• On writing a memoir

    Image of a Pressure cooker

    Writing is always a therapeutic exercise for me.Once I was going through a personal issue and I used to call out to the Universe to help solve it.  It was like releasing the pressure of a cooker , the moment  I articulated  my request .

    In a lifetime of a fifty years there are lots of memories that flit in my mind. Some pleasant and some not. Writing a memoir only about pleasant things would be fun, interesting and uplifting. Writing a memoir of bad memories is not a very good idea.

    Conflicts sell

    Unfortunately a memoir of pleasant happenings won’t meet with commercial success because happy times aren’t good news. Only conflicts hold a reader’s attention. People love reading about how others solve their problems .

    Consider these two scenarios for a memoir in a moment –

    The blue umbrella

    Image for a blue umbrella

    One bright summer day  I decided to shop for a blue umbrella. Within minutes , I got into a bus and was at the swankiest Mall in town. I spotted just the umbrella I wanted, the perfect shade of blue and one that folded easily. I was thrilled! I paid for it and walked out happy, licking the ice cream cone I treated myself to on the way out.

    Now some one reading this story is bound to say ” so what?” Even if I embellished it with a description of the mall, the glorious day and described very evocatively my whole experience, it won’t grab many eyeballs.

    On the other hand, consider this :

    One bright summer day, I set off to the Mall looking for a blue umbrella that I long wanted. Unfortunately two buses that went by were full . It was hot and I was getting impatient. Finally, decided to hitch a ride .

    I put out my thumb and within minutes a young gentleman stopped his car and asked me where I wanted to go.

    The Mall was on his way to work , he said, so I stepped inside . The boy looked too young to be driving such a swanky Mercedes, I thought while getting in.

    He seemed to sense my question because he suddenly slowed down and poked my waist with a cold , hard, steel knife .

    “One word and you’re dead,” the man cautioned. I instinctively broke into a sweat.

    As he drove past the Mall I began to panic. Where was he headed and why did he pick on me?

    Twenty minutes later he turned towards the Expressway. Obviously, he was headed out of town. And I was part of his getaway plan. I was frozen with fear and I didn’t even want to think how it would end.

    Just then my phone rang.

    “If I don’t answer it,my family will panic.”

    He nodded his consent and lifted the knife so that I could get to my phone.

    I took my chance and immediately yanked the bag and hurled it at him. He dropped the knife.  At the same time I pulled the brake and the car came to a halt. Another car crashed into us and the young man was confused: to run or not to run?

    To cut a long story short , the Police arrested the  young man praised me for my sharp thinking .

    I never did get that blue umbrella but I learnt a lesson for life.

    Which story did you like?

    So my response to today’s prompt  for #WritingWednesdays would be – if I really do have the guts to tell things as they are, I would write a memoir. But honestly in my ordinary life, there has been nothing extra ordinary to merit a full length memoir.

    Image for BellyBytes

  • The luxury of time

    Monday’s come and Monday’s gone
    How quickly I don’t know
    Soon Tuesday will also slip away
    And the whole of August too

    How I wish I had the luxury
    Of bottling up each moment of the day
    So that I could sip and savour it
    Before it runs away

    I long for the luxury of lazy days
    To sit by a lily pool
    And feed the ducks
    And read a book
    And nibble at chocolate
    One, by assorted one.

    [Tweet “The luxury of timeless moments That stretch into hours and days”]

     

     

     

     

    Image for assorted chocolates

    This is my post for #MondayMusings inspired by the prompt ‘luxury’ on #TheDailyPost

    Image for Mondaymusings

    Do you enjoy a box of assorted chocolates? Which is your favourite one?

    Image for BellyBytes

     

  • Many young people have their ideas shot down by their elders, dismissing them as childish, fanciful or down right impractical. How many of you are guilty of this? And have you ever thought about what the young person thinks? Darshana Suresh, a prolific young blogger who as a “17 year old is wondering what to do in life”.  She is part of my Write Tribe  and presents her point of view in this month’s #GuestPost.

    Thanks Dashy for your point of view!

    Image for the turning point
    OpenClipart-Vectors / Pixabay

     

    #The Turning Point

    Naive. Dependent. Diffident. That was me. The youngest in the extended family, the last person to be taken seriously. Because of course I was small, and didn’t understand the world as yet. There were so many people to show me the way, to help me take decisions, to tell me what to do. It was easy and all was well, until at some point there crawled out an urge to have a voice of my own.

    When my views surfaced, disagreements popped up. I was either mad or sad, constantly wishing for them to think in my shoes. Their reasons found no meaning in my mind, my questions found no importance in theirs. In a single word they’d sum up this whole mess – ‘teenage’. And every time the word was greeted with my silent sighs.

    In the rush to use my own judgements, I hadn’t realized how far I’d gotten. All too soon, there I was at the turning, all excited to leap ahead but held back by the chains of self doubt. For once it suddenly occurred to me that everything was about to change. For the first time, I’d be away from home, no more being anybody’s shadow. It was my turning point; the transition from school to college, from home to hostel.

    There I stood at the turning, with one too many plans in my head that I waited so long to work on. People still said we’re so full of life and energy now, that we’d start off things with great vigour but they’d diminish with time. Yet again, they called it an ‘age’ thing. They said they were just like me once, but senses dawned on them later on. They saw the twinkle in my eyes, the passion. And they did appreciate it, but not without a shake of their heads and the words, “This too shall pass”. And for once I begin to loathe those words.

    I saw that they failed to understand me again, and no amount of stamping legs or rolling eyes made a difference. I’ve finally reached where the unveiling begins, the time to explore, make mistakes aplenty and learn….all by myself. There at the turning, I hear Monica Geller’s words, “‘Welcome to the real world. It sucks. You’re gonna love it.”

    I know. I know it will be tough compared to what it’s been like so far. And I also know that if you’re older and working, you’ll say this is just a piece of cake. But it is a big deal to me. I’ve always been small in their eyes, it’s time I grew up. And it’s true that they still don’t understand me. So I figured, that maybe it’s time I started understanding them.

    I kept wishing they’d think in my shoes, never once did I try to think in theirs. It feels silly now to think how much I wanted from them. I understand their concern, I understand their persuasions, I understand that they wouldn’t wholly understand me. And it’s okay too. I am a work in progress, and I know where I stand. For now, that is all I need to take the next step.

    We’ve all had those turning points, where what was and what will be are miles away from the other. It is a time to think and reflect, more importantly to believe in oneself. It’s okay if they don’t understand me, it’s okay if my ideas don’t click in their minds. It’s time to don my own shoes, and start building myself. In the journey ahead, my belief will be my fuel.

     

    Have you been at the turning point with plans of your own that were weighed down by the others? Have you ever felt the urge to do what you want to? What I did was empathise, and hold on to my belief. What about you?

     

    Darshana blogs at Wandering Wows .

    Follow her on  Facebook  and Twitter  @Darshana_Suresh 

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