Ringing out:

I glance at my phone sitting on the coffee table.

The phone that used to ring often because of you. 

Now it remains stubbornly silent. I pick it up and look up your name in the contact list. My finger hovers hesitantly above the call button. Should I press call?

There is a story about a scorpion and frog that were once fleeing the forest. The scorpion begged the frog to carry it across the river since he couldn’t swim but the frog was reluctant.

“What if you sting me?” asked the frog “We would both die.”

“I would never” protested the scorpion “Why, you are saving my life.”

Despite the doubts plaguing his mind the frog agrees to take the scorpion. But when they were halfway across the river the frog felt a sharp sting on his back.

“What have you done?” croaked the frog as they started drowning.

“I can’t help it” said the scorpion “It’s my nature.”

 And they both sank into the river.

I shut my phone and put it back on the table. I don’t want to be the frog in the tale. Don’t want to get stung again because hurting me is in your nature. You don’t want to do it. But it happens anyways.

In the endless battle between love and fear, fear wins once more.

Once upon a Time:

Have you ever had the realization that you are not as good a person as you thought yourself to be?

People go through life following their inclinations, guided by their sense of morality, what they believe to be right. It is very rare for one to go gravely against their own conscience. Even an evil person believes at every moment that they take the best possible course of action available to them at the current time.

However when you sit down later for reflection and introspection you may realize that you’ve messed up. You made the wrong decisions, you said the wrong things, you let go of someone you should never have let go of. You went through life thinking that you were Cinderella and then realized that you were the evil stepmother. The villain in the fairytale.

And then you break down.

The knowledge that you were not as good as you thought yourself to be can wreck you. After all you can fight fearlessly against the whole world as long as you believe that you are right, you believe in yourself. The loss of that belief is a tragic thing. What do you do when hope is lost and all seems bleak?

There is a way to be good again.

No matter how far you have strayed from the path of righteousness as long as you are living and breathing, every second that your heart beats, your fairytale is far from over. The legend continues and the plot can still change. You write your tale as you go; your choices determine the rest of you story. It matters not what you did but what you choose to do henceforth.

You may be wracked with guilt, remorse and regret for things that happened in the past. The fastest cure for these is reparation. Saying sorry is important, making things right even more so. You have the responsibility to put things back to how they were or at the very least, try.

You may have started out as the villain but you can always become the hero.

So stand up again and take heart.

Because your story isn’t over yet. There is a way to be good again.

Horizon:

Sometimes when life gets hard we get hit by an overwhelming desire to leave the place we are in. To pack up, set off for a new country and start afresh all over again. New places, new faces, a whole new life to boot and we think we will move on. We think we will heal.

I’ve always found it funny though, how people think that if they just pack up and go to another country that they will be magically ok. It’s the same you after all, no matter where you are. The same you under the same sky, just in another part of the world dealing with memories you’d rather forget. In reality it’s the memories that we are running away from. Memories so strong that they will follow you wherever you go even if it’s a million miles away.

Sometimes though, leaving can help. Places are memories after all, the park in which we sat chatting all night, the dancing fountain we watched together, the beach in which we climbed rocks and played in the waves. You pass these places sometimes and take a trip down the memory lane, reliving the times you were there with someone else. A familiar scent, a long forgotten song, a message written on a piece of tissue in jest, all are memories - a reminder of another time, maybe a time when you were happier, laughed a little louder, smiled a little wider. And when the illusion fades you are left with the stark reality of a place in which happy moments were shared, the same place that once brought you happiness now brings you pain.

People are memories too in the way they never seem to forget your mistakes. You may become a new person, a changed person but they will always be there to remind you of the times you fell, the similarity between how you behaved then and how you behave now.

And lastly the human heart that clings miserably to what you would dearly love to erase.

With all these reminders lying around it’s a wonder that people ever move on. The memories of the past are reaching into the future. Time had stopped flowing for me a long time ago. My heart is still in 2013.

Going to a new country seems like a good idea then. To get away from these places, these people, to start afresh. Maybe you won’t ever forget, but you will see things in a different perspective, a new perspective.

Maybe the person who you thought would always be with you is no longer by your side. But you know what, that’s ok.

Maybe the happy ending doesn’t involve someone else, maybe it’s you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is just ….moving on. Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing that through all the suffering, the embarrassment, the pain and the struggles you never gave up hope.

And just like that the time that had stopped, will start flowing again.

(The last paragraph is a quote from the movie He's Not That Into You)

Crossroads:

Sometimes bad things happen.

Things change. Good friends leave. There are fights and ego clashes. Harsh words are exchanged and you find yourself getting disrespected. You get hurt, you get rejected, you get beaten down and you can’t find the will to stand up. Sometimes you lose a friend, sometimes you lose your job and you’re met with dead ends wherever you go. These are normal happenings, ordinary things to be expected in the journey of life.

What is abnormal is the defeatist attitude we have adopted towards it. If a phone breaks down, get a new one, if a marriage breaks down; get a new spouse. We live in an age where we accept defeat before we start fighting, where we’d rather throw things away than try to fix it. An attitude perpetuated by selfish desires to protect me, myself and my individual interests. The friendship doesn’t serve me so I cut ties, the marriage works no longer so let’s divorce. You don’t agree with me, too bad, your loss; I’m off to live my life. Hasta la vista buddy.

When we are at the crossroads of life between hope and despair, we seem to choose despair without a second thought.

