Skip to main content

That special place

We meet new people everyday. We learn new things about people every hour. There's a lot that our little  mind has to store for us, just to we can use that information at the right time, at the right place. Much of what we experience happens due to what we have already experienced. Whether or not I choose to take the middle queue where it was faster last time, storifies the next few minutes of lingering thoughts or small talk to a known face.

If you're dumb enough, or lets say you want to call it 'rich experience', sometimes you forget the hard lessons, and there it is again. Here's where you ask your information storage box about its functionality, right?  Now that you're asking questions, why would something happen to you when you already know what's coming? There's always a reason why things happen - so what's the catch now?

Scratch that.

Its been quite sometime since I started writing, and even before that, creating a story around something helped me understand it better. It could be a chemistry formula or the names of mountain ranges in the west of India. It could be meeting a silly boy to feeling the heartbreak. Creating that story that came from my special place. I've enjoyed reading them after essentially feeling a 'lot smarter than I was'.

But I keep moving - even if sometimes its the road I've taken before. Because you're going to meet new people. You're going to have a different stone to kick on the road. You've got your mould and I'll say you can break and create new ones. Your special place feels like its got this new thing. Its not what everyone thinks it is - because you can now define - and redefine - and keep talking like there's no one to listen to you !!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Shelf of unread books

'Where to mister?" she yelled at me from a distance, loud enough for everyone to notice.  "Hey, I'm not some kind of a thief, just looking around, grabbing a book to read. That's what they're meant for, right?" "Yea, if you pay for it!" "Of course, here." I paid for the stack of papers bound together in knots of tiny rounds, filled with words that were about to change my life. As I walked home, I was beaming with a sense of refreshment. I hadn't read a book in months, and calling myself an avid reader wasn't true anymore. It was a cold Saturday afternoon, and I was dreaming about a warm coffee in my balcony with my book. However, my footsteps had a different afternoon planned for me. "No, sir. Dalal Street is where I want to go. Could you help me?" I heard an unfamiliar accent from the corner of the street. "Seedha rasta hai" "What?" "It's straight from this turn, approximat...

Post-it

Waking up to the sounds of nature, She did all she could to avoid her start to the day. The routine wasn't hers to follow, so God help those who wanted to help her. With a bag full of munchies and a bouncy walk with the blaring music in her ears, she walked to her regular book store - one that was not ruined by the virtues of modern technologies. In the pile of her books, behind her glasses, she felt like a princess in her own right. Owning the world of words. Conquering all thoughts. Riding her horse of imagination. "This one is tricky",  she heard a voice which almost felt like it came from within. "I can't seem to decide what book I want read. They all either equally good, or well, equally bad." Slowly rising from the top rim of the book, her eyes tried to make sense of what her ears just caught. "Sir, what genre of books do you read?", asked the furious sales woman behind the counter. She was obviously not happy with this confused customer who...

Going Ballistic

Chop Chop Chop!! "ruchi sssssssssssssssssshhhhh" "What?" "Umm...shhhh" "Well, okay. Whatever." ..and the Chop Chop Chop continues. I was too absorbed into my own thoughts to figure out where the "ssshhh"s have been coming from. For one, I was listening to music o full blast. Of course that meant the rest of the world can do whatever they want and I wouldn't care two hoots. "Say maybe, you're gonna be the one who saves me..." I sing my way to annoy the "ssshhh" ing person. BAh!   Although, apparently all of my actions and words were louder than usual, and more importantly, louder than necessary. For a couple of odd days, mom thought I had some hearing difficulties and this was my way of dealing with it. Heart-wreaking as it was, my colleagues seconded this, with a few attributing it to the constant music blast in my ears.  So, crazy as it was getting,  I resisted the opinions, that turned into judgemen...