Why I’m no Planner

If you’re anything like me, you hate planning. You’re not good at it. None of your feeble attempts at planning ever worked, and you’re hanging in the brink of giving up.

Sounds familiar? You’re a lot like me.

Whatever I do, I do. Just dive headfirst into it. Yes, I’ve got hurt a lot of times, but I’ve learnt a lot too. But somehow, I never learnt to plan ahead, and it’s not something I plan on doing.

diving headfirst

And by planning, I don’t mean the big stuff. I do that. It’s planning the small, everyday stuff, that puts me off.

Why should we plan anyway? If it’s a trip, I pack my bag the previous night, or rather, I hastily stuff my bag with the necessities before my father sees my packing and planning. Thing is, my father is a huge planner. He needs to know where we’re going, how we’re getting there, and what exactly we’re going to do when we get there.

Sometimes, it’s acceptable. But mostly, I just get annoyed.

Where’s the fun? Oh yes, at the park at 4.00pm, as planned.

I’m definitely not that person. I mean, we can always figure it out on the way, right?

I walk out of the office and onto the street before I check whether I have money for public transport. If I do I take the share auto, otherwise I just walk. It’s that simple. It’s the same with my meals. I don’t care what I eat, until I have to eat. I don’t care about what I’m going to wear to that wedding I might be attending in 3 months’ time. But no, when I told my mother that I might go, she started worrying about what I’d wear. It doesn’t matter. At least not for now.

There’s a kind of unknown beauty in uncertainty. I like embracing it. Not just for the reasons Lifehack expert Kayla says, but also because there’s no point in thinking we’ve got it all covered. Because truth is, we haven’t, and never will.

Epic Understanding. Finally!

I read a new book.

For a long time now, it’s been artcles and magazines online. It felt so good to feel a physical book again. I’ve been trying so hard to finish reading at least one book, and I’ve been repeatedly failing. But this one was different. I could sense it as soon as I started it.

It’s a work of fiction. From a novice writer; Kavita Kane. It’s “Karna’s Wife: The Outcast’s Queen.” And it’s a nice book.

Karna's Wife - The Outcast's Queen

It’s longer than “Immortals of Meluha,” and I can’t help but instinctively compare the two. Comparing in the sense, not as in ‘compare and contrast the stories of…’ (Phew! How glad I am that I’m not in high school) It’s more of musing of how similar both of these novels are.

“Immortals of Meluha,” the first book of the Shiva Trilogy was a fictitious account of the life of Shiva. Whereas this one is a fictitious account of the life of a warrior’s wife.

“Karna’s Wife” is self explanatory. It’s about Karna’s second wife, Uruvi. The whole story is spun from her point of view, but we get a glimpse of the elder wife, Vrushali, and her seven sons. And I didn’t even know Karna was married in the epic! (I like and know of Karna only because of a movie that portrayed him well. And that movie said nothing about Karna’s wives.) The title itself came as a shock, but the story steadily got better.

I also got to know the background story of the Mahabharath. It was the epic I never understood. Yes, I didn’t make too much effort to understand it, but the Ramayana was much simpler.

With a hundred brothers on one side and a quintet (they don’t sing, by the way) on the other, the Mahabharath is a battle of cousins. The “good” predictably wins, but it depends on your perception of good.

It’s a twisted tale. Where the good warrior (Karna) sides with the evil Duryodhana just because he is his friend. Karna knows well that Duryodhana will exploit his brilliant archery skills against the mighty talented opposition. But nothing falters his affection for Duryodhana. Not even the knowledge that he’d walk into Death in the war. Because, Duryodhana was the only person to give Karna the respect he deserved. (Everyone else abhored Karna because they thought he was of a low birth and was not worthy of being a Kshathriya (a warrior))

Ah, the friendship is supposed to make you tear. And even if you know it’s stupid of Karna, you will feel the sadness when he dies.

That’s how great epics work. And the author has captured it well. It was good enough for me.

The more I read about writing, the more I recognized the too many adjectives in the novel. Perhaps I use a lot of adjectives too, but I realised it only while I read the book.

That’s a lesson for me to take as well.

Coming back, “Karna’s Wife” will keep you hooked if you like to know the Mahabharath story. But of course it’s fiction and will contradict with a lot of other versions of the Mahabharath. Overall, this is a good book to read on a lone Saturday afternoon.

