Savi Sharma's Blog, page 4

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Hiring: Creative Graphic Designer

Job Title: Creative Graphic Designer
 

Key Skills

Highly proficient in Photoshop, Illustrator and CorelDraw required.
1-2 years of relevant digital design proven experience in a digital marketing agency.
Photography & Video Editing experience a plus.

Job Description

Responsible for all creative work including marketing, print, mobile and web pieces from concept to production.
Development of digital collateral such as web ads, print ads, email marketing campaigns, banners, social posts, blogs, mockups and other digital collateral. This includes designing, editing, design print collateral as needed.

Job Location:

Surat, Gujarat

Experience:

1-2 years experience in Digital Graphic Design. Freshers may apply.

Send your Portfolio to hello@savisharma.com

Hiring: Author/Celebrity Manager

Job Title: Author/Celebrity Manager



Key Skills

Excellent written and verbal communication skills in English language.
Brand/Celebrity/Talent Management

Job Description

Author/Brand Management & Marketing
Social Media & Digital Media Marketing
Arranging & Scheduling Meetings, Interviews, Events, Conferences
Explore opportunities with brands for endorsements, speaker talks and sponsorships.
Work with Publisher, PR Agency and Brand Network.

Job Location:

Surat, Gujarat

Experience:

1-2 years experience in Digital Media Marketing. Freshers may apply.

Send your CV/Resume to hello@savisharma.com

Vivaan’s Travelogue – Full Version

The last two months have been crazy. Since I left India, I have seen so much of the world.

I started my adventures in China. I felt the burn of my calves as I walked part of the Great Wall and tasted food so delicious that my mouth was watering weeks later remembering it. The blue of the waters the Peacock Riverbed in Jiuzhai Valley reminded me of the skirt Meera wore the first night we met. I smiled at the memory and moved on to the waterfalls in the park, their thundering sounds nearly too much for my own thoughts to bother me.

I went to Tokyo next. The parks they have were amazing, there were zoos that are in them as well as lakes where people use paddle boats. I saw the sunrise from Mount Fiji and it was breathtaking. From my hotel, I walked to Yoyogi Park and later toured the Hamarikyu Gardens. It was such a busy city, and I was ready for a quieter stop next.

In Italy, I explored Mount Vesuvius, and later toured the ruins of Pompeii. It was humbling to stand in the excavated walkways of the ancient city and face Vesuvius. A shiver went down my back as I thought of the thousands that perished when the great volcano erupted.

I took a ferry tour around the Isle of Capri and remained frozen on the side of the ship as it circled the area. It was beautiful to see the island rising out of the ocean in front of me. I opted not to take the gondola ride to the top of the island, but enjoyed the scenery from below just as much.

I went to Alaska, and bundling against the cold that seeped into my very bones, I saw the aurora borealis. Shivering violently, I watched the haunting blues and greens of the northern lights dancing in the crisp air with only the snowy surface to reflect it. During the day, I saw animals and birds I never imagined could have existed. I was overwhelmed when I saw my first moose; there was something oddly adorable about the long-legged animals, but the sheer size of these brown animals was awe-inspiring. I couldn’t help but grin as one looked up from the bog where it was eating. The water draining from its mouth dripped off the vegetation hanging down as it munched contentedly. I focused my camera carefully, hoping to capture the sheer size to show… to show…

I shook my head, forcing her name from my mind, and turned back to the car that would take me to the airport.

I went to New York City because it was called the ‘Gateway to the World.’ The city was so busy, and it stayed open all night. Even in the early morning hours, cars were rushing by and during the day, the people were in such a hurry that they forget how to live all together. It was so bright with all the city lights there, that you cannot see the stars. There were just dark skies, there was no beauty of what I knew was hidden beyond the neon lights that formed a visual umbrella, lighting up and masking way too much.

I went to Battery Park and bought ticket to take a cruise to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. I enjoyed walking around Ellis Island, standing in the same place where more than 12 million immigrants passed through to live in America. At the Statue of Liberty, I trekked up the 377 steps from the pedestal to the crown. What a beautiful view!I thought, as I gasped for breath at the top of the stairs.

I splurged on a Broadway show and later visited Rockefeller Center. I could imagine the large Christmas tree in the winter. No matter where I went though, I felt like I was jostled by the throngs of people.

Meera would be too overwhelmed here, I thought, as I booked my next flight.

A quick flight later, I was in front of another thunderous spill of water; this one Niagara Falls. I walked out on the Prospect Point Observation Tower. As dusk fell, I sat on the cold concrete and hungrily watched the multi colored lights illuminated the rushing water.

The next morning, I donned a plastic blue poncho and took a ride on one of the small boats in that skitters up Niagara River to the bottom of the falls.

I felt the powerful engines fighting the currents in the river as we inched up to the falls. The roar was deafening, but I couldn’t hide the laugh of exhilaration I felt as the spray from the falls coated my face. The monsoons of India brought such a relief, but the force of the falls with the light, insistent spray was exhilarating. I watched several couples cuddling on the short voyage, their transparent blue hoods pressed together as they kissed or tried to make themselves heard over the roar.

I went to the Grand Canyon next. I wanted to see if it was as truly beautiful as I expected to be.

Truly, any photo could not do the view justice. It was awe-inspiring to see such an enormous cavern in the earth. I took a donkey ride to the bottom, loving each jostle as the donkey’s nimble feet picked our way down the steep paths.

Returning to the top again, it was nearly sunset and the view took my breath away.  It was as if a small child found his mother’s painting palate and mischievously slashed all different shades across a canvas.

Back on the east coast, I decided to spend a few days in Boston. After NYC, I wasn’t sure if I was ready for the press of people there, but I was drawn to the rich history of the area. It was one of America’s birth cities, and I looked forward to learning a little more about the culture.

