A funnily exhausting day, and more...

Life is so not straight or simple. It is downright exhausting. I used to think that I will have plenty of time for creative pursuits after college, what with no stress of assignments and tests, but I was so wrong. True, we do have plenty of time when we do not have to burn our brains over homework, but there are just so many other things! Those things existed even before, but somehow, they seem more prominent when you start working. Besides that, most of the times you are so mentally exhausted that you cannot bring yourself to do what you really would have liked. Blogging, for instance. Some days, there is no energy left except to:

- Slump in a comfy chair and have tea and snacks after coming from work.

- Browse Facebook and feel terrible and realize that the world sucks so much.

- WhatsApp message friends before feeling like doing something; ending the conversation and still not doing anything.

- Read a random book, one page at a time, ignoring the ones on the to-be-reviewed pile.

- Sleep

Some days, it is not even about energy. Or maybe it is, in some form anyway. Some days you are too mentally exhausted, while on some, you just cannot bring yourself to think of more than two sentences to write. I often get ideas to write/blog (after all, despite my absence from the blog, happening things have happened in my life) but it is a struggle to want to write. Rather, it's easier for me to do other things like cleaning up some part of the house, making a greeting card, actually cooking a vegetable (yesss! Perhaps the biggest change in my life so far. I know how to cook more than two things!!)

Anyway, why are my blog posts so much about monologue (or, a dialog with the blog, for want of a better phrase)? I do have story ideas, article ideas, fantastically serious topic ideas but I usually end up writing about my day, weeks, months, life. Now that I've written it down, it doesn't seem like a bad thing at all. (See what writing does?) After all, when I'm old and read old posts, I would want to read about something fantastic, or anything that moved me, really. Let's start with yesterday.

The night before, we had special instructions from dad to get ready and leave the house by 9AM sharp, and we know that for him, 9 means 9. We were to spend the morning and afternoon at our relatives' place. They had organized a small something for which we were to reach early to help with arrangements. We slept on time. Well before time, actually. So much so that nobody woke up when a cousin arrived at our house at 12.30AM and he had to go back because... well, nobody picked up their phones, and he hadn't rung the doorbell. Eeps.

Morning was, as usual, a struggle. It wasn't that bad, though. We all got up on time, and engaged ourselves in the various morning routine activities. By 9AM, I and my mom had been entirely ready for the past 15 minutes, complete with bags and everything. Dad and G were still leisurely getting ready. Talk about being on time. :P Then, the impending rain changed everything.

"It is about to rain!" exclaimed mom, rushing inside to relate the horrifying news to dad.

"God, we must hurry!" he replied, somehow, magically, standing entirely ready, complete with a quick smile. "We must reach the metro station before it rains," His tone implied that it was a challenge, and we all have a crazy streak where we actually enjoy such challenges. I do, at least.

"Ashna, you take V on Scoot," he continued. (V is our househelp) "I'll take mom on scooter. G... you finish getting ready, shut all doors properly, bring all the keys, and come in a ricksha. Quick!" (By the way, in case you are wondering, the metro station does not have a proper parking space yet. I mean, they did come up with a ridiculous place as an excuse for parking till the time the new parking is constructed--multi-level, hence, the three year time period, and still going, is apparently justified, but we haven't used it because it is such a time-waster, and there is no space for car-parking. Plus, driving in Delhi is insane, and none of us prefers taking the car out.)

One drop, two drop, three drops!

"Mom! It's about to rain!" I called out while taking Scoot out, and asking V to quickly hop on. It would really be a challenge to reach the station on time. I revved up Scoot twice, feeling quite enthused about it all. Mom and dad took their respective places on dad's scooter, and we all rushed towards the station.

I drove like hell, as was evident from the genuine lack of conversation from my pillion rider, who is regularly chattering at the most inopportune moments. I could not see mom and dad behind me, but that could be because one of the rear-view mirrors is now broken. Soon enough, we reached the station, and effectively beat the rain to it. Woohoo! As I parked Scoot, I saw our scooter carrying my parents, mom laughing hard. (She always laughs hard whenever she feels light. It's almost as if she has a laughter button that goes off at the drop of a pin even. I'm not complaining. It's kinda cute.)

"What happened?"

"It's just so funny, the way we're going," she replied in between giggles. "Us after you, and G after us. Besides, dad forgot his phone at home."

"Then?"

"We asked G to bring it," she replied.

