You always know what you’re capable of. Horses are smart, elegant, classy creatures. And I know I could never be a horse. I wish I could be a donkey- only because, they’re hard-working. Instead I turned out to be an ass, a whole lot lazy ass.
For instance, I started writing “bachpan me”. It’s still childhood, the difference in just the time frames. And it then translates to bachpan wala bachpan, chotte hone wala bachpan, school wala bachpan, boards wala bachpan, grads wala bachpan, IIM wala bachpan, job ki beginning wala bachpan, recent wala bachpan. And I’ve been writing on and off with all those scribbled pages forever lying around me. Nevertheless, I’m never going to let this bachpan go anywhere and it’s going to stay for-EVER. Just a disclaimer: I’m sorry, but when you ask me to be serious, promise me what will you get me in exchange of that. I can consider if it’s worth and in case you’re sure it isn’t, don’t pester me.
Well, coming back to the story of blog, I keep going for adventures, no; don’t take me to be an adventure-freak; I don’t go for adventures. I just go places, and I don’t know how and why, but God likes to place me in such stands that it turns out to be adventurous. And during the month of May, this adventure lasted over a week. That’s when the lightning struck me (not literally but, figuratively). More examples of such craziness has been that in a span of 22 days, I’ve travelled to Punjab-Chandigarh-Jammu-Delhi-Kolkata-Gangasagar-Mumbai-Chennai-Vellore-Tirupati. In another span of 15 days, it was Punjab- Chandigarh-Mumbai-Shirdi-Shani Shignapur-Delhi-Bhubaneshwar-Jajpur-Jammu. And when I travel to such places, I have a knack of cutting the crap and putting myself into it. I’ve a life full of coping up with such moments of embarrassment, societal (dis)harmony, help(less)full people and hapless “marmade” in disguise.
And that’s exactly when I also helped myself realize that God has blessed me with an awfullysome memory which helps me wade away all these experiences and moments. I’m like a blank slate every morning of getting up. After losing it (p)out for 27 long years, (alright 7 days in excess of it): I thought I should’ve diary. Because I can easily misplace a physical diary, alright I can also lose passwords equally at ease, I realized a page should summarize it when I have my grandkids one day. Those grandkids are surely going to be much more sober and embarrassed about their grandma than I would ever be, about my ownself.
“You get old and you realize there are no answers, just STORIES”. – Garrison Keiller. And hold on, I’m just going to write this story, before some else writes a (posthumous) biography of a girl that LIVED.