I have always believed that ugly or plain looking people like me are in someway cursed. We were not meant to enjoy the trivialities of life as most other people do.

Often people come and ask me, "What's the purpose of life?", and I stare right back at them in reply and penetrate my gaze deep down their eyes to check if that's really what they're asking. Because if they are, it's too trivial a question to ponder upon. "What's the purpose of life?" Don't you know? Don't we all know? Inherently, aren't we equipped to answer this? Aren't we fulfilling that very purpose, silently, every day, every moment?

We are the ants. Not the grasshoppers.

The purpose of life is to live. It's that simple.

Biology has defined this purpose and we, as living beings, adhere to it, no matter we realize it or not. We live, and we want to live incessantly and that immortality is achieved by producing work or offspring.

The people who look plain/ugly/not-beautiful and also believe that they are so, suffer from this coupled inferiority/superiority complex which makes them think that they are different from rest of the beautiful people. Their inferiority complex makes them work harder to achieve the same level of happiness they think others might be having, and their superiority complex encourages them to achieve a different or an elite bliss which, according to them, others might not be destined to have. And then, we, ugly people,  pursue science or art and excel in such arenas so that our beautiful peers can reproduce and their children may prosper. We must then stay in our labs, in our closed cubicles, away from the world, because if we went out to flirt and fool around, who will save the dying world and solve the upcoming energy crisis? Who will write great literature that will teach the upcoming generations the important lessons of life?

After all, we want immortality and for our species to live continuously, each of us must play our part. When I see a very hot girl or a handsome guy working hard alone on creating great work, I deem it as an insult to his/her fate. That's wastage of gifted talent. Or perhaps, they also "believe" that they are not beautiful enough and hence have joined the crowd of ugly.

And you'll always see that people who make it to the very top or to the very bottom have always found themselves lost in a combination of inferiority/superiority complex and it's a fine ratio that governs the slope of life. Those who are too satisfied, too happy, and too content with what they have, continue to live happily ever after and prosper as a family does. But we, the ones with this gnawing rage, this maddening thirst, and shimmering desire, must continue to look for answers.

We suffer from this disease, this disease called "inspiration" and I must suffer and toil till I find my treasure.

This is my curse. And this is my gift. How about you?

PLEASE PLAY [THIS SONG] IN BACKGROUND AS YOU READ THIS POST TO FEEL THE ESSENCE OF IT. 


# Unfortunately we will not be able to use this work for _. We receive many well-written, compelling, stories, but can only take a very limited number due to constraints of space and style. We wish you the best of luck in placing your story elsewhere. Thanks again. Best of luck with this.

# Due to the large number of high quality flash fiction, our decisions were difficult to make. Unfortunately, we will not be able to include _ in issue 7, but we truly appreciate your interest in _. Please feel free to submit again. We are able to accept only 4 to 5 flashers a month.

# Unfortunately, we have decided not to accept it for publication. I wish you the best success in placing your story elsewhere, and hope to see more of your work.

# We appreciate the chance to read your poem. Unfortunately, the piece is not for us. Thanks again. Best of luck with this.

# Sadly, I regret to inform you that we are declining acceptance at this time. We enjoyed the work and found many of the ideas you presented interesting, but we don't feel the story is the best fit for _. Thank you again for sharing your work with us and we wish you the best of luck placing this story in another market.

# Unfortunately, I will be passing on _ this cycle. While I appreciate the opportunity to review it, it just didn't grab my attention as well as some of the other stories I received did.  Because my policy is to only accept the stories that will be published for the specific issue I am reading for and not building a back list of stories to be published, I am often forced to reject good stories simply because I don't have enough available slots and other stories just grabbed me more than others. I do hope to see other submissions from you in the future.

# We enjoyed reading it but after careful consideration have decided that we cannot use it at this time. Please feel free to submit other work to us in the future.

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# Congratulations! Guest Editor _ has selected your poem “_” for the Issue X of _ Journal. Take pride in knowing that you are among only twenty writers selected from the hundreds who submitted to this issue.

I am writing to secure the proper rights to publish your poem. But first, a note about payment. [...]

Swimming is impossible for me. I just can't swim. I don't know why.

This is my December, This is all so clear

This is my December, This is my snow covered home

This is my December, This is me alone"  

- Linkin Park

December. A word that softly brushes upon the old stacked memories of my life, leaving them disturbed.

The reason I find this month to be most touching to me is because of the potential it brings every time I switch my calendar from November.