I decided to take the subway to the Boston Common, a large park in the middle of the town. The subway was very confusing, but I found some helpful college kids who helped me navigate through the different colors and lines. Still, I was happy to emerge from the subway and stepped out onto Tremont Street, at the edge of the common.

There were people milling about, but it wasn’t overwhelming as I had witnessed before. In fact, everyone seemed very friendly. There were college kids lounging in the sunny grass, and people playing Frisbee. Walking by a playground, I stopped to watch an old man making balloon characters for the kids and laughed when he handed me a green dog. As I was leaving, a little girl popped her balloon and started wailing. I gave her my dog and was rewarded with a huge hug. I laughed. She smelled like apples.

***

I crossed the Atlantic on a red-eye flight, making my way to Spain. In Leon, I toured some of their breathtaking cathedrals. The paintings in the Basilica de San Isidoro were almost overwhelming and fleetingly, I wished I could speak with someone to get another impression on the medieval artwork. The next day, I pulled on a sturdy pair of hiking boots and started out on the Camino de Santiago. I knew I would only spend a few days on the famous pilgrimage path, but I walked during the days, taking in the beautiful wheat-swept fields during the day. One evening, I impulsively decided to sleep outside instead of taking shelter in a hostel, and woke up shivering violently as the dew settled on my inadequate blanket.

Finally, I sat in the Promenade Plantéea Park in Paris with an evening picnic of crusty bread and cantel cheese as I watched one of the most beautiful sunsets since I began my journey. It looked like the sun was bursting into the colors of fire and then fading into pinks, blues, and purples.

By far, Paris was one of my favorite places to visit. On a particularly warm day, I opted to tour the catacombs. The dreary underground burial chambers may have seemed macabre to some people, but I loved walking along the tunnels, knowing that I was in a location where nearly six million people were buried.

Back above ground, I played tourist, taking the long elevator to the Eiffel Tower. As the first elevator travelled the 115 meters up to the first and second floors, I felt my hand reaching out in excitement, only to realize I was reaching for air. Not finding a hand to hold, I was absorbed in sadness for a moment.

But then the elevator reached its destination and I got out. The view was magnificent, and being a long traveler, I was able to secure a small window table in Le 58 tour Eiffel, devouring a wonderful sandwich as I took in the scenery.

At the top of the second elevator, the view was breathtaking. It was odd; even though I was looking in the same direction, the vista seemed to expand the higher I went. Touring Gustave Eiffel’s office, I felt like anything was possible.

I loved touring all the different churches and cathedrals. Notre Dame lived up to its reputation for grandeur, and I was able to hear Emmanual, the cathedral’s 13-ton bell.

Of course, the museums were interesting, but I always found them too crowded for my tastes. I didn’t like to feel like a tourist.

But the parks… oh the parks. I was drawn to them, craving their wide, green spaces. Parc Monceau was one of my favorites. The layout was so random… a colonnade here, a miniature pyramid there. Then there is the Chinese fort and a windmill! The park was such a fun place to explore.

***

I was not done travelling yet, though. There were more places I was desperate to explore. My plane landed in Halifax, Nova Scotia and I rented a car. I heard people refer to parts of Cape Breton Island as the edge of the world. I wanted to see it before I returned to India. Later in the day, I crossed the swing bridge over the Canso Causeway and arrived on the island, smiling as the fog drifted around me.

The following day, I teetered on the edge of the cliff of a campground at Meat Cove, watching the surf pummel the boulders below me. The sunshine was comforting on my back, its rays wrapping over my shoulders. 

The air around me was void of human voices and any mechanical sounds. Here, at the northern tip of Cape Breton Island, I truly felt as if I was at the edge of the world. I look to my left, taking in the gentle slope that curves out of sight. It looked peaceful, but I knew the perception was false, and that the land abruptly fell off into the cold waters below. To my right, there was a small beach, dwarfed by threatening boulders above it. While the tiny area looked peaceful, the boulders peppering on the sand proved how treacherous the area was.

I was truly perched on the edge of the world.

I throw my head back until the sun at my back heats my upturned face. How long have I been running? I ask myself, finally giving life to the spark of loneliness that has been threatening to ignite. My mind combs over the last moments with Meera. If I closed my eyes, I could feel her lips gently brushing the tender spot behind my earlobe. Absently, my hand reached up to touch that very spot, but my touch brought no satisfaction. I needed her; I needed that beautiful, brown-eyed creature that I threw away.

At moments like this, I wondered if I made a mistake in leaving Meera. My chin dropped to my chest in defeat. All this travelling, all the breathtaking sights I’ve seen have been worthless alone. “Seeing the world,” I muttered, my voice foreign in my ears. “For nothing! I’ve been such a coward, running… for what? And from what?”

Absently, I threaded my fingers through the grass beside me, imaging the blades were Meera’s fingers. Willing her beside me. How selfish I’ve been. I wanted her, but I didn’t deserve to ever hear her soft laugh again. Not after I left her, walking out of her life without even saying goodbye.

I no longer saw the beauty in front of me. Instead, I conjured an image of my beloved Meera. She is sitting in her dark room, tears flowing hotly down her cheeks. Her hair was disheveled and her proud shoulders pressed down by the enormity of her sorrow. I did this to her.

I hear a tearing sound as the vista returns to my sight. I looked down and realized I was fisting a handful of grass, pulled by its roots in my own frustration.

I stood quickly, almost unaware of the treacherous drop off in front of me. In a more rational mind, I would be terrified of how easily I could plunge to my death. But I was not rational now. I was desperate to return to my car. The moment I realized I can only be truly whole when I return to Meera, the loneliness took form and pressed against me so I could barely breathe. I needed to find her.

