Sometimes, ignorance is not bliss

It feels quite disappointing to mention how ignorance is causing a major loss to me. Ganjoo Sahab, an expert on Kashmir affairs, worked with me for some time in ANI. We developed closeness while arguing over several issues with our fellow colleague Barun Haldar, an octogenarian retired voice over artist from All India Radio, and a hardcore congress supporter, who holds high respect among top newsreaders of India.

But Ganjoo Sahab, in his late 50s, developed closeness with me, as we used to argue over day-to-day political or social developments as and when they appeared in newspapers or on news channels. We had heated debates, days of staying on no-talking terms, and even gained popularity in office for our intellectual fights.

He came close to me, for being similar, if not identical in opinion, on many issues; mainly Hindutva related. I hated him when he objected to the Tricolour being erected on the partition between our cubicles. All three used to sit on the end of three rows of the office building’s third floor. Ganjoo never valued Barun and the latter never felt comfortable in his presence. Barun would talk to me mostly when Ganjoo was not around. We would remain seated on our respective chairs and would stand up only when the arguments gained heat. But it was a great fun of its own sort.

Barun Da left the company for his beloved wife, who needed his company following the old age. To my great surprise, I was only person whom he chose to say Goodbye to out of his hundreds of fans in the company. I felt privileged. I feel so stupid of me for not writing Barun Da frequently despite loving writing. I know he has big heart to forgive me. I miss his presence.

A Kashmiri Pandit by community and Hindu by religion, he was born to an Army man and is a brother to a famous geologist. Once he told me how he started writing news as a freelance initially but never allowed anyone to learn about it. He remained secretive, a habit he maintains to this day with alacrity. His father learnt about his only after some of their neighbours told they had noticed his son’s name in some local newspaper in Kashmir.

Off and on, he calls me at night, as he perhaps finds none who would listen to his real life kisse-kahaniyan (anecdotes). He has been a great reporter of authority on his favourite subject Kashmir and its related world. He says he gained notorious popularity among all top politicians of Kashmir and is a well-known name in PoK, Pakistan, and Nepal. I value him a lot as a novice in this journalistic field.

I find it very interesting to listen how he dealt with people that he came across and the circumstances he undergone at times.

For me, it’s highly interesting. But sadly, he calls me at a time when I am not full focused. I believe any intelligent person would love to concentrate on his each word. But I , simply, forget. For not having any in-depth knowledge on Kashmir and related things, all those talks remain short-stories to me. But really those are interesting human stories.

It scares me if ever he talks about having interviewed any top-profile person of authority in India or Pakistan. Though I view it he is doing a great service to our nation in his own chosen way, but my poor awareness and understanding of things disappoints me, especially my forget memory. I am usually surfing net at that time when he calls up or doing something else. It just helps me sleep well having felt entertained and listened to some deeply thought out views.

I don’t know when I will be serious to understand and learn from his talks. I need to improve my basics about Kashmir and Pakistan.

The Metro train and me......

I have recently found a charm in travelling to office by Metro train. Honestly speaking, it was rather a compulsion than a personal choice, as I was forced by circumstances--the heavy rains for it.

The recent heavy downpour in Delhi proved to be a blessing in disguise for a person like me, who gets just 15-20 minutes to think about rest of the day or the strategy to deal new challenges the next day.

The heavy rains stuck my motorbike twice. The rainwater makes it immovable, as the water enters the piston (read engine) which takes almost 12 hours to dry on its own.

No ordinary mechanic or Puncture wallah can help in that crisis! I remember dragging my 99 kg bike 21 kilometres on the first day when it rained cats and dogs in Delhi in August. Thanks to a few nice souls who pushed my bike every now and then up to half way (10 kilometres). Rest was a harrowing experience at past midnight!

But, as it is said, it's never too late to make a good beginning; hence I have started travelling by Metro train from Sep.10, 2009. It is my third day on trot but I find myself like any villager or stranger who has entered a different planet where he is actually lost and has to learn everything by hit and trial method.

The Metro experience is quite interesting for me these days. Everyday there is something stupid done by me. Be it de-boarding at wrong stations and then going blank or naively calling my friend Rajesh for directions (that I haven't followed as yet) or just approaching anyone on the platforms or inside the train asking basic things like any villager in city.

There is unique joy being like that but it involves slightly nervous and embarrassing moments too.

