Friday, May 18, 2012

Humbled and Honored!

It has been a year that I set foot in the world of blogging, a bit too late, now that I think of it. I had been coaxed into it by my brother-in-law to give it a try. I was not very sure this was my cup of tea, and never understood why blogging was necessary when I had already been writing for years, using a pen and paper or for that matter, just writing on Microsoft Word. That ways, I am a little old school, I think. And I still am. I am not very good at marketing and am not out there, networking with other bloggers. But, all of this changed when I joined blogging forums and started getting comments and feedback. See, this is what is different between blogging and writing for newspapers. Though, I had been freelancing for many years, I had received true feedback only in the form of a few "Letter to the Editor" pieces. But, blogging really brought me more comments and opened up debatable topics for discussion. All such stimulating sessions set the wheels in your mind rolling. 

And I am really thankful to have been deemed worthy of the title "Versatile Blogger", by a fellow blogger. Thank you so much Vajra for the Versatile Blogger Award, which motivates me to write better and keep trying to write about different topics. It was the technical writing on my Science Blog BioMilieu (which is still taking baby steps) that got me the tag of 'versatile' and I really appreciate Vajra's gesture of recognizing it. He is a perfect example of someone who started blogging about his passion: cricket, and then moved onto more challenging themes. A big thank you to him and all the readers, who inspire me to write everyday. Your comments and feedback truly humble me and make writing so much more fun!

Now, to the rules that need to followed, once you are awarded there are certain rules to be followed:
1. Create a new post
2. Thank the lovely person who nominated you for the award
3. Pass it on to your fellow bloggers
4. State 7 random facts about you
5. Claim and post the award pic

So some random, but not very quirky facts about me:

1. I am very very passionate about teaching; brings me some strange pleasure and a smile that refuses to leave my face, when I am with my students. To read more, about what teaching means to me, you could check this post.
2. I simply love the smell of coffee beans, and I love chewing on the beans, to get the creative juices flowing. Coffee is my substitute for chocolate, when in a formal setting. If you share my love for chocolate, you might like to take a peek.
3. Flowers are my drug, give me a garden to play with, and see my fears, apprehensions scamper away.
4. I crib a lot about the harsh winter in Minnesota, but I secretly kind of love it, especially the first snow of the season. There is nothing more serene than pure, white, blanket of fresh, soft snow around (I know people close to me are going to be shocked, reading this, since I am always cold)
5. Italian food is my comfort food, I can rely on the breads, the salads and the soups to get my spirits up.
6. Demure I may look, but I manage to get really fierce; the issue or person just has to be close enough to my heart to put up a fight.
7. I am quite indecisive, to the extent that I visit a store to survey clothes, am not sure which ones to get, go back to get the ones I couldn't get out of my mind, and yet return most of them the day after :) 

Well, that is a little bit about me. And now to pass on the honor! In my short time exploring the blogosphere, I have discovered lots of wonderful blogs pertinent to specific niche areas. Here are some of the bloggers, I think deserve to be awarded for their insight of the subject they are passionate about!

1. Arun for his insightful movie reviews on his blog Passion for Movies
2. Radhika for the peppy, girly feel of her blog and blogging about all things cool on her blog Rads Blog-A-Zine 
3. Debajyoti for the quirkiness of his blog Some Facts Some Nonsense 
4. Sandeep for discussing all things close to the hearts of NRIs, and yet more interesting issues on his blog The NRI 
5. Viju for bringing together all A R Rahman lovers and creating such a great forum for eclectic music  on his blog Rahmania
6. Debdatta for her amazing capacity to read so many books and produce interesting book reviews on her blog Book Reviews by D.D.S 
7. Tomichan Matheikal for the heart-felt posts and in-depth analysis of issues on his blog Matheikal's Blog

Although there are many other blogs that make my day, and count for great reads, but most of them are well established and must have been showered with multitudes of such awards! To name a few, Nabanita (Random thoughts - Naba)Saru Singhal (Words)Purnendu (Shadows Galore) and Umashankar Pandey (One grain amongst the Storm).  There are so many perspectives to be heard and so many lessons to be learnt, and blogging just makes it a little experience. Taking a bow to blogging and all bloggers whose words provoke discussion, thought and action!

Thursday, May 17, 2012

The dynamics of oppression

So, think about this! The British oppressed India and many other colonies for decades. Blacks were suppressed by Whites; Hitler subjugated the Jews, Brahmins looked down upon the lower castes, and this tale of segregation and oppression could go on. And if you look closely, oppression is one feature that has transcended the barriers of race, country, caste, gender and what not. It is gut-wrenching to process the fact that it does not take long for the oppressed to become the oppressor.

