She Asks Me — by Phil Kaye


, , ,

Writing down some of the excerpts that I  ❤️ ed

Because my sole is void of holes
and my soul is void of the scars
you get from being behind bars
or from waking up and feeling that no matter how wise you are
you will always be marginalised by society’s eyes.


Poetry is eternity
and we are just specks you see
dabbling in its mystery
transcending history
and I once was blind
but now can


So no, I was not raised on the streets —
but neither was poetry.
It woke up with the first sunrise
opened with the first sunrise
gave birth to dragonflies
comforted baby cries
and cursed me with my eyes


So when I’m dead in the ground,
my soul six feet down,
my tombstone will read for some child to see
and smile when she’s done:

Here Lies A Man’s Private Poetry
Trespassers Welcome


The Sunlight Plane — A Novel By Damini Kane — Chapter Notes For Final Review — Chapter 2


, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

This is the second in series of the blog posts cum notes that I’m writing while reading Damini Kane‘s debut novel The Sunlight Plane. I took notes about the first chapter in the last blogpost.

The want to start with an observation

Damini’s book feels like a super hero story, in that usually, the world of two 9 years old children — what they think, how they feel — is often not known to adults upfront. It’s like Matrix’s code, one has to develop an intuition to see what might be happening in their minds and hearts. The super power Damini gives the readers through her story, is that everybody has a direct access to the lives of these children.


I scribbled about in the book like a mad man. I’ll only be able to jot down a subset of everything in this blogpost. Reminder to self — while writing the final review, consult the scribblings as well.

Oh, where do I even begin. Let’s start with an example of the observation I made above. Tharush’s father says “I think it’s worse for a child to live with two people who are always fighting each other. It doesn’t create a good home environment, you know?

to which follows the following text —

“Home environment”, Tharush repeated, because he had never heard those two words together, and they combined to form a concept he had even considered. Homes had environments?

He thought back to all he’d learnt in school about the environment. That it was polluted, that there was acid rain, that a healthy environment was important for life. The implications for that inside a home… For him, home was where it was safe and cool, where there was food and love and his toy fighter jets.

“Do we have a healthy home environment?” Tharush asked suddenly.

See what I mean? This automagically allows humour to jump right in. Honesty precedes humour (I think?)

I’ve observed a writing style pattern that Damini uses to cut out the need for adverbial dialogue attribution (as Stephen King so suggests),

and I don’t think I’ve seen it anywhere else. It could be because I have not read many books altogether, but whatever the reason, I’ll explain the writing pattern with the help of an example of an excerpt from her book itself —

(Tharush asks this in the middle of a conversation he has initiated with his father, to know what a divorce is) —

“So what happens to the children?” Tharush asked, and his father gave him this look, as though saying, NOW you’re thinking.

The this in the above sentence is a solid placeholder and escape hatch from the temptation of using an adverb. This pattern, of placing placeholders and actually showing the reader exactly how a person might be thinking or what they might be doing, instead of redirecting that work to adverbs which would, in most cases, only be able to give a hint of that action or feeling is amazing. Adverbs are indirect, one step farther in trying to give an adjoining and explanatory hint about the verb they are trying to embellish, if that makes sense. I’m going to try this writing style in my writing, everywhere that I can. Another example of an adverb saved (without the placeholder) —

“No!” he cried, his voice high and panicked. “I didn’t do anything! I found it like this!”

Another one(without the placeholder) —

“Don’t be silly”, his father replied, prompt and warm.

Another one, and this one is the most genius of all —

Tharush let out a noise he didn’t even know he could produce. Some combination of an explanation and a wail. His fingers dug through his sweaty hair to somehow contain his excitement…

Another one?(without the placeholder)  😁 —

He lowered his eyes in some mixture of shyness and guilt as he awkwardly kicked the floor.

Hence less is not always more, especially in writing long form fiction.

The part of a dialogue that comes between the the words of the dialogue — 

“Okay.” Tharush let out a breath of air he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Good”

I can practically see the breath gushing out while he said Good.

Deferring what happened to the latter part of a fragmented sentence, instead of writing it as a description in the beginning — 

“Freak!”, Vikram suddenly shouted, and all at once, Tharush felt the wind expel from his body as the football collided brutally with his ribs.

