Maliny Mohan's Blog, page 6

Book Review: Ajaya-Roll Of The Dice

My favourite companions- A good book, a warm cup of tea and of course my laptop that smiles at me invitingly every time I am inspired to write

A quick note on the book before proceeding to the review :- Ajaya- Roll of the Dice is the first book of the Ajaya series. The novel is a retelling of the epic Mahabharata, as told from Suyodhana’s perspective. The sequel of the book is Ajaya 2 – Rise of Kali, which was published in August 2015 and is available for read, both online and in stores.

The Blurb:

  THE MAHABHARATA ENDURES AS THE GREAT EPIC OF INDIA. But while Jaya is the story of the Pandavas, told from the perspective of the victors of Kurukshetra; Ajaya is the narrative of the ‘unconquerable’ Kauravas, who were decimated to the last man.

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At the heart of India’s most powerful empire, a revolution is brewing. Bhishma, the noble patriarch of Hastinapura, is struggling to maintain the unity of his empire. On the throne sits Dhritarashtra, the blind King, and his foreign-born Queen – Gandhari. In the shadow of the throne stands Kunti, the Dowager-Queen, burning with ambition to see her firstborn become the ruler, acknowledged by all.

And in the wings:

* Parashurama, the enigmatic Guru of the powerful Southern Confederate, bides his time to take over and impose his will from mountains to ocean. 

* Ekalavya, a young Nishada, yearns to break free of caste restrictions and become a warrior.

* Karna, son of a humble charioteer, travels to the South to study under the foremost Guru of the day and become the greatest archer in the land. 

* Balarama, the charismatic leader of the Yadavas, dreams of building the perfect city by the sea and seeing his people prosperous and proud once more. 

* Takshaka, guerilla leader of the Nagas, foments a revolution by the downtrodden as he lies in wait in the jungles of India, where survival is the only dharma.

* Jara, the beggar, and his blind dog Dharma, walk the dusty streets of India, witness to people and events far greater than they, as the Pandavas and the Kauravas confront their searing destinies.

Amidst the chaos, Prince Suyodhana, heir of Hastinapura, stands tall, determined to claim his birthright and act according to his conscience. He is the maker of his own destiny – or so he believes. While in the corridors of the Hastinapura palace, a foreign Prince plots to destroy India. And the dice falls…

My Review: 

Through ‘Ajaya’, the author has taken up the painstaking, albeit adventurous task of retelling the renowned epic ‘Mahabharatha’. The story begins with the picture of a rather distraught, young Suyodhana hiding from a sturdy and rebellious Bhima, who, as was his usual hobby, is out on his trail to chide his cousin for no particular reason. From the very opening scene, the author succeeds in conveying the essence of his bold and ground breaking venture- A Mahabharata narrated in a manner that would lend voice to the vanquished souls.

The job at hand of reviewing the book is not easy. For one, the formidable tale of Mahabharata is something which has been etched in our hearts since the moment, as a child, we yearned for stories, the synopsis of which being the Pandavas with the help of Krishna winning the war against the Kauravas. The legend would leave any one dubious about the subtleties and the methods involved, but then, we were taught, rather it was hard wired in to our minds to believe that to do one’s Dharma was what mattered, and not the over emphasis on the dainty threads of emotional connect, which are sure to disintegrate one day. We were taught to focus on the bigger picture, to study it and to dissect it for the betterment of our own independent lives.

The author, with his spectacular cadence of storytelling has created an entirely different version of the epic. The loopholes in the epic have been nitpicked to weave sub plots out of those weak, marshy spots in the most astute of manners. One might disagree to the accusations strewn against the characters we otherwise consider heroes, but then one is also forced to be amazed by the deftness of the author’s mind plays. I personally read the book, keeping my mind and heart wide open, prepared to let the words flown in, to let it satiate the ravenous reader in me and not be flinched by the audacity of the author’s unrestrained vision. The Duryodhana that common man knows of is one dimensional, highlighted by monochromic shades of black. In this book, the author has unveiled the multiple layers of Duryodhana’s personality, presenting before the reader a multi dimensional character, bringing to the limelight his compassion, his eye for romanticism, his sympathy towards the downtrodden, his despise towards the rotten caste system that prevailed in those times and his unrelenting passion to follow his heart. Do we know if those were true? More importantly, do we know if those were untrue? The book is the author’s attempt to insinuate deeper, to tread beyond those questions to offer the reader his share of answers and he does that with immense flair and élan.