And what is more disturbing is that this chain reaction continues and has been ever existent in humanity. What changes is the pretext under which the oppression is conducted. Anybody who has read “The Help” or “The Color Purple”, or for that matter any book on segregation scenarios, would have noticed one underlying theme to it. Of course, everybody expects the white-black discrimination, but what takes you by surprise is the casual mention of black men abusing their women. What is also shocking is that the children in such households grow up witnessing all this, and fine tune their minds to recognize who is stronger in a certain situation. Between a white man and a black man, the white man is; between a black man and black woman, the black man; between a beautiful white woman and a Plain Jane, the pretty one; between a white woman and a white child, the white woman,  and so on and so forth. And these very children grow up to become the adults who decide which part of the discrimination spectrum they want to be in, either they are discriminated against or they are the discriminators.

Over the years, the reasons for oppression have changed, but the pain, humiliation and fear have simply traversed the generations. Although, the racial oppression is almost in oblivion, there are others that have come up. The most prominent, being the one between the rich and the poor. Although, discrimination is not expressed as openly as before, there are subtle ways through which the strong oppress the weak. And strength could mean power, money or some other ridiculous parameter. Oppression does not necessarily mean physical abuse, it could mean limiting the freedom of another person, it could mean having different standards for yourself and the other person, it could mean treating the other person as though he/she does not have human needs like you.

When you expect your maid to show up for work 7 days in a row, never to take leave and get upset with her if she does, it would be bordering oppression. If you get weekends off, and you have paid sick leave, how are the rules different for the maid, just because she might be weaker than you, in terms of money? When you look down upon people in a certain country, turn your nose down at them, you think you are too good for them, you might very well be in the mind-frame of oppressors. The roots of oppression arise, when the feeling of being unmatched and unparalleled sets upon a person or a group. The complacency of being much better prepares the person to suppress people without any guilt, because the feeling of being special justifies their inhuman acts, according to the oppressors.

So many of the dictators in history are debatable, but all of them were sure they were the best thing that could happen to the world. Hitler thought he was doing the world a favor by getting rid of a weaker race. And his self-proclaimed supremacy justified his abusive methods, in his eyes. During colonial times, the British, the French thought they were spreading out to the third-world countries and lending culture to them. In the process, paying no heed to the rampage caused. This ignorance was brought upon by the illusion that the world needed the English language and culture for betterment. A very common trait of oppressors: assuming that everybody else is needy and in search of a guide. Taking the liberty of deciding what is best for the oppressed class. New laws were introduced in colonies, presuming that a better life would be presented to the citizens. But, never were they asked for their opinion. Then, it might have seemed like a favor to the supposedly backward, but it would still be categorized under oppression.

When human rights are violated, it is oppression of humanity, and that is the common link between the different types of oppression: racial, gender-based or economic. Equality is a principle humans have never actually abided by. What I fail to understand is the fact that one man's weakness becomes another's source of power. And the fact that this starts reflecting at a young age is alarming. The advent of bullying could very well be a reflection of the need to gain primacy by quelling someone. The need to satisfy our ego is a deep-rooted necessity, and it is going to take much more than seminars on discrimination. Each person has to think for themselves and try to erase the lines, the imaginary lines Kathryn Stockett talks about in her book. With diversity becoming a common feature, it has become easier to accept different people as they are. It is essential for people to realize that a difference is not good or bad, it is just what it is: a difference. And different is what brings flavor to life!

The theme of the oppressed and the oppressor has been evident in myths, stories and movies, but it is time, we found ourselves a new topic to write about. Oppression of all kinds, be it on animals, children, women, blacks, poor, weak, lower castes is unfair and uncalled for. And one thing that humbles me is the reminder that I might be qualified to be the oppressor in one category, but I might also very well have to assume the role of the oppressed in a different category. So the elimination of these borders and imaginary thrones for the strong, would be in the best interest of humanity. Whether the oppressor is at fault or the oppressed is wrong for tolerating, is another discussion altogether. But, rather than debating on that, the new Mantra to globalization should be the desire to make people comfortable in their skins (both literally and metaphorically)!

Some weblinks that throw some more light on the theme of oppression:

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Ghouls of the Past!