A bad sentence (that in all likelihood I would have written) would have been a descriptive sentence that Vikram threw a ball towards Tharush immediately before where the bold part of the sentence above starts. But deferring it til the consequence of that action makes the reader excited and gets on reader’s nerve to rush to the end of the sentence. Talk about sentence turners (analogy to “page turners”). Another one —

“You can’t just cower before him because of what he might do, you know,” his mother replied, but her tone was appeasing.

The bold part keeps the reader up on his seat, still, looking for the behaviour of her tone, because she had shown, in the sentences previous to the above (not written here), irritation and annoyance towards the bully who had bullied her son, and her mother. So it was likely at the start of the sentence above, that she might have said this in an irritated, or angry tone, but the tone of the sentence was left hanging in surprise well up until the end.

Emotionally Charged Sentences — 

“It’s…” Tharush began, his voice sounding raw and scratchy. His throat hurt. He wanted to curl up and cry, but he wasn’t going to give Vikram that power over him. Taking a brave little breath, he finished, “They’re idiots”

This complemented one thing so nicely — Tharush’s will to become strong and willed, because he wanted to fly fighter planes, and how could he fly them if he was expelled because he was weak. Another one —

…”Now why would you lie about that”?

He blinked, blinked, blinked, but that was useless against the burn in his throat and the sting in his eyes. “Vikram did it,” he muttered, wiping away before they got any worse.

The bold sentence could have been poorly written as a description, premeditating the fact that his eyes were becoming watery and stingy and his throat was burning. But instead Damini showed what was happening as the consequence of that. We all try to hide our tears from anybody present in the room directly looking at us, by trying to constantly and repeatedly blink in a futile attempt to not let tears fall down. He blinked, blinked, blinked. Again, PURE GENUIS! Another one (a person who has unexpectedly been caught doing something he was not supposed to be doing) —

Aakash jumped violently and turned, shoving (I’d have used a weak ‘hiding‘) one of his hands behind his back as his wide, terror-stricken eyes locked onto Tharush and his lips parted to form barely intelligible stutters.

In the first glance, one might think that a fragmented dialogue showing Aakash stuttering would have added upto this. But the fact that it is so detailed testifies that, that could have been an overkill.

Playing with colours — 

His red shirt looked almost orange in the yellow light of the building’s lobby.

Continue reading

The Sunlight Plane — A Novel By Damini Kane — Chapter Wise Review — Chapter 1


, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

This is not a critical review of the book by chapter. This is an attempt to write a good review on good reads about the book at the end of my reading. It happens almost every time, with me at least, that when the book gets finished, I get this automatic feeling to write something about the book, but I’m almost never able to (unless I take notes along the way). These are the notes for the final review.

About the book’s looks —

The book is so pretty! I love the cover art. It was designed by Nivedita Sekhar, Damini Kane’s best friend —


And the font is pretty too! (one of the things that terribly puts me off from reading a book is a bad font. Good that it has a good one!).

I think the price is little high, but I don’t mind spending to read something so fresh and good.

The book has 21 chapters. I intend to read one everyday and write about each one of them.

About the Author

I have only followed Damini from the time she came into the radar of spoken word poetry scene in India. She performed a couple of poems which got uploaded on youtube after which I started following her on Instagram (where she is as active as a radioactive element). All I know about her is that she loves building and poring over characters, and she hates writing academic essays. She aims at acing winged eye line some day. And she has been reading and writing from as long as she can remember. She loves her notebooks in which she takes notes for stories, books, novels.

I talked to her after reading some of the chapters of the (now defunct) project called Cor Corand. She wrote a mammoth length series about a nation in conflict. And very exciting and unusual one at that. Unfortunately that didn’t get too much attention and she had to stop writing it. Good thing, she got her first book published!

She has also given me wonderful feedback for the only two short stories I’ve ever written, and patiently answered all my questions about writing good stories and fiction and more. I’m immensely grateful for that, more than she might know.

Damini is like a dreamy person for me. And I consider myself a big fan of her writing, opinions and honesty. I’ve never met her.

Chapter 1

I like to write down the first lines of novels in my blogposts and reviews because I like to come back to read the first line again after I finish the book, just to be able to check if the initial instinct, that comes automagically after advancing a few sentences of the book, was correct. The first sentences of The Sunlight Plane goes —

The summertime sky in Mumbai was usually white, because the sun glared at it until it went pale with fear, and the blue it was supposed to be dripped off the surface of the atmosphere and fell into the Arabian Sea.