The reader might be taken aback at certain places where the acts of certain characters, especially that of Pandavas,Kunti, Drona and Lord Krishna himself are sketched such that one is prompted to throw them under the scrutinising stares of one’s rationale and judgements. Those incidents are not something we haven’t heard of before and we know a few of those acts served a greater purpose too, but few readers might find it mildly jarring to have those focussed up on. As I said before, it is not easy to convince the reader why I liked the book, when I myself am an ardent admirer of Mahabharata. Perhaps, the fact that the writer in me was conquered by the visionary would serve as the best explanation for the same. 

The review wouldn’t be complete without opining about the quality of writing, would it? The prose is undoubtedly engaging, with frequent references to the nature and its metaphoric enigma enriching the story at the right places. The narration is brilliantly equipped with intriguing content to take the pace forwards sans hiccoughs. The conversations are even witty at places, especially when the author sketches the camaraderie between Suyodhana and Ashwathama. The lexicon stands out and that, along with the fluidity of the prose and the amount of research that has gone in to the making of this remarkable work  completely enthralled the reader in me.  

I would definitely look forward to more of the author’s works. Perhaps, a literary fiction before long?

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A Few Quotable QuotesFrom The Book: 

“When our schools fail to teach our children what they should know, other schools take their place and teach different lessons, which we may not like.” 

“Never associate any evil with a group. Hate their sins, but not the people.” 

‘Life is a gamble. You do not know how the dice will fall. But once they have, how you move the pieces is in your hands.” 

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About The Author: (In his own words)

I was born in a quaint little village called Thripoonithura, on the outskirts of Cochin, Kerala. Located east of mainland Ernakulam, across Vembanad Lake, this village had the distinction of being the seat of the Cochin royal family. However, it was more famous for its hundred odd temples; the various classical artists it produced and its music school. I remember many an evening listening to the faint rhythm of Chendas from the temples and the notes of the flute escaping over the rugged walls of the school of music. Gulf money and the rapidly expanding city of Cochin have, however, wiped away all remaining vestiges of that old world charm. The village has evolved into the usual, unremarkable, suburban hell hole, clones of which dot India. Growing up in a village with more temples than was necessary, it was no wonder that the Ramayana fascinated me. Ironically, I was drawn to the anti-hero of the epic – Ravana, and to his people, the Asuras. I wondered about their magical world. But my fascination remained dormant for many years, emerging only briefly to taunt and irritate my pious aunts during family gatherings. Life went on… I became an engineer; joined the Indian Oil Corporation; moved to Bangalore; married Aparna and welcomed my daughter Ananya, and my son, Abhinav. But the Asura emperor would not leave me alone. For six years he haunted my dreams, walked with me, and urged me to write his version of the story. He was not the only one who wanted his version of the story to be told. One by one, irrelevant and minor characters of the Ramayana kept coming up with their own versions. Bhadra, who was one of the many common Asuras who were inspired, led and betrayed by Ravana, also had a remarkable story to tell, different from that of his king. And both their stories are different from the Ramayana that has been told in a thousand different ways across Asia over the last three millennia. This is then Asurayana, the story of the Asuras, the story of the vanquished.

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Title: Ajaya: Roll Of The Dice

Author: Anand Neelakantan

Publisher: Leadstart Publishing 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Pages: 456

Publication Year: 2015

Price: Rs. 349

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Buy the book online :  

Amazon : Here     Flipkart: Here

Goodreads Page: Here

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Secret Remedy To Misery – Mid Week Quests

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So, there has not been much going on in the professional front. Owing to certain chaos and shackles at the administration level, work is now progressing at a sluggish pace. Speaking of work, it amazes me at this moment when I ponder over the amount of time one spends at one’s work place. For most of us, life comprises proudly of two terrains- Family and work. And so also, it wouldn’t be ornamental or in any wee bit way overwhelming if I say that the atmosphere at work is almost as important for a sane and content life, as the placidity that prevails in the innards of a happy family.

There have been times in my past, when there existed utter pandemonium in the deepest pockets of my mind, for matters concerning the sheer sanctity of my existence. It is no point to be bewildered at, I am aware, for life, as we all know, is not a bed of roses ( Clichés turned clichés for a reason).  And at those times when one is prompted to sit up straight, foreseeing the ride to soon be rolling haphazardly through bumpy realms, there ought to be a silver lining that shines through the thickest of fog to help us through. Life would invariably turn a hopeless black hole otherwise, wouldn’t it? It scares me to even think of a situation when life would go completely distraught sans a safety line to hold onto. 