On the train…

People rushing by,
Fields of bean n soy,
Scent of fresh made cake,
All smiles, not so fake.

I’ve signed up for a new online course from the University of Iowa: How Writers Write Poetry. It’s a six-week long course, and that’s my submission for the first class. It was a pretty long video, but it was totally worth it and really enjoyable.

If you’re a poetry fanatic, check this course out.

There’s more from where that came from. How Writers Write Fiction – Starts September 27th 2014.

And hey! If you decide to join either of these courses, do let me know.

Another Year. Yet Again

Google surprised me. Yet again.

My own personalised doodle!

I don’t remember seeing a personalized Google doodle for my last birthday. It’s just this year. Perhaps it’s not such a big deal, maybe it’s been around for some time now. But no one I ever know spoke of this, and I thought it was pretty cool to suddenly find out on my birthday at 12.35 AM.

That said, the intent of the post is not to thank Google. It’s to reflect on the past one year. But just as I typed that out, I realized that would be boring. It would be boring to read and even more so to write about.

So, let’s talk about today.

Things will change from today. I’ve been away from work for a week and in the meantime, I cut my hair off. I had weak and almost-long hair. Now it’s short, easily manageable. So, it’s bound to raise eyebrows – not something I’m not used to. Plus, going back to work really means, having to work on Mondays and Fridays. That I’m not thrilled of. But at least there’ll be Saturday afternoons.

Apart from that, life would be pretty normal. It’ll be tough to get back to the routine after a week of chaotic lifestyle. It’s going to be difficult to get back to waking up at 5.30 and hitting the sack  before 11.

Enough of the rant though.

It’s my birthday. I’m twenty as of today. No more a teenager, no more a kid. Of course, to my mother, I’m always a small child, but mothers don’t count. I’ve grown a lot. I’ve grown out a lot of my old, childish habits, and also a few clothes. I’ve grown out of the “irresponsible” age and am supposedly into the enjoyable twenties, the age of responsible drinking. (Does anyone else ever think that the words “responsible” and “drinking” don’t go well together?)

Cheers!

In a world like this…

2_face

“How can you be so careless?” Jim shook his head clearly annoyed. “Clear that up, now” be barked at his wife.

She did. How clumsy of her, to drop that new porcelain vase that Jim’s mother had given them.

Jim was fuming, but Martha couldn’t quite understand why. He hadn’t even looked twice at that vase. He hated his mother’s floral taste, and had reproached her when she had brought it in. Martha decided not to say anything. Jim was in a bad mood. Now was not the right time to talk household affairs.

She sighed and got back into the kitchen. The dishes were waiting. Jim’s behaviour didn’t bother her in the slightest. She was used to it. Over these five years of marriage, the only thing that surprised her about Jim was the day he walked into the front door and flung his bag in a corner in anger. It had been only a month since their wedding day, and Martha was keen to build a steady relationship.

She had approached Jim who sat in the couch, cracking his knuckles and biting his lower lip.

“You want anything to drink?” she asked smiling.

He had looked at her. His eyes boring into hers. That’s when she noticed how frightening he looked. She had backed a few steps, the smile on her face fading.

He rose without saying a word. He turned to face her squarely and asked in a malicious tone, “A drink?”

He paused, for the anger to sink in. It didn’t take long for Martha. She gulped hard. Then, he continued “Get out of my face.” She made to leave when he added harshly, “Quick!”

That was the first time he had yelled at her. And also the last time he had surprised her.

She smiled at the dishes as she thought of that day long ago. How frightened she had been!

“I’m leaving for work!”

“Have a nice day.” Martha instinctively came out to see him off. She had learnt to speak in flat tones.

Jim reached his office. A huge pile of papers awaited him, just like each day.

“Late again, McGruff!”

Jim knew that voice. He had been yelled at in the same tone for five years now.

“I’m sorry, Boss. I’ll get to work.” Jim replied in a low voice. He cast his eyes down, and walked towards his seat uncomplaining.

I’ve seen similar incidents everywhere. We tend to take our anger out on people who don’t deserve it. Sometimes, we can’t help it. And so, this is my post for the Weekly Writing Challenge: Worlds Colliding. I know I’m late, but I wanted to publish it anyway.