"Oh, oh," said dad, fiddling with the scooter's race-handle (or whatever it is called). "The wire broke. We'll have to get it repaired later. Let's go. It's about to rain."

Rain captured from the metro

As soon as we reached the station, it did rain, and turned into a strong current. Uh, oh. Poor G, I thought.

"Call G and ask where he is," said dad.

*called G*

*picked up phone after ages*

"Are you guys mad or what, man?" he said in a pained voice.

"Um. Where are you?" I asked.

"This is the second time you've called and I've had to rush back home and take the phone out of the polythene! It is raining badly! Let me leave home, at least!"

"Okay. We're going," I replied, "you can take the next train. If we wait for you, we'll all be late, okay?"

*pause*

"Okay."

I did feel bad for him, but we had to go. We were called early, after all. Now, we had to take a train that normally arrives after at least three trains for another destination have passed. It turned out that the amount of time we spent waiting was equal to the time it took G to reach the platform! We were finally united. :') And then segregated again as the girls went to sit in the women-only coach. :P

We enjoyed just looking out the window and chatting randomly. After a while as the train stopped at a station, V exclaimed, "Oh! B bhua!" (Her name starts with B. She also has a married name that starts with V, and also a 'real', official name that starts with S. Like most Punjabis, we prefer nicknames.)

That was a weird moment. We forgot that there were people on the train (and train-people are incredibly nosy), jumped up from our seats (Mom and I) and went towards the doors. As soon as the doors opened, mom called out to her, while I waved frantically. She looked at us, gave a start, turned around to pick up her bag from the floor to come join us, remembered something crucial, and called back, "No! M is coming! You come out."

"No!" mom called, "R and G are in the train, too!"

"Okay! Here, take this then," said bhua, picking up the big bag she was carrying. It contained stuff needed at the relatives' place. I stretched my arms out of the doors without moving outside, while she stretched hers, and I finally took the bag. The doors closed, and we went back to our seats. The ensuing calmness of the train bogie was eerie.

Anyway, we reached the place, experienced all that there was to experience, remembered God and loved ones who passed away, and had a fantastic lunch. I quite over-ate, in fact, because I had "forgotten" to have my breakfast, which I had first realized when we had reached our metro station. Dad left soon after for work, handing us the scooter's keys and asking us to take the scooter to the mechanic who was nearby.

When we returned to the parking, G took hold of the scooter and dragged it to the place where we've seen a mechanic for years. We all followed, feeling proud that G had become competent enough. Quite alarmingly, we did not find a mechanic over there. That was the first blow, not counting the breaking of the wire in the first place. We walked around for a while, asking random strangers, mistaking cycle repair shops for scooter repair, and the whole process was interspersed with convincing mom to go home, the heat-after-rains, and muck all over the roads. Add to that the extremely unhelpful and over-the-top annoying people on the roads who would just turn around to stare at us as if we were dragging a spaceship and not a scooter. -_- Idiots, seriously.

Finally, mom assented to leave for home with V. G and I decided to first take a round on Scoot to find the nearest mechanic. After all, the scooter is heavy. Nearly halfway home, we did not find anything, so G suggested that we just start dragging the scooter and look around again. We could not leave it at the station unattended. We could, actually, but as G pointed out, dad'll have had to drag it as well, and with lesser energy than us. (I do think he's quite a grown-up now :') )

It was weird being on an incredibly slow Scoot, so slow that I could have competed well in the slowest moving two-wheeler competition! (Do not laugh. It is difficult to balance a slow two-wheeler) After two minutes of riding like a tortoise and watching poor G drag the scooter, I hopped off Scoot and dragged it along as well.

"Are you crazy?" asked G, fighting a snicker. "People will think you're crazy."

"Huh. People don't know that Scoot's all right, do they?" I replied, my arms already tired with the strain of dragging. 

"No, please get on Scoot right now, and do not interrupt me again. I'll get angry," he replied as politely as he could. Some serious self-restraint, I call it. (I can't imagine what a ruckus I'd have made had I been in his situation)

As we reached a T-point, G got a call from dad, who suggested a mechanic exactly half a minute's ride away from where we were. Yay to dad!! We reached the dingy place next to a huge garbage dump (that's India for you). The men at the shop looked positively shady, and when their leader quoted a price quite over and above what dad had told us, G got agitated and suggested we go somewhere else. I did not question it. Apart from the fact that they did not have the required part for replacement and quoting a high price, the place was incredibly off-putting and the men displayed absolutely zero customer-service skills. 