Recently, I paid a fine of Rs.50 for de-boarding at two stops ahead of where I was expected to as per travelling coupon. I didn't know one has to get down at Kashmere Gate for Inter State Bus Terminal stop (I.S.B.T). I asked one or two persons but they didn't tell me clearly. That's how I travelled two stations ahead.

But when I approached the coupon counter for my coupon's up gradation, as was suggested by friend on the previous night, I was charged Rs.50 as fine. It's a new rule introduced a week ago and not many people are aware of it.

My entire joy of the day that I have saved Rs.200 of travelling to my office by three-wheeler vanished, as I a total Rs.82 on that night to reach my residence at 11.40 instead of 10.00 p.m.

Even if it takes an hour-and-a-half to two hours each day on one side from my home in Malka Ganj to R.K.Puram (21 km), instead of 25 to 30 minutes on motorbike, still I am exploring its full joy. I am trying to make myself comfortable with it.

Besides disallowing me to work in office beyond almost eight hours, it gives me enough time to think, to relax and to learn anything what i want. I am just starting to like it.

I view it as something 'new' happening in life. It's after opting to travel by it routinely, with initial hesitation, that I am exploring the scopes and joy of it. So many people, so many talks, there is just so much in Metro, I think I have missed for a long time. It's been probably six years when Metro was introduced in Delhi, but after once or twice travelling like a kid accompanying elders, I had a chance to travel by it with friends. That too on much reluctance and their insistence I agreed.

Now, I am beginning to feel what it takes to travel by Metro. I look forward to be more comfortable and actually be able to enjoy the hidden joy without nervousness.

Yet to be finalised.......Rough notes


Dr. Ajeet Jawed in her book Secular and Nationalist, states…….


Jinnah who ate pork, drank scotch, seldom entered a mosque was ignorant of Islamic teachings, did not observe Islamic rituals, could not speak Urdu, wore high-class Western suits and had come from a Hindu Bhatia family, was christened Quaid-I-Azam by the Muslim Maulvis, writes Dr. Jawed in the chapter Tragedy of Jinnah in her book.

“I still consider myself to be an Indian. For the moment I have accepted the Governor-Generalship of Pakistan. But I am looking forward to a time when I would return to India and take my place as citizen of my country.” M.S.M.Sharma, Peeps into Pakistan, p.185.

M.S.M.Sharma was the editor of Daily Gazette of Karachi.

“I never wanted this damn Pakistan! It was forced upon me by Sardar Patel. And now they want me to eat the humble pie and raise my hands in defeat.” Hashoo Kewal Ramani, Pakistan X-rayed, Delhi, New Age, 1951, p.111.

While inaugurating the first session of the Pakistan Constituent Assembly on August 11, 1947, he firmly declared:

“You are free; you are free to go to your temples , you are free to go to your mosques or any other place of worship in this State of Pakistan. You may belong to any religion or caste or creed that has nothing to do with the fundamental principle that we are all citizens and equal citizens of one state…Now I think, we should keep that in front of us as our ideal and you will find that in course of time, Hindus would cease to be Hindus, and Muslims would cease to be Muslims, not in the religions sense, because , that is the personal faith of each individual, but in the political sense of the citizens of the state.” Jyoti Sen Gupta’s Eclipse of Pakistan, p.54

For Jinnah, Pakistan was a bargaining counter to settle his personal accounts with the Congress and to humble its leaders who had questioned even his representative character and had tried to finish him politically.

Mahommedali Currim Chagla (M.C.Chagla), a renowned Indian jurist, diplomat, and Cabinet Minister who served as Chief Justice of the Bombay High Court from 1948 to 1958, was influenced by Jinnah’s robust patriotism and secularism. He under Jinnah’s guidance worked for strengthening the nationalist and progressive elements in the All India Muslim League.

“Even leaders like Subhash Chandra Bose had great regard for him and often sought his advice on political matters,” M.C. Chagla, Roses in June, December, p.42

Jinnah also stated that he bore “no malice to anyone despite political differences.”

He once stated: I went to the chambers of Sir George Lowndes as a penniless man. He was to me like a father and treated me like a son. When he was in the Imperial Legislative Council as the Law Member to the Government of India, I bitterly opposed him. Withal, we have maintained our friendship unbroken till this day.”

He added: “Pt. Moti Lal and I used to fight like a pair of wildcats on the floor of Legislative Assembly yet on the same evening of our altercation he used to dine sumptuously with my wife at my cost.” Ibid

Ibid /means the source quoted is the same as the source just quoted in the previous example

My day starts usually by 8 or 9 depending upon the shift. I come out of the room to search for papers while rubbbing my eyes. If they have not been placed on the cot or floor in the veranda, I pull them out of the main door. The newspaper vendor leaves it at the top of the main door and sticks them in the grills. I pull them all out of there.

