Monday, December 15, 2014

It Happens for a Reason: Book Review...

 Best moment to read book: when you are all alone in the room with no one to distract and no one to call you. It tremendously pain to be all alone, with roommate on vacation, left alone in echoing room with all neighboring rooms empty. But I am used to such loneliness and I never let it eat me. I try to live, fully. I read endless and write best during those hours.
It gave me different pleasure to read a book signed by the author. I felt honored to receive an author-signed copy. I am a slow reader. I finish a novel in a week or so. But I am amazed that I finished this novel by Preeti Shenoy in a sitting. Every chapter hooked me, and I couldn’t help but keep turning the pages.
      Book Review: It is a novel written in first person point of view. In present tense. And in between, it slips back to the past days using flash back technique until the story reach back to present. It is written in lucid and simple language, unlike Chetan Bhagat, it reads great with profundity of language. And recommendable read for anyone looking to read a book with profound language by the contemporary Indian fiction writer. Scenes and characters are described meticulously, giving you the perfect picture.
It is a story about Vipasha Mishra, friends call her Vee. She falls in love at first sight with Ankush during her trip to Kerala with her friends. Though she was not sure of her feelings. Soon, their relationship escalates, and she becomes pregnant. Ankush doesn’t want baby but she wants. Then, series of turbulences unfold. Get thrown out from home. She become single mother and struggles for her living, and grows up with her son, Aryan. Ankush and Vee never meet for sixteen years until one day, Aryan decides to meet Ankush as he is his father. Do you think Ankush will come back to Vee? And will she accept him after sixteen years of no-contact? Not even in mail. 
I would keep it to you all to answer it.
Author Preeti Shenoy....
If you pick up the book, you won’t regret. It is worth the price, and unlike those cheesy contemporary languages of Indian writers, it is written in good language.
This is the first novel I finished at one-sitting. I felt overwhelmed and awe-struck for I did it!
By the way it is 261 pages long novel! 

Sunday, December 7, 2014

You’re my inspiration...

It was a serene evening. Moon was shining full, giant and clear illuminating the blue and vast sky. The cool breeze was blowing, gently rustling the leaves of few trees growing around the College Campus. Best hour of the day to walk around and explore the beauty of Raichur. Few times, I took out my mobile phone to capture the beautiful scenes, and reluctantly put it back into my pocket knowing that I wouldn’t capture a photo worth sharing in social media. I have unending passion for photography, just next to literature. But I never tried one. I am just waiting for that right moment. Hope, I would be able to do so very soon.
Jigme, the curious guy...
I quietly sneaked out of my hostel with ATM card in my pocket. I went to Jigme’s room. He is my junior studying in second year BPT. I like walking around with him for many reasons. His inexplicable curiosity, in particular. I wonder how he can be so curious and I have hope that one day he will find all answers to his curiosity. I like listening to his curious questions, though I hardly have any answer. But I like wondering with him as much as he enjoys living in his imaginative world.
We checked all the four ATMs available in our College Campus and none of them gave me the money.
I had no money in my pocket. We cannot always trust the machine though it never lies.
Anyways, we headed to the shops. I recharged 3G data package for a week. And headed to the noodles restaurant where I believe we get the most delicious noodles in Raichur. My mouth waters even on thought of it.
As usual many people were there. Some were eating noodles. Some were smoking. Some were standing and staring around. Some were cooking noodles. The fragrance of spices that hovers around in the air activates every taste bud in my tongue. We went inside, made ourselves comfortable on the chairs around the table.
“Bhaiya, two egg noodles and one chicken pakoda, please.” I asked the uncle who owns that restaurant.
“Please, be seated. It will take 5 minutes.” He said with the smile on his face as always.
“But I don’t have money right now. I will give you tomorrow.” I said, hesitatingly.
“Hey, who asked you money? You can give me whenever you have. Please, sit.” He raised his hand as if to beat me, jokingly.
When I came here in 2011, his shop was just a ramshackle with few chairs to sit and only one cook cooking with sweat drenching his clothes with the heat from the oven. In front of my eyes, it developed, little by little, and now it is a giant restaurant with many cooks employed and many chairs and tables. I saw the true evidence of successful business. A man getting richer, day after day. Some days before, he shared about his earning which equals ‘civil servants monthly salary’ in a day. Is it because of the trust he place on his customer that he is prospering?
Jigme and I talked on various topics ranging from politics and corruption, love and family, and many more.
“What if our parents didn’t enrol us to school? After all, they are illiterate.” he asked me curiously sitting opposite to me.
“They are better than most of the educated parents. They worked under shine and rain to educate us. They slept half-stomach so that we can have good dinner. They broke boulders and worked by roadsides so that they can send us pocket money when we are studying. They borrowed money from neighbours despite harsh insult, so that we can stand alike with wealthy children. I have my outmost respect and admiration for my parents. They are the best human in this world for me.” I answered him, waving my hand in the air as if I am making some public speech.
“Our parents are the only two people in this world who want us to rise above them. Who loves us unconditionally!” He summarized what I said in a line, beautifully.
Then, we talked about love. He shyly took out his mobile and showed me the photo of his girlfriend which he saved as screen photo. She was cute and beautiful.
“Do you love her truly?” I asked him.
“I love her so much and she too loves me back, equally. Do you truly love your Tshering?” He threw back the question to me.
“I do. She is a very good girl with human heart. She was the sole inspiration behind writing my first book. When my blog remain vacant for a week, she reminds me. I love that very much. She loves my blog even more than I do. I love her, truly and madly.”
He looked at me, deeply and added, “She is a good girl. She has every character a good girl should have. I have seen that in her. May two of you keep loving each other. My prayers.”
Then, we came back to hostel. The evening walk was wonderful. I talked about his determination, commitment and curiosity. I encouraged him to live the way he is and follow his heart. Sure, he would do something. Back in hostel, he showed me his first draft of his first story that he is writing. His concept was marvellous. Mind-blowing! He had collection of his own quotation which were profound. When we were about to depart, he remarked:
“Acho, you are my sole inspiration!”
I smiled, broadly. Someone (I don’t intend to mention his name) remarked angrily, “Do you think you are a great person just because you write few blog posts, huh?”
I didn’t reply him that moment. I hardly give instant reply to anybody, especially when it is a discussion fuelled with anger.  Here is my answer for him: I am not great because I write blog posts. But I certainly feel great every time I complete a post for my blog. I just love that feeling.  