G dragged Scoot to the very mechanic/petrol-pump that's near our place. That's about half an hour of scooter dragging. Talk about resilience. 

"G, would you like to have some cold coffee when we go home?" I asked as we reached "our" mechanic, feeling thirsty and hungry at the same time, nearly drooling at the mere idea of cold coffee. 

"I'd like some mango shake, please," he replied. 

"But there are no mangoes at home that are suitable for shakes."

"Any mango! I want it!" 

I called mom. 

"Hello!" mom greeted, sounding quite happy. "Hello, comedy of errors!" She broke into giggles.

"What? Listen, please make mango shake for G, and cold -"

"Yes, yes, I'll make everything for you two. Except that we aren't able to open the doors!" she replied, still laughing. 

By that time, I seriously did not find anything funny in that situation. Yes, the old door's been giving trouble specially during monsoon, but this level? She explained how they've already tried so many times. 

"But mom, push the door hard!" I cried. "I want cold coffee!"

"You come and make it open. I think we will have to call a lock-guy. There's one who sits at --"

"No, mom. Please let us get the scooter repaired first," I replied, already exhausted. 

"Okay... and do get Limca for us as well. We're exhausted."

---

Now I am exhausted writing such a detailed post. G managed to get the scooter repaired by that guy. The expenses came out to be the same as quoted by the previous guy, but hey, this one was great with mannerisms and surrounding environment. I went back home while G watched over it. He came after about an hour, actually driving the scooter for the first time. *claps*

The star of the day!

"Oh no," he muttered. "Where's Scoot?"

Scoot wasn't in its usual place. 

"I left it at the mechanic!" he said to me. "You go get it now."

"Me? I'm already in my pyjamas! Oh, all right! I'll go."

"Okay. I'll go with you too," he replied. "Where's my mango shake?"

"There's no mango shake. Take your cold coffee from the fridge," replied mom. (By the way, I was the one who had ultimately made cold coffee. No one bothers about us at all! It's horrific!)

G and I then walked down to the petrol pump to bring back Scoot. "I will drive, please," he said, for Scoot's mine and I always insist on driving it and he feels awkward sitting pillion. "Okay."

Just when I sat on the back seat, G said, "Well, what was the point of you coming anyway? I could have done this just as well."

I really had no remark to make. I was caught in the midst of a rebuke and a laugh.

***

It was quite a nice day. :)

PS- I really, really need to provide an update. How else will I know the details when I'm old and reading this? I have made a decision that's both easy and incredibly hard. Without much further ado, I've resigned from my job! (Perhaps that's why I finally could write something here) Do not give me the gasp-y look. Almost everyone seems to be either shocked or reproving, but I ask you, doesn't a person have freedom? If I want to take a break, it is my choice. I am happy with it. Take a chill pill!

Along the same lines, I will soon start searching for a new job. Anyone here who could refer me to some place? Or provide any leads at all. I would be highly grateful. I work as a book editor. :)   

  

On reading and readers...

Reading's been a vital part of my life so far. Sometimes it seems as if I'm overstating the fact, seeing how there are others who read as much, but they don't talk about it all the time. There's something more to it than what I see or what you see or what we know. I know there is something in that activity that is inherently 'me', something that makes me feel complete and at peace with myself and the world. It defines who I am, who I was and who I am going to be. When I close my eyes and try remembering life as a child, I find myself either playing with my kid brother, excited about the games we invented and planning to put them to use, or going about in the narrow park with overgrown grass, wondering how and where to put up our 'playhouse' (which never existed in reality, of course, because in my imagination, it would be made of mud, and no grown-up would help us). Apart from these, the moments of flashback I have of that time nearly always include a book in my hand.

There was that one time a friend had come over to play, and by stroke of luck, I had chanced upon a book by Enid Blyton, a blue hardcover full of stories, a book I'd forgotten I ever had, so much that it was almost new. I remember being completely glued to the book. The grumpy friend had left soon after. Another time, I wasn't as excited initially when I saw a boxed set of Harry Potter books (1-4) instead of the Barbie I'd asked for, but I remember being glued to Philosopher's Stone till 11pm that night when mom had to wrench it away from my grasp because I had school the next day. All in all, I've lived a humble life as a kid, not being interested in anything other than books. It's trickled down as I've grown-up. I still have little patience for movies, TV shows, gadgets, fashion stuff, shopping, etc. Of course, I love certain movies and shows, I'm technologically inclined and have preference for simple and elegant fashion. I'm not 'backward' in most senses, but I've found out a secret.

