Sunday, October 16, 2011

Little Sarah





Mama, "when will I be able to read? When will I manage to read it without your or papa's help?", enquired a 5 year old Sara with knitted eyebrows and pouted lips wit her school book in her hands. She was sitting on the marble floor for she loved the sensation produced by the cold marble floor against her skin. She heaved a deep sigh that echoed of her disappointment at not being able to make much sense of the different fonts and signs printed in an organized fashion on the pages before her. To Sarah, the dismay of not being able to read this book splashed with colourful images was as real as the one experienced by an adult upon encountering some random mishap.


Her mom who preffered to kill time or amuse herself with a variety of soap operas was rather engrossed in one to notice her daughter's complaint.She was now surfing through different channels.Sarah fixed her gaze upon her mother for it fascinated her to observe the dance of different colours as they reflected from the tv screen on her mother's iris. To her this little observation was far more interesting than any soap opera she could watch except maybe Heidi but that wasn't a soap opera, it was a cartoon, and a beautiful one at that!  


Little Sara's instinct told her that perhaps her mama was too tired to answer for she would often see her engaged in several household chores and marvelled at the strength and fondness of her mother for the same. The concept of duties was beyond her little mind's comprehension.


She glanced back at the printed pages and picked up her book. She caressed the smooth pages as if it were the hair of some barbie doll and savoured the intoxicating smell of her brand new book.She would later thank her brother for this discovery for if it weren't for him, she wouldn't have figured albeit a little later that the smell of new stationery is no less appealing than that of the scattered flowers she'd pick up from the pavement on her way back home from school.


After having toyed enough with her book she prostrated on the floor for it's coolness was rather inviting. She lay her cheek against the glaced paper. All dismay had washed off her face by now and instead, her lips were curved in a relaxed smile. Moments later, she transported into the world of dreams.She saw something beautiful. She was reading out different stories from a variety of books to a group of animal sitting around her in a circular manner. They were all looking at her in sheer awe. What seemed like a distant dream to her once, was apparently not distant anymore!

Monday, September 27, 2010

Where the winds may lead....

Destination matters not
Its the journey I care for
Just letting life hold your hand
And take you where it pleases

Could life ever, exciting be
If one could predict one's destiny?
And so the sciences of this world
Hold no more a charm for me

Astrology, Numerology I wished to learn
I yearned to know what the future held
Now it is the present that matters more
I fret not for what the next moment may bring.

Each day I unwrap a new gift from life
A challenge to be faced, a lesson to be learnt
A chance to witness different hues of this world,
to touch a life here, to bring a smile there!

As days advance into years, I age,I grow
I see, I hear, I realize,I know
I walk, I stumble, I fall , I rise
That's the summary of life I surmise.

Where the tides may turn
Where the winds may lead
Where my heart may nudge
There I shall be!!

Saturday, September 25, 2010

An Urdu Couplet


 
Wo kashish na hoti mehsoos jo hoti thi kabhi

Socha na tha halaat ke sath badlenge jazbat bhi kabhi

Ek daur wo tha tum pal mein samajh jate the mujhe

Ek daur ye hai tum rehte ho mujhse bujhe bujhe

Mujhe dil ke kareeb mante the tum kabhi

Mujhe mujhse behtar jante the tum kabhi

Jane kaise a gayin dooriyan darmiyan

Jane hue kaise do dost anjan

Yad a jata hai kabhi yun hi bhula koi lamha

Ek sama woh that aur ek ye hai sama......

Saturday, February 13, 2010

The Demon

There's a melody in my heart

That I've been yearning to sing

You've caged me long enough

Now let me spread my wings




I'm sick of your rules

I'm tired of your ways

I know I'll be sent for

I'm just counting my days



How can my fellow brethrens

Not see you for who you are?

How can they mistake your glitter

For the radiance of a star?




Your progeny is blind and deaf

Though they may have eyes and ears

They are fooled by the illusion

Their true voice they cannot hear.