In every past December, I made resolutions. One month long resolutions. Resolutions to make myself better. All sorts of plans were conceived in my brain in the past years and Decembers to achieve something, something great, something worth, something. But, I failed, most of the time.

Every time, I yielded to the cold that grew around me, that crept on my sides, that numbed my bones. I hid myself under the warm blankets, beneath the warm shawls, upon the cozy bedding, within the gloves, socks and sweaters. I gave myself to laziness, procrastination and slumber. All those goals that were set to be accomplished in the most dormant month of the year, when everyone else was at rest, were lost.

But I hope, not this time. I am in much worse condition of cold weather this time in this new land. As I walk down the road, I find the grass has grown still and white at the top, the road is dominated by scattered flurries of snow, the rooftops of houses are now being hidden beneath a layer of ice. The cold wind stings my eyes and leaves my lips dry. But still, I walk.

I don't see much people now. Most of them are gone, gone like every thing else, like those rabbits and squirrels that hopped around often in good times. Gone to their resting havens. The ones I see, I am not able to recognize or characterize. They are all solitary giants made out of feather down jackets with hoods of fur propped up where their faces were supposed to be. The hoods have replaced the heads. Faces of White, Brown or Black have lost their significance. There is no skin out there. There is no color to be distinguished upon. There is nothing.

There are some people out there, whom I like and respect. Those people who are going to toil in the night when their peers are at rest. For December is like a long night. A long, chilly, lonely night. A night without any sign of the sun. In that night, they will tread alone.

But its a night that's white. As layers of snow will pile deep and shallow, the only thing that will beat this night is white. The white light. It's coming. It's going to mock this night.

So I call you my brave friend, to mock this sleepy night, to walk with me in this white night, upon the heavy snow, against the piercing wind, towards our goals that we have set to achieve in this month. Let's pick those books that were left unread, those songs that were left unsung, those rhythms that were left unplayed, those sketches that were left uncolored, those words that were left unsaid.

I could feel that man's warm breath gently brushing past my right cheek. His exhalation and inhalation were absolutely uniform, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm. The longer his face stayed so close to mine, the higher my uneasiness grew. Not to say about the red light he was shining in my right eye since the past 40 seconds.

Finally he wheeled back on his swivel chair and said, "Hmm, okay the next test now."

I let out a sigh of relief on having my optician off my face and remembered the day it had all begun. It started recently when the letters and numbers on the blackboards of my classes began to blur. I knew I had to get an eye exam but I was delaying until now. After finding the cheapest deal in the city, on which my health insurance gave some discount, I finally had found time to take the eye exam.

All the time I had cursed the healthcare, eye-care and such stuff since it was so costly in US but now when I actually went through the examination of my ENTIRE eye, I was convinced that it was worth the cost. The doctor spend around 45 minutes on me and did a whole lot series of tests which I had never heard of. That's another thing, that this one eye exam has changed a lot in my life.

After a lot of boring and long sessions of guessing my vision defect by showing a hell lot of skewed images, the doctor gave my first shock. He told me that I was suffering from something called "Astigmatism" and till now I have been wearing incorrect glasses. This first shock of being diagnosed with a new disease was subdued when he said that its pretty normal and can be easily corrected by a kind of lenses.

"But when your new glasses with the new subscription come out, you gonna hate me, at least for two days because your vision will be all groggy," the doctor said with a dramatic tone.

I was already beginning to feel that there was something queer about this particular eye doctor and I was sure of it after a few minutes. Because this first shock was nothing compared to the second shock that came and shook me and my life.

After a series of another tests which included dropping stingy and weird liquids in my eyes, he pulled out a large sheet with four technical sketches of a human eye.

"These are the four stages of a human eye. This first one is the normal eye, everybody has it like this. When suffering from a particular disease, the structure begins to change and a person shifts to stage two and then the eye looks like this. The fourth stage, can you see, how distorted that is? That's the final stage of X," he lectured and allowed me some time to grasp and make sense of what he was saying. I also asked some doubts and I made sure I could now answer any question based on those sketches.

Once I had nodded to indicate that I had understood so far and he could now proceed to teach me more, he blurted out the bloody fact,

"And guess what? You're on stage four," he said and watched my face with the most serious look.

"Wh-what? Why? I am suffering from X? But what is this X?" words that left my mouth were staggered and ill-structured.

"X is a disease which slowly leads to complete blindness," he said in a calm tone, just like stating a fact or writing a death sentence.

"B-but it can be cured right?"

"No, X has no cure. But yes, it can be managed," he said with an expressionless face, not allowing me to make any inference from his statements.