Now, this secret comes at a price. There was this video/documentary on J.K. Rowling I was watching last night where she said, 'For someone to love a thing, it has to be loathed by someone else.' So my secret here might seem like a load of bull to some, but some would definitely get it and hopefully appreciate it too.

It's this: Reading gives us much more than a good grasp of language. In fact, language is only one of the useful things you might get (because not every reader can write well, either). More than that, it gives you life. Really, if you are a reader who is capable of experiencing happiness, satisfaction or pleasure in a book, you're open to knowledge about life itself. That knowledge helps a reader make better sense of the world, have more feelings of empathy and tolerance, learn to appreciate the beauty of things, be more cool-minded and accepting. Reading also gives a reader answers to questions he might not even know he had, and the irresistible urge to grow as a reader. It increases knowledge about things that would blow your brains if you read about them. Do not trust TV shows and such forms of entertainment for facts, because they're largely based on entertainment, and would most probably be giving a one-sided perspective. 

How do you grow as a reader?

You experiment and read books beyond your comfort level, gradually, slowly. You have to let it happen on its own with just the tiniest bit of prodding, because if you force anything, you're going to hate it and there, that's the end of it. Reading is also sensitive. I have certain genres I cannot even glance at, all because I have deep-rooted biases because of wrong time experiment or maybe a bad book or maybe I really don't have much tolerance for those topics anyway. But really, I've grown as a reader more in the past couple of years than anything else. When you grow, you read and love and appreciate those genres you earlier didn't touch. A growing reader is also a wonderful resource because they insist on sharing their feelings with their friends and making them read too. They crave sharing of books, so much so that they start getting annoyed when others seem indifferent.

How does that help you?

You start looking at life beyond the ordinary, you are more optimistic and calm when it comes to real-life problems, though you might become that kind of person who draws into a shell and comes out only when it seems safe to do so. That's all right. You have the right to feel the way you do.

More than that, you'll realize that your place in the world is minuscule, you'll not be self-obsessed because you will be humble enough to realize you're small, yet powerful enough to influence other lives. Yes, you will not only know that you have that power, you will also believe in it and you will be driven to work for causes beyond those that carry you to materialism and selfish benefit. Tell me, don't you feel a tinge of sadness or pain when you see a poor kid? Don't you feel bad about wasting money when someone living in a construction house cannot even have enough food to survive? Readers tend to feel more strongly simply because they are capable of immediately putting themselves in that position and imagining what it's like. Readers and non-readers might take the same action to help others, but when it comes to feelings, I think readers personally feel more. Non-readers tend to be more practical in their approach. 

Readers will know their life beyond what they see, because they've read so much that they are able to connect more at the level of their feelings, and it is not easy to ignore a life so drastically different from yours. You would want to do something, and you, the reader, will figure something out even if it is a small step. Would you not?

What can you do?

As a reader, the least you could do is to motivate people around you to turn into readers themselves. It might sound obvious, but the fact is that it is very difficult. My brother G, despite living among piles of books, is not an avid reader. Some people just find it difficult, specially because, sad as it may sound, this basic activity is introduced to them as a pleasure activity quite late in life. By that time, most already have a set of hobbies and activities they have found solace in, and reading might not be in that list. Can you force anyone to read? NO! If you constantly pester them, they're going to rebel even more and thus, be as far from the idea of reading than they were before. You need to then do it in a subtle way, so that you're not forcing your opinion on anyone, because let's face it, a lot many wonderful people have survived without reading too, but they seem to have something else, a sense of understanding of the world, which is rare.

So if you need to do the deed and contribute your bit, I'd suggest you do it subtly. If a friend points out how he/she thinks it is boring, politely and excitedly tell them how it isn't boring. Talk about books and reading whenever the opportunity comes up. Show an interest in anyone who says they've read a certain book. Strike up conversations. Ask them what it is about, and if they enjoyed reading it. Tell them about the book you love or the story in an easy language. If you know what interests them, try to recall if you've read any book on that theme, and recommend it to them. 