The underlying theme for this generation seems to be “Let it go”. The casual way in which this phrase is used has always annoyed me. Letting go is not something rash decided in the heat of the moment and it is not giving up. Letting go only happens in the worst case scenario. It happens when you have done everything within your power to save a project, a business or a relationship and holding on has started negatively impacting your life. Then and only then is letting go an option. The difference between giving up and letting go is that giving up happens before you even try and letting go happens after you have done everything that you possibly can. And if you truly did everything that you possibly could you can walk away with no regrets.

I was brought up in the age where we fixed things that were broken. If a kettle broke we would fix it instead of getting a new one. If a relationship was endangered, we would sort things out instead of cutting ties. Abandoning ship without even trying to stop it from sinking has never been an option.

There is no courage in simply ending things and giving up. There is no courage in running away without trying to fix things. There is nothing to be gained by dwelling on the tragedies of the past and seeing the present through the same light. There is nothing to be gained by giving way for despair without ever considering hope.

If you live life distrusting people you have yet to meet because of something that others have done to you in the past you will be a very lonely person indeed.

A little more persistence, a little more effort and what seemed like a hopeless failure may turn into a glorious success.

So hang in there. Follow your heart. When you are at the crossroads of life, choose hope. Walk bravely along that path.

And lights will guide you home.

The Stranger:

You know me really well. But I've never met you. Strange right?

I remember watching you when we were among our circle of friends. In the midst of all the laughter and chatter you sat there quietly listening, quiet until you became invisible in plain sight. Observing everyone else yet never saying a thing. But I noticed you. The you who seemed content with being invisible and unnoticed.

It seemed like you had a lot of thoughts, deep thoughts. You understood things about us that we didn't understand ourselves. You watched and learned, quietly gleaning more and more about us but we were always in the dark. They say still waters run deep and I eventually began to fear the mind that saw so much but spoke so little. The mind that knew me so well and saw right through every deception.

Sometimes there were moments when I felt like we were getting close and I rejoiced. I was happy that after many years finally the waiting had paid off. But I was delusional. Because what I saw was what you chose to portray. Our relationship was surface level at best.

The little that I did know about you came from the mouths of others. I questioned your courage but you were braver than all of us put together, I questioned your dreams but you surprised me by turning it into a reality. And I liked the little glimpses of your true self, I admired that person.

You were an excellent actor, so good at acting that only very few could tell the difference. You lived a life of disguises, smiling when you were happy and smiling even wider when you were upset. Acted so well that even what was real became fake. Ultimately even your sincerity became acting.

I remember the day when I discovered that your sincerity was an act. I almost believed you until an accident from your side, an unexpected slip of tongue clued me in. In that instant I rewrote everything we had shared. Because if you can fake sincerity you can fake anything.

I don't think I have ever met the real you and so I don't miss you. You cannot miss what you've never had.

But sometimes, just sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if I met the person in the shadows. Could we have become friends?

I guess I'll never know.

I will forget you:

From today onwards

I don’t know you

I haven’t even seen you before
We have never walked past each other

I am fine, I forgot everything

I am happy in this busy world

With the simple pleasures that give me joy

Love is like this

It comes and goes from time to time

And as time goes on I can’t even remember you

When one love goes

Another love will start

Even if it hurts now

Time will pass, wounds will heal

That’s how it will be

Surely that’s how it will be

I will live well
I will be strong
I will forget you

I will move on

The above is the lyrics of one of my favorite songs called "I will forget you". What strikes me in particular is that its not a vengeful declaration to cut ties, not a harsh decision made in the heat of a moment or a brash statement to maim and injure the heart. The song is sung with a feeling of resigned acceptance, the acceptance of a person who realizes that this relationship is destroying the peace in their life and trying to hold on is causing instability. It's the sincere heart of a person who has tried their best to maintain the relationship and cannot hang on. Acceptance brings them peace.

Sometimes letting go is the only way.

Do listen and enjoy :)

I Will Forget You - CN Blue

The Gray Area:

"The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of a moral crisis." - (Dante, 12th century Italian poet)

I love people who take my side in arguments because well, who doesn't? I respect people who choose to differ because they have the courage to not simply accept and the intellect to question. But there is one type of person that I cannot stand. I despise neutrality.

There are those who straddle the fence, neither here nor there. When a disagreement occurs they are unable to pick a side. Rather, they choose not to pick a side. They choose to remain neutral, peaceful, untouched and uninvolved. Neither black or white but a moral gray area.

On a surface level it seems quite an acceptable thing to do. After all no one wants to go looking for trouble and its downright rude to stick your nose in the affairs of others. But when your voice is required today, speak out here and now. Don't remain silent under the pretense of neutrality because the truth is your not being neutral, you just don't want to get involved. 

It's the kind of herd mentality that human beings have suffered from since generations. When a man is getting beaten up in public. a crowd gathers to watch. Sure the whole crowd could overwhelm the attacker. But they stay still, neutral, unfeeling, allowing the atrocity to take place. No one wants to be the first to take a stand, no one wants to get involved. They don't realize that neutrality doesn't exist, not really. Neutrality is just a fictional place in the head. When they chose to be quiet, they already picked a side. The side of the attacker. Silence is consent.

It's the same problem that's destroying the world as we know it now. When countries with power don't put an end to terrorism simply because they are not affected. Not my business, they say. But with great power comes great responsibility. And it is their responsibility to lend their power to those who do not possess their own.