Read the Book

Free Chapters – This Is Not Your Story

Prologue
For a moment, forget who you are. More importantly, leave behind who we are and empty out everything. Instead, just be me.
‘I never wanted anything from life.’
If I say those words, I would be lying. In fact, that would be the biggest lie of my life. I wanted, I have always wanted. I just never could bring the words out. My voice failing, my heart breaking, my soul shattering.
But, what do I really want in life?
I don’t know yet. So, I will tell you everything I wanted and still want. Today, I will be true; true to you, and most importantly, true to myself.
I … I … I want to live.
Yes. Not one but many lives in one lifetime. I want to write about myself and everyone I ever met, capture the essence of what it’s like to live. To be able to read everything beautiful and painful ever written and appreciate the experiences captured. All of this hoping to inspire and be inspired.
I want to learn and to teach. Yes, both, because I have had life-defining encounters that need to be shared and understood. Even so, I still have life-changing experiences, lessons to learn.
I want to give away everything I have. Yes, I want that and I want to begin again. To remind myself what it means to start over, to be back at the beginning of one’s life.
I want to eat and dress well, have a nice car and a nicer home. To be rich, famous and appreciated. The little things and the bigger things, I want all of them.
I want to be single and yet attached. Alone yet accompanied. I want to be everything and nothing, all at once!
I want Death to want me. He cannot take me, I want him to come when I have exhausted these lives I want to live and become! I want him to desire the enriched soul I will be!
I want it all; slowly, gradually, definitely. But is this all possible? Can one person be all these things in one lifetime?
I don’t know, but I certainly want to know.

FOUR YEARS AGO

Chapter 1

Shaurya
Jaipur
I was excited at the thought of sharing my dreams with my parents. My mom has always been a loving and gentle woman. A petite woman — far shorter than my dad and I — she was encouraging of what I did for the most part, and put my own wellbeing far above her own many times. Housework, cooking, and attending to me made her content. Her smile never failed to cheer me up, and the contrast she held to her husband, my dad, was like a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. She created warmth, and with a kiss she could cure a child’s injury without ever expecting a thank you for the miracles of motherhood that she performed.
As for my dad, he was an orthodox man in both appearance and action. He was a firm believer in letting things off your chest, but he was infamous for asking questions that made you second-guess your decisions. I would cringe at the thought of not meeting his approval in my choices and actions. The intense stare from those brown eyes would hit me, making me feel as if my belly was flopping down onto the cold, marble floor. His mouth would move with precision to slam me with questions to encourage me to think things through. I knew that this was his way of showing me he cared about my future, but his questions stripped me of creativity, imagination, and, more times than I could count, my dreams as a child and adult. His words fell from his lips in two manners: an elected official, or a priest.
Sitting across the table from him added to the anxiety wrapping itself around the joints of my knees and elbows. My mom’s spoon clacked against the pot with each scoop she served on the plates before us. She settled in her seat, and I remembered to breathe for a second. In my head I was trying to figure out how to start. Do I ask for their attention first? Or should I just blurt out my dream? No, maybe I should at least announce where I plan to go. My decision does require that I leave Jaipur, leave them far behind. The thudding of my heart made my chest ache; my palms were cold with sweat, and again I had to remind myself to breathe. Had I only taken two breaths since I’d sat at the dinner table under my dad’s watchful eye?
‘Mom, Dad.’ It had taken me weeks to build up the courage to make the announcement. ‘I want to go to Mumbai.’
The clanking of my dad’s silverware against his plate made me flinch. ‘Why on earth would you need to go to Mumbai?’
It was more abrasive of a reaction than I was prepared to face. The way his face reddened, the vein pulsing on his forehead and the sharpness of his stare cut me down with precision. He made it clear with his reaction that there was no reason for me to even think of Mumbai as a place I could go. Worse, clenching my fists under the table, I knew deep down the reaction wouldn’t improve when I stated why I wanted to go there. I managed somehow to cling on to my courage to survive that moment and carry on.
‘I …’ Swallowing, I pulled my courage back beside me before it could flee. ‘I want to go there and take a filmmaking course, become a film director.’
‘That’s no path for people like us,’ he grunted, and returned to the aggressive cutting of his food. ‘A career like that is all about luck. It’s a fool’s dream.’
‘And why do you need to go to Mumbai for that?’ My mom had paused in her own eating. ‘Can’t you take classes here in Jaipur? On the side?’
‘Mumbai has the best classes.’ I had locked eyes with my dad, sweat trickled down the side of my neck. ‘There are more opportunities to land a job afterwards in Mumbai as well.’
‘I see.’ My dad took a bite and chewed on it before continuing his interrogation. ‘Shaurya, have you considered the cost of living in Mumbai?’
It was one of the practical questions I had prepared myself for. ‘I am aware of that, Dad. In fact, I have been saving up for some time. My plan is to take the train to Mumbai. I have an idea of a few places within walking distance of the college I wish to attend, and —’
‘And how do you know this college will accept you?’ He lifted an eyebrow at me, another bite of food sliding into his mouth.
‘I have been building up a portfolio …’ I was losing my stand in the conversation. ‘The photos I have been taking, those have been for me to prove my artistic eye.’
‘With that old camera?’ snorted my mom. ‘But why on earth would a film college be interested in photos?’
I sighed, feeling like they were working together to spin me in circles. ‘It’s more than just filming something. You have to be able to tell a story, capture emotion, even in a single frame.’
‘And how many are you competing against for jobs?’ my dad took the reins again, laying his spoon down. ‘How many jobs are there? Are you sure you’ll be able to find one?’
‘There are not as many as …’ I stopped myself, rephrasing my words. ‘There are more jobs in Mumbai for filmmakers than anywhere else in India.’
‘You seem unsure about this.’ He went back to eating, as if confident he had redirected me on the matter. ‘You should start preparing for your Chartered Accountancy entrance, Shaurya.’
My chest tightened. ‘But, it’s not what I want to do. My dream is to be a filmmaker.’
‘I understand.’ A swallow from his glass, and then he cleared his throat. ‘Why mess with success? Why take a chance of failing?’
‘I …’ My words failed me and I found myself out of answers.
My soul was ripped away from me, and with it my courage. I stared down at my plate; my appetite had gone and the taste in my mouth was sour with the words ‘people like us’. I didn’t want to be a person like this. I wanted to chase after something that made me happy to wake up every morning. Was it so wrong to want to be something more?
Frustrated, I excused myself from the table. In the darkness of my bedroom I let the anger swirl in my mind. My dad had no idea what skill and talent was needed to become a film director. A fool’s dream? Wasn’t it foolish to be satisfied with a life that would not prosper beyond where it sits? To remain unhappy and miserable to the end of your days? My stomach twisted yet again, the idea of it all too nauseating to fathom. Becoming a filmmaker was no different from putting in the hard work and skills needed to become a CA. Being a CA — that was my dad’s dream for me. Not mine.
My door cracked open. It was my mom.
‘Shaurya, are you all right?’ she smiled, inviting herself into the room. ‘You barely ate.’
‘I lost my appetite after Dad trampled on my dreams,’ I said, glaring at her. ‘What were your thoughts on the matter?’
‘I have to admit, it’s a silly idea.’ She had the nerve to giggle at me. ‘You should listen to your dad. He’s a wise man, after all.’
Sitting up, my eyes ending the laughter, I warned, ‘One day, I will be gone. I will hop onto a train to Mumbai and chase my dreams.’
I meant every word. As many times as I’d gone to the railway station, I could have been gone from here. I lifted the black photo frame from the wall, removed the photo in it, and replaced the empty frame. My mom made a face, lifting an eyebrow at the awkward moment.
Laying back down, I hissed, ‘That will be my reminder that my destiny is an empty one. That my dreams mean nothing …’
She sighed and turned on her heel to leave as she waved a hand in rebuttal. ‘Stop being so dramatic, Shaurya. None of us ever gets to see our dreams …’
Chapter 2