The best way to get people to read is to make books available to them. I recently came across this article that talks about how soldiers from WWII were given affordable copies of books by publishers, how it affected them, and how drastically it changed the reading and publishing industry in America. That step, the offering of good quality books in affordable formats to soldiers in wars, was a step not only to create sales but to provide the many benefits of books to many, many people. 

Tell me, how many bookshops are there in your locality? I don't mean those that sell school books, nor the stationery shops that keep a handful of kiddie story books. I mean proper book shops. If you live in a modest part of Delhi, I'll bet on one shop within a radius of two kilometres. I do not have any shop near my house. In fact, I do not have anything book related in my neighbourhood. Except schools. Oh yeah, there are loads of schools - I could give you ten names just to serve as landmarks, but no book shop.

As a reader, make it your responsibility to spread this habit. I will not say that the internet is the cause of decline in book readership, because with the internet, people DO get reading material readily, even if I would think that most of it is crap. Still, I do not believe in the 'at least they're reading something' ideology either, so I make small efforts to share articles and reading pieces I feel must be read. You could do that too. Move to books. If you are a reader, completely move to books! Gift books to your friends, ask for books if you're being asked for a gift choice. Be the best friend's children's book resource. Forget being considered a nerd. It's for everyone's benefit. 

***

The Meaning of This Silence

How do you know you are a different person at any point of time? Normally, you wouldn't realize it unless you pondered over your changing relationships, your frame of mind, the way you spend your days, what you like and don't like, or the way you feel okay with things you ardently rebelled earlier. 

I've been quite silent lately. Being in touch with fewer people than ever, screaming over things going wrong lesser than before, staying home more than ever, and other similar things that has, as I've observed, kind of unnerved a number of people. Not many, though. Most of them seem to be going through a similar time, and they're too busy adjusting to it themselves to be bothered about me. I'm not suggesting that those who do get bothered are getting so for me, because it's for them that they feel weird. I'm different now, and changes in people who are your family and/or friends are not easy to deal with. We bring our own insecurities and fears to the forefront when dealing with changes in other people, and that usually throws us off our secure positions.

It's not a bad change. Speaking less was always my forte, the thing that was inherent in me, a trait that made me feel more comfortable than awkward. In fact, I've encountered awkwardness whenever I chose to speak or engage in a social conversation like everyone else. It's just not me, and the fact that I've always been asked to get away from something that's me, is really unpleasant. Right from school where teachers complained that I'm too quiet, to high school and college where mindless kids liked to tag me as 'boring' because I took no interest in their mundane talks, I've been suggested to leave my zone and change myself. What happened in reality? The opposite.

I'm back into my zone, and since it's taken so long to go back there, it's taking time to adjust. But it is a comfortable time. Yes, I do feel sorry to miss some social outings, but the feeling is transitory. I still go out to meet friends, talk to new people, engage in social conversations, heck, even try to keep up with the latest online trends! Yet, in my mind, I have fewer things to worry about, fewer people to take care of and lots of wonder at being able to discover so many things about myself and the people I love that I had been missing all this time. 

It's not a deliberate attempt at anything. It just is. As I've mentioned before in previous posts, being able to work and get away from institutions that bound me, I've felt more liberated than ever. With that feeling comes the feeling of control - I am in control of my life. I am lesser intimidated by parents, and most of the times I flounder, but I also take each step carefully because I know I would be the one to blame if anything went wrong. It is my life and it is up to me to make it better. I am, first and foremost, responsible for my own physical and mental well-being. I will make no attempts at pleasing anyone who becomes difficult. I have put across myself just the way I am, and I am completely comfortable with the idea that some people might not like it. 

This silence entails space, and time. I've been able to be with myself, been able to think, study, learn, read, write, cry, laugh, scowl, grin, feel emotional, feel reckless, feel ecstatic, all at my own pace. Not adhering to anyone else has made me get closer to myself, to loving myself and to understanding myself. It's a very beautiful place, and I got here when it was a much-needed thing.

***

If I'm not speaking as much as I did, it's not because I have a problem with you. It's because for a change, my life is about me. And I will live it according to my own will.

The real, real world.

My life as a child was always guarded. No going out after dark, following rules related to play time and hours, no going out alone, no travelling on the roads, no going to friends' houses that are more than half a kilometer away, no staying over at any relative's (no matter how close the relation), no school 'counties' or picnics unsupervised by teachers. The fact that I was a book addict, craft lover, and generally loved spending time solving puzzles or drawing and creating things or playing our own version of Legends of the Hidden Temple with G, I grew up a guarded, careful person.