So enough of being neutral. Pick a side.

" So because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth!" - Revelations 3:16

Disillusioned:

As a ministry grows and evolves it becomes inevitable for levels of hierarchies to form. These are essential when it comes to growing the movement and spreading the gospel. But positions and titles bring with it their own problems. Whenever titles are involved, politics gets dragged in.

Even a church ministry can’t avoid the problem with such positions and these power struggles became apparent while I was growing into the ministry. Safeguards were put in to stop such things from happening. The leader of a team was given the title coordinator. Just a person who coordinates with the team and nothing more. Emphasis was given on servant leadership, not the kind that dominates and enforces but takes up the mantle of responsibility with an attitude of servitude. It wasn't enough though; eventually people who worked longer in the ministry desired higher positions, frequent ego clashes resulted in arguments and ended up with some leaving the movement forever.

Watching leaders that I loved and respected turning into people who fought over petty things like titles and recognition was demotivating to the extreme. My short tenure having a position proved something vital. That I wasn't suited for power or a position of leadership. That it becomes extremely easy to grow comfortable in that ivory tower and order people around. That sometimes we cannot help but evoke our title to enforce a decision that others are not comfortable with. It’s hard for the ordinary man to resist the lure of power.

Ever since then I steered clear of positions, although I was offered several time and again. But it’s still saddening to see former lambs turning to wolves with just a little power. Saddening to see people forget the attitude of servant leadership and wield their titles like a sword. Painful to watch as some disregard why they are in the ministry in the first place.

Power corrupts.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Grateful:

Today a young woman came from a cleaning agency to tidy my house. Being unaccustomed to having help around the place mom went about making things easier, sharing the chores and speeding up the pace of work. After a while mom settled down and looked at the girl while she was cleaning and remarked to me sadly “If only circumstances allowed her to have an education she would be living comfortably like so many other women her age.”

It was the kind of remark that made me look at my mom with renewed respect.  Mom had always been a highly compassionate woman. The workmen who came home were always treated to platters of fruit and tea, the technicians were sent home after a long day’s work with bags of goodies, the repairmen with warm words and a comforting smile. My mother always stopped to chat with the watchman and the plumbers who hung around our building before coming back up home. Anytime a good dish was prepared, a bowl of it was sent down to the building security. She never stopped reminding us about how blessed we were and how easily our situations could have been reversed if God had not been so merciful to us.

Perhaps it was due to this that to us a person’s worth was never determined by their financial status or their job. We looked at everyone equally, treated all with dignity and respect because of the lessons that were ingrained in our minds, the ceaseless reminders that we were all the same. In school I spent long hours chatting with the maids and ayahs, bus conductors and drivers during break time. They told me about their struggles, about problems back home, about poverty, ailing parents and unschooled children. I would walk away from these conversations feeling shameful about the petty things I complained about on a daily basis, guilt at being unable to make their lives better and infinitely thankful for all the blessings I had in my life.

It strikes me now how much we take for granted, the fact that we have parents and a roof over our head. That the teachers and schools we complain about so often are a luxury that many weren't able to experience. That we could easily have been the waiter who served us fancy dishes at a restaurant, the man who scrubbed windows for a living, the construction worker who carries heavy loads several times a day or the fatigued ayah who kept the bathrooms spotless. That we have done nothing to merit the privileged lifestyle we lead and it was just providence that we ended up where we are right now.We are all the same. Just some luckier than most with nothing to brag about other than God’s mercy.

And of that I will boast.

 “Why,” said Sara, “we are just the same—I am only a little girl like you. It’s just an accident that I am not you, and you are not me!” – A Little Princess

To be or not to be:

"I worry that something is really broken about our generation, there are so many sad eyes on happy faces." - Atticus

As soon as I read this statement I was shocked by how much it rang true for me. True I had seen so many broken people. Too many pretending to be happy when the eyes betrayed a sadness that was concealed by wide smiles. It bothered me that almost everyone I shared this quote with could identify instantly with it in a very personal way. After all they had also done the same at some point of their life.

What bemused me further though was my parent's reaction. They met my statement with laughter and the usual "You think you have problems?" Followed by the never ending reminder of "When I was your age....."

Although it annoys me quite frequently that every problem of mine is belittled by the horror stories of the older generation, it strikes me that they did have way more severe problems than I currently face. Even more strange is the fact that despite what they had to face they were never depressed, not for a moment did they sit still to rage at the heavens and slip into a catatonic state of sadness. Because they didn't have the luxury of time to determine what they felt. They were too busy trying to survive each day.

They were too busy dealing with real life poverty and daily financial insecurity to worry about whether they were happy or sad. Too busy wondering where their next meal would come from to stop still and consider whether they were having the classic signs of depression. Way too bothered trying to keep every member of their family fed and watered to be emotionally broken. Every trial just sharpened their will and made them even more determined to survive against all odds. Self pity? Throw that to the dogs.

We face none of those problems though. When every physical need has been met to satisfaction only then do we even have the time to think about our emotional needs. And that's whats wrong with our generation. We have everything we could possibly ever want but we are miserable because we have the leisure to wonder whether we are happy or not.

Thinking from this perspective the above quote becomes almost funny. We think we have problems. We kid ourselves. So the next time I feel the onset of depression I'm just going to shake it off and thank God.