WriteUp Cafe - Together we Write

It was never going to be an ordinary day! How could it? When you are returning home after a decade? How could it be nothing, but, just a banal day in your mundane life? When you have a home away from home, when you have decided that you want to spend your adult life, away from your childhood memories, how could returning home not open the flood gates of emotions? It was one of those days for Arkansh. He had spent most of his adult life away from his country and was living the American Dream. As happens with most people, he had stepped into the land of opportunities to add to his existing educational qualifications. With a higher degree, it was natural that he wanted to get work experience for at least 2 years, then 5 years, and of course after that point, there was no turning back.

It is not that the urge to return to his country was absent, it was just that there were so many other conflicting emotions, that were present. Although, initially he had struggled to settle down in this great, bustling city called New York, this is where he was at peace with himself. This city absorbed his sorrow and pain. The lights lent their brightness to him. The lane-weaving taxis reminded him of home, and he would get excited to experience that morsel of semblance between the life he had left behind and the life waiting for him ahead.  Like any other Indian, Arkansh loved crowds and was happiest when dodging big totes, umbrellas, and office satchels, on his way to work. The noise around him silenced the voices inside him; he somehow derived comfort from this big city and its busy people.

After all, it was in this city that he had found his wife, it was here that he was witness to the birth of their two wonderful children. And this is where, he had walked into the USCIS office for the naturalization process. He had come to love this city so much, he had forgotten for a while what pain, what loneliness felt. He was never alone on the Brooklyn Bridge, he was never alone at Wall Street, and he definitely was never alone at Times Square. That is the surprising thing about New York. No matter your ethnicity, your job, your gender, your beliefs; you are never alone. The true New Yorkers at the end of the day, still love the same things in this city, the 24 hour food joints, the fact that night never dawns, the picturesque outline in the sky, the wind drafts in downtown, the ever-existent sirens of NYPD, the celebrities you could run into and just the liveliness of this city.

Arkansh had decided this is the city, he wanted to spend the rest of his life in. Life was easier here, he did not have to deal with the demons of his past. He was not reminded of them every minute of every waking hour. It had taken him a long time to rise out of the ashes, and he did not want to fall into darkness once again. His kids’ smiling faces, his wife’s welcoming eyes, his co-workers’ friendly banter led him to believe this is where home was and this is where more happiness was in store for him.

All these beliefs were shaken on that fateful day, when all he could hear were screams around him, and the sensation of ground slipping beneath his feet. It was that day he actually saw people stop working, and look up from their computers to find out what was happening. It felt like an earthquake, things were falling off their desks, and all signs of personal space were wiped into oblivion. Arkansh was still confused and all his colleagues gathered near the window to see what was happening. The other buildings looked fine, that doesn’t happen in an earthquake! A natural calamity doesn’t discriminate!

It was in that moment, that they saw smoke in the sky, unlike any before. It was black and dense and carried a sense of loom. Even as they wondered what was going on, a dozen phones started ringing almost together. The chances of this happening were very rare, and in that instant, all of them knew there was something seriously wrong. On the phones, it was wives, sons, mothers, friends; all talking about the same thing – get out of the building! But, the way human brain is designed, everybody wanted more information. “What is happening? Why do you sound so alarmed?”, yelled Arkansh into the phone, to make himself heard over the loud, almost deafening noise of steel rubbing into steel. “An airplane just crashed into the top floors of the World Trade Center, nobody knows what it is, but there is no time. There is a huge fire on those floors and it is spreading fast”, exclaimed Arkansh’s wife.

Even before Arkansh could wrap his mind around the unfurling events, he could see that everybody had been informed about the same. He could see the terror in everyone’s eyes. He grabbed his coffee mug, and started running towards the elevator and then suddenly remembered that sign he had walked past a 100 times ‘In case of a fire, take the stairs’. He had seen fires in his life, and he was not going to take this lightly. He had to alight 62 floors, but he would have to do it. So much for the stamina-building classes he had taken, when younger. That would be put to test today!

He ran into a lot of strangers on his way down, but somehow they all looked similar. They had two legs, trying to move as fast as they could; two hands covering their mouths to avoid inhaling the smoke; one nose trying to carry out breathing normally; and a pair of eyes, pallid with shock and horror. It did not matter in that moment, what their names were, which country they came from or what language they spoke. They were all fellow humans, with the common human traits of fear, camaraderie, hope and faith. It wasn’t an easy task, making your feet move so fast, the feet that were used to relaxing, when your hands worked away on the computer. But, the sirens from the fire trucks made it easier. There was a sense of urgency instilled because of that.