Newspapers begin my first and also the most important activity of the day. I have to take it quite seriously, as it includes searching my mistakes of the previous day or locating the rooms for improvement. I also view it as the time to learn new formats or approches to attempt any story.

Then I carry that bundle of newspapers to first floor and keep glancing through the them for headlines. I feel very desperate to know everthing newsy before anyone could call and tell me anything or ask...saying: " Have you read..? ".....

After that I go to Mumma on first floor....I put the papers in my study room and just rush with a paper to washroom....spend my 15 to 25 minutes reading it there.

I come out and mumma asks....Chai ke saath kya chalega.... and routinely I would say (depending upon time)...tea with fried bread or at times Parontha.... Having said that I brush my teeth, as she would ask immediately....Brush Kar Leya hai tu ki..(Are you done with the toothbrush?). And, I will say 'bus samajh lo ho gaya' (just feel it's done already), as I spend not more than one minute on brushing my teeth even if being aware that one should do it at least for 10 minutes.

Then I enter my study room, pick up papers and head towards terrace room on the second floor...I read there till i get a loud call from Mumma.....as I have to get ready for office.

I usually leave my mobile at charing in study room, hence there is no disturbance. Just me and papers, I value that time as serious preparation or study time of the day.

Then Mumma comes upstairs with a bottle of water, and breakfast. I get up from the cot and fill water in a pitcher or bucket from the water tank placed at the terrace. I fill or throw off the dirty water from birds' pot and refill it. I love them a lot.

Then I return, wash my hands and have my breakfast. After that I get back to papers.

After that I carry newspapers while anyone of them for headlines....and keep climbing stairs and reach Mumma on first floor....I put the papers in my study room and just rush with a paper to washroom....spend my 15 to 25 minutes reading it there.

I come out and mumma asks....chai ke saath kya.....i would say (depending upon time)...tea with fried bread or at times Parontha...and i brush my teeth. Then i enter my study room pick up papers and would go to second floor for terrace room...I read there for till i have get ready for office. I usually leave my mobile at charing in study room, hence there is no disturbance. me and papers, I value that time as serious preparation or study time of the day.

Then Mumma comes upstairs with a bottle of water, and breakfast. I get up from the cot and fill water in a pitcher or bucket from the water tank placed at the terrace. I fill or throw off the dirty water from birds' pot and refill it. I love them a lot.

Then I return wash my hand and have my breakfast. After that i get back to papers.

The Accident

I recently met with an accident on Gurgaon toll bridge. I was returning after getting my Nikon camera repaired from the centre at Gurgaon's Sector 32. I was so excited to have got it back after 17 days of wait and lost in reveries of how I would click photographs.

While changing the lane at the Gurgaon toll bridge I was hit by a cab which was coming at a high speed. It hit the motorbike from behind and I was pushed along with it for five to seven metres.

It was quite disturbing and scary. For once I felt, the cab was going to come over me within no time. Thankfully, the driver applied brakes and i was not too badly hurt.

I felt so relived to find no part suffered any fracture. But the scratches and the twisted leg was quite painful. I somehow managed to return at the broken motorbike. But since last week the swelling and pain hasn't vanished. It's painful at times. I know my laziness is aggravating it.

I thought my leg has started improving but actually it has pain which gets aggravated when i walk a little bit. Like yesterday (Aug.9), when i went to market for Chinese food with Dick-Shit (boss), i felt the pain aggravated by walkng only that much. In the morning also, while kicking bike it felt painful. Yesterday, I applied Volini on it but i think it needs proper rest and heat massage....as you know I don't get time for myself mostly so just kept on delayng out of laziness for myself and it has started bothering me. I feel disgusted to find myself limping in front of all and not being able to walk properly. The legs have always been my strength, as I have been a martial art player. I feel crippled and just pray it should not affect my capacity for too long.

It's so boring here. I wish change in life. The working place is not so encouraging anymore. My creativity needs bigger and better platform to come out and influnce lives.

Visiting a religious place than any hill station is something not many youngesters would agree to. But, as pushed by some of my office colleagues, I made up my mind to to visit the scenic places of Uttarakhand this time instead of going to another religious place.