You snatch away from them

All they hold close and dear

You numb their minds

With your silent savage spear.



They are unaware of your presence

They know not you exist

In the chalices of their hearts

You grow like a cyst.



I cannot recall when your

false words captured my soul

And gnawed at it unceasingly

Until I failed to feel whole.



How do I follow your kin?

For they themselves are lost

In having trusted you

They are paying a heavy cost.



I'd rather be called insane

Then be as sane as they are

For then I'd be trampled too

A little blossoming flower.



You've done enough damage

I can take no more

Help must be on its way

I prayed from my core.



Once I was naive

But now I know better

In paving my own way

I shall no longer deter.




Your tyrrany can't lost forever

Your day shall also come

Your game shall be busted

You will be undone.



O step away you beast and look

My mother awaits me

In her comforting presence

I shall learn of my destiny.



She will take me to a land

Where I can just Be.

I shall sing my song there

And set myself Free!























Saturday, September 19, 2009

The Sacred Vow



No memory to cherish

Few moments to enjoy


Her life was one

Bereft of Joy.


She was once

Timid and weak



People took advantage



Thought she was weak




Behing her laughter


She hid her sorrow


And ceased to believe

In a better tomorrow



Her dreams and hopes


Were dashed to the ground


To shackles of grief


She forever felt bound.


Once a princess


Nurtured with care


She had little clue

Of what she'll bear





Her pleas of justice

Often went unheard

An innocent lass


Became a caged bird.




Try as she might

She cannot succeed



To forgive him who



made her heart bleed



His words lured her

In him she was deceived

Her path grew rougher


Once she conceived.


He was perhaps


Riveted by her beauty


But soon forgot


All sense of duty.



Of her marriage today



She completes another year


Failing to smile

Her soul sheds a tear.




She's haunted till date


By echoes of past

She can't fathom why


The dice was so cast.






She knows not how

One blow after another

Didn't make her refuse



To walk any further.





Perhaps it was


A touch of Grace

Blessed by him who

Sets things in place.

P.S. - I am not sure how to correct the spacing for this poem. Blogger refuses to cooperate :( Have already tried several times, need to take a break now lol!

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

The Tantrum




Cherie* Bishkeit* mom said in an altered tone – the one we often employ to talk to pets and kids. Funny thing is one doesn’t even have to make an effort, our speech distorts naturally in the process! She waived the biscuit before Cherie's eyes hoping that at least this attempt would prove successful. Cherie refused to budge. The idea was to entice her and get her to step out from beneath the dining table. That's one spot Cherie often chooses to seek refuge in case she wishes to sleep, or to leisurely eat a treat we may have offered. Also, if she wants to rest - which too often is the case with Labradors - or if she wants to spare being scolded for something she may have done to annoy mom. Apparently, Cherie and Rambo's Corolla virus vaccination was due. Mom couldn't find the time to visit the clinic and thus requested the veterinarian to send over her helpers or assistants. Sometimes convenience matters more than money!






The two fellows who came over were seated patiently on the sofa in the drawing room. At least they were done with Rambo. That, I suppose was the cause of the problem in the first place. It’s a popular joke amongst us all that Rambo in spite of being a male is more delicate than Cherie. The latter is quite rough and tuff! While mom held Rambo from his collar, Sonu- one of the helpers quickly pressed the injection in his posterior. Rambo whimpered but didn’t create any fuss. He’s the obedient one. Cherie saw it all and what else can you expect from a clever dog like her?! She figured that the only way to escape the pain of the needle was to avoid getting within their reach! She growled every time we made an attempt to hold her collar. Getting her to take vaccination seemed impossible! “Ma’am please take this muzzle”, Sonu uttered. He must have remembered how hard Cherie bit him last time when he tried to hold her steady as Dr.Pandey examined her for some ailment. It also explained why he didn’t make any effort to step near Cherie or help mom get a grip on her collar. Heck even my brother was cautious. Can't blame them. At times like these she does get unpredictable , something you normally don't expect from a Labrador!