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Writer’s block or lack of inspiration??

It has been a long time that I last updated my blog. Every time I see my barren blog, my heart aches. Still then, I couldn’t come up with something that I can write in my blog. I didn’t find any topic worth writing. Many a time, I tried writing something but I ended up writing few sentences and deleting it. I wanted to write about lame blame-game going on in Bhutanese parliament. But I couldn’t write about it as I know that none of them would read it. It would make no difference. If it would have made difference, it would have already made as numerous bloggers write about it. They just don’t have time to read what public had written about them.
Writer's block photo from Google
Many times, I wondered what writer’s block means. I never thought it would attack me. I always felt I rejoice writing and I can write anything, anytime. I was kind of spontaneous writer. Nothing used to stop me from writing. When I was in Primary School, there was no electricity in my village. But I used to write under the kerosene lamp. I used to write under the dim light from oven fire. I used to write lying down on the floor as I had no tables and chairs. I used to write even after exhausting work in farmland. But, I used to write. Write and write. Nothing stopped me. It used to take no time to write a story and a poem.
But now, I don’t know, to write a sentence also, I started taking lots of time. Is this a writer’s block or am I lacking the inspiration? I wanted to describe beautiful scenes and beautiful moments. But my pen drops as I look out. There is nothing beautiful to write about. I am tired writing about scorching sun and dryness. I need something new. Something fresh to write about! See! What I am doing is just blaming something. Just making an excuse for not updating my blog!
If it is a writer’s block, I would overcome it very soon. Since few days, I started working on the story that I outlined and I am doing pretty well. Sometimes, someone’s memories are enough to write endless sentences.

Happy reading and keep following my blog, I would update something beautiful next time. 

Sunday, November 16, 2014

You’re decorated in my heart

I am obviously bad in poetry. But sometimes, I feel the inner urge to write one. And I believe that nothing is more beautiful than writing what you feel from your heart. Obviously, it is dedicated to YOU.  

Until my last breathe, I would keeping searching for you
If you fail to come, I would keep these last words:
“Hey people, when you burn me to the ashes,
Don’t burn my heart coz there I have decorated you for eternal.”
I less care what the world has to say
Least even when the world turns into my enemy
Coz I loved you, so, I would love you forever.....


 Sorry friends, if I couldn’t invite you all for my marriage party
Coz our union is for sure to happen in heaven, beyond
I am ill and doubtful if I can dance in next festival
But, “Hey people, when you burn me to the ashes,
Don’t burn my heart coz there I have decorated you for eternal.”

We are uncertain when we love who,
And its arduous to get whom we love for whole of our life
Sometimes, when we beautifully decorate them in our heart
Even when our heart pains, I feel like she is in pain
After all, who don’t desire to live long and laugh out loud?
But when time cheats us, we don’t desire for it
And I feel like to say: “Hey people, when you burn me to the ashes,
Don’t burn my heart coz there I have decorated you for eternal.”

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