I stayed silent for a few seconds and then he filled the silence between us with a smile and some assuring words, "But, but, but, BUT, I said your condition is at stage four it doesn't mean you are diagnosed with X. The good news is your bla bla is quite huge. I mean, its gigantic as compared to normal people. Its very strong. So that bla bla could be the reason why I am getting a number higher than normal. But again it could be X too."


I didn't know whether to feel good or bad. I just stayed silent, my eyes and ears urging to hear more. My heart skipped a few beats and I was breathing fast now. The small room's walls at the clinic were suddenly beginning to crash upon me.

He continued after a pause, "SO, X is very rare at your age of 21. It usually occurs at old age or people having such such diseases. But then it could occur at your age as well, we can't say. Since I don't know your old records and you haven't been ever tested for this before, I can't say whether you have moved from stage 1 to stage 4 over the time - which means you are suffering from X OR you're born with stage 4 and your bla bla large size is giving me higher range numbers."

"S-so what does it mean?"

"It means I will put you under surveillance condition. You will have to get regular eye exams in order to verify whether your number is increasing or not, whether you are indeed moving up the stages or not. If you're not, well then its just because your bla bla is huge and its because of that, so no worries there."

"How often do I need to take a test?"

"Atleast once a year would be adequate. Okay so you're good to go. Anymore questions?" he said and pulled back his chair.

I wanted to ask a whole bunch of questions and have a long discussion with him in which he could assure me that I was all right but then nothing much came to my mind so I stayed blank face.

"Did I confuse you to death with all that jargon and technical terms?" he asked with a mild pity on his lips.

"No, I got it. But you scared me a bit," I said, like making a plea before a judge.

"Well," he hunched up his shoulders in a manner of justifying himself, "I just believe that you should know the truth about your health. You should be in control of your own life."

I exited the clinic, my mind swinging. On my way back, while sitting in the bus, I was looking the greenery and all those pretty sites which I daily see and then thought, "One day, I won't be able to see them?" Fear and worry struck me like it had before but this time the intensity was higher.

Then after a few hours, I remembered all other people in the world and their conditions and their rare problems. And compared to them, I thought, I am nothing. I am not even diagnosed with X yet. I might have it and I will know about that for sure after one year. And even I have it, I can manage it with proper medication. All those people did fight it, right? So I am. I am going to fight it.

Either you can get scared of a situation and hide your face in your pillow and tell n oone about it. OR, you can come out, yell and say, "I am going to fight it."

People like Helen Keller, Lance Armstrong, Stephen Hawking did fight, didn't they? But one thing I have realized today is, its easier to fight off a financial burden and seek success, because you know your financial problems will be taken care of after success and thus you have the right motivation. I am no more in any kind of financial burden, but there were times in my childhood when I lived under a temporary roof that leaked, that's completely another story. But I am saying that its much difficult to fight a medical problem and still do something in your life. Because for a few hours, I had lost complete motivation to do anything in my life. I just wanted to lie down and rest. I wanted to stop running.

But no, I am not going to sit back. I am going to fight it. There will be a post after an year about my results. Either I am clean or am not.  Even if that means waiting for one year for one test I can do nothing about and which will decide my fate, I will fight. I am in control of my life.

Are you?

[Pictures BELOW]

Another weekly post but kinda late. Also, the context in here may be somewhat stale because the photos I am posting down are 1 month old. But the text is fresh and virgin.


Sorry for the abuse of the most famous word "Like" in today's Internet world. That's another story I don't use Facebook. Before I begin the rant, I have 2 lines to share with you, that came to my mind one evening when I was telling my friend that she should not pull her friends to like what she likes, she should rather make new friends in her liking.


You should not like people to like what you like,
You should like people who already like what you like!



I am finding more and more passionate people around me these days. This wasn't the case back home. Here, people are just crazy and devoted towards what THEY like. Not what others like them to like. Like, if they like to like something, they don't like or unlike if their likeness is alike. They just like.


They have passion. Passion, in their likable lives.


You get it? Refer Facebook's Like for deeper understanding of this word. Oh wait, perhaps you already know that. How much hours you spend there?


Anyway, where was I?


If they are passionate about football and like to play football, they will do that for their entire life. They really won't care if they can do math or understand science. Its about football silly. Why need Science?


If they love to ski or pedal in water, that becomes their passion. Below you will find the photos of my small trip to a nearby river on which a lot of people regularly come for spending an evening with their passions.


Point is, the passion. And, the variety too. Its not just about the Engineers and Doctors. Its about something much more than that. Its about passion. About liking. About love.


