Hola, Blogger world!

Hello folks.

Do people read me here still? I just noticed the skyrocketed stats recently! 

I last updated this blog when I was preparing for an exam in Jan 2014. (I never cleared that exam!) Well, here I am 2 years later and just done with another exam and waiting for the result (today...omg!). Third time lucky, they say, right?

Before you even step in to the medical field, always remember it is going to be long, grueling years of writing exams and mostly failing them too. Maybe, it's all worth it in the end!

Tata.

Adios.

 PS: Hit me up in the comments section if you are still reading me here!

I currently blog at 'Shahira'. Do follow me there

Beginnings

To explore the genre of creative writing and to write using prompts, I have started another blog on Wordpress. Do visit me there and leave your valuable comments.

I write at Shahira. (Earlier known as The Word Trance)

PS : I shall continue blogging here. (Yes, that exam is still there! )

Hope. 2014.

Beside, one digit on the year, there is no difference between yesterday and today. Yet, there is a feeling of rejuvenation.  

Beginning brings in hope, thus helping us in moving forward. A better professional life. A peaceful personal life. We dream that this year will be better than the last. With all due probability,  it could be the same or worse. Yet, we move forward with the hopeful dream of a better 2014. Hope helps us to thrive. Hope helps in giving wings to our dreams.  

May He bless us with Rajaa' and Ridha. ( Hope and contentment)

PS: Away until the 25th. Exams knocking.

Coming home.

I call myself a nomad. Since 2006, it has been rightly so. I have been constantly travelling between Doha, Kerala and Bangalore. I loved packing and leaving, either to Doha because I was tired of college or back to Bangalore,  because I was tired of  the desert.

My black Amberst trolley bag has been my constant companion in all these travels. It has been a pleasure to meet some interesting co-passengers. Roaming in Dubai airport alone is always a different experience. And so is exploring the book shops of the various airports. All the latest titles that you cannot seem to get hold of otherwise, you will surely find them in the airport bookshops. Observing people from different countries, from different walks of life and how they react to stress of a journey or flight delay or how they deal with their screaming kids has been my past time. Some airports like Dubai, Doha, Bangalore and Bahrain are impressive. Some like Sharjah, Calicut, Trivandrum, Muscat are mediocre.  

As much as I have enjoyed the nomadic adventures of the past 7 years, I wish for a change now. I wish to be in one place, call it my home, have my clothes, books and collections in one place instead of it being strewn over two countries. When I am in Doha, I get bored and want to get out. When I am in my hometown, I donot find any connection with it. Definition of home changes as we grow up. What was home will not be home. I wish to have a place in which I feel home. They say, home is people. Home is also constant. Home is comfort and security. Home is joy.  

Wandering new place and constantly travelling gives you a glimpse of different people and perspective, but tonight, I want conformity. I want to have that favourite pillow or the corner of my cupboard for my favourite collection of newspaper scraps, quotes, letters etc. I want to have a favourite hang-out, a shop I frequent, a menu of a restaurant memorized. I want to know the place, the people, the community. I want to be home.  

That is my wish, prayer, hope and dream for 2014. To have a place and a person whom I call home.  

Ya Allah. Give me strength to endure.  

(... and maybe, when I get that, I might write a blog post of how I want to shed off the cobwebs of daily life. Grass is greener on the other side, they say. C'est la vie! )

Festival of Words.

For the past 7 days, after waking up, my first thought was 'Oh...what will I write today'. It reminded me of writing English essays in school, at the last-minute. I read countless blogs, beautiful ideas and interacted with many bloggers. (the most I have interacted with, in all my X years of being in the online world -an introvert, offline & online ! :D )  

Taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words was a different experience for me. I don't call myself a writer or blogger. I mostly write when I am feeling low. I write to clarify my thoughts and it helps me to look at my situations from a different angle. Writing has been my refuge and the written word has helped me in masking my pain. I write because I convey my thoughts and feelings better through it, than a conversation.

This would be a summary of my experience and observations...

●With one word given as a prompt, there were nearly 50+ entries for each. Just one word can lead to such a creative splurge of different thoughts, varied emotions, stories and incidents. Colourful kaleidoscope of thoughts from just one word!

● Each and every blogger tried their level best to interact with others and read through their entry. When veteran bloggers (say, what, 2 million hits?) read and comment on your blog, it is a beyond happy feeling. Everyone took to Corinne's advice of 'pay it forward.'  

● Reading through many blogs, I got to know, some have demanding jobs or are mothers to small children, yet almost everyone did a wonderful job of updating 7 posts, inspite of their hectic schedule. When a definite goal is set, we can always find a way out to achieve it.