For the luxury to feel depressed.

Waiting:

I really missed you today.

I have fought alone for so long that I forgot what it feels like to talk to someone who understands perfectly. I have forgotten what it feels like to be reminded of my worth, forgotten what it feels like to be assured that I am doing my best. Forgotten what it feels like when somebody has my back, what its like to talk to someone with a shared passion, what its like to confide in someone who already knows me and my history and does not need to be filled in.

Forgotten it all.

But today I remember you.

And I miss you.

Ill fate:

I thought if I screamed louder you would finally hear

You heard but you pretended not to

I tried to bend myself backwards trying to make you understand

You understood but your ego would not let you admit it

And now I’m tired

Tired of always understanding but never being understood

Tired of being second best because your ego comes before the relationship

Tired of screaming out loud because you won’t hear it anyways

So I give up and stay silent

I slowly slip away as our friendship becomes a shadow of what it used to be

Awkward silences, extended pauses, mundane pleasantries

Trying to hold water in a basket full of holes

Until there’s nothing left to keep

Fate made us cross paths and destiny had begun

Who knew then that it was ill fate?

Paranoia:

Ten ‘o’ clock at night. I glance at the time and stuff my personal planner and the rest of my belongings into my handbag. My colleague looks up through piles of paper.

“Going already?” he asks.

“Yep” I reply “I want to leave before it gets too late”.

When I reach the door I remember that I parked quite far away. The area where I parked would be deserted at this time. I bite my lip hesitating before turning back and asking “Aren't you leaving yet?”

He waves me along impatiently; way too busy to even look up. I don’t want to betray my fear of walking into deserted parking lots. Don’t want to seem weak and I am loathe to ask him if he would walk me to my car. So I steady myself and saunter out into the darkness. The cool evening air assaults me as I hurry along.

I watch every car that passes by warily, if any car seems like they’re going to stop or slow down I quicken my steps. The parking lot is as empty as I feared. I feel vulnerable, an easy target in this vast piece of land. I spot a man checking his phone under the light of a street lamp. I walk slowly, quietly, hoping that he doesn't notice me till I get to my car. He looks up, straight at me. He makes to move towards me and I abandon all pretense, breaking into a run, unlocking my car from a distance. I throw the door open and climb in clumsily. The first thing I do is lock the door.

I look for the man. He’s getting into a car. I let loose a sigh of relief; my paranoia played tricks on me, he was just going to his car.

I drive out of the lot slowly, exiting the complex. The drive is monotonous, the roads are near empty and I slow down and wait at a junction. A white four wheeler pulls up next to me. I look sideways and see the driver glance towards my car. He smiles teasingly and starts making kissy faces through the window. Repulsed I look to the front and see the light turn green. I gun the accelerator and leave him behind in the dust. Now I’m on the lookout for other drivers as well.

I reach home and turn into the paid parking two blocks away. As I climb out of the car I see the pathway to the beach about 5 minutes away from where I stood. I have always loved the beach since I was a kid and I feel a sudden longing to go sit on the sand and listen to the waves. The beach always managed to calm me down. But I can’t, I am alone and it’s too dangerous. Not like I would be any safer with a male companion. That would just mean that I was an easy girl with no morals; after all what would a decent woman be doing in the beach at night with a boy? Angry thoughts bubble to the surface of my mind and I brush them away. Getting heated doesn't change my situation.

I reluctantly turn away from the beach and walk home. As I near my building I see three men sitting on the steps. They break into song when they see me and sing loudly, raucously. The fear on my face disappears under a mask of indifference. I don’t make eye contact; I don’t stop to tell them off, that would be seen as a challenge. I merely ball my fists tightly and walk with a bravado I do not feel. The song has lewd lyrics and makes my skin crawl. I can see them out of the corner of my eye, staring, taking in every inch of my body.

The watchman comes out when he sees me and shoos the trio away. As I disappear through the door, I can still hear them behind me, cat calling and laughing. What fun it must be to target a girl, to call her names, to stare at her rudely.

I unlock my door and slip in. For the first time since I left the office my paranoia ebbs away and I feel safe again. I collapse on my bed and lie there staring at the ceiling, replaying the events of the day. I wonder if its coincidence, providence or pure dumb luck that I am not yet another victim, not another Nirbhaya.

An ordinary day in the life of a woman.

Tomorrow I start all over again.

War Diaries:

I am a soldier.

I remember the days when I first entered the army barracks. The older soldiers were happy to get a scapegoat to bully. They mercilessly picked on my wimpy body, my stooping stature and my stutter. I wasn't the only one to get picked on either; two other fresh faced rookies were bullied alongside me. Our mutual misery cemented an unlikely friendship between us and as we lay to sleep that night we exchanged introductions.

Mark was handsome, confident and excelled at everything from strategy to endurance training. His recklessness got him into trouble often enough but he was well liked by everybody. Tim was weedy looking and spoke so quietly that he needed to be asked to repeat himself. He was idealistic though, brave and highly patriotic. We were put together in the same unit from the very beginning. In the army your unit became your family – we ate together, slept together, trained together, did everything together.

At night we would create elaborate scenarios of war in which we emerged gloriously as heroes after vanquishing the enemy. Then exhausted we would lie back and talk for hours. We spoke about our idealistic dreams, we spoke of our families that we longed to see, we spoke of the future we would have had if we didn't join the army. We spoke of patriotism, of love for the country, of peace and the people who slept soundly in their homes because we existed.