Most of the restrictions vanished when I began college, but the idea of caution was deeply ingrained, and even though I was naturally a super-adventurous soul always looking for action, what seemed on the surface was exactly the opposite. The main reason was that no matter how reckless I felt, there was always an edge of practicality. It seemed like I was missing out on things, but in reality, I was just keeping myself safe. Yes, there are a lot many proponents of the idea that you need to experience everything in order to know things, but I don't believe in it. Why do you need to go through a difficult situation that gives you pain? I believe that when you do encounter a difficult situation, you will anyway face it no matter what you've faced in the past. So if I decide to avoid situations that I feel would make me uncomfortable, then it's my right and well, I am right. :P

In this whole manner of growing up, I developed an idea, or rather, a way of thinking that made people say that I 'live in the clouds'. I was always optimistic for the most part, believed that whatever view I have of the world, it would be just like that, thought that good things happened to good people, that I will be all right if I did everything right. Most of all, I fought with the idea that I cannot live my life happily if I always stayed 'in the clouds'. It was a safe place, and I wanted to stay there. It was a good way to live life. I did encounter my own share of sorrows, but I was always hopeful.

Nearly a year after completing formal education, I still believe in all those things. After all, isn't it difficult to start thinking along different lines than what you've always been used to? But this time, it is slightly different. Even though I believe in all those things, I now also know the 'whys', I've also witnessed and understood things I never wanted to believe existed, and I've developed an even bigger need to stay closer to God. Thankfully, my core beliefs remain the same, but I will not hide the fact that living in 'real life' made me very sad. It showed me that the things I thought were so bad they shouldn't exist, would not just exist, but also exist eerily close to me. It's really strange how different everything becomes once you get really independent, and that in this city, is when you start working.

What made me sad?

- Looking at people making a living by fooling other people, and supporting all the wrong kind of things. The really worrying thing is, there seem to be so many people living along these lines, and what they wear as a facade is so convincing, that unless you have great observation and are not easily moved by marketing efforts (that is, if you are someone like me), you wouldn't even realize what kind of lies people live with. When you are used to being ethical and honest, you feel suffocated if you are put in an environment that thrives on lies.

If lying wasn't bad enough, there's this whole idea of showbiz, and by God, it is something I can NEVER like or appreciate, no matter how people might think it to be 'entertaining'. It is not entertainment to me, it's being vile and idiotic and making fun of people who don't know any better. And I loathe people who pull off lies as acts, not knowing how stupid they look to those who know the truth, and how they're being marked by God as mere idiots who are spoiling His world. Besides, people (businesses, politicians, marketers) who make it a business of cheating people, not only cheat those outside the organization, but also their own employees.

- Looking at people who are just so delusional. I cannot stress on the gravity of delusion so many people seem to be living in. One category is that of the super-rich who believe they can buy their way into anything. And the sad fact is that they usually can, and then they believe that they're the winners. Another category belongs to the self-obsessed people. But then, what can we say about the common people if the head of the country is the biggest of them all? 

- Realizing that good can happen to people who are good and also to the vicious ones. The same goes for difficulties. God made us all equal and he treats us equally. Karma takes its own role, but for the most part, what happens to us depends on our own selves - are we a minority caste in a bigoted country? Are we poor? Do we have 'contacts'? How you enjoy the good and avoid the bad are basically based on these factors, not God.

- Witnessing alarming amounts of mindless, idiotic acts every day. People seem to have lost all faculties of mental reasoning. Life seems artificial when you look around and feel that so many young people prefer parties over spending time with family, prefer cricket matches and stupid movies over spiritual or intellectual talks, prefer spending thousands in one restaurant meal over giving a small bit of money to the homeless. Then there are events and acts that make no sense whatsoever. And let's not even begin talking about the differences in men and women. I cannot keep on harping about those, so I'll stop now and keep this post short. 

In between all this lies the happy world of a family and loved ones, best friends and of course, so many books waiting to be read. I've read such a vast variety of genres and themes, authors and writing styles in the past one year, that it makes me feel scared that I would die before I got to read them all! :P All this offers a constant assurance that one person can make a difference, and if you stay true to yourself and ignoring the negativity, try to spread the good things as much as you can, it will be all right. :)