‘Tighten the seat belt, will you?!’ The wary mind calls out frantically almost instantly as a reflex in those circumstances. What if there was no seat belt to hold you in position? Would you turn insane or chirp away happily to the one seated next to you, accepting the truth that your end has come?

I am not talking about silver linings or being hopeful in general. More precisely, I want to write down here gaily about the impact my job had in my life. Yes, the seat belt I was referring to would be my enriching time at work that indirectly and unknowingly sprinkled me with glitters of peace during the most harrowing of times. 

It is as if, I step out a different version of me every morning when I go out for work. It has been like that ever since I could remember; whether it was school, college or presently, work. The issues that would trouble me the entire night are flipped out the window, the moment the friendly gales of companionship and productivity brush against me, the next day, at work. This is not the first time that I have found myself ruminating on the phenomenon. Admittedly, it does feel like an ordeal to wake up in the morning when your mind feels smothered by the harsh, dirty cloth of reality. But once the hardest part of sliding that bed spread away from me is done, the whole process turns relatively less hard.  No, it is not like we party away at work or sit for hours filling each other on the turning points in our lives. On the contrary, work is as grave as it can get ( I am a doctor).

Hectic schedule, less time to brood. Could that be the reason? Perhaps.

Amiable colleagues. Sense of togetherness when tackling similar circumstances? Likely too.

 I speculate that the sense of depression has more to do with the fact that we turn aggressively pessimist for whatever reason that pushed us down the abyss in the first place. I have read somewhere that if hit with an adversity, instead of hurrying through the phase, it is better to sink in the sorrow, to let despair take a trip through the channels of your body, till that day, when you feel confident that it can’t affect you more. There is a point there too. The aforesaid is what one is tempted to make oneself go through, undoubtedly, in times of misery. To sleep for hours or days at a stretch, to not talk to anyone, to cry silently in to the pillow, to reminisce on the better days of our life, the list is unfortunately endless. But then that has to end one day too, isn’t it? The sooner the better. 

 I am not a person who usually pours my heart out to someone about my worries. I would rather have it buried in me than be spilled in the open. Yes, writing helps a lot too. But for reasons stated above, I wouldn’t be writing about my problems as such. I need something to silently pull me out of the abysmal pit. It used to be music a few years back. But then, somehow, the charm that music enjoyed in my analysis ebbed away slowly. Reading offers company for a good many hours. But would I pick up a book, when my eyes well up every few seconds? I think not. I prefer reading books when I am at peace with myself.

Being with my dear ones would definitely be the first thing I do when struck by a problem. But I have realised over time that they can only lend their hands to help me out of the rubble. The rest is up to me. It is I who ought to drag my way out with their help. I feel good when comforted by my parents or my friends. But finally, it is I who should nudge me to walk out and do something about it. And my secret remedy for the same comes in the guise of my job. No, I don’t let it devour me wholly, like they say in books. Nor do I discard the presence of my family for the intoxication of work. Family matters the most and it shall be so forever. I am stressing here about the time after the initial distressing period, when one realises that life is not over yet. One is left, more often than not, staring in to the horizon, muttering the question, “What next?” and that is when having something to do with your life to keep it engaged helps. 

Specifically, I assume it is the feeling of being alive that nourishes the soul in me during those days. If I didn’t have such a rewarding job it could have been anything else. Anything rejuvenating. Anything that would let the wind blow against my face. Anything other than being bogged down for hours. Excercise, out door games, long drives, doing something productive, going on a small trip with your dear ones – All these have come to my rescue at one time or the other. They offer temporary solace, acting to set me kicking. But after that, it is mostly by being indulged in my work that I find a healthy, almost permanent respite.

Writing, work, gardening, taking care of your baby, cooking, cleaning – Whatever it be for you, the key is to keep sustaining. To keep afloat. To not let your soul sink. To surround you with positivity. To observe the doors of recovery swarm around you, egging you to open it every time. 

Before I wind up this post, let me take a moment and ask you, “What would you do in in similar scenarios? Is there a secret remedy to misery for you too?”

 

P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Mid Week Quests’, a sub section of this blog where I write on a Wednesday, about random nuggets from my life .

Could I Ask You A Favour? – MidWeek Quests

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Today, Mid week quests is all about ‘favours’. No. Nobody is asking anyone any favour through this space. On the other hand, I shall put forward my thoughts about the term and the deeper meaning it holds. 