Little did I know that I was destined for some other place. A day previous to the date we were supposed to leave, I had a mind flash which moved me. I was shaving at that time to go to office on the last day before taking thee days vaccations. The lyrics of devotional singers Rajan ji and Sajan ji Mishra---Chalo Man Vrindavan Ki Aur (O my soul, let’s go to Vridavan, the place of Lord Krishna).

I called up my friend childhood friend Rajesh and we both were ready to visit the one of the unexplored and most fascinating places for us.

At office, I collected basic information from two office colleagues and a maternal cousin to plan out the two days journey to three places—Mathura, Vrindavan, and Goverdhan. I had everything charted out on paper as per bus journey.

But Rajesh booked the tickets online for Taj Express, an unusual train which has sitting arrangement similar to any spacious bus with 3x 3 seats on left and right side. The journey by train has always drawn us, as we have rarely moved out and that too on trains.

As we took the early morning train journey which starts at 7.10, we enjoyed the bread and cutlet in breakfast at Rs.20. It’s quite fresh to eat. As usual, I took out my folder of old newspaper cuttings of articles by foreign writers, my friend felt bored and left for a train survey to find out after all how many girl are traveling with us in the same train. It’s our habit, though I always act lazy and avoid doing the ‘survey’ to save myself from an awkard though tantalizing and natural act of any young at heart.

Our misfortune was that the third passenger sharing our 3x3 seat was a Dehati, a villager and not any girl or educated person. On our right side of the corresponding seat, was a girl Pooja, Rajesh had checked her name from the train chart as we do always before boarding to test our share of luck. She was too ugly to be looked at again. I was sitting in the middle seat and Rajesh on my right side. She sat on extreme left of her 3x3 seat. A passage only separated Rajesh and her from each other. So, it was obvious for Rajesh to take at least five breaks of 10 to 15 minutes for ‘train-survey’ and freshen up his mood. I was enjoying studying the write ups and also clicked a few photographs from the train window. It was a rainy-weather and both of us were enjoying the atmosphere, in our ‘own ways’.

As I stated earlier, we had planned out our tour on paper based on bus journey. The fact that we finally took the train journey spoiled everything pre-planned. But both of us were equally enthusiastic to explore new places for next 48 hours.

The timing of arrival in Mathura, our first stoppage, had extended. Hence, we were to hurry up to visit the first temple—Shri Dwaraka Dheesh temple, which closes sharp at 11.00 o’clock for the morning. It opens at 8.00 o’clock in the morning. There is no cloak room so we had to deposit our bags and shoes-shoes at a nearby private shop meant for this purpose. He charged 10 rupees for two bags and shoes-sandals. Local just leave it at his shop without paying anything.

As advised we hurried up and entered the temple at around 10.10. The shop was just four five to seven shops from the temple so it was time-saving for us. The little exhaustion and surprise to have entered the famous temple for the first time took time for my mind to settle down and focus on the Lord’s holy glimpse only. My mind was lost in looking all around and clicking photographs secretly inside the main hall of the sanctum sanctorum, despite prohibition to take snaps. I personally feel no one should be allowed to take snaps at a place where people are trying to connect their soul with the Lord’s presence. It was just quite uneducated of me and showed mediocrity of mind to take four or five snaps. Honestly, I was too captivated by the whole view—the roof-paintings depicting Lord Krishna in various joyous acts, the colours of paintings and the shimmer of Jhumar in the main hall.

The main Murti (statue) is of Shri Dwarakadheesh (Krishna, the King of Dwaraka). The colour of the revered statue is in jet black colour with the Lord in standing posture. The holy glimpse fascinates the soul. It felt as if I was actually standing before the Dwarakadheesh or, Lord Krishna, the King. The prayer started around 10.30 and everyone joined in singing the Aarti, the prayer full of praises of the revered Lord. I felt embarrassed for not being able to recite even one sentence of the prayer being said by all devotees by heart. This was me, a self-proclaimed devout devotee of Lord Krishna, not knowing even one sentence of his prayer. I felt shameful.

I laid down on floor at the end of the prayer, copying other devotees, as a gesture to Namaskar His holy feet and submit my whole self at his Shri Charan, the holy feet, and seek His kind blessings for future. Honestly, I was feeling too grateful to Krishna for having drawn me to His place from home that I didn’t feel asking but just felt like thanking him for all His grace which I have always found driving me on in all pursuits of daily life.
Some may find it surprising but since childhood till 30 years of age, I never went beyond Shri Vaishno Devi near Jammu. The joy of visiting a highly revered temple at Trikuta hills and 14-kilometres trek always attracted me. I just never thought beyond it until my childhood friend, his professional friend, and myself took the trip to Shani Temple in Kosi, a three hour journey by private vehicle in Uttar Pradesh. I cherished the visit like never before. It was a joyous feeling to have visited a new religious place

Is it better to be good-looking or an influencing mind?