We knew that not everyone on the outside perceived us as heroes, some viewed us as killing machines, mere pawns in a political chess game. It mattered not; they seldom realized that the safety they enjoyed was because we threw our bodies on the front line over and over again, fighting for them, sometimes dying for them. We were human shields, impenetrable fortresses, the last line of defense. If we fell in battle all was lost. No one would be safe.

Training was hard and exhausting. Some days it would get unbearable but our friendship helped us endure the worst. Seemingly strong bonds of friendship between people who never knew if they would live to see tomorrow.

When we went to war we fought for our fathers, our brothers, our sisters, but we also fought for many more, many that we have never ever set our eyes on. Love for the country spurred us on, this was our dream, the reason we existed.

One day in the midst of battle Mark and I found ourselves side by side. The enemy was gaining slowly; our troop was pushed into a corner while the general radioed for reinforcements. Heavy fighting ensued, in the middle of all the confusion I saw Mark go down with a bullet in his chest. Comrades were shot down and fell limply one by one, blood pooled on the floor, I ran screaming, ignorant of the battle around me. By the time I got to him the last vestiges of life had ebbed from his body and he was gone. My mind went numb with disbelief, it couldn't be, he could not have died, not Mark, but this was no place to mourn. To stay still was to die.

That night we climbed into the barracks silently. The stench of death was everywhere; hollow eyes mirrored the grief of our souls, we sat unmoving, unseeing. Tim was captured they informed me, his whole troop had been taken as prisoners of war. I closed my eyes and thought of naïve Tim getting interrogated, tortured. I wondered if he was already dead. For a moment relief swept through me, I was glad it was him not me. The next moment I felt sickened with myself.

I lay numbly reliving the horrors of the day. The absence of snores told me that I was not the only one awake. I thought of Mark lying dead on the battlefield, Mark who always emerged the best during our training days, so strong, so brave. I never thought that he would go before me; I had always imagined him as a survivor, victorious and undefeated. I turned and looked at their beds, empty, desolate. I missed their usual snores that told me that they were there, that they were alive. Without warning grief rose in my throat and I curled into a ball and wept unashamedly for my dead comrades.

Days passed at a stretch, the same sad story. Unknowingly we were changed, hardened by war, jaded by the ceaseless blood that poured without restraint every time we clashed. I was no longer human, I was a killing machine.

One day I got surrounded, backed into a corner, eight to one. Instinct, self preservation kicked in and I jumped behind a torn piece of wall.  Footsteps echoed loudly, the sound of impending doom. I was trapped, there was no escape. As I sat there clutching my gun, I trembled for the life that was going to get snatched away from me. A violent terror gripped me and I was rooted to the spot. Then I thought of the people I fought for, my country, my comrades who had bravely given their lives and strength poured through me. I would not die cowering behind a wall like a coward; I would fight till my last breath. My body stiffened with resolve stilling the tremors of my limbs and I emerged with a yell from my hiding spot. Eight waiting guns emptied themselves into my body and I fell backwards gracefully, towards the beckoning arms of death.

Don’t pity me, because I died completing my mission. I died in line of duty. I died to keep you safe.

But remember me. Remember all of us, remember our sacrifice.

I march with my dead comrades towards another life.

Remember who I was.

I was a soldier.

T for Travesty (A review of the Twilight series):

Most people are aware that I am avid reader of books and follower of blogs. Out of the many books I have read though few have faced my ire like the Twilight series. Do not think for a moment that I am one among many who discarded the books after watching the first movie. I have in fact read all four books over the course of a weekend as a dare for a friend.

He is no longer my friend.

I will never get back those hours of my life again.

The first thing that irked me about this book was the vampire thread. Really there is nothing exciting about a boyfriend who wants to murder you but is nobly restraining himself for love. It’s like dating a time bomb. You never know when it’s going to go off.

Edward Cullen is a “vegetarian” vampire who has had to attend different high schools in different countries over and over again in order to avoid suspicion of his unnatural youth. He’s handsome, chivalrous, a perfect gentleman and is head over heels for our protagonist. And why is he attracted to our leading lady?

Because she smells delicious.

I kid you not. That sounds like my relationship with pizza. Except that has never stopped me from devouring it. But Edward harbors a hideous secret, he’s a vampire. This includes several intriguing abilities like extreme agility, the power to read minds and oh, he glitters in the sunlight. That particular scene had me laughing so hard I was in splits. It goes a bit like this.

(Sunlight hits Edward and he transforms into a disco ball)

Bella(awestruck) : You’re beautiful

Edward(repulsed): I’m disgusting.

Seriously Edward? I mean, it’s not like you’re covered in acne when the sunlight hits you. I would have said “Hell yeah, I’m a unicorn!”

Moving on.

Edward who is madly in love with Bella for God only knows why, takes to creeping in to her house at night and watching her while she sleeps. Hi there, psychopath. Instead of finding this creepy, Bella finds this extremely romantic. Evidently she was dropped on her head as a baby.

Let’s talk about Bella for a second. She’s quiet, reserved and antisocial. She has no goals, no dreams and clearly no friends. There is nothing remotely attractive about her and if there was, Stephanie forgot to write it in her book. She has zero development throughout the book and completely lacks a personality. I have a slice of cheese in my refrigerator that has more personality than her. She also seems to be a bit of a masochist because she finds everything disturbing about Edward romantic.