Do you find yourself hesitate when bombarded with the ordeal of asking a favour of someone? Have you at least once felt all too determined to chew way more than you can bite, simply because of the fact that you shy away from pleading the service of time and energy from another person?

Well, I have. I find the matter troubling, if not harrowing, to ask someone to help me tackle a burgeoning task, let alone offer me company in trouble. I would rather try my best and solve the problem myself, any which way, than deliberately shed the cloak of hesitancy. I now know the habit to be a double edged sword. For one, it has taught me to stand up for myself, but secondly, it has caused me innumerable days of frustration and distress. And that is why I doubt whether I lack the sense to play according to the situation.

I am someone who hallcinates to be in an utterly embarassing scenario, as far as my mind is concerned, whenever the thought of approaching another person with an intention of borrowing money confronts me. Amazing me, last day a friend of mine came forward like a jet plane and asked me whether I could lend him money and that too in the most casual of manners. Not giving it much thought, I obliged to lend him a decent amount, surprisingly, in the blink of my eye. 

Pondering over the incident, a while later, I came to the a reasonable conclusion that friends are indeed bound to go through bonds of such kind. Yes, if the person to whom you lend the money is presumably fraudulent, the debate has no meaning. The scenario that we discuss now is purely based on the fact that the other person is your good friend.

There are certain things which I like to do for myself. But who wouldn’t love to be pampered once in a while? The rumination acts to prompt me now to be more flexible when it comes to taking care of the chores around me. The conclusion doesn’t mean that you should always find the easy way out. The line that separates the concepts of sensibility and shrewdness is never a thin trail on sand. Never confuse the two terrains that lie on either side. It should also not be too frequent as to gradually interfere with your ability to handle a troubling situation all by yourself if need arises. ‘How to be dependent?’ is not the topic discussed here, if I may stress. 

If the task at hand could be wound up in a matter of few minutes or days with the help of another person, should someone not resort to the same?  It might even make the other person happy to know that you thought of him/ her during adversity, wouldn’t it? Moreover the act of indulging in a revolting muddle, hopeful of deciphering the subtle knots, to eventually come up with an ideal remedy together consolidates the strength of any relationship, isn’t it so?

There is no hard and fast rule that life is to be treated a path strewn with thorns. The fumes that effervesce when forced to remain straddled for long might garner the strength to explode uncontrollably one day. Why suffer in silence, when you have the voice to ask that kind friend sitting at mere arms length to uncork the bottle?  

 

P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Mid Week Quests’, a sub section of this blog where I write on a Wednesday, about random nuggets from my life .

Resolution As A Way Of Life – Mid Week Quests

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I missed my Saturday Specifics post last week. Yet, I am not in a state of mind to regret the same or further yet, to blame the holiday season for that. I am aware of the blogging tips that help one publish posts during festivals, like setting a date for a saved post so that it is automatically published. But a series of ominous events overpowered me which pushed blogging right back to the rear seat. In fact, so many things happened in the past one week that I find it hard to list them here effortlessly. Good things. Bad things. Exciting things. Disheartening things. But thank fully, not one of them were worst in any regard. 

I had plans to write a detailed post on the resolutions that had been playing on my mind for long. Due to the lack of time, I am forced to compress it short.

I was never a girl who looked forward to the whole, supposedly exciting process of dusting clean the cob webs of my brain to come up with resolutions to kick start a pristine year.  I never believed in New Year resolutions. The whole concept has always seemed contrived to me. Yes, I believe in resolutions that my mind take up after much introspection, but I have never been a follower of the act of churning up resolutions to embellish the new year charades. New years are pretty much the same as any other day for my family. It is inevitable a family affair. We sit in our home, mostly watch television, talk, have a family dinner and go to bed at the usual time.

I remember staying awake deliberately even when my eyes drooped down at the mere cue of a boring few seconds when I was a kid. Even then, it seemed like a harrowing procedure for me. I never enjoyed it. Perhaps I did that because I wanted to emulate the many millions who so religiously followed the ritual. Two New Years down and I was fed up. It is undoubtedly true what they say about the formidable power of human  heart. It hardly lets you work with peace on something you are disinterested in. It pokes you, nudges you and even gnaws at you in its efforts to turn your attention to what it wants.

Well, I say with pride when I say that I am more of a heart person than a mind one. If my heart advises me to follow a certain path, chances are more that I will follow it, even when the trail is adorned with rubble, thorns and whatever junk one might find on a journey.

