degree from an Ivy League." become a part of your life. And as much as you want to chide the people who confuse you with questions like this, you cannot help but agree that they are realistic too. Aren't they?

Should you sell your dreams for a lucrative corporate job? is a million dollar question that we twenty somethings face almost everyday. 

Dear parents, we are clueless too. We want to chase our dreams. We want to be a Jane Austen, a Pablo Picasso, a Bruce Springsteen. We want you to understand that we want to stand out and as much as absurd it sounds to you, we do not need riches. Practically, we all need money. Yes, we all do. But we are struggling here, trying to voice our opinions, and yes, we know the repercussions of not taking up a software job. What can we do? Our childhood dreams haunt us. They do not let us sleep in the night. They remind us of what we are and what we can become.

Oh, we totally understand that neighbour aunt's elder son is an investment banker and has a swanky car in his garage. We admit it, we cannot afford it. Not for the next ten years at least. But we are alright with it. 

So the next time you ask us how we would manage our rent, we want to ask you few questions too. When will we find time to travel and gain beautiful experiences? When will we meet intriguing people like us? When, just when can we do major goof-ups and blame our juvenile phase for it? When will we fail majorly and learn all the lessons? When will we fall in love and experience a heartbreak? When will we experience anything, just anything that is remotely different from what we are doing?

Not all of us here are meant to work under corporate honchos, and turn cynical by the time we turn 30. Not all of us here want an Audi. Not all of us here want an insanely ludicrous bank balance. We are happy to live our dreams. We are happy spending our life creating something beautiful. We are infectiously glad doing what we are meant to do. If we spend an eternity living your dreams, when should we live ours? 

We want to take a leap of faith, and is it too much to ask you to believe in our dreams? Because we are wired differently, and we believe in the beauty of our dreams.