Mom next brought a piece of chicken from the kitchen, convinced she had touched a weak spot. Her face bore a triumphant look. We don’t feed our pets much non vegetarian food so it usually holds a special attraction for them. Mom flashed the piece right below her nose thinking Cherie would find it hard to resist. But before she could grab it mom pulled the piece back. Cherie now sat upright on the floor, her head held high, her eyes alert, we often call it her royal pose. Her gaze was fixed on the piece, like a laser beam! She took calculated moves toward mom. Grabbing her collar or coat at this time was not possible . She hadn’t stepped away from the table completely. I could tell she was thinking “How can I snatch this piece without falling in their trap” Her face is quite expressive, perhaps it's her eyes. Besides it isn’t black like that of Rambo so it’s easier to read! ( chuckles ut the chicken piece in the center of the room now. We - the mute spectators observed keenly. Cherie did come forward. But before we could hold her collar she rushed back to her refuge. Her reflexes were quicker than ours.






The helpers thought it was a good idea for them to step out of the room. That may fool Cherie into thinking that they were gone. Mom switched off the lights of the room and stepped out too. Nothing happened. We were tired and irritated that mom had to coax Cherie so much. It was like pampering some stupid guy’s ego! I was squatting on the floor to see what she was doing beneath the table. "How about shoving the needle in her butt just like that!'' I said with an air of mischief to my brother. He laughed menacingly. He’s the one who teases Cherie the most and is often inventing silly tricks to do the same. My intention wasn’t to act inhuman. But mom had tried hard and I felt that she must have gotten tired by now. At least I was and I had done little save talking to Cherie two or three times to her in soothing tones! Besides the people from the vet’s clinic couldn’t wait forever. It amazed me to see how stubborn and clever a dog can be for the sake of its own comfort or maybe security. Made me wonder how humans are any different. All except mom stepped back into the room. A loud peal of doorbell caught us by surprise. Cherie rushed out swiftly. It took me a while to realize what had happened. I ran quickly to shut the door of the drawing room and that of the adjacent bedroom. I couldn't help but laugh. At last Mom’s ingenious trick worked! Cherie was finally caught in the trap.







I stepped out in the porch to see how things had taken shape. Mom held Cherie by her collar. Also, Cherie's neck was tucked between her legs ( not a very nice image! ) neck between her legs This was to ensure Cherie doesn't get even with Sonu as he gave her the vaccination. My brother on the other hand held her hind legs firmly. Sonu injected the needle within a matter of minutes. Cherie didn’t make any noise. I suppose owing to her thick coat and the quickness of the operation it didn’t cause her any pain. We heaved a sigh of relief. Everybody was smiling by now.
Mom remarked, “They are my own kids. I know what their habits and weaknesses are”. I think I sensed pride in her voice. For some reason I felt amused. Actually, she was right in a way. Cherie does have a habit of rushing towards the door everytime someone rings the doorbell in a quick succession. I tag such people as “The impatient visitors” ( winks) and many a times my own mom turns out to be one! (chuckles)
Mission Vaccination was finally accomplished.
I did have important work to do, one that didn't justify my observing this spectacle in the first place. But I can't imagine having missed this little dose of drama and excitement! ;)





=================================

Bishkeit - Biscuit


Cherie - Pronounced as Sherry. At the time my sis and I brought Cherie home as a fat, fluffy puppy we were studying French. So when it was time to give her a name, we decided to put our extensive french vocab to use ;) The word means 'dear' in french. Later we learnt that it's an english name too ( Sherry) , so much for the french vocab lol.







Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Waiting...






I sit here in much pain





Trying to pen my fears but in vain





What if I don't achieve my goal?





The thought stirs my very soul.








What if you're not able to decide




For the spectrum of choices is quite wide




You question if you'd ever know




The direction in which you're supposed to go.