And so also, rarely do I stay awake now to imbibe the very first second of a fresh year.

Pardon me if this post doesn’t reflect the exhilaration that ought to ooze  from a late December post. I am not grumpy. But I am in the mood to write my heart out.

However, there is good news for those who are scrolling down this post, seeking something interesting to take away. I am including a few resolutions that I have been working up on over the past two weeks. I aim to stick to them, not for the next year, but for a life time. 

I am lousy when it comes to managing my connections. I love my solitude and most of the time, I find myself shy away from something which takes a chunk of my lone time away from me, unless the matter is dire. However a few incidents that took place around me a few months back and a conversation I had with a close friend following those incidents happened to enlighten me on the importance of having good friends in one’s life. I am some one who is confident about my belief that I can survive with my dear ones alone. I don’t share my grievances with my family even, until and unless, I require intervention of some sort from their side. I am not ready to change that tendency of mine still, but I realise now that maintaining a bond with a good friend is equally important as tending to the soul that keeps you alive. Hence, I have decided to keep alive the relationship I share with at least a couple of my good friends. I love them. I feel happy and comforted in their presence. Then why should I hesitate to be with them more often? The query guides me these days, feeding me with nuggets to stay rooted to my resolution.

To read more, to blog more, to take care of my anxieties and to mingle more with colleagues are the rest of the resolutions. Since I am writing much away from this space, I can say that I am content in that regard. However these days, because I want no one to influence my writing above a particular threshold, I have been reading less. Does that happen to you? I would like to know, for I have heard writers admit that they read more while they work on a story or work of fiction of their own, to keep them going and to survive the writer’s block. 

There comes a time in life, when the body yearns for a change, tired of the imbalance it has been accustomed to over the years. Exactly for the same reason, I believe, resolution is to be a way of life. To keep tab of the laments of the body and soul ought to be a necessity, more than a routine to be undertaken at a specific period in time. Try doing that and you might find yourself stick to your resolution for a longer period of time. 

Sadly, the time has come to conclude this post. I look forward to reading the year end posts of my fellow bloggers. I shall be doing that at the earliest. For now, I am taking leave. I know that you are busy too. I hope everybody had a wonderful Christmas. Enjoy the holidays! We will meet with exaggerated zeal after the holiday season.. What say? 

P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Mid Week Quests’, a sub section of this blog where I write on a Wednesday, about random nuggets from my life .

Books All The Way – Mid Week Quests

The habit of reading might seem easy to be maintained. But truly, it isn’t entirely so. The intensity of the ritual is at its peak during childhood, which stays afloat as a plateau well through the adolescent years and up to the early twenties. Those who take up language for their college continue to nurture the resplendent bond with books, where as for others the habit mostly takes a back seat till the time arrives when they are settled, not necessarily with a family, but as more often is the case, with a stable job. I don’t state that this judgement of mine is absolute, yet somehow or the other this holds true for me. Being in a profession, in which one takes an average for ten years for the ground knowledge to be laid, I can say that doctors consider themselves settled past thirty years of age. One round of studies is followed by another, to be topped up with examinations of all sorts, which tend to extract the sap of creativity out of you. To maintain a balance is extremely difficult, unless you are extraordinarily talented. Sure, we do have immensely talented gems amongst us and the Intermedicos fest that we celebrate each year showcases splendour and brilliance. But mostly, the display of the creativity they possess is limited to that, may be not for all, but at least for a good many. I along with my friends used to read a lot of fiction during our college years, but for me, the habit turned lacklustre somewhere down the lane.

Now that I am on hibernation, having completed one stage of my higher studies, I am on the process of reviving the habit. I know that I might have to let go off the same when I embark on yet another of those trysts with my syllabus books, but for the time being, I am being positive as I look forward to sink in my passion for books yet again.

Let me narrate one snippet that sparked these thoughts in me today. I was awaiting something with a doctor friend of mine yesterday morning. The boredom was starting to take a toll on us and that was when I remembered that I had that day’s The Hindu newspaper in my bag. Casually, I asked my friend whether she would like to go through the same and she accepted right away. ‘It has been so long since I read a newspaper’, she remarked while taking the bundle from me. Care to guess what happened next? She read the whole newspaper in one go, being immersed in it for almost one hour, much to my wonder. I felt so happy seeing her have a good time in the company of words. I felt proud of myself for rekindling in her an old habit. Whether she would take a hint and continue the practice is yet to be sought, still, the incident left indelible imprints of joy in me.