● For me personally, I am no seasoned blogger, neither do I update 7 posts per month. Last week was the hardest, with being quite busy at home, ill health plus a terribly slow internet (read 40kbps :D), still managed to update, read other blogs and comment. *happy dance* (I know, I haven't read all of your blogs, but in due time, InshaAllah, I shall do it. Apologies !)  

●Positive comments, constructive criticism helps in improving ourselves.

 ●Writers can come in any shades - mothers, housewife, corporate employee, doctors, students. As long as you have the flair and interest to write, you have every technology right in front of you to write and publish it to a wider audience.

●.. and, yeah almost all of us are crazy about books and most have started their reading journey with Enid Blyton.

● 7 days got over way too fast !

Looking forward in taking part in other Write Tribe festivals and prompts. (and frequent blogging and writing, maybe!)

Delhi dreams.

Her father's dream was for her to get an education,
he sold his land in Ballia to pay her fees.  

Her dream was to secure her family's financial future,
she worked hard and became a physiotherapist.  

Fate had other plans. Wrong time, at the wrong place.

As the city slept on a cold December night,
she was being tortured, humiliated and violated.  

They could injure and scar her body,  
but not her hopes and dreams.  

Fiercely she  fought her battle,
"Mother, I want to live", said she.  

Unbearable pain, she endured,
Unwavering strength, she showed.  

Eventually, she bowed down to destiny,
13 days later, she left for her eternal abode.  

A dream of a young girl aborted, quite painfully.
A dream of a father snatched away from him, so quickly.  

Protests, vigils and candles, alighted the country.  
Rage, disbelief and shock, soon turned to grief, tears and sorrow.  

As dreams turned into a nightmare, A nation awakened, though late.      

This is written in memory of the Delhi brave heart who was brutually gang raped on December 16, 2012. She succumbed to the injuries and left for her eternal abode on December 29, 2012. It was an incident that shook the nation and protesters lined the streets in every nook and corner of the country. According to statistics,  every 20 minutes, a woman is abused in India. After the incident, awareness has increased and crimes are being reported and registered daily, yet we have a mammoth task left to do.  

I and my sister studied in Bangalore and Trivandrum while our parents and extended family were in another country. We have taken early morning flights, long train rides and night bus journeys alone. To think, things could have gone wrong is a scary thought. Now, if my younger cousin sister wants to come back to India for her graduate studies, my family might think about it twice !

I hope and pray for a safe and secure India.

(I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words 8th – 14th December 2013. This is the seventh and final post in the 7 day series. I thoroughly enjoyed taking part in the festival)        

To Teacher, With love.

Being a shy, dreamy kid in an over achieving family will make you often feel like a fish out of the pond. All through my Junior and Middle school, I considered myself as an average child with no special talents, neither in academics nor in co-curricular activities.

  ....and, then I met a teacher in 8th standard. Bubbly and energetic is what any one would describe her at first. She taught us math - most high schooler's dreaded subject. Her unique way of teaching us the subject made almost all of us to fall in love with numbers and equations. For three consecutive years, she taught us just more than math.  

One of her foremost principles was 'always respect people'. Respect the lab attendants, the cleaners and other non-teaching staff in the same way you respect your teacher or Principal. Respect should not be based on profession, financial status, age or gender. Respect all people - she taught us.  

Believe in yourself was the lesson she instilled in me, personally. I believed I was incapable of scoring good marks in math or doing well in physics. She saw the potential in me way before I did. She appreciated me for who I am. As kids, one of the greatest gifts a parent or teacher can give is positive validation. As long as you ready to put  in your effort and hard work, success can be yours, she said.  

Over three years, she inspired me in a way no one else had. What helped was she didn't know anyone in my family other than me. So I was not under the undue pressure to keep up. Her impressions or expectations from me was not due to others associated with me, but due to my own abilities and talents.  I started loving math and doing well in studies(lottery of genes worked there :D)  Eventually I went on to secure top scores in math in 9, 10 n 12 th grade. As a 7th grader, that would have been the last I expected from myself !  

When given with a challenge, one of my first reaction, as a kid was , 'It is not possible for me to do it'. Her kind and encouraging words helped me in improving my self esteem and confidence. As I grew up and left home for college, it helped me in facing many adversities I had to battle with. So much so, challenges thrill me now. It is one of the easiest way to make us step out of our comfort zones.  

Eventually she left our school and I lost touch with her. Everytime, the thought of 'I cannot do it' cross my mind, I look back onto the memories of her kind, smiling face telling me to never stop believing in myself.    

Good teachers leave an indelible mark in the life of their students and the effect of the lessons they have taught linger long after the students have left the gates of their school.

(I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words 8th – 14th December 2013. This is the sixth post in the 7 day series. Wohoo, I made it this far in my first ever attempt of any blogger events )