Anubhav
Jaipur
Growing up in Jaipur was something precious to me. Jaipur is a wonderful place to start one’s life, amidst beautiful relics in the form of palaces, forts and even temples. Before our time, this was a place full of dreams coming true, and as a child, I wanted a piece of that.
My mom once asked me, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up, Anubhav?’
I replied, ‘A king of my own making.’
When I thought about it much later, it made me laugh to think of my tiny voice saying those big words; I didn’t even know exactly what they meant. I do remember that my dad got a good laugh out of it. But never did my parents say no or correct the thought. After all, I was only a child at the time.
Dreams of being in my own tower of power built from something I had worked hard at, I suppose, was a worthy goal in life.
‘Why Bangalore?’ When I told my mom I wanted to move for my studies, her face was showing her age by that point. I looked at her eyes, suddenly sad at the thought of my leaving.
‘Because one of the best colleges for pursuing MBA is there,’ I smiled, reassuring her that this was indeed something I wanted to do, where I wanted to go. ‘If I am going to build a successful business, then I should learn what I can from the very best, right?’
‘He has a point.’ My dad’s eyes squinted as his grin grew wider, pushing his wrinkled cheeks high. ‘We want the best for you as well, Anubhav.’
‘I …’ Tears danced in her eyes; she sniffled, gathering her words again. ‘I will miss you terribly, Anubhav.’
Taking my mom into my arms, I was thankful they wouldn’t keep me from going. ‘I plan to get my MBA and launch a startup company while I am there. Please say you’ll visit me in Bangalore.’
‘Of course!’ She pulled away, wiping the tears from her cheeks. ‘Know that you are always welcome to come home if things don’t work out.’
‘I hope you find everything you are looking for,’ my dad grunted, fighting back his own emotions. ‘Make me proud, son.’
‘I will. I know I will,’ I nodded.
A few weeks later, I caught the train to Bangalore and — without a second thought — left Jaipur behind to pursue a Master’s in Business and launch my startup venture.
~
Bangalore
Bangalore was an interesting place, not like Jaipur, yet reminiscent of Jaipur with large, towering skyscrapers leaving a sensation of modern palaces and temples. It seemed like the streets were crowded day and night. So much so, you wondered if the people there ever slept. They had their fair share of temples and relics, but they felt like weeds growing between the cracks of a brick road. Take a wrong turn, and you would find yourself in slums. The modern architecture there was amazing. You could find yourself standing in the streets, looking up in awe at the engineering needed to create a work of art people were able to live in, work in.
‘You again?’ The man blinked at me and came to stand by me, looking in the same direction I was, curious. ‘I see you out here all the time, just staring up.’
‘Does it not inspire you to see what someone designed, created from their imagination?’ I eyed the man; he worked in the building I was gazing at, though I had never looked any deeper than that. ‘And for you to work inside a work of art must be amazing.’
He chuckled. ‘I’ve never thought of it that way. It was always where I worked. I suppose there is a great pride to it, to be in this extraordinary building.’
A smile crept across my face and with great confidence I claimed, ‘One day I’ll have my own business and join you in there.’
He folded his arms and grinned. ‘Tell me about what you do,’ he invited. ‘I have a couple of minutes. I’d love to hear your story.’
My smile was bright as I took in his words. ‘I like that. My story.’
I gestured to a low stone wall a few steps away and we sat down together. ‘I have always wanted to be a successful entrepreneur. Although I am from Jaipur, my parents encouraged me to come to Bangalore to go to college and start my own venture.’
He nodded. ‘You are lucky to have such supportive parents.’
‘Yes, I am,’ I mused. ‘They gave me the courage to follow my dreams. I can barely wait to finish my degree — I have so many great ideas to bring to the world!’
‘You are a fortunate young man,’ he commented. ‘You have both courage and support. That is a powerful combination, because both feed off each other. As long as you have both those things, I know your path will lead you to success.’
His words were as powerful as a bolt of lightning. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I look forward to the day you and I can have lunch together in this building.’
‘For your sake, I hope your wish comes true.’ He glanced at his wristwatch then and said, ‘So sorry, I’ll be late if I dream beside you any longer!’
Personally, I liked the buildings in India’s Silicon Valley. Looking back later, maybe it was also the innovation of the businesses there that added to the curves and angles of the buildings. The outer shells of successful ideas decorated to match the greatness of the men and women achievers within those glass and concrete walls.
In this place, my creativity and determination were fuelled beyond what I could have hoped. The Amer Fort, where my parents often took me when I was kid, was far away, but in front of me were the palaces of modern man, ready for me to stake my own claim in them.
My dream was to be a successful entrepreneur, to become someone who could come out of my ordinary existence to bloom into something far greater.