I might not need to remind you, but you or any sane person knows this very well, that anyone who did well in this world first loved his work and then became something. You got to like, love something. You to pursue something with a mindless and blind faith driven solely by passion. And then you can expect something.


My love is writing. And I am not able to devote as much time as much it is required to liken it to passion. Damn, hate that. So this post is a reminder to myself that I should stay passionate. So, I buckled up and sent in a story for a huge contest. Like it has 3-4k participants, I guess. There is hardly any chance of winning. I will post my story here in 2 months when I hear the results. But winning is not important right now. Participating IS. And that, I AM doing.


Yes, I am.

[Since the large pics screw up my blog template, I am pushing them down. Take a deep breath and scroll down]


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A passionate girl living her life (I watched her for long minutes doing stunts in the water)

A Passionate guy carrying his passion along...

The back of the river and dam.

Add caption

How about you? Do you have a passion in your life? What are you doing about it?

Life's been too busy around homeworks. Luckily got a little time to share some thoughts today.


In my entire life, I feel that I had this special connection with my teachers. There were some of them which I really didn't like but then there were a few which I really loved. And as for the teachers' side if anyone would go and ask them, their opinions too would be mostly at the extremities. For them either I had been the most careless and dumb student or I had been an exceptional student. Very few will rate me as a 'nice/normal/decent' student.

And in my bachelors degree, there was this thing that used to happen with me every semester. I used to get in the eyes of at least two teachers every semester. Of course one held love and the other held hate for me. And my record of living up to this phenomenon had been pretty consistent. When I came here in US and the semester began, I was again a bit worried and was wondering if this thing will continue.

Somehow, it did. And it didn't.

I "think" I came a quite close getting a bad reputation in front of a teacher but it seems like it never happened. It all just happened in my worried mind. Or it has but the teacher is not showing it. But yes, I "did" come close to another teacher that I think I really love and he in return appreciates my interests too.

He is a retired professor and quite old. He welcomed me in his office like perhaps no other teacher had ever done to me. And those precious minutes spent with him in the past few days strengthened my grip on my dreams. I know I am talking very vague here and not giving you people any specifics of "What, where and why?" But really, I can't. It's the nature of this blog to stay away from facts. Facts are too mundane and boring. I always try to stay away from names and facts and stuff.

It's all about fiction ;)

And yes, where was I? The meetings, the wise advice and some pivotal events in the past few days have really shaped my world the way I wanted it to. Talking with him, I felt overwhelmed at times on seeing his supportive and encouraging nature. I was "so" much reminded of the book "Tuesdays With Morrie" which I finished a week ago. The way I look at teaching, I sometimes feel that it is one of the most noble professions existing out there. But of course it doesn't suit everyone. You need to know a lot and then you need the right method of telling to novices whatever you know. I don't know about the present but yes maybe after 10 or 20 years, when I feel that I *know* enough stuff, I would love to be a teacher.

I would love to inspire, ignite and most importantly *help* students who would be nothing but my own younger selfs seeking direction.

A great teacher, someone to talk to, someone-someone who could understand everything that I have always meant to say, is what I was primary looking for after coming to US. And I guess I have found someone. It's really important to find that teacher in your life. It's not that I have a "guru" of my lifetime. But yes, for this current phase of my life, I have one. Yes, in past I had a series of teachers who played their roles in perfection. But there had been times when I had no one to guide me. Times of darkness, they were.

I see light now. Pure, infinite, illuminating, White Light.

For every Frodo needs a Gandalf
For every Harry needs a Dumbledore

So guys and gals, here I am back with a bang!


I did this post's Part I here and now I am going to do the Part II. Why the part II now? Why not later or earlier? Because:

1. Obviously I was busy with other crappy stuff and Visa Interview etc.
2. I maintained my losing streak in yet another short story contest which reminds me how much I suck at writing and how much I need to improve. Perhaps this post will help me out more than it helps you :P So if you are here for your daily dose of crap, perhaps this is not for you. Yeah, if you wanna be a writer etc, read on!

Disclaimer: Following is a serious attempt to clean the image of my blog which has apparently dropped to a lewd and satiric level. 

So I ended my Part-1 by covering up the quotes in the first half of the book On Writing By Stephen King. Following are the awesome quotes from the second part. These quotes are much more oriented towards "writing".

"You cannot hope to sweep someone else away by the force of your writing until it has been done to you."
(This phenomenon of actually loving your own work has been rather scarce with me. Whatever I write, after a few days, it begins to stink. It doesn't kinda sweeps me, so I guess I have a lot to learn yet).