I don’t know about you, but I was immediately hooked at because the sun glared at it until it went pale with fear.

The book is about two 9 years olds Tharush and Aakash (both names’ meaning translates to sky). As soon as I realised this in the first paragraph, I was like woah! How could she go back to imagining things from the perspective of 9 years olds ?  I could not do it, at least right now. Who knows I get ideas after reading this book. Anyways.

I absolutely  ❤️ed the development of Tharush’s mom’s character, particularly her teasing Tharush as casually as walking.

After mom had told him to stop daydreaming and to hurry up, and after he looked off, she asked

“Are you still angry with me?” she asked, lilting laughter coating her firmness.


“Numbers don’t win wars”, his mother replied, her tone mockingly cheerful.


She gasped. “Really?” Tell me more, Oh Wise One.”. The metallic lift doors opened and she stepped inside with all the grace of someone used to winning verbal battles.


“I am in the middle of an extremely important battle,” Tharush replied, using the same formal flair his father had when Tharush interruped him when he was on the phone.

“Oh, my”, his mother teased. “Well, if you can take a break from your destruction and carnage, dinner’s on the table”.

Not to even mention because Tharush is nine years old, he battles with things he doesn’t know by guessing about them, or simply asking about them forthright.

“What does ‘carnage’ mean?” he called after his mother, turning off the lights and fan as he darted out of the room.


Tharush had never understood what stock of what his father wanted from the market, and why he didn’t just go get it. He could, alternatively, put it on the grocery list. But he didn’t. Why?

As amusing and real these blockquote scenes and dialogues look, trust me, they are hard to make right. I couldn’t have possibly imagined from a 9 years old point of view as I said before as well.

Some of the phrases / sentences / words were so fresh, I had to highlight them with a pretty light highlighter (because I don’t like bright colour highlighters, I use a fax paper highlighter, which is… much lighter) and read them over and over again, because once is never enough.

  1. Tharush thought the sky was of burns and bruises, white hot like that one time he accidentally put his hand over a candle flame, then pink, blue and black, like when he tripped on the stairs and smashed his knees.
  2. Tree-bark brown eyes
  3. Frayed, purée, moat, bristle (v), kooky, poring, likened, pressed, posse, cliques, chital.
  4. Tharush made a nasally whine.
  5. The whole character introduction of Tharush’s father which included bespectacled man with slanting shoulders and sharp nose, weighed down by his black office suits and navy blue laptop bag.
  6. With words too big to want to pronounce.
  7. …using the same formal flair his father had when Tharush interruped him when he was on the phone. (Show not tell)
  8. He didn’t even want to (see the tv), it just somehow happened. Something to distract his mind. (Show not tell)
  9. “What about his mom?” Tharush asked, because that was a question hanging over the table with the same overbearing presence of a twenty-foot tall bear (GENIUS!)
  10. The most hilarious thing of all were the descriptions made to decry Eggplants. I won’t jot them down here, lest you not enjoy it.
  11. I learnt that okra is ladies finger.

What I Learnt From Chapter 1 —

  1. Dialogue placements — When Damini gave feedback on a story I wrote titled For No Reason, she suggested to me read more about dialogue placements — when to put a newline, when not to, whether to follow descriptive or follow up fragmented text immediately after the dialogue or in a new line and the like. I gave a lot of attention to how she has done it, and will continue to do it for every fiction book I read from now on.
  2. Show not tell — In the two short stories that I’ve written so far, I’ve struggled with following this rule. I often end up writing a lot of descriptive boring text explaining something rather than using the power of metaphors, dialogues, narration, fragmented sentences, building images to actually show what is happening / has happened. There were so many examples of this from the first chapter itself, I can’t wait to read more.

We Could Do Better Than Remembering Words For Better Vocabulary


, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Often times as a writer, I constantly struggle to find the exact words for the meaning which more often than not has to be googled in a substantially long phrase. I think technology should be able to do this better. I don’t know if anybody is working on it or not, or if this is even a solvable problem at this point of time for Natural Language Processing, Machine and Deep Learning and linguists, but this will be a time saver for writers.