Arkansh kept running for what felt like forever, and a million thoughts were running through his mind. Would this be the day he would finally unite with his parents? Would this be the day his children would experience what it feels like to lose a parent? He kept having flashes of his past, not because he thought he was dying. But, because he had witnessed such a scene before in his life too. He was trying not to think about it, because there was nothing in his life that scared him more than his past. And this was not a time he could deal with such issues, buckling under the pressure. There was nothing else that he wanted more at that point than to be able to see the blue sky and the bright sun.

He was running out of breath, but couldn’t afford to take long breaks. So he huffed and puffed, but kept going. When he finally reached outside the building, he saw the magnitude of the event. Fear induces fear. And it was only when he saw the horror on the faces of the onlookers, that he realized what a death trap he had escaped from. The top floors of the tower had collapsed by now and there was nothing but black smoke that was visible. A paramedic moved him out of the way, and started checking if his vision was fine, moving a light in front of his eyes. It felt like Arkansh had frozen, but there was no time for all this, the paramedic brought him back to his senses and kept ushering him out of the scene, saying “Sir, you need to leave NOW”!

As people tried to accept what was happening and started moving away from the site, there was sudden chaos and hollering. The speed with which people started running, felt like a bull racing arena. Arkansh peeked back, still running, when he saw that the first tower was imploding. There was this loud “Whoosh” sound and the whole tower had disappeared in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t help thinking about all the people inside. Had there been enough time for all of them to evict safely? Could they still be rescued out of the rubble? But, before he could think any more, he blanked out with this thick, dense layer of soot and concrete that was grabbing downtown with its evil extensions. There was such darkness and pall that it felt like the worst tornado in the history of America.

When he woke up, he was in a hospital with an oxygen mask on, helping his lungs recover from the unexpected exertion. His family was around and he pinched himself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. His coffee mug was placed on the table next to him; the coffee mug that had a picture of his parents. In the days to come, all he could think of was going back home, back to his country, once again running away from tragedy. He could no longer bear to walk past the rubble that once housed his office, he could not muster the courage to board a plane, and he was running out of ways to deal with the paranoia of loud sounds.

But, the year after this huge tragedy had struck this magnanimous city, he noticed things he had never observed before about the city. An iconic part of the city had been diminished to nothing but concrete, steel, and dust. Yet, the spirit of the people stayed the same! It was not the city, but the people who made the city, that he had loved all these years. He loved that there was always more room for diversity and it took hardly any effort to be accepted. He loved that people were so busy, yet bonded over commonalities like the Subway, or Winter in Central Park. It was the essence of humanity that made these places memorable. And gradually, he saw the city heal! The people helped bring back the city on its feet. The shattered towers still stood there as a testimony of what had transpired that Autumn day, but the rubble was not as heavy on the eye as before. There were wreaths all around, tiny flags, teddy bears, and notes saying “We will never forget”! There were signs of tenacity and resilience in these small acts of kindness that screamed out loud saying “We will find a way to overcome this, we will not give up”. But, Arkansh could witness all this only because he had stayed long enough after the tragedy, to witness the healing process.

Years ago, he had deprived his childhood city of this chance. It was for the same reason he was going back home to Mumbai. A year after the day that he had woken up in the hospital, he decided he could no longer take it; the guilt of having abandoned his brother, his city. He should have been there to revive the spirit of his childhood city. The city, where his home had been once, where he had learnt the art of playing cricket. Yet, this was the city that had scarred him for life. The December of 1992 had changed his view of this city forever. The riots, the killings, the blasts in 1993 had ruined all the good memories he had of this city. It was then that he had lost everything; he lost his house in the riots, then his parents, his friends, his neighbors, every single thing. He could not believe this haven could turn so heinous. He could not believe the only reason he and his brother had been spared was, because they were visiting their uncle on the other end of the city. Only to find out on their return, their whole life turned upside down. Even today, all he could hear was blood-curdling cries, wails and angry outbursts. All he could think of was splattered blood, severed limbs, and cold eyes.

Arkansh was so angry at the work of these depraved minds, that he decided never to step foot in that place ever again. He was old enough and had already applied to schools in America for an M.S. degree. He left Mumbai as soon as possible, trusting his uncle to take care of his younger brother. Once in the U.S, he worked hard to forget and wipe off that part from his memory slate. He kept in touch with his brother, but never ever brought up that ugly day in his conversation. When Arkansh got a job and his brother was old enough to start college, he coaxed him to move to the States too. But, his younger brother was the stronger one. He wanted to stay in Mumbai, and help out with rebuilding the small town. This, Arkansh absolutely did not approve of. Neither did he understand what ‘rebuilding’ meant! But, he gave in, saying he would return in a few years. That day never came, because Arkansh never could find it in him to face the monstrous setting which had filched everything from him. He kept on trying to separate that part of his life, not realizing one thing. Tragedy has to be embraced, to be able to heal. If you ignore tragedy, you are giving it room to increase in magnitude. Arkansh had been harboring bitterness, anger and hurt within himself; he never came to terms with reality.

