When I was 30…

When I was 30, I aspired to be a published author in a decade. I quit my high profile job with The Times of India when I was 38 because I couldn’t focus on realising my dream. It was a difficult decision. Extremely difficult. Not only was I addicted to my pay cheque but also to the attention and adulation I received as the editor of the country’s leading publication. But then, you can’t swim if you hold on to the shore, can you? So I took the plunge, a leap of faith. It was terrifying initially. From the age of 23, I woke up every morning with the goal of reaching my workplace. Now, with that goal not being the goal any more, I felt lost. We undermine the virtue of routine often. But when we’re out of it with no hope of getting back to it, it’s scary. I was groping in the dark until one day I decided to turn the switch on. The switch of self motivation. But before I got to that point, for several days and nights, I did nothing. And doing nothing is unnerving. I mean, personally I was okay. Finally, I had time to pause and smell the roses, in a manner of speaking. I had time to spend with my 16 year old son who had just entered his college. For the first time ever, I was home when he left and when he got back. I wasn’t in a rush to gulp down food or leave a movie half way because I had a crisis at work. Yet, I felt a void, a deep emptiness, as if a major part of me, like a limb or something was missing. I was moping and it was not for a person! That’s when I was hit by the epiphany that my work had become my identity. Was it good or bad? Like the bard says – There is nothing good or bad, only thinking makes it so. In a nutshell, it took me a long time to let go and go with the flow. My next post will be on life when I turned 40…

Writer’s block?

There was a time in life when I would scoff at the idea of `writer’s block.’ I screamed till I went hoarse, whether anybody heard it or not, that it was a figment of writers’ imagination – the so called `block.’ It was lack of discipline, I said. I also said, it was a great excuse to escape reality which was, like I said, lack of discipline. I will `never’ experience it in this lifetime, I swore. And then it happened. Like most things I said would `never’ happen to me and they all did, `writer’s block’ hit me too. It’s been 7 years since I wrote my first book `Butterflies and Barbed Wires’ and five years since my 2nd book `Hyderabad Hazir hai’ . We are at the end of 2013, I have completed 3/4ths of a psychological thriller and almost done with an authorized biography but am sitting stuck at one point which seems like the hour that precedes the dawn on an insomniac night. Somebody help me! Or is that somebody me?

Introspection

After living close to half a decade on this planet, I am actually understanding how self image and perceptions differ NOW! Just this morning, I realised that there is a huge disparity between who I think I am and how others (even close friends) see me! It kinda jolts you out of your skin, when you become aware of the fact that those who you think are close to you, don’t really get what you say! Wait till you hear this! I thought I had cracked a funny one while my friend, a long lasting one at that, thought I was being sarcastic. But she doesn’t tell me it hurt her. She just turns cold and distant. After prodding and probing she says that my comments are always loaded! Loaded! Laced! Me! Never thought I could ever say a thing hurtful or snide! But then, that’s life! What we think we are and what we are perceived may not be remotely connected! And yes, the number of years we spend with people has nothing to do with how well you’re understood. Another lesson learnt. Life’s amazing. It keeps giving us a million chances to become aware of ourselves!