Never thought it'll be so hard





An inch to me seems a yard





mustering strength, guidance I await





But what if... it gets too late?









Detach from the outcome, I tell myself





While hunting for a book through the shelf





One that'll help distract my mind





And take me away from the daily grind.









Is this how a lover feels?





When before his beloved he kneels





How an actor feels during an audition





An athlete during a competition?









It is for a reason all are there





To vouch for the thing they really care





But what if in the end they come to realize





That they never truly desired the prize?

Saturday, September 5, 2009

I write therefore I am



Because there are...



Things to be said



Stories to be told



Hearts to be healed



Souls to be comforted



Knowledge to be shared



Lessons to be imparted



Values to be inculcated



Morals to be taught



Inspiration to be given



Joy to be spread



Courage to be applauded



Beauty to be admired



Kindness to be appreciated



Love to be expressed



Compassion to be shown



Paths to be discovered



Journeys to be discussed



Issues to be addressed



Gratitude to be offered




Glory to be found



These were the thoughts that sprung to my mind



When I questioned myself as to why I write



Thanks to a chance remark by a friend



The answer now is crystal clear



I write therefore I am!

Friends


Friends are quiet angels,
Send from heaven above.
They lift us when we fall
They fill our lives with love.

When we at some point in life
Sink in the abyss of sorrow
When its hard to tread ahead
And think of a better tomorrow

They hug us and whisper
Comforting words in our ears
They give us a shoulder to lean on
And wipe away our tears

They nudge us to move on
And give things a try
They’d do silly things to cheer us
For it pains them to see us cry


They are with us
When others aren’t
They say yes you can
When we think we can’t.

They trust us with their life
They know us in and out
They’re always there for us
We know without a doubt!

They take pride in us
Accept us for who we are
They see what we may overlook
Our potential to be a star

Pointless fights, counseling sessions
Stupid jokes, weird pranks
For all this and much more
With all my heart I say thanks

The seed of friendship once sown
Takes time and care to grow
Friends ask for nothing
Love is all you got to show.


Tourists in India




It isn’t unusual to spot a few foreigners in an area like Connaught Place or some five star hotel. Upon seeing them have you ever wondered as to what their impression of our country is? Ever felt like finding out what country they belong to or what their lives are like? I don’t know about you but I’ve been bitten by the curiosity bug upon several occasions. It’s fun to interact with people from different cultures, to hear their side of the story. Also, to learn about their perspectives on life and its different aspects. Though the length of the conversation one conducts with them varies depending upon how much you click with an individual.





It’s interesting to note how to a tourist (one from a different country) you sometimes come to represent everything your country and its people are. It’s as if you were the goodwill ambassador for your state or country. So, it never hurts to ask how their trip is going or if they need help with something. Imagine how that’ll make you feel if you were in the other person’s shoes. I am sure you’d appreciate the concern. Sometimes, just a few cheerful words and a smile can suffice. It can make someone’s day. And it’ll help make the other person feel less like an outsider or to put it more politely – a non native. Besides, you might as well be giving the other person a beautiful memory to cherish ;)





I remember speaking to a sweet Danish lady (too bad I don’t remember her name!) outside Sarvannah Bhawan in C.P. If you ever wish to lunch there better be prepared to wait in a queue. Seems like they are much in demand! It was scorching hot. While other people seemed to be getting somewhat restless, she waited patiently in a corner along with her two kids. She bore a calm expression on her face. I questioned if it didn’t bother her to wait for so long. Her husband as she told me was standing in the queue, waiting to book their table. She said she was willing to wait for she didn’t wish to leave without tasting the South Indian food S.B. had to offer. “I’ve been told it’s really good”, she uttered with an enthusiastic smile. My stomach grunted. I couldn't wait for my own turn now! I was feeling starved.