I was reminded of all those incredible books in whose company I spent my childhood and teen years. In a way, they made me the person I am today. Quite a serendipity that just when my mind was reminiscing in my journey so far with books, I stumbled up on this page on twitter BlogChatter, where they have this week’s prompt which goes by ‘Books That Made You’. I have so much to write about the prompt, I knew it right then.

Moving forward to the part where I talk on the prompt, I have categorised the books under two main sections- Indian English and the rest. This decision sprouted from the fact that innumerable books happened to prance up on me the moment I thought about the prompt and to select a few out of them seemed the hardest thing to do. So, here it goes. The books that made me would be, in no particular order:

Misery by Stephen King
A Fraction of the whole by Steve Toltz
Famous Five Series by Enid Blyton
The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami.

 

Indian English Fiction:

Choker Bali by Rabindranath Tagore
The Shadow Lines by Amitav Ghosh
Vanity Bagh by Anees Salim
The God of Small Things by Arundhathi Roy
The Immortals by Amit Chaudhari

The titles of the books are linked to their Goodreads page so that you might find it easy if tempted to check out the books.

To end the list there simply seems not right, for, truth be told, there are other books too which touched my heart with nearly the same intensity as the aforesaid. To name a few, they are:

The Shining, Carrie, The Girl who loved Tom Gordon by Stephen King
Amsterdam by Ian McEwan
The sense of an ending by Julian Barnes
Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
Serious men by Manu Joseph
Narcopolis by Jeet Thayyil
The Detective by Arthur Hailey
Countless books authored by Agatha Christie that I have had the privilege to read.
Freedom Song by Amit Chaudhari
Disgrace by J.M.Coetzee

The fact that I remember the titles of some of these books to this moment and the effect they had on me when I read them at least a decade back prove much the power a good book owns. I owe a major part of my growth to the precious thoughts of those writers who I admire and for that, I admit, I shall be indebted forever. I hope the roots of the nutritious plant the years of reading so diligently immersed in me would never ever wither away. Instead, may fresh seeds be sowed. May new plants be born. May they branch out wide and far. I would consider myself complete then and only then.

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P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Mid Week Quests’, a sub section of this blog where I write on a Wednesday, about random nuggets from my life .

P.P.S: Happy reading and a Merry Christmas in advance!

Guilt-Haiku : Saturday Specifics

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Stabs, gnaws, it torments

Vehement, so merciless-

The fierce claws of guilt.

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Gratitude List- Mid Week Quests

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December was auspicious for more reasons than one. In fact, the year 2015 was perhaps the most resplendent year of my life, with regard to both my professional and personal life. There have been many an achievement which satiated the dreamer in me and a few motes of sorrow, which but failed to weaken the fiery spirit in me. The year did present me with a potpourri of emotions, nevertheless, the elements that screamed goodness absolutely amounted more than the ones which sprinkled my days with adversity. I should be grateful for that, which is precisely what made me scribble down this post.

I like making lists and so also, why don’t I make an unofficial list of the events and thoughts that conquered my body, mind and soul, for which I feel grateful for even when I breathe in this moment? In addition to the gratitude list, I intend to include a list of the books I read in 2105, which overpowered me with their sheer beauty and assertiveness.

Gratitude List:

As I write this post, I bask in the glow of happiness, for I happened to treat a patient who came to my house seeking solution for her symptoms. Now, this is no herculean strife, but this definitely was the first time I was treating someone in my home, or for that matter treating anyone outside the premises of a medical college, sans the watchful eyes of my seniors. It felt great and you know what made it even brilliant? The fact that my parents were at home to witness the event. Few moments of joy could match the emotions that trundle through me right now and I am grateful for being blessed enough.
I had written a few posts on my love for short stories before and I believe I did mention somewhere about my plans to bring out a short story anthology. I managed to complete my manuscript in November and am currently on the final editing process. It is no surprise that the editing process is going to take more time than the actual writing process and I am sort of enjoying the whole ‘working on the manuscript’ act.
As I have spoken time and again, my very first published work, ‘Love and other enchantments’, a short story anthology, which contains three of my short stories was released this October.
Yet another short story of mine found its way to the book ‘Colors: Different shades of life’, which is slated to release in January 2016.
Now, on the professional front, I cleared my post graduation exam and am officially an ENT Surgeon! However, the sweet release is not complete. I have started preparing for the next entrance exam in line, to pursue my higher studies.  Life of a doctor is like school days all over again – right from the kindergarten to the tenth standard exams – 12 years of studies on an average!  
On the personal terrain, I am, at present, the proud owner of three cats- A mother and two kittens. They undoubtedly make my day and I went ahead and wrote a whole post on them here.
I have started taking a liking to cooking. The bitter truth that I huffed and puffed through my adolescent years and quite a bit of my twenties too sans my own treasure trove of knowledge about the nuances of cooking has always been my mother’s biggest worry. I believe firmly in the principle that if someone intend to learn something new, it should either be out of passion or out of utter necessity. Cooking was neither a passion nor a necessity till one month back. I don’t regret that I am late to fall in love with it. On the contrary, I am glad that it approached me at a time, when my mind was ajar seeking something fresh to entice my soul with.
I learnt to drive a car all over again. Yes, like many, I procured a licence at eighteen years of age and never felt the need to put it to use till the moment when I realised that I need to learn it again right from the basics to at least successfully  manoeuvre it to the next street. 