July 8, 2009

Sometimes, some small things bring out the best of our minds or some unforgettable thoughts. It happened yesterday on July 7, 2009, when I finally met my old office colleague-turned-friend after fixing dates for over one-and-a-half years!

The meet could never take place until that fine day due to our different timings of shifts and despite our offices routes being same.

It was also a day I had a bitter argument with my stupid and comedian boss over increment-issue. I reached one hour late and was all-apologetic at heart.

And, here she was presently dressed with dark brown goggles on and having shining pink lipstick instead of her old dark brown colour, wearing trousers and carrying a cheerful smile. She’s my age and didn’t marry for career like me.

We decided to go on a long drive and I welcomed the suggestion. We interacted like two friends meeting after 100 years of longing. The mood turned joyful despite office’ exhaustion and irritation suffered on that day.

Here she was…”Bhaisahab! Larki ko time de kar late nahin aate (Mister, you should keep waiting a girl after promising for a fixed time). And, Oh my God! What have you done to yourself she remarked after noticing my a day-old grey beard.”


Naturally, she is my friend and intended to improve in all respects in life. So the first thing she did was to suggest three things—one should have clean shave, one should perfume himself well, and be presently dressed up.

I smiled at the suggestions and asked her to let's go to some nice place. We wanted to talk to each other for long time but couldn't. We had a pleasant evening and heartiest talks full of laughter and joy.

But by the end of our four-hour meet at India Gate, I felt like sharing my opinion on life and maintaining one’s personality.

I mentioned that after an age one realises we need to look at intellectual beauty and refinement in tastes, as the skin soon fails its charm but the original thing developed in us over the years carries on fascinating till our last time.

We are ultimately remembered for that and not skin, at least among our loved ones including actual friends. I think, she liked the thought.

The letter which changed my life as an amateur writer

(This letter was written by Jordan Thornton, whose encouraging words lifted my dejected spirits and saved me after having developed a suicidal thought)

Thursday, 13 December, 2007, 1:52 AM
Jordan Thornton <dissident420@hotmail.com> wrote:

Sandeep,

I read your article "The Writer's Strugle" on IndyMedia, and tried to post a comment, but probably due to the new format, the comment didn't go through.I thought the piece was excellent, and probably good therapy for the frustration it sounds like you've been feeling. Don't worry, we've all been there.As an aspiring screenwriter, I got ahead of myself when I first started, and my friends called me on it. I'm not saying that I won't succeed, but when I went on about my lofty dreams, when I had barely written a thing, my firends were the first to point this out.At the time, I took their words to be uncalled-for insult, but now look at it from a different perspective.First of all, they are not writers, so they don't understand what drives me, nor the fact that I live in my own head a large amount of the time, and
thus, didn't understand how damaging their words were. Also, many of them made comments without the knowledge that others had as well. They didn't understand that I was being inundated with Doubt. However, I learned from that, and now, before tossing criticism and insult aside off-hand, I analyse it to see if there is some truth to what they say, and try to learn from it and use it.This does not account for all criticism. To be completely honest, I think some people are motvated by Envy. They don't understand the possibilities, nor the passion which drives us, so they ridicule instead, because they seem threatened by what we have that they don't.In the months leading up to the illegal war of aggression for profit against Iraq, I pushed my scripts aside, and devoted nearly all my attention on political writing, producing articles for websites and magazines throughout the world. This was a great experience, but set me back as far as my sceenplays are concerned.When the war started, I felt defeated, and simply did not write for months. After this, I found it really hard to get restarted. A website I visited helped get me fired up, and it might help you, and give you the support you need. It's www.absolutewrite.com and features articles, resources, and best of all for me, experienced writers who can answer questions, give advice, or just offer some friendly words of encouragement.When I needed it most, one of the people commenting on the site reminded me that it's alright to write a crappy first draft. It was the slap in the face I needed, and got me back on my feet.If you can find one, I would also recommend joining a writers group, or starting one if you know some other aspiring authors. Immersing yourself in a writing community helps to get the creative juices flowing, and will do
great things to counteract those criticising or ridiculing voices.Also, don't focus too much on future success. Write because you love the craft, but with the knowledge that everything you write gets you one step closer to becoming the person you wish to be. If you write with passion, because of a love of words and expressing yourself, success will eventually find you.Remember the words of John Lennon "The Love You Take Is Equal To The Love You Make". In other words, your success is completely dependent on the amount of work you are willing to put in.You will go as far as you allow and drive yourself to.Aside from that, write, read lots, and keep your head up.And if you ever get stuck, or just need somone to talk to, please do not hesitate to contact me.I wish you all the best of luck!Jordan ThorntonCanada, EH?PS - (Political plug) If you haven't yet read it, I urge you to read "Strengthing America's Defenses" at www.newamericancentury.org - This will put the enire "War On Terror" into perspective for you, and show you just how threatened we all are as human beings. (And if you want a real scare, check out "The National Security Strategy Of the US of A" at www.whitehouse.gov - The ag