I do not see it as an expedient practice. Consider what writers have to do right now, in order to find the exact words for the meaning or feeling they have in their minds — read A LOT, depend on their retention power which varies tremendously, write so that the remembered words are put to practice to make the retention stronger. That is bonkers no?

Why all this ritual? One should be able to find words as easily as they are able to think about anything. After all this is not an examination test is it? Or is it? Exams like GRE depend on it with this simple explanation — a person should be able to remember what words mean, or else there is no subjective way to learn that a person is capable of speaking or writing English. What about the other way? What if you give people access to a technology mentioned above, with the help of which they’d be able to find words quickly, thereby increasing the chances of looking up the same word quickly again when the need be, hence helping a  person, who is serious and sincere about writing, the way to remember it quicker than before.

Note the words serious and sincere in the last line. We can compare this with how Google Maps changed us. We no longer need to remember paths, google maps can help us navigate wherever and whenever. So why remember paths and routes? Only a sincere and serious person would care to leverage the power of Google Maps to learn and remember the routes by the virtue of taking those paths and routes repeatedly.

By the above logic — sure people would get lazy, but only non serious and insincere people. Writers, hence, will gain a tremendous time saving and learning technique. I wish to be able to work on making this technology. Perhaps someday I will.

Weekly Good Reads — Week 6


, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

After long, I’m back, because I’ve deleted my facebook and instagram accounts for good. Phew! Also because today was probably the most emotionally challenging day ever. More on that later. Here’s the weekly list of some good things to read / listen to / watch.

  1. Sex when you are asexual — Close Encounters Podcast (Guardian), given the fact that I might be asexual (I’m still not sure, but I’m pretty sure), this was very interesting. It was as if I was talking. If you have completely no idea what being asexual means, this is a podcast to listen to. Experiences about having sex “despite” being asexual are more common and normal than people think. But they are mostly experimental. For example whenever I have been with a women, I’ve find it absolutely and excruciatingly difficult to have sex, not because I can’t do it, but because I have never wanted to. So instead I’ve always helped them feel better. Some things are just the way they are — sexuality is fluid, in a way that, it can change for a person over their lifetime, or it can’t — people can have all sorts of orientations, or none at all. Sexuality is fascinating. This podcast is definite proof of it.
  2. This is not a good read, but a good dancing / swaying song with nice lyrics — Dance Around The Room With Me by Ana Egge (this is a Spotify link. If you are not on spotify search for the song on

Update — 5 Days Into Boycotting Social Media


, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

About 5 days ago, I decided to not use Facebook and Instagram, my main source of wasting time since 2011. It’s difficult. I didn’t know I had this addiction. I’m constantly drawn and tempted to open these social networks more out of habit, and less out of anything else. It’s almost involuntary. I’d be typing something away, like this blog post, and my fingers would automagically hit command+ t to open a new tab and and hit enter. Of course, I’ve made myself clear that I’ll quit before anything loads on the page, so I do.

It’s also scary. At times when I would feel fidgety or scared of the uncertain, unknown future, I would be tempted to just madly and baselessly scroll through the social media feeds to keep myself acquired, so that I wouldn’t keep scratching the edge of my thumb or forefinger away. But that has started becoming harder — people are going aboard to study (the most unserious person I know got admitted to Carnegie Mellon, what the fuck is happening in the world) or to join jobs. I get jealous and or wistful. Then I wouldn’t be able to handle it and then I’d quit the browsing session anyway. So I thought what’s the point of going there at all.

I read 100 pages of a book in the last two days, quite quick from my standards. I take months to complete even an average 350 pages book. So far so good 👍.

I Gave My Father Foundation 1 By Issac Asimov And He Didn’t Like It


, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

That’s pretty much it. I thought he would like what might happen in our world 10, 000 years later, but apparently it was boring for him.

Let me detour and talk about possibilities that science fiction authors take the advantage of. I think we underestimate the saying which goes

Anything is possible.

I’m reading a wonderful book called Sapiens, A Brief History Of Humankind, and I’ve just read about how history itself in retrospect has had no chance of answering why something happened. It can, as best as it can, only explain what happened and how. Why did Christianity and Islam become the pseudo monotheistic mass religions of the world rather than any other. I was amazed that at one point of time Roman Empire was a polytheistic empire. It was about 600 years after Christ’s crucifixion, that the first Roman King accepted Christianity to be the state religion. Why did he do so, no one knows. Even theories on this event are at best obscure and uninformed.