 Harking back, I am dazed to realise that I had a remarkable 2015 indeed. Or is it just that, we tend to sieve out the grain alone and not the chaff when judging matters in retrospect? Either way, I can proudly say that this post has already realised one of its many wistful goals- to spread a smile across my face. There have  been many a moment when I was happy and laughed my heart out- Small talks with my friends, enthusiastic discussions with my parents, the relief I had the day when my university p.g practical exam got over, hearing good words about my performance from the external examiner itself, sending a gift via courier to one of my dearest friends’s who had her first baby in August, the many eat outs at the restaurants for lunch and dinner with friends, the trip to Kanyakumari with parents. . . the list is amazingly endless!

Life is a mixed bag, there is no denying that supreme truth, but, at this point of time, all I can concentrate on is the patch of petals that so gracefully adorned my journey. The thorns that slowed me down along the path seem mere specks which fail utterly in their aim to sting their claws deeper to be etched in time for eternity. The wound they created remain as healed abrasions and well on their process of turning into freckled scars, to be eventually forgotten in the course of time. They did hurt me at first. But I learnt in time to shroud those cuts with the skin of fortitude.

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Books that conquered me: 

I happened to read around thirty to forty books this year. I would like to list the books which touched my heart and satiated the reader in me. They are, in no particular order:

Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
Bluebeard and the eggs by Margaret Atwood
The Vicks Mango Tree by Anees Salim
Ours Are the Streets by Sunjeev Sahota
1984 by George Orwell
Choker Bali by Rabindranath Tagore
In Between the Sheets by Ian Mcewan
Real Time and other stories by Amit Chaudhari

 

As I wind this post up, I recommend every reader to sit down with a cup of tea or coffee while the events of the year scroll down the screen of your memory slowly. One needs to dissect the manner in which one’s life has turned out. Be it the sorrows, the joys or the miseries- every little emotion, if introspected well, offers a life lesson. If we don’t lend ear to the voice of our own souls, then who would?

Above all, the curious little girl in me which surfaces every now and then, would love to know how the year has been for you. Let us thus break bread, shall we? 

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P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Mid Week Quests’, a sub section of this blog where I write on a Wednesday, about random nuggets from my life .

Strangers-Haiku: Saturday Specifics

I decided to highlight today’s ‘Saturday Specifics’ with a ‘Throwback’ gesture. I love Haiku, although I rarely write one these days. I used to craft poems before and I plan to acknowledge my lost spirit through this post I reblog.

Chasing Passions

Image Source : here

Strangers , they unite 
In dim lit room – unreined 
Lovers for one night . 


Written for Carpe Diem Haiku Challenge . The prompt – Strangers .

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To The Reader’s Heart Through An Email – Mid Week Quests

Image source: here

As I mentioned before, I recently exported my blog at blogger to the much appraised WordPress platform. I happened to lose my followers, as the inbuilt export feature ignores just that, and nothing more. Even when I miss the admirable blog stats I enjoyed back there, I feel happy in a way that I could retain my posts and comments as such, which for me comes as a huge relief.