Edward and Bella get along like a house on fire. He tries not to eat her, she simpers at his noble sacrifice and they continue in this fashion until the second book when Bella attends a birthday party and gets a paper cut. The tiniest drop of blood oozes unto the carpet and sends another fellow vampire into a frenzy. Then and only then does Edward realize that Bella’s safety is in jeopardy as long as she hangs around Edward.

It appears that a high IQ is not one of the abilities you inherit as a vampire.

Commence noble idiocy. Edward breaks up with Bella under the pretense of not loving her and disappears. Bella instead of moping for a while and moving on completely loses it. She falls apart and decides to end her life.

Really Bella? Really?

Forget the fact that Bella is a high schooler and a young woman in her prime with her whole life ahead of her. The highlight of your life was a boy? Without him there isn’t a single person or a single reason for which you would want to live?

In Harry Potter, when Hermione loses the love of her life she picks herself up and continues to aid Harry with his noble task, risking her life time and again to ensure the safety of the entire wizarding world. 

What does Bella do when she loses the love of her life?

Nosedive off a cliff apparently. What spirit this girl has. She survives miraculously only to find out that Edward stricken with grief is on the way to end his life.

You two deserve each other.

No wonder Stephanie compares her novels to Romeo and Juliet (another travesty if I’ve ever seen one).  What’s funnier is the way Edward tries to kill himself. Instead of committing suicide the normal way - because that’s too easy, he decides to expose his glittery abdomen to humans and attract the attention of the Volturi (a sort of vampire government) who would execute him for breaking the rules and exposing their secret to the world.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.

Seriously if I saw a shiny human being jump in front of me I would just assume that he got high and messed around with craft materials. But apparently in the Twilight universe people equate glitter with vampires. You know because that sparkly exterior just screams supernatural bloodsucker.

Bella manages to reach Edward in time to stop him from flashing unsuspecting humans. Both pick up their epic romance from where they left off. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Enter Jacob. Jacob is a werewolf, a sworn enemy of vampires and nurses a secret crush on Bella (again why?) He would like nothing better than to get her away from Edward because it’s dangerous for her to be around a vampire. You know, even though Jacob is a werewolf himself. Said the pot to the kettle. 

Bella though aware of his feelings, messes around with him and is crippled with indecision. Which supernatural being who’s bewitched by her lack of personality should she choose? When Edward is out of the picture she leans towards Jacob. When he comes back all of a sudden, who’s Jacob?

As if I needed anymore reason to dislike her. Quite the Casanova, our damsel in distress.

Edward and Jacob continue their tug of war with our limp heroine and finally she chooses to marry Edward. Jacob is heartbroken and leaps into the woods to howl in misery. I guess I should be glad that he doesn’t try to kill himself.

To Edward’s great horror and my own, Bella gets pregnant.

Welcome to the biggest plothole of the Twicrap series.

How on earth did that happen? Vampires are basically dead, how can they procreate? But to read the rest of the book we must tie up disbelief and throw it off the same cliff from which Bella tried to commit suicide. She gives birth to a half vampire and names her Renesmee. I’m not even going to talk about how silly that name is.

Jacob - bless his furry paws falls in love with Renesmee. You know the little baby who’s as long as a Subway sandwich. The presence of a vampire child comes to the attention of the Volturi who decides that the child cannot exist. The Volturi approaches rapidly while the Cullens and a dozen other vampires gather allies in preparation for a vampire war. However when they finally do meet they just hold hands and sing Kumbayah. Or not. By this point I was just glad that the ordeal was over and I had survived.

Cue credits.

I think I actually got dumber after reading this.

If anything this book is a book of hope. It taught me that you don’t necessarily have to be a good writer to make it as a best-selling author. For that I thank you Stephanie.

Writer’s Blues:

Out of the many old sayings that I have come across in my life, one of my classic favorites is “The pen is mightier than the sword.” Maybe it’s because it appeals to me as a writer. Or maybe it’s because if I ever picked up a sword I would have a higher chance of hurting myself than anybody else. That is if I could pick up a sword without staggering about wildly in the first place. At any rate I am a great believer in the power of the written word.

I am also a great believer in using blogs and articles for the purpose of evangelization. However while browsing through many such sites I noticed a strange pattern in the kind of blogs that I frequented and the ones I went through great lengths to avoid.

So I decided to write down some of my little do’s and don’ts to keep in mind while maintaining a blog, especially if your purpose is to spread the Gospel.

Tip # 1: Don’t use overcomplicated language

I have come across some blogs where I have had to use a thesaurus to literally translate every word. Let’s do a simple test: which sentence captures your attention more?

Have you lost your mind?

Or

Have you forfeited control of your mental faculties?

Hard to believe that both sentences mean the same thing. Sometimes I feel that more than spreading the word of God some people just want to show off their extensive vocabulary.

While using a few choice words here and there can elevate the level of writing, using complex language and vocabulary is counter-productive. When you use difficult words you limit your audience to those whose language abilities match your own. Moreover the aim of interpreting the gospel is to make it simpler and more accessible for those who do not understand. Not all those who read your articles will be religious scholars. There will be some poor laymen among those. There is a reason why Jesus himself spoke in simple parables.

Additionally overly complex language is a serious workout for the brain. If it’s too difficult to read, chances are that some will not bother reading at all.