PRESENT DAY

Chapter 3

Shaurya
Jaipur
The voices of travellers in the railway station washed over the platform like the murmuring of a river. To me, it was a numbing tone, much like silence. The red and yellow numbers flashing over the platform could not break me from the weight of my thoughts. They were nothing more than the pulsing beacons of the emotions wrestling with one another at the centre of my soul. Winter was ending, but it brought no cool breeze to make the long waits less agonizing as trains unloaded and loaded in screeching waves. February was being shy, keeping the last gentle cold fronts hidden and denying me the chill I should have been feeling at this moment. I weaved my way around the pillars and the occasional vendor, following the steps I had taken so often. There, as always on Platform No. 2, was an empty bench waiting, ever faithful, for me.
Sitting there alone, I was terrified and excited. The empty track before me would soon be filled with the metallic caterpillar promising to take me to a place where my dreams and ambitions could become reality. Stepping on board the train, I would be joining it on its journey, ready for the metamorphosis it had offered to so many before me. But my indecisiveness lay bitter in my mouth: was I willing to leave behind my parents — especially my mom, whom I adored so much — without regret?
All I wanted was the encouragement from them for me to reach for my dreams. Their responses, always in the back of my mind, brought on a drowning sensation now, and filled me with terror. Could I really leave everything behind? Would my life be happy without them there to share it all with? To bring a sense of pride to my parents and family would fill me with joy, wouldn’t it? It should, but the idea of it all felt so lonesome and cold. Perhaps, today, I might finally be able to move from this bench and into the next chapter of my own story.
‘May I sit here?’ A middle-aged man cut through my thoughts, making me flinch.
‘Y-yes.’ The loneliness of my situation was still biting at my mind, and I saw no harm in allowing him to join me in this isolated nook.
The man eyed me for a moment before he spoke. ‘This is my first time riding a train to Mumbai. How much longer will the train be?’
‘Twenty minutes.’ I didn’t need to look at a clock; this was not my first time at the Mumbai platform.
‘So, this is the Mumbai Platform No. 2?’ He looked around, seeming lost, staring at the yellow flashing signs.
‘Yes, you are on the right platform.’ Straightening myself, I pointed across the way. ‘That is Platform No. 3, where a train from Mumbai will arrive to unload. Here on Platform No. 2, the train going to Mumbai will arrive. If you intend to go to Mumbai, you are sitting in the right spot, sir.’
‘Ah.’ He nodded to himself, looking over the railway station in its entirety. ‘So, are you going to Mumbai as well, my friend?’
I opened my mouth to answer, but hesitated. Part of me was screaming yes, while the other half was shouting no. This bench was still holding me down with the chains of my frustrations.
Swallowing back my thoughts, I mumbled my answer. ‘Maybe …’
The man’s silence stung. Could he hear my thoughts? Could he feel my struggle between my life now and the life of my dreams?
‘Maybe?’ he repeated, a sense of surprise in his voice, but I said nothing. ‘What do you do?’
‘I am doing my CA, final year.’ My reply felt dry, but I was happy to change topics.
‘It’s a good profession.’ He was trying his best to change the mood between us, though I was not interested in brightening it myself. ‘Your life will be set once you clear it. When are your final exams?’
Sighing, I replied, ‘In three months.’
‘Oh! How many attempts did it take you to reach the finals?’ he asked, perking up, intrigued to know more.
‘Cleared the entrance and IPCC, everything on first attempt.’ I glanced at the man from the corner of my eyes, taking in his crow’s feet. ‘Now I just need to sit for my first attempt at the finals.’
‘That’s great!’ he smiled at me, the creases on his face growing deeper in his joy on hearing my achievements. ‘You will surely clear the finals! Live a great life!’
My gaze fell to the ground with a mix of emotions. ‘We’ll see …’
‘Why do you say that?’ he asked gently.
‘My parents … this is the path they want me on,’ I admitted.
‘But it is not the one you would choose?’ ‘No.’
He sighed, leaned back and threaded his fingers behind his head, thinking carefully. Finally, he spoke again. ‘I can tell you, others have tried to push me in other directions; paths of their choosing, not mine. I am a pig-headed man, I admit, and when this happened, their attempts to influence me only made me want even more to go in the opposite direction.’
‘Truly?’ I grinned, picturing my companion digging his heels into the ground like a stubborn mule.
‘Yes,’ he smiled. ‘You have to tell yourself that what you fear from the misery your parents may inflict if you cross them is much worse than the misery that you are in by not standing up for your dreams. If you follow the path you wish, if you chase down those dreams, you will truly not suffer. It is what the universe genuinely wants you to do. Embrace this second chance and take back your dreams.’
Thoughts were creeping back into place, my heart aching. I was torn between love and duty. Was it always this difficult to follow both in one’s life? The man was still trying to pry a conversation from me, but I was more alone than ever. His words drifted through my ears, in and out again like loose stitches on a hemline. On occasion, I muttered a monotonous answer to the endless queries he pitched at me. Here I was again, sitting on this bench, trying to decipher what I should do with my life. What did I want to do, what was it I needed to be? Who could I not leave behind in Jaipur?