I then asked her about her travelling experience. Much to my surprise they had been staying in India for around three months. They were to leave the next day. It’s interesting how the paths of different souls coincide. I could have not met her. But I’m glad I did. The kids were quite cute especially her son whom she held close in her arms. He was around four years of age. She told me how tired he was of having his cheeks pulled by just about every person who chanced to speak to them. That was a major reason why he wished to return home soon unlike the girl (7 years) who seemed to be enjoying herself and basked in all the attention.




As regards her experience in India she said “Yes it smells (I guess she was referring to some places in particular) and yes they overcharge us but its great. The people have been very friendly” I was amazed to note how she took it all in a stride. Indians are known to be hospitable. And every time I get a confirmation of this fact, I feel proud of my nation and its citizens. I must confess I wasn’t expecting to hear a very positive feedback after the first few lines . Not because I’m a pessimist but because I'm aware that our country is still developing. The mushrooming population, ill managed traffic, cows grazing garbage instead of grass, littered roads (not all areas though) is something you don’t expect them to be used to.





Sorry to have presented such a grim picture but being a citizen it's my duty to weigh the pros and cons. And yes I know I have highlighted just the cons like some glum critic! If you were the host at a party I'm sure you'd take care that everything from food to furniture was upto the mark. You suddenly behave like a flaw detecting machine much to the amusement of the onlookers! Hope you see the point ( winks). It is however a matter of delight to share that most of the foreigners I’ve spoken to till date (online or in person) are all praises for the Indian culture and its values. I am not always observant and am often engrossed in my own thoughts. However if i do notice a few tourists I just smile silently ( can't always talk to everyone lol) and hope that when they leave , they have a lasting impression of India- a land of heritage imprinted on their mind.

I am a writer


I’ve often wondered how people realize whether or not they have what it takes to be a writer. A good writer.Do they witness a flash of lightning accompanied by a rich masculine voice that declares – ‘Thou Shall Be a Writer?’ Are they “The Chosen One?” - The way Harry is greeted on the dawn of his birthday by a giant only to be told that he’s a wizard!



Have you ever felt confused to the point of crying yourself to sleep? That's what this constant dilemma of whether or not I could write did to me at times. I asked the wrong questions.Instead of seeking inspiration from the cream ie the seasoned writers I compared myself with them. Consequently I ended up sabotaging myself though unknowingly. Even the best of writers have doubted themselves at some point or the other. But that didn’t stop them from honing their craft. I forgot that. Not everyone’s born a Mozart. But anyone can be a Lincoln or Shaw provided he’s willing to persist and follow his heart’s desire. It's funny how we sometimes forget how hard a person must have toiled to reach the pinnacle of success. He didn't just get lucky!



I sat on my bedroom floor with a newly purchased textbook in my hands. The words made little sense to me. All I could do was to flip through the book, admire the pictures and smell the pages. How I love the scent of new books and the feel of glossed pages! When will I learn to read mom? I asked feeling disappointed. I was 6 then. English isn’t my native language nevertheless it fascinated me. That should have told me something! I wrote my first poem at 7 and more at the ages of 12, 15, 17 and 19 but those were just random spurts and not many in number. I didn’t write regularly. My perfectionist attitude became my bane.



I gave myself several alibis to not write. Stephen King began writing as a kid , so did Ray Bradbury.I’ve never written much of anything. You have to start early in life otherwise it just means you never desired enough to be a writer. Ehem Joseph Conrad began writing at 40. There are some who began as late as 60. I thought you need the approval of others to gauge your ability. But what’s the point if your own approval is missing!



Writer – the word made me skip a beat. I often found myself reading the biographies of top writers, admiring them more than the in-demand celebrities. I was always filled with a sense of reverence for them, and comraderie for those who aspired to take up the craft. It took me a while to understand why. Journaling filled me with a sense of relief. But there’s a difference in weaving stories and venting out feelings I’d think. At 16 I began to look for a medium via which I could touch lives. Until a long time I questioned my calling when it was right under my nose!



