Shahid and some kharab 'Mausam' - Review done in Circa: September 25, 2011

Punjab da pind and Punjab da munda Harry (Shahid Kapoor)! Zoom in on the simple village life and his constant wait for a train to arrive with the 'chiththi' (letter) from the IAF. Shahid's sister's marriage is the backdrop for the first one hour. Enter Ayat (Sonam Kapoor), a Kashmiri Muslim who has just escaped the trauma of the Kashmiri insurgency to live with her father's sister, in the same village. It is love at first sight.

After the initial song and dance routine, the secret stares and letters written in mehndi are exchanged the whole night, when the time to propose comes, Sonam disappears with her family in the morning and Shahid goes on to join the IAF. Seven years go by and suddenly it is Scotland. Shahid has become an Air Force officer and has been sent by the IAF to Scotland. Lo and behold! We see Sonam dressed in a Scottish kilt selling tickets for a Mozart concert and simultaneously handing over food to her friends while selling tickets. Shahid looking royal in his uniform, enters the concert hall and she looks at him from a distance (I guess hoping that he would look up and spot her...yeah right!).

After a couple of hits and misses, they finally meet and go on three dates. He meets her family and they keep staring at him, grilling him, trying to test his loyalty to their daughter. After the 'approval', they go to some obscure church where they dip their hands in paint, jointly making palm prints on the wall of the church (wonder which church would love people to destroy the walls) and suddenly it rains and they share their first kiss and her dumb-witted dialogue comes (after the kiss): "Abba pooch rahe they, yeh kaise hoga"...one wonders too about the same!

The next day, Shahid is seen dressing up and going to Sonam's house for the formal 'asking for marriage'. Mid-way, we do not know what happened - a blackout and suddenly a phone call informing them that Shahid had been called by IAF back to Kargil. A 'CATCH ME IF U CAN' game begins.

Amidst all this, Sonam has the time to learn ballet and kiss Shahid as well! The plot goes awry and Sonam looks as lost as the plot in the movie (and as clueless as the director), every bit confused as to how she can reach Shahid (yeah, in this modern zamana aka era of e-mails and answering machines!). The next dumb thing Sonam does is to hand over her "chiththi" that had her address and number to a girl who once had a crush on Shahid (who soon burns her letter so they are not able to contact each other!) Sonam's family is continuously shuttling between India, Scotland, and Amrika. Meanwhile, in the Kargil war, Shahid's hand is paralyzed. When Shahid goes hunting for her in Scotland, he comes to know she has moved out from there too. As he is going back in the Euro rail, he spots her standing in the snow at some random spot at the next station (one hour away from that spot), he gets down and starts running back in the snow...he does find her in a train, but with a child and another man. He walks away silently. Zoom out and it is two years gone by already!

   

Now he is in Ahmedabad for his childhood friend's wedding. Sonam is mourning the loss of her father and finally thinks of abandoning the search for Shahid. (Wah! kya telepathy hai). After a while, rioters are seen setting houses on fire and Sonam running out of her house. She is about to be spotted by the rioters when a hand is seen lifting her off from the spot - it is Shahid!

The plot goes so ridiculously surreal at this point that one would start tearing one's hair, thinking whether to murder the director, Sonam Kapoor, or yourself for having bought the tickets for the movie. Shahid, whose one hand is paralyzed, is seen saving Sonam Kapoor from the rioters and a baby from a giant wheel that he climbs with one hand!

Anyway, the punchline of this film is the movie's second last scene between Sonam and Shahid (yes, they finally do meet. But better not ask how): Shahid says, "Tumne bhi kuchch khoya hai, maine bhi kuchch khoya hai aur isne (a small kid saved by Shahid during the riots) bhi kuchch khoya hai, chalo apna ghar basaye"...a white horse also follows them (poor horse!). I felt like saying "Maine bhi bahut kuchch khoya (money for the tickets)" Yawn!

Rating: 1/2 star

Truant Thy Love

She looked for it everywhere.

A mirage appeared wherever she went.

Each lane, each corner had love stamped on it.