A Writer's Struggle (My first write up)

(http://www.indymedia.org/nl/2003/12/110210.shtml)

By: SANDEEP DATTA (INDIA) 17 Dec 2003 08:52 GMT

(A brief revelation of the insults of an individual who dares to take writing as a career. How every other person behaves discouragingly and demotivate the nice initiative of a future hero.)


A Writer’s Struggle Dec.16 , 1.15 a.m.

Rarely do we hear of great writers having lived a happy life. Instead they face more bad times than you or me do in our lives. Like any other ordinary guy they dream and give their wish a try. Like most of us they do have very frustrating times when writing even a single sentence looks an uphill task. They feel frustrated like any one of us.


They are not just laughed at but sometimes even face the hooting too. In such odd times they search for people who do not remind them of their failures. At times the discomfort is too much to bear. But do they stop trying any more? No way. Rather they take it as a challenge to prove themselves before all.

Life does not offer flowers or appreciations of peers to them. It is the insult that they usually receive. Generally they are left to boost up their pride on their own. No friend, no family member helps.

At times they confront disappointment, bad-luck and sometimes even rejection of their talent like no one else does. Everyone hurts and discourages. But do they submit to these obstructions? Perhaps not.

May be they know that to rise higher than others they got to deal with these things wisely and bravely.

Living in vulnerable conditions or among most frustrating people does not stop them from working hard. They try with a self-belief of proving thier true potential on the highest platform. They refuse to submit no matter how much tough they are tested by time or luck.

To them everything is not available instead they have to manage in its absense too. They develop themselves in such an adjustable personality, which can work without many important things.

Any needful object or facilities are not allowed to become an impediment. For they know that they have to produce results in any condition.

People make fun of them when they mistakenly reveal their plans. Their potential is doubted as if it has been exaggeratedly mentioned.

Many names are given to them by hooters to humiliate. Probably not just to insult but to finisth every single motivation nurturing inside their mind. Any claim of quality is treated as a joke.

No one raises hand of friendship but even loved ones behave like a foe. The life is made like a hell by others. The questioning gestures of others look like abuses remarked on one’s face. Ignoring any bleak possibility of one’s fortune people behave like enemies.

Perhaps this shattering experience of life makes one a resilient soul. The hidden writer gives a push of creative flash and the power builds up from within. The heart begins trusting the emerging mind-flashes and confidence comes in.

The consistency maintained over the years starts paying off. The destination seems within one’s reach. Despite loosing in early battles the determined mind gets certain to win.

The pen starts producing great expressions with unbelievable smoothness. First the individual himself or herself get surprised then the rest of the world gets amazed. And when, on some fine day, any big reward is bestowed by the lord’s blessing then this same world applauds.

On that occasion this applause is the admission of the world who ones ‘s doubted this hopeless soul. And all this becomes possible because of that resilience that a writer shows in all phases of his or her struggle-filled life.

Dec.16
2.35 a.m

“I can”

I remember when I started writing I used to often write long letters to my friends on any occasion.

But whenever it used to come to say how much happy, bad or nice I felt for them, I would use "i have no words to explain or express how much..."

It started frustrating me day by day that i had use "cannot"
I developed a strong sense that i will make it "can".
That's how I started writing the maximum which was possible and whatever it would take.

I kept on attempting long letters to my friends and loved one to make sure day by day whatever I wished or needed to say gets expressed in writing as clearly as I felt. I always wanted to reach that special day...when I could say: "I Can

It's been about 12 years that I am working against that 'Cannot' to make it "Can". God knows how much I have improved over the years having rewritten over 6000 feature stories and articles!