Tip # 2: Don’t overuse philosophy

At times the content of a blog is so philosophical that rather than answering questions, it raises more. I have scratched my head like a sign-language monkey after reading certain articles and obviously that was not the intended effect. Take a look at this gem.

“The butterfly emerges gloriously from cocooned womb. Futility of trying, the regret that follows, the ordered mind that cannot distinguish between the known and the absurd. To gaze at the stars sightlessly, like a lock without a key, waiting to be discovered, the lone man muses hopelessly about the unsolvable algorithm.”

Wow. Slow down there, Socrates.

You get the sense that the writer is trying to say something deep. Except that sometimes it is so deep that I cannot even see it anymore. Philosophy which cannot be understood is meaningless and rather than prompting one to think further, it just results in disconnection of the mind.

After looking at the above quote I literally thought “What did I just read?” Maybe the author wanted me to think “Hashtag deep”. That was deep indeed. So deep that Adele was rolling in it.

Tip # 3:  Don’t include Latin, Greek, Hebrew or Aramaic words if it serves no purpose

Knowing the roots of a word is only useful when the roots mean something else other than the original meaning. Other than that it’s once again a show of look how many words in different languages I know. Sometimes I have seen whole paragraphs in ancient languages that clearly people cannot read. At times there are more foreign words in the article than English. Both ways it digresses from the original purpose. Here is a fine example:

“If you refer to a million theological sources and books throughout the text, it just becomes a bibliography which originated from the Greek word biblio which means book or Bible.”

As you can see the Greek word reference is literally useless in this context.

Tip # 4:  Focus on what God did for you rather than what you did for Him

Rather than mentioning the many fasts you took, the million of masses you attended, the thousands of rosaries you said, the puritan and holy life you led in order to obtain a particular favor or grace from God, instead focus on what God did for you. Also try to focus on your mistakes, where you went wrong rather than proclaiming about the many good things you did and sacrifices you made. The most moving testimonies are the ones where you talk about your failures and mistakes because it becomes more relatable. It gives hope to people when they fall because they know that there are others who struggle in the same manner. Moreover even if we fail God, He never fails us.

A wonderful, epic testimony which is flawless from beginning to end and deliberately omits all the problems and obstacles is good to hear but cannot move anyone because it’s not relatable.

Tip # 5: Ditch the holier than thou attitude

Nothing can turn me off quicker than a testimony that reeks of holier than thou attitude. The defining characteristic of a Christian is humility and a holier than thou attitude just directly counters the message you are trying to convey. It quickly turns from glorifying God to glorifying yourself. You may as well sign off the piece with Yours Superiorly, Obnoxious Pharisee.

I really do believe that books and articles are very powerful methods of evangelization. And I genuinely appreciate those who embark on such endeavors. However if you lose sight of the purpose of why you write at all, you end up achieving the exact opposite of what you intended. By keeping a few things in check you may be able to bring many souls back to church.

Happy Writing!

P.S: The above post was inspired by a prolonged conversation with philosopher in crime Amitha Thomas. 

The Foolish Dream:

“To live without hope is to not make unrealistic demands on life. It is to live without myths, without consolation. “– Albert Camus

“Hope is the worst of all evil, for it prolongs the torment of men.” - Nietzche

Long back, when I was 17, I shared the same life view as these illustrious people. I accepted with great indifference my lot in life. Dreams and hope created illusions, desires that I would have to thirst after; it was a barrier to staying content. Happiness was acceptance of the futility of life as I knew it.

It is with this mindset that I entered the teens group, the ministry had just been founded and was trying to establish its roots. Little ministries slowly started popping up from within like the miscall ministry and the library ministry. Inevitably it became a need to start a music ministry since a lot of our prayer meetings involved joyful, action songs. A few of us recognized this and took up the responsibility.

Three of us ragtag musicians who were complete amateurs would meet up for practice every week in my house. Although I enjoyed practice I was left with a sense of dissatisfaction as I kept comparing our little, unprofessional music ministry with the classy, professional ministry the youth had and wondered when we would ever get to that level. I always had the niggling thought at the back of my head that we needed more members, more vocalists and instrumentalists for this to turn into a full, fledged ministry.

It was at this time that one of the more ambitious members of the ministry kept talking about his dream to start a band. Naturally I was amused. Since I love being pessimistic, I laughed at the fact that we don’t even have a proper music ministry forget a band. Our skills were far from excellent; in fact none of us had even had formal music training and had picked up the essentials of the instruments by ourselves. I laughed at the hope he harbored, the foolish dream.

Looking back I realize that this guy’s dreams were met with a lot of laughter, jokes and contempt. It was the kind of dream that little kids have when they are too young to know that the practical feasibility of their dream materializing was impossible. And I followed the crowd’s herd mentality. I shook my head believing this to be an impractical endeavor. There is nothing more poisonous than the foolish dream, I was convinced.

A few months later this guy had started recruiting some potential members for his band. This was a source of great bemusement for me, was he so blinded that he thought this could actually materialize? Was he deaf to the concerns of those around him? Did he not see how impossible it was for a teenager who only knew a few chords on the guitar to form a fully fledged band?

Regardless he carried this band along slowly and steadily in the face of obstacles. This was his ambition, his hope, his dream and he seemed immune to what others thought of it. To me it looked like a lone man’s struggle, he was swimming against the tide and sooner or later the tide would overwhelm him.