‘Life’s a funny thing, you know?’ The man leaned back on the bench, his eyes looking off to some invisible distance. ‘If you don’t give all of yourself to the life you want, heart, soul and mind, you won’t go anywhere at all. Many times I’ve found myself stuck, a lot like you are here, on this bench, unable to move no matter how much I yearned to go to that next chapter in my life.’
He had caught my attention. ‘So what do you do when you get stuck?’
He chuckled, pleased to have me back in the conversation. ‘I give it what it asks of me. I take risks, especially if the worst that can happen changes nothing from where I was sitting.’
‘You seem so confident,’ I said, my eyebrows raised high, feeling sceptical at his words. ‘Risks can often land you in a far worse situation.’
‘True,’ he nodded, his grin widening. ‘But then again, the weight of regret and asking yourself what if, down the road, is far more haunting to one’s soul. What if I took that chance? Well, if the worst that happens is that you have to come back home and pick up where you left off, at least you can stop wasting time on dreaming and wondering if it’s still a possibility.’
I took in his advice, mulling it over in my head. ‘Still, isn’t all that terrifying? What would your family think? Coming home to a family disappointed in you …’
‘Ah, but that’s part of taking that leap of faith.’ He leaned forward again. ‘Remember, there is a cost for everything you want in life. A cost for making your life better, a cost for not making your life better. And it’s you who will have to pay for it. So, decide carefully what you want.’
The screeching of a train on the tracks halted the man’s words. My eyes shot up, taking in the doors of the train to Mumbai.
The man stood and took a step. Then he stopped and turned. ‘Are you coming?’
Eyes locked on those doors, I was too afraid to say an answer aloud in the fear that it would make my decision final.
A horn blared, sounding the warning that the train would pull away soon. ‘Young man, are you coming?’
I held my breath, a cold sweat coming over me. ‘What are you thinking?’ the man whispered, or perhaps my ears and mind were too far away to hear him now. ‘The train is leaving, come …’
It was enough to prompt me to stand, my heart thumping in my ears. Still, my legs wouldn’t move. Another long, hard whistle, the rumbling of the engine rising, and then the railway coaches were rocking into motion; the train was leaving. The man huffed at me, his lips folded in a scowl. His happy demeanour lost as my body, mind and soul wrestled with one another. A hissing sound hit my ears, making the train take on a monstrous tone. My throat tightened and I gave the man a look of helplessness. Why was it so hard to take even one step towards my dreams?
He had spoken to me of risks and leaps of faith, but I was still afraid to even take the smallest of steps. To come to the edge of this moment in my life had taken courage, and I still didn’t know where it came from. But if I could truly be brave, like this man, perhaps I could be the one sitting and smiling at the bench. No, I lacked the ability to take blind leaps. Oh, how I knew the weight of regrets he’d spoken about, and the nightmare of playing the screaming chant of What If. Could today be the day I took a step towards my ambitions?
Sorrow swelled inside me as the man turned on his heel. He took off, sprinting in a frantic manner, and his shoulder slammed into a young woman. I opened my mouth to shout after him, but fear silenced what would have come out. He gave me a last pitiful look over his shoulder, and then hopped onto the metal beast. Motionless, I watched the train to Mumbai screech and snort further away.
Papers that the girl had been holding fell all around me, like a cold winter’s snow. Goosebumps rippled across my skin. The sounds of the train, the girl’s complaints, and even my thoughts fell silent. I was alone, swallowed by my fears. The train pulling through the station sent the sheets of papers flipping and flying alongside my courage across the platform. The colourful streak of a dress could not break my stare at the horizon before me. All I could do was watch my dreams rattle away until I could no longer see the train. My jaw aching from my clenched teeth, defeated by my cowardice, I turned and started the familiar walk home.
I would have to try again someday, when I found my courage once more. I would have to try again to justify the meaning of my name, Shaurya — brave, courageous.

~




Read the Book

| #1 Inspirational Best-seller | Over 75,000 Copies Already Sold |


Sometimes, you do not write your story, it writes you. You don’t choose your story, it chooses you.
But would you believe it if someone told you, ‘This is Not Your Story’? Would you have the courage to rewrite it?
Shaurya, a CA student. This is his story of following his dreams.
Miraya, an interior designer. This is her story of believing in love.
Anubhav, an aspiring entrepreneur. This is his story of giving life another chance.
After her record-breaking debut novel Everyone Has A Story,

Savi Sharma tells a transforming tale of courage, hope and self-discovery.

How to write and publish your first book!

So, You Want to Become an Author…

No matter where you look, despite where you live, there are stories all around us, just waiting to be told. Maybe you’ve been rolling an idea around in your head or maybe you have a life experience that you want to write about.

How does a person go about breathing life into a story and actually transform those ideas into a book that anybody can read? At first, the unknown can be daunting, but when you take things one step at a time, it is perfectly manageable.

Building the foundation

First, what is the genre you are interested in writing? Think about the books that you are most drawn to. Picture a rainy day that there is absolutely nothing you need to worry about. You can curl up in front of a warm fire and lose yourself in a book – what would that type of book be? If you typically read romance books, chances are, you aren’t going to feel comfortable writing a horror story. Write what you know.