After almost 10 years, Arkansh would be seeing his brother. Today, was the day, he would see what healing and rebuilding meant. His escapade and the way he saw New York City transform pushed him to give Mumbai a chance too. The familiar muggy smell, the yellow and black taxis, the autorickshaws, the water puddles welcomed him back with open arms. The misty wind at Marine Drive, the constant rub-a-dub of local trains networking the city, the roadside vendors were all reminders of how well the city had managed to retain its essence. Yet, there were signs of urban growth like the billboards of Gucci and Fossil, that took him by surprise. The last time he was here, the city was Bombay and not Mumbai. His little city had been witness to many changes, it had gathered the pieces together and moved towards creating a stronger, modern city. And it hurt Arkansh a lot, not to have been a part of this growth, this renaissance.

In all these years, Arkansh’s brother had worked with others who had suffered losses to rebuild that community. They had embraced tragedy, accepted that their loved ones were not coming back, but their memories would always stay alive. Over these years, they had managed to put together a community housing, for children orphaned in such tragedies. And when Arkansh saw the same community that had been burnt down, now springing with laughter and cheer, he knew instantaneously, this is what healing meant.

He had never even waited for the process to start, agitated at the fact that such a crime against humanity was so easily carried out here. He thought he would escape the ugly side of human nature by moving half way across the globe. But, human nature is the same, there is revenge, cruelty, insensitivity and then, there is empathy, fortitude and forgiveness living inside the same humans. Which side shines brighter is something nobody can predict, and you can never run away from it. The best you can do is to find solace in the signs of humanity.

This was the day Arkansh realized that people are the same around the world. There were so many similarities between the two cities that he had loved and hated. Both cities had recovered from disaster, not because of the landmark structures. It wasn’t the buildings reaching out to each other, consoling the broken ones; it was the people who joined hands and healed themselves, by consoling others. That essence was common in both the cities. And later, as Arkansh would find out, was similar all over the world.

Working at the community housing with his brother, Arkansh realized it was so easy to let go off your pain, if you peeped into someone else’s heart, helping them deal with their demons. Smiles really were infectious at such places, because one smile meant the triumph of the whole group. A month later, Arkansh was leaving Mumbai with a lighter heart, and the desire to come back sooner. Today, Arkansh has a small NGO called ‘CitySpirit’, that connects terror victims across the world, and helps them bond over losses, find rays of hope and ultimately heal. He visits Mumbai every year now, helps the kids and hopes that one day there would be no need for such organizations.

Arkansh had known all along that it wouldn’t be an ordinary day returning to that scary place, but what he had not known was that his life would change forever that day. It was like his rebirth; the rebirth of the happy, content, hopeful and lively person within him. There was nothing ordinary about that day because that was the day he came to terms with reality, that was the day he learnt a lesson in letting go, that was the day his hatred transformed to fondness again, that was the day he grabbed his inner ghouls by the arm and tossed them out, that was the day he gained perspective, that was the day he felt part of two cities at once and that was the day he finally felt reunited with his parents!

Note: This is a work of fiction, created for the WriteUpCafe Contest.

This post is part of the contest It was never going to be an ordinary day.. on

Saturday, May 5, 2012

A Fallen Petal...
Photo Courtesy: 
It had been almost 6 months that I had lost my best friend, my confidante, my mentor, the one person with whom I could always be me, with whom I felt most confident and happy. It still did not feel real and all I kept wanting was to go back and get her to be with me. Why had I let her go? How had I not known her importance in my life, when I had her? These questions haunted me day and night. I was not myself without her and no matter how hard I tried to be happy, the tiny pangs of guilt and sorrow kept pinching me.

I was on the verge of falling into the depths of depression, so deep as to never be capable enough to rise out of that. And yet, it did not feel like I was facing depression. Like every other person facing depression, I was not yet ready to accept that I was treading on a path, revival from which was impossible. I thought it was okay to feel sad and numb and motivation-free all the time. Was it not my fault that I had let her essence slip through my fingers? So why shouldn’t I be punished? Maybe this was destiny’s way to get back at me and hand out to me what seemed only fair at that time to me.