“Where art thou, love”, she wondered.

But love played truant.

Love’s many forms, she was unable to see.

There was only one for her: 

her lost love.

Love played games with her,

Cupid was no less.

Both truant!

Tired, she stopped walking,

Sitting under a tree, she spots a mirror. 

An image she did not recognize:

worn-out clothes, disheveled hair, dark circles under her eyes,

cracked toenails, chipped fingernails.

Unrecognizable, she was distraught.

Who am I? Where did I come from?

Questions haunted her like a tyrant spirit.

She got up, walked on.

A tiny path to a house, a cobblestone road,

A small brook, birds chirping in the woods,

Familiar smells of a time gone by,

Memories enveloped her in a warm embrace.

An old photograph, a diary, few clothes, cluttered stationery,

Bits of paper, yellowing books, old letters, doodles and scribbles,

Remnants of her past in a box.

Crouched on her haunches, 

Aroma from an opened box filled her senses.

She turned the pages of her diary,

Each word spoke to her,

Told tales of the yore.

Grainy photographs had tons to tell,

Familiar old faces, moments captured random, 

Tingling sensations of butterflies in her tummy,

Memories of an old crush, first love lingered.

With a teardrop glistening in her eyes, she smiled!

Hurts like hell!

 It's not even a betrayal. It's not even feeling bad. It's a feeling of being thrown from the cliff into the deep sea!

Do you think relationships are so shallow? Do they have an expiry date? It was an arrow that plunged through the heart!

Family, friends, cousins, acquaintances - all feel meaningless! All those whom I expected will stand besides me, left my side. 

Feels like a smokehouse that just got cleared of people and no one was there in the space. 

Smoke cleared, people too!

Wondering if my existence is a bane for everyone now. Wondering if I am so unimportant for people now. 

Just a major let down!

Wondering why does nobody wants me now.  Am I being punished? Or am I just being plain ignored? 

I feel insulted for having been scorned for my choices. Self respect labelled as arrogance. 

Childhood ties abandoning me. Just when I thought childhood was forever, it turned out to be my very end! The worst feeling is being let down by friends - with whom you grew up! I understand distances come in friendships but never imagined I would be devastated some day. It is a huge let down!

A plunge into the abyss!

A plunge into the deepest dungeons of time!

I don't know where all this is headed to, but I can't handle my emotions anymore! When I was younger, I had fears of death but never fear of being abandoned. Now, as I grow older, life has taught me harsh lessons - never to rely on anyone except myself. 

Years ago, I prayed for God to take me away from this world. I even tried going away myself. But God's whims: he refused to listen to me back then! Now I pray no more. I don't wish anything anymore!

Now I refuse to seek anyone. I don't seek friends or any soulmate too. 

I have decided to abandon all those who abandoned me when I needed them the most!

But it definitely hurts like hell!!

40 - the betrayal blues!

 Having turned 40 this year, I am feeling extra overwhelmed with emotions - a plethora of emotions like abandonment, sadness, fears and a sense of being unloved. I did turn up my self-love quotient higher this year, but it still hasn't healed my broken feelings and open wounds that get greener each day. 

Every day, I get inflicted with fresh wounds either by family or friends. What hurts the most is a let down by childhood friends who have been more than family for me. Or rather whom I considered more than family. Yes, I agree a huge chasm has come in terms of emotional distances but there are a lot of beautiful memories and moments that were created during the growing years. I used to swear by those memories and moments. 

Perhaps, people move on and outgrow these memories. Those moments too become meaningless to them. I met new friends and made new memories too but never ever forgot my old bonds and ties. A huge lesson learnt after I crossed my milestone. My heart not only sank but crashed when I heard my childhood friend is getting married. No! Correction here: I crashed because I got to know the news through a third party! It felt terrible to know that you are no longer important in XYZ's life that XYZ could have shared precious moments of meeting the prospective spouse then and later how XYZ decided to take the plunge to get married. When I was small, I had dreamt I would be a part of XYZ's life - a v v close pal. Sadly, I lost the opportunity over years. I realized I wasn't important enough in XYZ's life to be shared with - the bittersweet moments and relationships of their life! It felt sad that those moments and memories don't exist anymore for them. Worst is when family doesn't even sense you are down and felt badly let down after being told "only they are going for the wedding". Where was I in the decision making? My identity right then crumbled away in front of my eyes. I felt like a piece of neglected furniture - a useless accessory in the background of a "family" backdrop. My existence did not matter to anyone - my presence did not either! So, am I wrong in feeling bitter about being "left out"? Certainly not! 