Coupled with the genre is the theme of a book. There are countless different themes that are considered tried-and-true subjects. It might be a coming of age story, or a journey of survival, whether it be in nature or from a damaging relationship. Other common themes include good versus evil, courage, and spirituality. Whatever the theme is, make sure it is one that you feel impassioned toward, because let’s face it, you’re going to have to write about it for… well, the entire book. Make sure you are going to enjoy the journey.

Once you decide on the theme, it’s time to think about the message you want to convey. If someone was to read a book that you wrote, what is the one thing, the most significant idea that you would want your reader to recall after the final paragraph? If a reader finishes the final sentence of your book with the message conveyed successfully, that same person might be the first to order your next book.

Bringing a story to life

Now it’s time to start waking up the distinct parts of your story. This is really where the fun begins. It’s time to unleash your creativity. Build your cities, scratch out your forests, or envision that boat. The more effectively you bring that setting to life in your mind, the better you are going to paint that picture in your manuscript. Choosing a setting and describing it well is extremely important because readers want to be able to picture where the characters are positioned, much like the pieces on a chess board.

Depending on who you speak with, some authors believe it is absolutely important to have a concrete outline before they even begin their first sentence. Others feel that this method is too restrictive, and chose to plow into their story without any forethought to how the story will be laid out.

It’s time to put your characters through their paces

Many writers then turn to the arc of their story. In Nigel Watts’ widely popular book Write a Novel and Get It Published, the author outlines eight points to a story arc.

Those points are:

Stasis, or where the stage is set for your book
Trigger, when something disrupts the traditional routine for the protagonist, or main character
Quest, where the character searches for a way to counteract the trigger; surprise, when the protagonist encounters obstacles on his journey
Surprise, where different problems are thrown into the mix
Critical choice, when the main character is forced to make a decision that may affect the outcome of the story
Climax, when the tension and conflict peaks
Reversal, revealing the consequence of the choices the character makes; and
Resolution; when the dust settles and the protagonist returns to ‘normal’ life.

Keep in mind that a novel does not need to be constructed around the story arc when a book is being planned, but it’s a good template to refer to as you’re working on your book to keep things flowing and moving along.

Start at the… end?

A lot of well-known authors admit that the most difficult part of writing a story is constructing the ending. Consequently, just like one needs to eat their broccoli before getting dessert, writers tend to focus on the end of the story first and work their way backward. How do you want your book to turn out? Do you want your character to live happily ever after, or are you planning on leaving the reader wondering with a final twist in the storyline?

By having the finish line in sight, it’s often easier to entice yourself to keep writing your book, knowing that you have a concrete resolution to work toward.

And then what?

Write, write, write

It’s time to write. Write every day, write a lot. Don’t worry about making everything perfect at once; a first draft is just that: a draft. Let your thoughts flow without analyzing exactly how the words are coming together. That can happen later, during revisions. Write as if nobody’s going to ever read your words; just allow your story to come out without trying to anticipate how a reader is going to visualize it.

It’s important to write every day to keep the momentum going. Chances are, you are not going to have the opportunity to ‘go to work’ writing in the same fashion that someone gets up and spends his or her day at work. However, make a plan for yourself to block off part of your day to write. Maybe it’s getting up a half hour earlier every day and writing while the house is quiet. Or opting to write instead of hanging out with your co-workers during your lunch break.

Working through your own obstacles

Regardless, write and keep writing. If you hit a snag in your storyline, or the dreaded writer’s block sneaks into your daily writing, take a break. Get up, take a walk or just change where you’re sitting. Instead of writing in your office, take your laptop outside in the sun for a while. Other writers begin freewriting, a technique where a writer just starts writing anything and everything. Not worrying about spelling or punctuation, but just letting the words flow. Chances are, it’s going to chip away at that roadblock in the writing process.

Writing can be a lonely endeavor. However, you don’t have to feel isolated in the process. With the advent of social media, it is easier than ever to join groups of fellow writers online. These groups are great to bounce ideas off of, or even just to commiserate about the lows in the writing process. If you need to take a break, give yourself a few minutes to check in with some of your peers on Facebook. Just don’t let yourself get sucked into the abyss of social media nothingness. It’s great for a break, but then, get back to your writing.

When you’re done with the first draft, it’s time to go back and start reviewing and rewriting. Admittedly, if you consider the first draft as a fun party, the rewriting process can be more like the cleaning up after that party. It can be tedious, but at the same time, consider the accomplishment you have already made! You wrote a book! Now, it’s just time to pretty it up.

It’s show time!

Before you release your book into the wide world of readers, take the time and spend the money to have an editor go through it. You may think that you write without making mistakes, but trust me, it is worth it to have at least one other objective set of eyes to look over your work.

When you feel like your book is ready to go out to print, the publishing step can be quite intimidating. However, many writers have walked the path you are on right now, and plenty of support and information has been laid out for you to tap into.

There are pros and cons to the various publishing methods available today, and you need to figure out the best method for your needs.

Publishing options

Traditional publishing includes looking for an agent to help promote your book, or to go directly to publishers. Again, there are many resources and guides to show how to reach out to these professionals. When you go this route, you’ll have to construct query letters and other methods for book proposals. Traditional publishing can take a lot of time and you’ll likely have to steel yourself for many rejections, but what a great feeling when someone does accept your manuscript!

India has a considerable number of agents to reach out to and the top ones can be found with a simple Google search. An agent is admittedly another step in the lengthy process of traditional publishing, but agents are fantastic for doing a lot of the heavy footwork in finding a good publisher. Many also helping in events after the book is published, such as coordinating press releases, book launches and tour scheduling.