He started practicing in earnest with the few people he had approached. Their skills were not up to par but there was a semblance of a band that had now started emerging. Over the years old members were switched, new ones were recruited and the seemingly amateur band had racked up some crazy skills.

Their hard work slowly started paying off, their progress was exponential; they had graduated from the amateur band I knew. This was no longer a fleeting, teenage dream of an ambitious boy; it had become a reality.

Today this band is comprised of the most talented individuals I know. They have recorded several originals, they play live for retreats and programs all over the country and it’s an additional feather to their cap that all of them are so young, the majority just on the cusp of adulthood.

When I think of how this all started, the hope of a starry eyed teenage boy who decided to swim against the tide, I allow myself a small smile. What a funny way for God to teach His daughter, the power of hope.

“Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.” –Shel Silverstein

God's Great Dance Floor:

Last night God made one of my secret wishes come true. I've always wanted to watch fireworks with my teens and while we were at the parish festival watching the grand finale suddenly fireworks started shooting from the church roof. It was a magical moment because I was watching fireworks light up the night sky surrounded by people I deeply love. At that moment I felt an overflow of love from my heart and the memory was seared into my brain. I wanted the moment to last forever.

Humans have a tendency to have a wide array of relationships. But even among those relationships some are special; we give more weight and importance to certain people. We form attachments, romantic bonds, familial bonds, fast friendships. We have layers and levels of friendships, some mere acquaintances and some best friends for life. We form cliques and groups, some more intense than the other. We always have a favorite among favorites.

While these are perfectly normal it’s also the reason while we feel alone so much. No one wants to be second best. We want to be the most special, the most important, and the most loved with everyone. And we probably have this desire because it’s built into us.

As I danced the night away with my teens I realized this is what heaven is like. No special bonds of family or love or friendship exist. Every person is equally special, equally loved, no one greater than the other. The random stranger on the street would be as important to me as a family member. Everyone is the most preferred, the most special, the most loved. Best friends for an eternity. No one is alone.

I got a glimpse of heaven last night. And this is how I imagine it to be. All of us together, rejoicing in an atmosphere so thick with love, grooving to the choirs of angels on God’s great dance floor.

The light at the end of the tunnel:

“Never allow your fear of rejection overcome your faith in love.”

I had recently read this statement somewhere and it affected me very strongly on a personal level. Let me explain.

Growing up I was always highly cynical, suspicious and generally distrustful of people. It seemed like everyone had an ulterior motive, relationships were a transaction and even the strongest friendships could dissolve at the drop of a hat. My silent observation of the many relationships I saw around me only sought to reaffirm my beliefs. I had slowly started building up walls around myself based purely on what I had seen rather than experienced.

After a while I started experiencing such relationships. With dwindling faith I moved from one friendship to another seeking someone, anyone who could prove me wrong. But I was disappointed time and again. With every friendship that dissolved at the slightest sign of trouble, I laid another brick on the wall. Finally by mid July last year the walls I had been constructing for years reached completion. I couldn't bring myself to care for anyone else and other people’s affection for me could no longer penetrate. I was numb.

I sat alone in the towering fortress that I had built. I felt triumphant that I had been right all along, yet perversely miserable at my condition. This was not a battle I had wanted to win.

Now I had a certain unicorn in my life. A wonderful friend who was always so positive, all flowers and rainbows and exuberant happiness all the time. From the beginning I mistrusted her and her overwhelming affection for me. I wasn't sure why but I couldn't bring myself to believe that she actually cared. This was all a pretense, a facade, I convinced myself. The truth is I couldn't accept the love which I felt I didn't deserve.

This friend of mine tried several times over and over again. With time, my mistrust only grew. I was seeking the ulterior motive behind her actions. Surely she’ll get tired of keeping up this act I believed. But almost a year passed and she was still at it, still telling me that she cared and that she loved me. I have no idea what divine strength she possessed to keep going. I was by no means an easy opponent.

I don’t know how and why but one day it suddenly struck me. Out of the thousand stray arrows that just whizzed by, one hit bull’s-eye. Somehow she had found a crack in the fortress and the walls came crumbling down.

Sincere love will always be recognized. There was no spectacular event or revelation that struck me. Just one day I was suddenly convinced that this was no pretense, no facade, this was the real deal.

I truly believe that it was God and only God who let this happen. That thanks to this one beautiful friendship I was no longer numb and could start trusting in people again. If her perseverance could get through to me then why wouldn't mine get through other people? I started to have faith in love once more.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if she ever allowed the fear of rejection to overcome her. If she had gotten sick of my indifference and given up. I would still be in that fortress, numb, unhappy and unable to love. And she would be a statistic. One of the many faces who had given up on me.

A lot of the unhappy people we see around us today are victims of circumstances. They've built up countless walls around them and maybe they turned out that way because there wasn't a single person around them to persistently try to be there, to tear down the walls of mistrust, who never gave up.

There is no such thing as an impenetrable wall. You see even the most pessimistic person wants to believe in love, they want to be proved wrong, they want to have hope.

You must allow your faith in love triumph over your fear of rejection. You must be the light at the end of the tunnel for someone trapped by the walls that they themselves built. You must keep fighting for and believing in the power of love. You must be for someone out there, hope.

And whenever you attempt to do the Master’s will, a power will be given to you to equal the duty.

P.S: This post is dedicated to the unicorn. I am always thankful for having you in my life. You are truly a blessing.