If people have decided to abandon old ties, I also can! I have an option - a choice. I just don't want to be a shadow in anyone's life anymore. I want to break all my cycles this year. I will live life on my terms. Also, I do not need a family that doesn't even consider me important enough to be a part of them. I always wondered as a kid if I was adopted or not. I felt like I was seeking attention. 

But voila! In my 40th year, I got the golden awareness - FUCK the world, you are important for yourself. Let the world screw itself! Family isn't blood ties, neither is it friendship but it is kinship - people who stand by you in your toughest times and tell that they love u and will prefer you over any TOM, DICK/HARRY in this whole wide world!

I am burning all ties with "show" relationships - I don't need shadows in my life anymore. I need people who will stand by me unconditionally and make me a part of the smallest moments of their lives! You are right! I manifest attention and love for myself!  

Her story

She is tired, ready to collapse. Her grief is gone unnoticed. All she wants are some loving arms who will hold her when she is about to fall, tell her she need not worry. She isn’t a failure yet she has been labelled one. No matter what she does, the tag of failure follows her everywhere. She badly wants to walk away from toxicity but it appears toxicity is drawn to her like a pair of magnets to iron. All she wants is a way out of her house…out into the open somewhere, where she will not be judged for what she isn’t! She wants to breathe. Yeah, you would say, she is alive ‘coz she is breathing. But her breathing is ragged, uneven. 

Her heart beats mechanically. Is she wrong in looking for a place to escape her grief or coping with her emotions? Doesn’t she deserve her space? If only her folks understood this, she would have healed faster! Their concept of healing is work. Work isn’t a solution to everything especially when it comes to base emotions. It cannot act like a cotton dab on the blood flowing out of the veins. It cannot be an insurance to emotions. She only wished her family understood this. She was dying a slow death daily. It was just gonna be a matter of time when she would crash somewhere never to wake up again.

How long do u think she was going to lug her baggage? How long do u think she was going to sustain this pressure. It was a matter of time – today, tomorrow, day after tomorrow? She was awaiting death with open arms but death wasn’t awaiting to embrace her! Her inner turmoils were to end soon and so she thought of a sharp knife and her veins. Her earlier attempts had made her withdraw at the last minute. She halted and paused! 

Each time, she went to sleep, she waited to go into a deep sleep (perhaps not wanting to wake up the next day). Her mind wasn’t equipped to handle this low. Life should have been rosy by now (the age). She dreamt of killing herself daily! Her heart was often extra loaded with lowly thoughts! This had to stop! Thoughts engulfed her daily…only time she was calm was at night. She had to prove she was strong. But why o why did she have to prove that? Why did she have to give daily reports on her “progress”? There were times she wanted to tell her parents to STOP! The name-calling had to end!

Her need to go into the deepest slumber was growing stronger each day! All she needed was a drip -  a vaccine to erase her worst memories!

Announcement!! My New Blog series!