What if Arabs wouldn’t have defeated the Sasanian Empire. Would Islam would not have been widespread then? No one knows. Every possible path open at any given moment is as probable to be taken as any other, unless there’s a political, economical, social or other advantage sought by a person in power, which gives rise to one probability being more than the others. And those paths taken, looking at the history in retrospect, hadn’t been the best that could have been for humans. History and hence everything we’ve ever known has been at best the whims and fancies of powerful men acting on them. And if not that, something has happened that has given the rise of previously less known culture, or practices or morals, like it happened with Christianity and Islam. Isn’t that fascinating and terrifying at the same time?

Anything is possible.


I Learnt To Let Go Of The Person I Love


, , , ,

Two days ago, I received possibly the biggest emotional jolt I’ve ever received. A person I have loved for a long time officially said she was moving on. Four months ago, she had said something completely different. It’s shocking how realisations can dawn upon in 4 months, shedding to dust something so wonderful.

I’ll save details for this moment, because what good would they do. I just want to focus on the immediate feeling that I felt when she confessed that she was moving on and why my feelings were wrong. I’ve done many wrongs while being with her, some of them I can’t dare tell her, have not (and now will not dare) dared to tell her; it would have broken her, but I don’t think they matter now. So let’s focus on the immediate feeling I felt when she told me. But before that some background.

We were classmates from 1st grade til 4th grade. She made me spell Rain right. That is perhaps the most emotional memory attached of her to me. We never talked after that until we found each other on Facebook in 12th grade. I’ll spare more details because I’m inclining towards trying to relive memories we have had, which is pushing me to write everything about us, but that is only going to hurt a little. So I’ll refrain.

Lately I’ve started realising I might be identifying myself as asexual. Before you start forming ill informed ideas about what and who an asexual person is, listen to this podcast. She told me in 12th grade, that she really liked me. Because I’d never had been with a girl before, I was tempted to say yes, irrespective of whether I really did like her. I didn’t even ask myself that. I fell for that temptation and told her that I did too. That was the biggest mistake I’ve made towards a person. Sure it lead to wonderful things, I’ll probably talk about some of them below, but the fact that I didn’t ask her early on what she expected of me, is because of which what happened two days ago, happened.

I’ve never been able to explain to her what I expected of her, because I hate labels of relationships, I tend to run away from them. So I’ve always told her so — that I do not like to think that we were in a relationship. I hated thinking about the future, of what would entail when we wouldn’t be kids anymore, when we would come of age to marry, when after a time it would be difficult to convince our families otherwise. I hated it all. On the other hand, she has always labelled our love in a relationship, she thought of the future in way which makes me feel guilty — I should have intervened to make things clear before.

In all these years, we have shared so many good and bad memories, thoughts, feelings, fights, it’s difficult to let go. But the most wrong thing that I couldn’t let go of was, that I couldn’t believe she was the same person that I had known for more than 10 years. I was adamant of the fact that she couldn’t be the one “breaking up” (emphasis on the quotes). She loved me. All those emotional stretches of  I will wait for you, were and are false. And why should they not be. The first picture that made my mind fuck up was the thought of some other guy she would allow to touch her. It fucked up my mind really bad.

Then I gathered up the courage to have a talk with myself. I think that is the best thing I could have done in this circumstance. I asked myself why she should not, for once, have the choice to leave, when it had been so troubling living with expecting different things out of each other. I have always been the one making decisions, taking calls. I’m made to remember these lines from a lovely song You Took Advantage Of Me — 

I suffer something awful each time you go
And much worse when you’re near.

This is what has happened over and over because of different expectations.

Why not let her make the call of action now? I wanted something that was not labelled, with no future talks, with no marriage talks, with only the friendship that came by rock solid automagically, and anything romantic that came out naturally. She wanted other things, as I said. We happened to click so snazzily and automagically, it was difficult to let go.