And then came the epiphany. I turned 21 a few months back. I realized I was scared to write.I think I’ve always known that I have a writer’s soul. I just kept denying it. Perhaps that's what fear of failure does to us - it paralyses us. I shuddered to think how a few years down the line , I may regret that I didn’t give myself a chance. Besides, not using a talent is equivalent to being ungrateful for it. A month after my birthday , I got myself enrolled in a writing diploma. “It’s high time I get into some action”, I thought. Besides how would I ever know the answer if I don't even try!

And now I have decided to write not for appreciation or approval but for the joy it brings to me, for the high you get from breathing life into words.

Jimmy Choo


Every successful person has a story, one that tells of their journey from being a nobody to somebody. Such tales intrigue me. It always helps to learn about success from a person who has been there done that. As the saying goes, “If you wish to be the best you got to learn from the best". Not just that such people always have a few pearls of wisdom to offer, some interesting experiences to share. It is in quest of such a story and experience that I attended the seminar of 'Jimmy Choo'- an internationally renowned U.K. shoe designer at British Council on September 3rd '09. I have heard about several branches of design such as fashion, textile, jewellery etc but I must confess that shoe designing was something unheard of for me. Gosh, talk about opportunities!


The credit for this opportunity goes to my sister. She's the one into fashion after all. Besides, the passes were limited! The talk was scheduled for 2 pm. It was facilitated by Edwise on behalf of The University of Arts, London. We reached an hour early. Much to my delight we got to sit in the second row! The first seat was reserved for press and staff members. The topic of the talk was "Life and Inspiration" - good enough to tempt any learning enthusiast! Isn’t it? ;) There was a delay of 45 minutes. Maybe that's the way it is with VIPs’ ?!? Meanwhile the auditorium was almost full. Students were busy chit chatting for lack of anything better to do. When you have an air-conditioned auditorium in a scorching weather , right ambiance, comfortable seats and someone as interesting as your sister and a friend from UK to talk to , you don't realize how time passes!



A representative announced that Jimmy would be there soon (i.e. he was late!) and our patience was requested for. Some of the students , I observed were busy eyeing each other curiously, perhaps figuring which fashion student based on their dressing sense really looked like one! Ha-ha I'm sure that tells you that I was doing the same ;) The much awaited moment finally arrived. Dressed for the occasion, sporting a warm smile, Jimmy stepped confidently on the stage.. I'm not sure how to describe the colour of his suit. The black he wore seemed deeper and better than any black outfit I've seen so far! Colin Caraghan, Deputy Director of The University of Arts accompanied him.


Charlie walker the director of programs at BCL welcomed them. Students did the same with a thunderous applaud. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement! This, Charlie mentioned, was Jimmy’s first visit to India. He had recently gone to China on a similar tour. Thanks to proper lighting and location of our seat, Jimmy’s features were clearly visible. He had an air of of serenity about him. And his eyes seemed to reflect wisdom and depth. He began the talk with his life story just as I had expected. Having belonged to a family of shoe makers he learnt the craft at an early age. He knew how to make a shoe but not how to design it. To learn the same he decided to study in London. He couldn't think of Italy or Paris for the languages weren't known to him. English he thought he could manage somehow.


He approached the principal of Cordwainers College, better known as London College of Fashion today. He was scared to get rejected for lack of required qualification. The principal asked for a shoe specimen which upon being produced marked a new chapter in Jimmy's life. The former realized that the lad had talent. Needless to say Jimmy got the admission. His father was encouraging but he couldn't afford to pay for anything else except the fee. Jimmy was elated. An opportunity like this was all that mattered to him. Two fifty Euros for a year he stated was a big amount at that time. Young Jimmy chose to count his blessings, something I’m sure he does till date.