 Guys, I have happy news to share. I have started writing blogs for "Art of How To" (https://artofhowto.com/). Chippy Kurian is the Founder and Editor of Art of How To. We have a strong team of writers now - https://artofhowto.com/team/

Sharing my post links here. Do read, share and subscribe to them.

https://artofhowto.com/2022/10/19/5-ways-to-beat-back-to-work-blues/

https://artofhowto.com/2022/10/23/ever-been-gaslit/ 

https://artofhowto.com/2022/11/08/sway-to-the-beats-and-tunes/

https://artofhowto.com/2022/07/03/hydrate-your-soul/

 https://artofhowto.com/2022/06/06/sologamy/

https://artofhowto.com/2022/06/22/do-not-take-your-heart-lightly/

https://artofhowto.com/2022/06/14/please-talk-money/

https://artofhowto.com/2022/05/25/lets-talk-sex/

                                                                           

https://artofhowto.com/2022/04/24/beat-the-blues-with-music/

https://artofhowto.com/2022/05/18/imperfectly-perfect-moms/

https://artofhowto.com/2022/05/11/early-reader-bird-catches-the-bookworm/

https://artofhowto.com/2022/05/03/travel-and-unwind/

https://artofhowto.com/2022/04/05/get-your-match-points-ready/ 

https://artofhowto.com/2022/03/28/books-that-turned-my-life/

https://artofhowto.com/2022/03/14/its-time-for-a-summer-makeover/

https://artofhowto.com/2022/03/07/saying-yes-to-saying-no/

https://artofhowto.com/2022/02/28/detox-your-friend-list/

https://artofhowto.com/2022/02/21/in-love-perfectly-imperfect/ 

                                                                   https://artofhowto.com/2022/02/07/self-love/                                         

Push the "Fight, not flight button"!!

September 10 marks World Suicide Prevention Day every year! This day began to be observed in 2003. Every individual has either undergone some trauma or been undergoing a bad experience over a period of time. 

The pandemic has worsened the situation, isolating people more. Work-from-home jobs, no-socializing, and no-human touch have increased cases of depression, and suicide has become a common buzzword now. Counselling centres are buzzing with ever ringing telephone lines and more people reaching out to counsellors, parenting coaches and life coaches for help. Everyone has been affected - celebs to commoners - none have been spared of depression. Social media is abuzz with videos of experts giving tips on happiness and gurus conducting wellness sessions. Motivational groups have mushroomed on WhatsApp, Telegram and other chat group apps. 

Motivational quotes are shared daily on WhatsApp statuses and Facebook as a morning and evening ritual. A sense of stagnancy and feeling of being stuck has seeped in people who are slowly losing focus and purpose to live in life. This is when individuals have begun choosing the "flight" in between the former and "fight" - flight symbolizing the need to escape somewhere and fight to symbolize how to remain in the situation using coping mechanisms. Mostly, people lose the will to "fight" and press the "flight" button. Pushing the flight button for most means leaving the world. Ironically, in most cases, it is the family which is the last to know why the person committed suicide. So, let's talk, begin a discussion, make a call and vent! It is a plea to all families, friends and relatives to look out for near and dear ones - call them! Your loved ones may or may not be in distress, but your call may remind them "fight" is the only button they should press and not the "flight" button.

#mentalhealth #wellness #saynotosuicide #anxiety #mentalhealthawareness #happiness #selfcare #mindfulness

A Mom's C-Sec story

I know this comes across as weird nearly 3 years after I became a mom (rather gave birth to my son). Just like any mother, I had my set of apprehensions regarding the birth when I had conceived. I was mentally preparing myself for a natural birth yet within me, I was extremely scared too and inwardly wished for a C-Sec.

All was well (my health and the baby's health) until the 7th month when my gynaec told me that my baby is in a breech position (head up and body down) and that I might have to go in for a caesarean if the position of the head did not change. I had mixed feelings then - happily thinking I don't have to go through the labour process and simultaneously feared the thought of the operation table too. I had no "Coimbatore Parenting Network" (CPN) then, only a baby website to depend on, which kept mailing me growth newsletters regarding my foetal growth (what my baby is doing now etc). All this was virtual. But I had hardly any physical contact with other mommy groups. Now when I look back, I wish I did have one then. My birth as well as my life now would have been so different.

My reasons for a C-Sec...
These were one of my reasons for a casearean ('coz I thought there was low risk for my child). Mostly a picture surfaces in the mind of mothers when it comes too normal births - screams and curses from the labour wards, nurses yelling, anxious dads roaming around and doctors scuttling about in their white coats. Admit it, but most of us have been psyched by such scenes in real life. I was one of them too.