I went through all the phases a person faces after going through a loss: denial, retaliation, sorrow and finally acceptance. Very soon I realized that overcoming these phases to be at peace is not as easy as it looks and each person takes a different amount of time to go through each of the phases. The first phase of denial was the most painful one because I was still under an illusion. I kept trying to get her back, trying to find ways to revive her. I truly believed she could make a comeback, and be with me forever. My family and friends were patient at first, and did not stop me, hoping that this would pass soon and might help me come to terms with the reality. But, soon enough they realized how self-destructive my actions were becoming. The paranoia and obsession of bringing her back was taking me far, far away from reality into the land of dangerous hallucinations.

Once my family knocked out my split thought process, I was angry at them for dragging me out of the imaginary world of harmony. I was angry, upset, agitated and disgusted all the time. I had to find someone to blame for my loss, so that I would not feel guilty. And who better than caring friends? In life, all of us deal with rough times in the same way, using our loved ones as punching bags, hoping they would still care about us enough to ignore our foolishness and still want to stay around. In retrospect, I feel lucky to have been blessed with such wonderful people in my life, who never left my side even when I was at my worst and they let me heal at my pace.

Pretty soon, I got tired of being angry and harboring mounds of bitterness within me, and I gradually moved on to being sad and teary-eyed. It was emotionally draining for me and I felt exhausted all the time. I had realized that no amount of anger was going to bring back what I had lost, and it was best to accept the truth. But acceptance doesn’t come so easily, you have to feel the heat of having burnt your hands, taste the salt in your tears, let your throat dry up, witness your skin feeling torn and parched, and hear the sound of your heart breaking every day. When you have hurt yourself as much as you could, pondering over 'what could have been', and you can longer find strength within you to answer the questions, you give up. And you are left with nothing, but to move on to accepting reality.

I hate having to quit and not having answers, and it broke my heart every miniscule moment of my life, not being able to find out, why I had been dealt this unfair hand. I had heard people surrendering to God, and finding answers there, but I couldn’t find words that would soothe me even there. I rapidly, started losing faith in him too. But, I kept thinking what it was that He was hinting at. And I couldn’t help, but wonder, what was it that I was expected to do. Was I supposed to make a path for myself and find a way to make peace?

This was when I tried everything possible to help me find my way, I was not going to quit anytime soon. My friend would have wanted that. She hated seeing me down and out, and fragile. She could not have tolerated to see me paralyzed by destiny and being kicked in the rut. She would have wanted me to stand up for myself, and not be cowardly enough to blame fate. I held her hand, and embarked on a journey to appease her, and redeem myself back. She loved flowers, every single petal, with fragrance and color that she saw around her. I decided I would find our great memories by designing a small, but pretty garden. I signed up for online mentoring programs, where I could be with little kids and help them with homework and projects. This was one of the best ways to feel her presence, since she loved kids and teaching was what brought her the most pleasure. I indulged myself in art and unearthed my dust-covered art supplies to go back to one of the things that we had bonded over and found penultimate pleasure with. She loved travelling and learning new things, so I vowed to explore every nook and cranny around town, that held any ounce of history or diversity. I found myself falling in love with books again and depending on the local library to be my Knight in Shining Armor. I knew it had been on her bucket list to be able to read lots of books. I was hoping through my tryst with books, I would meet her halfway.

My best friend, who was everything to me was my soul, it was ME! 

lost my job 6 months back! That day, a part of me died; knowing that I couldn’t go back to work for a few more years due to some unavoidable circumstances. I missed my job, I missed my teaching endeavors, I missed my students, I missed having to read through their essays, and grading papers. That piece of me was amiss, and it took me a long time to overcome the huge loss, but in the process, I discovered that there was a lot more to me than just my job. Yes, I was a Teacher, but I also was an artist, a nature-lover, a book fanatic, a blogger and more so, a person to whom their family meant a lot. The past few years have been rough on a lot of us, and there must be many others like me, who lost their jobs, but if you cannot do anything about it, the least you could do is to be fair on yourself and try to rediscover yourself. Although the loss of a family member is harsh, if you lose yourself, there is nothing else in life that matters. You are incapable of appreciating anyone or anything in life, if you feel incomplete. I have vowed that I am not going to let that happen again, and even if I lose one part of myself, I am determined not to let that bring me down because one loss could mean finding many more different facets of my personality.

This post was submitted to the Short Memoir Contest, entitled  "Overcoming Loss" on Biographile.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...