You may want to consider the newer, non-traditional method of publishing, which is self-publishing or independent (indie) publishing. Self-publishing platforms continue to increase in ability and convenience. Keep in mind that with self-publishing, you can quickly get your book out there in both electronic and hard copy format. And, if an error or two does manage to slip through in the editing process, it can be quickly fixed. There are professionals who could help you with cover design, type-setting, ISBN but you will need to do upfront investments for printing and marketing your book. You can list your books on e-commerce platforms like Amazon, Flipkart, etc.

If you want to save investments on printing, you can publish a free or paid e-book on Amazon KDP. Though e-book consumption is much lower in India but it’s a great way to start your writing journey and see if the readers like your book.

Keep on keeping on

The possibilities are endless when you step into the world of writing. Keep your eye on the end result and soon enough, you’ll see your name on the cover of a book that you created!

 

The Cinematic Country

Replenish creeping let also midst of made. Fowl shall bring without fill upon after. Be Years. Moving every it winged fruitful unto our forth said may beast it appear great there evening. Over all moving years God. Male. Said. Creeping fruitful.Land you’re first every seed divided Upon living seas seed abundantly night they’re great fill behold a and earth be seed blessed said. Our man third a void.

Hi there! I’m a bike messenger by day, aspiring actor by night, and this is my blog. I live in Los Angeles, have a great dog named Jack, and I like piña coladas. (And gettin’ caught in the rain.)

…or something like this:

The XYZ Doohickey Company was founded in 1971, and has been providing quality doohickeys to the public ever since. Located in Gotham City, XYZ employs over 2,000 people and does all kinds of awesome things for the Gotham community.

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Where Did All The Hits Go?

Replenish creeping let also midst of made. Fowl shall bring without fill upon after. Be Years. Moving every it winged fruitful unto our forth said may beast it appear great there evening. Over all moving years God. Male. Said. Creeping fruitful.Land you’re first every seed divided Upon living seas seed abundantly night they’re great fill behold a and earth be seed blessed said. Our man third a void.

Hi there! I’m a bike messenger by day, aspiring actor by night, and this is my blog. I live in Los Angeles, have a great dog named Jack, and I like piña coladas. (And gettin’ caught in the rain.)

…or something like this:

The XYZ Doohickey Company was founded in 1971, and has been providing quality doohickeys to the public ever since. Located in Gotham City, XYZ employs over 2,000 people and does all kinds of awesome things for the Gotham community.

.post-title {
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}

There are many variations of passages of Lorem Ipsum available, but the majority have suffered alteration in some form, by injected humour, or randomised words which don’t look even slightly believable. If you are going to use a passage of Lorem Ipsum, you need to be sure there isn’t anything embarrassing hidden in the middle of text. All the Lorem Ipsum generators on the Internet tend to repeat predefined chunks as necessary, making this the first true generator on the Internet. It uses a dictionary of over 200 Latin words, combined with a handful of model sentence structures, to generate Lorem Ipsum which looks reasonable. The generated Lorem Ipsum is therefore always free from repetition, injected humour, or non-characteristic words etc.

Let Passion Lead the Brand

Replenish creeping let also midst of made. Fowl shall bring without fill upon after. Be Years. Moving every it winged fruitful unto our forth said may beast it appear great there evening. Over all moving years God. Male. Said. Creeping fruitful.Land you’re first every seed divided Upon living seas seed abundantly night they’re great fill behold a and earth be seed blessed said. Our man third a void.

Hi there! I’m a bike messenger by day, aspiring actor by night, and this is my blog. I live in Los Angeles, have a great dog named Jack, and I like piña coladas. (And gettin’ caught in the rain.)

…or something like this:

The XYZ Doohickey Company was founded in 1971, and has been providing quality doohickeys to the public ever since. Located in Gotham City, XYZ employs over 2,000 people and does all kinds of awesome things for the Gotham community.

.post-title {
margin: 0 0 5px;
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font-size: 38px;
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}

There are many variations of passages of Lorem Ipsum available, but the majority have suffered alteration in some form, by injected humour, or randomised words which don’t look even slightly believable. If you are going to use a passage of Lorem Ipsum, you need to be sure there isn’t anything embarrassing hidden in the middle of text. All the Lorem Ipsum generators on the Internet tend to repeat predefined chunks as necessary, making this the first true generator on the Internet. It uses a dictionary of over 200 Latin words, combined with a handful of model sentence structures, to generate Lorem Ipsum which looks reasonable. The generated Lorem Ipsum is therefore always free from repetition, injected humour, or non-characteristic words etc.

Easter Weekend In New Zealand

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Hi there! I’m a bike messenger by day, aspiring actor by night, and this is my blog. I live in Los Angeles, have a great dog named Jack, and I like piña coladas. (And gettin’ caught in the rain.)

…or something like this:

The XYZ Doohickey Company was founded in 1971, and has been providing quality doohickeys to the public ever since. Located in Gotham City, XYZ employs over 2,000 people and does all kinds of awesome things for the Gotham community.

.post-title {
margin: 0 0 5px;
font-weight: bold;
font-size: 38px;
line-height: 1.2;
}

There are many variations of passages of Lorem Ipsum available, but the majority have suffered alteration in some form, by injected humour, or randomised words which don’t look even slightly believable. If you are going to use a passage of Lorem Ipsum, you need to be sure there isn’t anything embarrassing hidden in the middle of text. All the Lorem Ipsum generators on the Internet tend to repeat predefined chunks as necessary, making this the first true generator on the Internet. It uses a dictionary of over 200 Latin words, combined with a handful of model sentence structures, to generate Lorem Ipsum which looks reasonable. The generated Lorem Ipsum is therefore always free from repetition, injected humour, or non-characteristic words etc.