Importance of informed choices
Having digressed from the topic of the caesarean births, I get back to what I wanted to talk about. If I had awareness about natural birth - perhaps counselling, done research too, met the right birthing experts, I would have made the right, informed choice.

The reason I feared normal birth then, is every mom's story (even now) who is even now psyched by hospitals, doctors, the world wide web and sometimes even friends into opting for an Elective C-Sec (glossy name for a C-Sec).

Medical fraternity, marketing & refusal to take risks
Over a period of time, caesarean births have been glorified by the medical fraternity and promoted for various selfish causes (read: marketing). A C-Sec earns more revenue for hospitals than a normal birth. Most doctors also do not want to take "risks" when it comes to "complications" in pregnancy. I often wondered why hospitals never tied up with natural birthing experts and midwives. Now I know the reason.

I realized that my breech birth could have easily been a normal delivery if I had done research and found out about normal birth options and places like the Birth Village in Cochin, Kerala.

After I met this wonderful group of moms (CPN) who believed in unconventional methods of childbirth and parenting, I discovered my answers as to why most moms opted for a C-section vis-a-vis a natural birth and how different my birth could have been. I, just like moms whom I meet today, felt dejected that I did have a choice but did not know then.

CPN and how it changed me
Having worked (joined as member and then worked as admin) with CPN for nearly 3 years now, my life's perspectives completely changed. All of us have been working relentlessly to bring out women from their homes for our monthly meets and the positive sign is that more dads are attending these meets. The reason I mentioned CPN in my blog here is because they motivate women and their families to opt for more natural ways of birthing and most importantly making sure moms get to make their birthing choices (normally dictated by the medical fraternity or respective families). CPN even conducts a monthly breast milk donation for the Government Hospital's Human Milk bank at Coimbatore.

This Mother's Day, on May 13, 2018, CPN is ushering this special day by conducting a workshop on Informed Birthing choices in Coimbatore. Be there to support us!
Join the event page: https://www.facebook.com/events/166357647384610/

Traits of the 'Y Chromosome'

1. Refuse to take help from the X chromosome...especially if its the better half. God forbid, if the X chromosome does manage to get her way and do the same work, he will make sure that its redone by him (Argghh! So much ego hassle). He thinks only he can do all the work.

2. His mood swings cannot be called by the said name. But if the X chromosome experiences the same, its referred by the same name! (Hypocrisy)

3. If there is a fight, the attitude would be "how dare you say this? I refuse to apologise." or even worse still, "These are my things in here, how dare you slam the door in my face? (it was just the wind, by the way. Poor me!)". If he slammed the door in my face, its because he thinks its his birthright to do so or rather he is angry/upset.

4. "What is there to talk" is the common catchphrase they use when forced to "discuss" issues or have a normal face-to-face chat.

5. If you politely do things for them and after a certain point expect it will be noticed, then forget it. In the worst of their "mood swings", they will question your cause and name it "compromise" and order you (in a loud voice) never to do anything for them again. So never ask to be insulted! Never raise your own volume 'coz its blasphemy. How dare you question the MAN!!

6. If he is eating "stale" food, never question him. He will keep eating it just to prove its not stale.

And there is more...

How it all began...

Writing was not my forte until school got over. Then I had only verbal skills to fall back upon. Words took long to form on paper. It was only when I wrote my first essay that I discovered my latent skill after which there was just no looking back for me. I recognized my love for words and saw a dream seeing my name in print. After I completed my course, I suddenly wanted to be known by my name or a ‘byline’ in the paper.