4-5 months ago, when the talks about the future were coming forth, I told her indirectly about my inclinations of being asexual (little hint — I do tend to not like sex at all, funny thing? Na. Do I have romantic and amorous feelings for people? Yes. Do I love kissing, touching? Yes. If that’s confusing for you to understand, listen to the podcast I linked above). We decided that it was time. We stopped messaging and talking to each other, and left. 5 months after that, two days before, when I was, for some reason, very feverishly missing her, I showed her what I had been writing about her these 5 months. She responded with not a single word. That’s when I realised something was up. We’ve had separations before, we have always had a truce, but for what? To run a complete cycle again, for the worse? What was I thinking, that everything will be fine? Fool! She told me then that she didn’t know how, but she had moved on, because she couldn’t possible imagine going all over it again. Yet it was difficult for me to let go. I think I’m just very sensitive. I just didn’t know I was.

I asked her wasn’t it unfair that our friendship, which I don’t think I will ever have something even close, something like I did with her, with anyone else ever, got cut just like that. She made it clear that it was difficult for her because she had always expected more and both friendship and a relationship together. So it was all or nothing.

I’ve been letting go of a person I’ve so dearly loved to not talk to her ever again. I’ve been having trouble working. Kacey Musgraves has been keeping me sane. The fact that she has become so casual about it, is what has been making letting go difficult. But then, how far could it have gone, it was headed for a doom for someday. That happened 2 days back. In an inexplicable and ineffable rage, I deleted all my social media accounts, deleted all her numbers to prevent myself from wistfully checking out her profile pictures and Instagram stories and such, to prevent myself from ever fall for the temptation of trying to talk to her again, like I did 2 days ago. It’s time to move on. Ah!

Let’s Talk About The Lifetime of Dreams


, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

This post’s idea was first triggered by the realisation that my dreams have become riskier as the time is going by, rather than settling in (which happens with most people). It also re triggered by the fact that my batchmates from college, and school mates from middle and high school have started getting married.

Screen Shot 2018-05-10 at 2.17.28 AM

20 December 2014 — Me in the green shorts, Surbhi with the basketball on her feet.

Screen Shot 2018-05-03 at 5.51.00 PM

Surbhi Married — May 2018. Surbhi was my batchmate in college. Photograph used without consent because it’s public on facebook. Didn’t ask because haven’t really talked to Surbhi, ever.

I think this is bonkers.

Why, the fuck, (emphasis on the commas) are people getting married at 23, 24 years of age! Why the fuck are people looking so beautiful while I’m sitting in  6 years old Pyjamas (that’s an easy one, I don’t know why I bothered asking — it’s because I don’t like purchasing new clothes). But seriously, why are people getting married so early!

It’s like they get bored and get married (as Kacey Musgraves so rightfully says in her song Merry Go Round).

Mary Mary quiet contrary
we get bored so we get married.

I seriously can’t fathom, beyond the fact that people are inherently diverse, why people would want to divert their energy, time, priorities into living together, raising kids, than in helping others, solving problems, or just simply making stuff. Shit! Shite!

Coming to the original train of thought —

Right from 6th grade til 12th, I had only had one dream, and a superbly silly one at that — I just wanted to crack IIT JEE. For those of you who do not know what it is, it’s the toughest engineering entrance exam in the world, beating the likes of MIT, Stanford. The problem with the test is not that it is tough but —

  1. 15 lakh high school students give it every year
  2. About 10,000 get selected.
  3. You can only give it once! (this one is specially madness)

I didn’t get selected in it. Since I was so busy preparing for it, I never stopped and questioned what happens inside an IIT (Indian Institute of Technology), which is crazy, right? I never furbished my curiosity to think about anything else  — what was I interested in, what I liked, what I didn’t like — I thought about none of that stuff (Though I started writing, albeit very poorly, when I entered 11th grade).

I chose an engineering branch which I hated the prelude of in my high school syllabus — Electronics and Communication. I took it with the bait that The top rankers entering the college were taking it. Was it lucrative from a job perspective – didn’t ask, what did the syllabus entail – didn’t ask, what was I going to study – didn’t ask. Wow right?

Since most of the time in college went into playing basketball and continued writing (albeit not good then either), when I graduated I didn’t know what to do! I had bagged one mediocre job, and that was my only option unless I wanted to come back home and pester my parents by doing nothing.