The idea of blogging descended on me around seven years back, when, I, for the first time in my life realised that I could write something substantial. Being blessed with a gift becomes comparable to almost being devoid of it, if one lacks the judgment and revelation that he or she could use it appropriately and with confidence. I had written a couple of articles back in school, but nothing more than that.  I knew then that I could write, but I wasn’t sure whether would I fit in the circle of writers. For me then, people who called themselves writers were a rare entity who enjoyed an elite status, to be a part of which demanded superlative knowledge of the language, world affairs and above all life experience. I knew that I had a decent grip on the language for I happened to score a good percentage in English language for my tenth std exams. But when it came to the abundance of knowledge, I considered myself illiterate. I grew up reading authors of the likes of Enid Blyton, Agatha Christie , Sidney Sheldon, Jeffrey archer and Arthur Hailey among the international authors and Amitav Ghosh, Amit chaudhari and  Rabindranath Tagore among the Indian authors. I viewed their talents as heavenly blessings par excellence which could rarely be emulated. I was too intimidated by their formidable presence to even encourage the creeping thought of writing more in the years to come. However,  life had a surprise in stock for me in the form of an irresistible tug. Passion is an alluring term just as alluring as the effect it has on a person. Deny it, ignore it, but you will realise it shortly that you were created incapable of resisting it for long. The irrelevant scribbles on my diary gave way to naive posts on the blog which, as years passed metamorphosed to well manicured accounts which could be labelled readable. Thus started my blogging journey which ended up being one of most inspiring, evocative, rejuvenating experiences I ever had.

There are a few nuggets I picked up from my time here in this space. Any one who has been around here for more than a couple of  years would imbibe those naturally. I am not going in to the details of which, but I sure would love to share with you a recently inculcated hobby of mine. In my early years of blogging, having used blogger, I hadn’t known much about the email subscription feature. I did discover the importance of which a few years into the trail, but then I had, by then, lost steam on the blog hopping routine.  I had, by that time, started concentrating more on the writing part than the equally prominent reading part. I wasn’t expecting readers, rather, I simply wanted to write my heart out, for my own sake, for my own satisfaction.

But now, since I have decided to revamp my blog and at the same time, have undergone a stimulating change on my personal terrain as well, nudged by my own innate passionate self, I yearn to be alive and agile here in this space. I yearn to read others, I yearn to write more and last but not the least, I yearn to connect with the readers who take a precious few minutes from their routine to read and comment on my posts.

Having understood the value of email subscriptions, I decided to subscribe to as many blogs as possible; the process being endless continues even now. These days I love to read posts directly from my mail. It doesn’t seem like a hectic task to be undertaken and at the same time it is fulfilling as well. Sometimes I reply to those posts then and there, other times mark them and comment when I revisit my mails at the end of the day. I find the process convenient when the fact remains that I check my mail at least three to four times a day, even more than I visit my blog. One may abandon the blog page for months at a stretch,  but an email has become a necessity which we dare not ignore according to our whims and mood swings. Even if one is not regularly blogging, he or she can keep up with the posts of friends,  keep replying to their posts and there by remain in the loop.There have been times when an irked, dejected I was stimulated enough to slide back in to my ‘at-work’ diligent form, simple because  I was inspired by a blog post I read from my email. Sometimes, it just makes my day to know that I have a few good posts by my favourite bloggers, waiting to be read on my mail at the end of the day. The way our hearts and minds respond to bloggers whose writing we admire is inexplicable. And I secretly believe that even if most of my readers aren’t responding to my posts as comments, they might be going through my blog occasionally; at least the readers who have subscribed to my posts. They might have liked at least a few posts I have written. We all do that, don’t we? Go through a blog and not comment on it even if it we liked the content? And so also, I would recommend an email subscription box to be included on your blog with out much ado, if any newbie out there is reading this post.

The joy of being with words is incomparable and I am glad that I am successful in digging out more and more facts about blogging that are intriguing, which in turn inspire me to keep coming back to the world of blogging every time. Blogging is indeed a rewarding experience. I sincerely hope that I would never part with it, ever. Would you? What do you think?

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P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Mid Week Quests’, a sub section of this blog where I write on a Wednesday, about random nuggets from my life .

Defiant Soul- Flash Fiction

Ensconced on the creamy white shore, I used to peek inside her soul, while she tucked in the wavy strands of hair that fluttered in the warm summer breeze. I remember opining to my friends every time that my mother was as sturdy as those rock mounds scattered formidably along the shore line, in that she could lap up the soothing, effervescent waves that streamed up to her in days that were serene, but more over, quite admiringly, could muster an inevitable amount of fortitude to stand rooted when hit by a raging tide. Little did the girl in me then know that, twenty years down the lane, she would peek inside herself and utter the exact same words.

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