My journey began as an intern of a news daily in South India. My first day replays in my head. The room had computers dating back to the 19^th century. In front of them, sat balding old men who relentlessly kept thumping the keys of the aging, yellow keyboards. I assume they were filing stories. To my right was a suave, young reporter convincing the Chief Reporter about a story he wanted to do. I walked on, lost in the din of fax machines, ringing phones and a noisy fan. An office boy was seen noisily dumping a pile of letters on a dusty table next to where I stood. As I took in a 360 degree view of the room, lost in deep thoughts, I got a slight tap on my shoulder. I turned around and found myself facing the very guy I was admiring earlier. My confused look made him realize I was new. I told him I had come for my internship. He agreed to take me to the editor, a bespectacled man, who looked up from his newspapers and introduced himself. I submitted the letter of internship issued by my institute. He took a small interview about my background and academics. After the preliminary formalities, he stretched his hand to mine and said, “Welcome to our newspaper. You will get an opportunity to do every type of work. All the best!” He assigned me to the desk head who introduced me to the staff. He showed me my seat and system where the pile of mail had been dumped earlier. I was told that my job would be to monitor the weekly events, sift through them and file the engagements for the page on a daily basis. The next half an hour went in decoding illegible handwriting in letters requesting for announcements of death anniversaries, birthdays, arangetram (dance) invitations. I promptly separated the Tamil brochures which resembled some Greek and Latin script. I looked wistfully at the black screen in front of me, trying to search for MS Word to start typing. After five minutes of futile search for the software, I asked my neighbour, a grumpy looking guy who gruffly told me “it’s a Lotus system” that functions only if one typed directory commands. Huh, finally! I gave a long sigh and began typing. After half an hour’s ordeal, I was done with the work. My senior suggested I have some “tiffin”. Tiffin in south India (mainly in Tamil Nadu) refers to meals and there is no concept of a dinner or lunch, generally. Anyway, he directed me to the canteen – literally a one-room shack where old, rusty gas stoves were placed and young boys were scurrying about to serve food to the staff. Most people had got their dabbas and were eating in their own groups. Lunch was over and I went back to resume staring at other people for work.
But trust me, this day was the most memorable for me. It still brings a smile on my face even after 7 years into my profession, as I remember my seniors there. Wish to visit them one day and thank them for mentoring me in those 2 weeks and later 4 months of professional relationship as colleagues.

P.S.: This post is not aimed to malign any news organisation nor reinforce stereotypes about journalism. I have merely added a dash of humour to the piece. I have deliberately kept the name  of the organisation anonymous. 

Negative energy et al

One thing in this world you cannot ignore, or change are negative people and vibes. As long as there is positive energy around, there will be negative energy too. But the trick is to find a way to break its barriers using positive thinking. As a famous author puts it: "Quit thinking that you must halt before the barrier of inner negativity. 

You need not. You can crash through... whatever we see a negative state, that is where we can destroy it." In today's competitive world, it is hard to keep away this form of destructive energy. For instance, if you get promoted or patted by your boss or even something as simple as your joy, there will be some negative people who will be utterly jealous. 

The ones who were so-called close to you, will start cold-shouldering you, become hostile and stare rudely at you as if you stabbed someone. Such elements can make you feel guilty for nothing in silence as silence is the best tool to make someone feel really bad about something that might not even exist and you might be left stewing over that fictional 'something'! 

Their purpose would be to put you down in front of someone else. For all you know it may even be a ploy to bring down your work quality so that they can shine in front of the boss. They can go all lowly attempts to show how bad your work style is. If there is a piece of gossip, they will deliberately get into a huddle and talk about it either in front of you or around you, just to make you feel out-of-place. This normally happens when one enters a new organization. The newbie may be struggling to learn and understand the 'ropes of trade'. Instead of making him or her feel welcome and make it more approachable, there will be similar attempts as above to create negative energy. Older the person in an organization, more is the hostility shown by them towards a newbie for varied reasons, unknown to even God, I suppose! One could only guess the reasons. Yet, it is a sad fact that instead of showing initiative in encouraging the newbie to enter a group or breaking ice with the individual, it is often seen that the fresher to the organization (despite having completed a respectable number of years in the field) is made to feel guilty that he or she has yet not picked up the culture of the workplace. 