He then shared how his teacher once laughed at his sketches in front of the entire class. Humiliation prompted him to to practice harder. On another occasion a teacher refused him entry in the classroom. “But I’ve paid the fee like any other student”, he fumed silently. The teacher’s motive he later learnt was to impart the lesson of punctuality to him. He also explained Jimmy how it distracted him if students entered late in the class. Jimmy took the lesson to heart. He told us how if he were to reach somewhere at 8 for work, he’d be there at 7! Also, how he started work in a rented hospital room for lack of sufficient funds. The sales were bleak so he decided to survey the local markets. He instantly reduced the rate of his sandals in the hope of getting some clients. Some earning was better than nothing


In a while, two ladies approached him. The number of sandals they needed were few so no factory would take up the job. Jimmy consented to produce the requisite number of pieces for them. He later learnt that they were designers who never gave him the due credit for his work. At a later stage he was approached by two more ladies. They were designers too. They couldn’t pay him much but they said they could make him famous. This was a great chance to prove his caliber. He worked hard to create some beautiful pieces. The women did fulfill their promise. He saw his name in print – next to theirs. “Designers have to work harder than a service man”, he remarked in a serious tone, “sometimes 16 hours a day”. “And there are nights you don’t get to sleep”, he added in a nonchalant tone.


For Jimmy, the best was yet to come. Thanks to all the publicity , he piqued the curiosity of the editor of Vogue. Jimmy received an unexpected 8 page coverage. “I had always wanted to see my name in print”, he stated, his face alight by now.“Eight is a lucky number in Chinese culture”, he added . The coverage acted as a catalyst in catapulting him to fame. For a long time no one was aware that he helped grace the feet of Princess Diana for seven years. I could sense reverence and gratitude in his voice as he spoke of her. Gradually, he became “The Jimmy Choo” we know today. Success only seems to have made him more humble.
It’s interesting to note how often he maintained eye contact with me and my sister as if we were his pupils! People in the back rows must have wondered if I had a spring attached in my neck. I nodded so often looking straight at him in the eye!
He then shared some life lessons with us.
*Always remember those who help you.
* Always respect your teachers, parents and clients.
* Never get angry. Try to stay calm always.
* Go for what you love not what you think would make you famous.
(He said so twice for emphasis sake. I couldn’t have agreed more.)
* Believe in yourself



Next we were permitted to ask him questions if we wished to. I was the first one to
ask. “You mentioned how your father taught you shoe making. There comes a point of time in our life when we ask our self ‘What should I do with my life?’ Was there ever a situation in your life that made you realize that yes this is exactly what I’d like to do in my life. Or did you just go for shoe designing because it was a family business. And son’s in many families even in India are expected to join the family business or follow their father’s footsteps”. “My father made me learn by observation” he reflected. He then explained that though initially he was forced to learn the craft, gradually he got so interested that he decided to pursue it as a profession. “I wanted to make my father proud”, he uttered.


In response to my sister’s question which was “ How he thought fashion helped him touch lives”, he stated ( though not in the same words) that sincere work always affects lives positively. “Do you design your own shoes?” another student asked. “Yes I do”. He flashed a smile. There was a twinkle in his eye now. ‘And if need be I’d be happy to design high heeled shoes for Indian men! There was uproar of laughter. Perhaps he was conscious of his own height! A bespectacled press person seated in the right row questioned about his Hollywood Clientele. Many students laughed at that question. It seemed quite shallow in contrast to the questions previously asked. Apparently he just wanted some juicy gossip. He asked for the mike again. “Tell us about your Bollywood clients”.


Interestingly the girl ( another press member) seated behind him asked the same question again. I could sense irritation surging within me and much to my amusement probably within a few other students too. We were there to learn about his experiences not if he was associated with the glamour world. Knowing the latter wouldn’t have served us in anyway! Much to their dismay Jimmy didn’t pounce upon this opportunity to brag. In fact he hardly took any name but one – Lakshmi Mittal. Had these people cared to do some pre-interview research, they would have easily found the answer over here -> http://www.yuddy.com/celebrity/jimmy-choo/bio
With 2 more questions from the audience and some by Colin, the talk came to an end.