I went to the job which was challenging as fuck! Since we were fresher trainees from different backgrounds, we had to be trained for 6 months to be able to write code. None of us had written fair about of code before (except a few). 3 months into the job, I decided to quit. It was becoming too much for me to handle. I wasn’t able to keep up with the pace of the teaching of the trainer. Besides, there was no time to implement what we were being taught. It was like studying for a final exam on the morning of the exam. I packed my bags and decided to book the first flight that weekend. I chose not to go and instead struggle, because I didn’t want to go home lingering around doing nothing, silently sobbing and not knowing where to go next.

At this point of my time, my dreams were non existent. The only thing I dreamed about at that point of time was to be able to be good at something. Thankfully I kept reading and writing (and I started becoming good at writing, thanks to continuous writing and reading). But professionally, creatively (even with the writing), I had no place to look forward to in my head. I didn’t know enough to be able to try making something that might turn into a company or a book. I didn’t write enough / wasn’t good enough to be able to give serious writing a shot (but one had to start somewhere right? I didn’t start).

Thankfully, after the training, I got into a project and a team that had a startup like culture, and was fairly independent in running its own plan on what to do and how. We weren’t answerable to external clients, but to our own company’s other teams. I got to learn a lot, and in a non pressured environment. There were no hard deadlines, which helped me learn as I went. I was given small but new tasks, meaning that nobody in the team knew how to handle it before. I wasn’t given petty clean up tasks. I was given some small amounted but real and challenging tasks. I enjoyed it. But slowly I started questioning the worth of working for a company which only had the richest of clients in the world. What good was I doing? What difference was I making in the real world?

I wasn’t the best new comer in my team. I was most know for my curiosity to learn new things and the excitement about sharing them with others. But at the same time, I was scrutinised for not mastering a particular thing to the brink, which let me know that there was no closing promotion coming for me. It was a hard blow the first time I realised this. Anyway, thanks to the acquaintance with open source world — how people collaborate to make things together, I started getting ideas, if not all the tools to start building them.

I quit my job for primarily other reasons, but a subset of reasons was the above. I started working on an idea I had, just because I knew it could be made. I didn’t know the tools (nobody does when they start working on a project), but slowly I started learning. At the very same time, I started reading more critically. I started writing more patiently, and most importantly, I started re writing heavily. I would’t stop until I had absolutely nothing in a story to improve.

The state of the dreams right now is hot! I’m constantly working on other people’s projects, I’m reading and writing more and more, I’m working on big ideas of my own (the constant nag of whether I’d be able to pull them off will always be there, I guess, there’s no scenario where this feeling wouldn’t come and bother). I’m still not employed, thanks to my wonderful parents who are supporting my risky dream path. I couldn’t have done it without them.

As I’m progressing everyday, my dreams are getting bigger. I’m both happy and scared about them.


Peace out. ☮️

I Fear For Some Kids With Detonating Parents


, , , , ,

I have a couple of relatives. Both of them married. All four of them detonating. By detonating, I mean if something is not going their way or they have a problem with someone, even if with hard ass elders of the house, they do not compromise and yell at the top of their voices. Perhaps could even push people. Both of these couples have children. One is in 7th grade, the other one is yet to start school.

I fear that their children would get influenced by them.

I’ve observed a weird trend in families. This observation doesn’t come from my family alone, so I can fairly generalise it without much assumption — I’ll explain it with an example. Suppose someone’s father is very grumpy, nose, haughty, and angry. His daughters would have tried their best to not be like him, ever. Somehow, for some magical inexplicable reason, when they raise their families, those qualities of their father tend to sneak into their behaviour — quick irritation, irrational decisions, short tempered, extremely emotional.

Of course, those tendencies are mere tendencies, given the resolve the daughters would have had several times — To not be like our father ever. 

It’s a slightly different case when couples have boys. Both of my relatives have boys. This is what is terrifying — that they would want to follow in their parents’ footsteps — of showing disagreement / disappointment with anger, of using ill means to aid getting something at any cost, stuff like that. I can only hope that those children, my distant cousins, would find their way to refine their conscience through the development of their minds, which is a mystery in itself, no body fully understands how it works and why something evolves the way it does.

Refined conscience is subject to versions of truths in the world. But there are some basic axioms that are bound to be binary truth and false — for example, to not kill someone at any cost. By refined conscience, I mean that — the basic axioms of what is right and wrong. It’s extremely baffling how some people are able to bypass their head voices to nonetheless act on the wrongs.