"You have to read widely, constantly refining (and redefining) your own work as you do so."
(Every time I read a new book, I can feel my overview and knowledge towards writing growing.)

"If you don't have time to read, you don't have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that."

"Waiting rooms were made for books - of course!"
(I remember those 10 minute breaks between my lectures at college in which I tried to scoop some pages from a book. And when a teacher went missing for an entire lecture, I used to be like, "Wow. Entire 1 hour? Where's the empty bench in the play ground? Must get my ass there and read the novel.)

"The more you read, the less apt you are to make a fool of yourself with your pen or word processor."
(Frankly speaking, I have read nothing in my life when I see the number of classics that exist out there...must reach for them...someday...)

"And if you do your job, your characters will come to life and start doing stuff on their own. I know that sounds a little creepy if you haven't actually experienced it, but it's terrific fun when it happens. And it will solve a lot of your problems, believe me."
(I had heard this clichéd point almost endlessly from every author/writer giving advice to newbies. Since two years I thought this to be load of crap. How the hell can characters be real? They are bloody fictitious. But a week back, I felt this. I really, really felt this phenomenon. One of my character did stuff on his own. On his own, baby. And since then I believe it. You won't believe it till it happens to YOU, so watch out.)

"You can't please all the readers all of the time; you can't please even some of the readers all of the time, but you really ought to try to please some of the readers some of the time. I think William Shakespeare said that."

"Writing is not life, but I think that sometimes it can be a way back to life."

"The scariest moment is always just before you start. After that, things can only get better."
(Hell yeah.)

"Writing isn't about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it's about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well."

So basically that's about it. Writing down these quotes made me go through the book once again and I ended up reading some beautiful para's. In fact I wont be wrong if I say that every goddamn line in this book is a quotation worth quoting.

I am glad if I helped you in your writing career and sorry if I bored you to the core (which I am sure I did). But it's okay, you chose it. You brought this ordeal upon your poor soul yourself. You clicked the goddamn link.

There is worry. There is anxiety. There is fear.

And all sorts of related mixed emotions brew inside my mind as the final day approaches near. The day that will very much decide the outcome of two years hard work. Every passing second is going too slow. Too slow that I can feel it melting and vanishing before my senses.

And yet, sometimes, some minutes are just too fast. They click away ahead and I am left behind, closer to the end. The end which I hope will turn out to be good.

Everyone tells you, "Hey! Stay calm dude, it's really nothing. Just stay calm and relax.". Perhaps they forgot how calm they were when they went through this. Or maybe they have no idea how they serene will be when they will be standing in my shoes. When I will get past this thing, I will never give any of my friend this superficial advice of being calm. I will ask them to just go through it and be yourself. It's like if you are in a dark tunnel, you keep walking. You don't act calm etc. You have to walk and bear the darkness of the path.

A another great advice which one of my friends gave it was, "Keep yourself busy and you will never realize that the moment has come!"

I am really trying to do that. And gosh! It helps. Watch movies, seasons and write boring blog posts :) And Ta-Da, few hours click away. But as soon as the realization comes back, as soon as the senses perceive that lesser time is remaining, the fear strikes. The strike is sudden and cold. Cold like a silver knife penetrating your thick skin, inch by inch, on a lonely moonless night.

But whenever I am worried or tensed or anything of that sort, I try an old formula which usually works in most of the cases. You can try it on yourself but you got to be serious about it, if you want it to work well. It works for me, it's my mantra...Take a few seconds as you answer each question in your mind with eyes closed.

"Whenever in doubt or worry, ask yourself the following questions and you will find all your problems melting away.


Who are you? 
What is it that you are so afraid of? 
Does it even exist? Or is it all virtual, weaved by your own mind? 
Who are your enemies? 
Are they your enemies in the true sense? Or is it you who have tagged them as enemies? Are they not those great mountains or hurdles for which you prepared for so long? 


If you think deeply about the thing that scares or worries you the most and if you think from a tangential point of view, you will soon discover that, that thing doesn't even exist. It's just another creation of your own mind. It's YOUR mind that creates those monsters and then gives them wings. 


You are not weak. They are."

Hmm, re-reading this gives me a bit of relief and confidence. Confidence, yes that's the most important thing. So I guess I will go now and pack my bags n stuff. Oh yeah and all this while, I was talking about my Visa Interview which is scheduled on this Tuesday and I am leaving tomorrow for the city. If everything goes well, there mite be an elated post later down this week. If not, there will be a bit of silence. You will have to assume yourself then.

Signing off, hoping to get some good wishes from readers :)