Jimmy agreed to sign some post cards that the students were handed prior to entering the auditorium. We were asked to make a queue near the stairs leading to the stage. A table was placed in the centre of the stage next to a chair for his convenience. “I luuuuv your shoes”, a girl drooled on the stage while taking his autograph, she placed her hands on her chest momentarily maybe to add a good dramatic effect! ;) Two girls standing next to me giggled amongst themselves. “Jhoothi” one said to the other while eyeing the girl standing on the stage. I couldn’t help but feel amused. My sister and I stepped together on the stage. When he was signing my card I said, “You know I’ve always believed that to be successful in life you need to have a good value system and today you validated that for me. Thank you”. “Thanks for coming”, he uttered with a smile. I stepped off the stage feeling assured that a few years down the line I shall meet him again. However, I would have become something by then and I’d have my own success story to relate to the people!


His tone was polite, his words encouraging and his disposition- pleasant and humble. He seemed like a man in control of his senses and thought process. I surmise his religion Buddhism and a strong value system was the reason for that. Who wouldn’t want to bathe in the presence of such a person? Though in addition to those a strong character , I realized is a pre-requisite else it becomes difficult to stomach success and fame as if often the case with certain rising celebrities. Also that makes success not a journey but a temporary or short lived junction.

The Sign

When in a state of confusion do you ever ask for signs or omens? Well I certainly do ever since I read The Alchemist! In the past I’ve read a few books on writing. Every author advised that to be a writer you must write. I however was under the impression that if you have an iota of talent for the craft you’d sail smoothly anyway. And that you write only when inspiration strikes. But I gradually realized how false that notion was. It isn’t like someone would come to you and say “Your face looks like that of a talented writer, I’d be happy to sign a contract with you”. And the next thing you notice, you put your hands on the keyboard and words begin to flow like a beautiful symphony! Talent and tenacity go hand in hand.

Yesterday night I tossed and twirled in the bed feeling irritated and confused. I had just written a 500 word article and felt thoroughly unsatisfied with it. No words or ideas came to mind. Resolved to reach my target (500 words) I produced a stilted piece! As I lay in bed my mind began to wonder. “Could it be that I’m aspiring for the wrong profession?”, “I don’t always enjoy writing unlike other writers”,” Maybe I’m wrong in attempting to write daily?” “You’re just tired”, said my sister. “Perhaps you need a break from writing” Wearied of the pointless analysis I asked God to give me a sign and went off to sleep.

I signed in today. There were several mails to check. I instinctively clicked the one that read “WritingKid”. It's an e-zine I've subscribed to. The title of the article in this edition made me gasp. “To write or not to write”. Needless to say it voiced out my dilemma. Upon reading it, I realized a few things:
*All writer’s go through a “No idea” phase
* I was thinking heart of the hearts that “It’s too hard”. Wrong approach!
* I was right in thinking that it calls for perseverance and discipline. You can’t let your feelings decide whether or not to write. It is on the hard days that your dedication is actually put to test! I was grateful for the validation.

I felt like God was speaking to me through these words:
"You can't say, I won't write today because that excuse
will extend into several days, then several months,
then... you are not a writer anymore, just someone who dreams
about being a writer." ~Dorothy C. Fontana
The answer-My sign- was given to me. To listen or not to listen … was up to me. I chose to listen!

If like me you ever find yourself doubting your potential or feel low about something in general try asking for a sign. It's advisable to not set a time limit. The answer may or may not come immediately. Just ask and let go. Be patient and anticipate your sign with eagerness. It shall be provided to you. That’s the way it has been with me! It could be a song, movie, conversation, billboard sign etc. God/Universe is more creative than we can imagine! After all , aren’t we God’s creations too?;) As is true for life so is true for writing – ultimately we must have ‘faith in the process’.