The older experienced guys should remember that they had also started as freshers at some point of time. If they went through a rough training or rude seniors, does not mean that one has to be rude to the new people who join. This becomes particularly important when the so-called fresher is attempting something totally new that he may not have done all his professional life. He or she should be praised and lauded at every step that he is taking in the new field and the organization instead of putting him or her on a total guilt trip! The vicious cycle could only entail in increasing chances of attrition in an organization. It is up to the HR to keep a close tab if the fresher is undergoing any struggle to 'fit' into the team dynamics.

This you may wonder is my story and an attempt to make it sound fictional. Thats not the case. It happens everywhere in a very covert fashion. No one really notices it and of course, choose to ignore it. The 'seniors' of the workplace if made aware of this growing trend, shrug their shoulders and react emotionlessly saying "either the fresher/newbie is oversensitive or overreacting. There is nothing to worry!"

This maybe my ranting on negativity and many may even ask me this question: Charity begins at home. What have you done to tone down negativity at the workplace? I am proud to say that I have mentored and helped many newbies feel at home, at my level - many still thank me till this day! I believe if one tones down negativity, the workplace will grow, and it will mean lesser attrition! 

I can only hope that a day will come when one leaves an organization not because of politics, but better opportunities elsewhere.

7 Years as a scribe: Ups and Downs

I complete seven long years in journalism in August 2011. I wonder what I have gained and what I have lost. Lets begin on a positive note: what have I gained? An identity of my own (of being a scribe), working on my terms (thats a bit ironical, though!), writing (which was my childhood dream and I do intend to be a successful writer someday), and finally I have managed to reach a senior level (that is also ironical...I would ask: at what cost?). What do I do with seniority and a high paying job when I am still not doing what I always wanted to do? (Delhiites would say: toh kya hua! iska achar daalun kya main? - In literal terms, it would mean: Should I 'pickle' (achar) the salary and designation?).

So, what have I lost: precious relationships, my self-respect and probably much more...I am still proud that I am a journalist! But am not proud of the fraternity that I am part of - day in and day out. For long, I supported journalism, was an idealist and activist. I fought with my mom, tooth-and-nail to remain in this field, gave her all the possible arguments like a lawyer! 

Finally, after having entered this field, been there for 7 years now, I feel like a fool thanks to members of the fraternity of whom I was proud of, for a long time. I am compelled to bring this done-to-death topic here, on this forum, 'coz all my friends in the media agree with me and am thankful to all those who stood by me like a wall whenever I wanted to break down! 

I would call myself a 'solitary reaper' in this field, trying to find my place here. I realized it is a futile task trying to prove myself. Long ago, as an intern for a reputed newspaper in the south, my news editor had given me a tip on my last day there. This is what he said: If u can prove yourself in the desk, u can shine as a writer. He was partly right. I did do well in the desk for a while and used to write well too. But after a few years, I started realizing that desk was not my cup of tea. Yet I persisted, giving myself chances repeatedly. 

Never thinking that it had been a Himalayan blunder of my life to become a sub-editor! Now that 7 years have passed, I want to break the vicious cycle that is consuming me; follow my heart and resume writing! I know there are a whole lot of risks involved: I would have to financially sustain myself and also incur my mom's wrath for taking another plunge into an unknown abyss. But, I am willing to take a risk 'coz this time, I do not want to lose myself again.

A few rhymes stir childhood memories...

    Malayalam

Kaake kaake koodevide

Kootinakathoru kunjundo

Kunjinu theeta kodukkaanjal

Kunju kidannu karanyeedum

Kaake kaake nee tharumo

Ninnude kayyile neyappam

Betty bought some batter butter,

But she found the butter bitter;

So she bought some better butter,

To make the bitter batter better

Baa, baa, black sheep

     Have you any wool?

Yes sir, Yes sir,

     Three bags full:

One for my master,

     And one for his dame,

And one for the little boy

     Who lives down the lane

Ding dong bell,

    Pussy in the well;

Who put her in?

    Little Tommy Thin.

Who pulled her out?

    Little Tommy Stout.

What a naughty boy was that

    To drown poor pussy cat.

Cobbler, cobbler mend my shoe,

Get it done by half past two,

Stitch it up and stitch it down

And I'll give you half a crown.