Betting on Glances

I watched absently as he set his small establishment alongside the busy street, across from where I sat with my coffee. It consisted of a charcoal fuelled stove, long and cylindrical, black with soot. Beside that stood a high chair, with legs and cushion also sooty black. A table completed the establishment where a weigh-scale was the only prominent thing I could see from far.

             The flames were licking the brim of the huge ‘kadai’ filled with oil, and while it was heating the man went about doing his routine work. He wiped clean the vessels and walked around the stove, adding wooden blocks into the fire. Occasionally he would disappear into the shop nearby and come out with something handy like a pail of water to damp the dust around the stove.

            Buses groaned past, and motorcycles whizzed leaving him and is establishment in smog of grey; but the flames continued to heat whatever was cooking inside and the man continued to await his customers. When people walked slowly past, he would quickly stand next to the high stove and pretend to be busy making his delicacies. And when they walked off his shoulders would slump slightly and perk up again at the next visitor.

           As I watched him abandon his establishment again, a grandpa with his grandson paused at the roadside delicacy shop. The boy tugged and conversed and the grandpa though not ignoring, proceeded to look all about for the owner. He scanned the set up, it was fairly flawless for the man had spent close to an hour cleaning it, but he didn’t wait for long. Hushing the boy he walked on, and didn’t look back, not even once.

           Maybe if he did, he would’ve seen the owner scuttle back to his place, eyeing everything on the counter to make sure nothing was stolen. Maybe then he could’ve walked back and gotten the fried delicacies that his grandson wanted. But that didn’t happen. The man got back to stirring the oil, turning the kadai so that its contents got even heat. I could swear on my eyesight that in doing so the flames kissed his tanned fingers but the man didn’t flinch a bit. He continued to tame and kindle the fire betting his business on a few glances of the passer-by just like the ones the grandpa didn’t turn back to give. 

When we see ourselves in comparison with others, there's an element that tends to hype our issues and achievements  more than others. We don't see how life has it out for others and how these people lead their lives in full acceptance despite what they weren't given. So the next time out on the street, lets take in the world around us instead of bustling about. It might just give us a reassuring feeling that all's under control with our lives and there are in fact people who depend on us.Our lives are better.

House of Hearts

We go about our daily lives, doing the same chores claiming that it is the essentials of life. Somewhere along the journey to end up where we dream we are lost among the sea of struggling mortals, all seeking peace that comes with achievement. But sometimes along the same path we space out, quite randomly. Sometimes sitting in a bus, or while waiting; basically whenever time needs to be spent idly.
We start wondering more about meaning than benefit, of memories than time.  That's when we reflect back on the lives we've touched.
             What happens in the end, what happens when you have gotten everything you worked hard for? What happens to all the time piled up at your disposal then? Yeah, we can live it up. But by then a few factors have slipped out of your hands. Age, relationships, and definitely your comfort zone. All you can do is reflect again. Here's another way to look at the same path, starting now; not later.

Measure your life in terms of something that can't really be measured. The smiles you've created, the role you've played in lives, the timely help you've been... the hearts that you still live in. Touch as many hearts as you can on your struggle up the ladder and when you reach the top, you'll have an unspoken family of people who silently smile for your happiness. They might have spotted you only once, but if the impact you made was good, your face will be remembered. In this busy world, where everyone is running for their gold, if you stop to lend a few words, a shoulder it would be surprising, as that is where we are at this point. We have lost our humanity. "Let the doctors to their work"," oh, let the family take care of them",  "They have other people"
         The other people we so often assign the helping hand to probably are using it to point the finger at you, and so the person is forever alone in his life; thus the circle goes on. But what if we take time out from the countless moments we space out in and made them feel special. A gift without occasion, that felt like it must be made for them, or perhaps even cherishing the small things they've given. Let them know that whether people or no people, you will remember them. And just with that one sentence you are closer to their heart, deeper in their memory.

We encounter many people, in so many different ways. Start today, to cherish what they've done, or what they mean to you. At the end of the day, give yourself the count. Keep adding to it, and when you've become what you've wanted, see your total. And continue to live in the house of hearts.

India and Its Grave

When my mother decided to shift our home back to India, I'd have to say I was pretty much thrilled about going back to where I was born. The change from same robotic life I led, the urge to get lost in a crowd of natives and to feel safe in my country were my hopes. As for my mother, she wanted me to imbibe the rich heritage and traditions that thrived and differed from every state. Can I say the same now? Well, I'd be lying.

           Mumbai attacks in 2008, Guwahati bombings in 2009, the Pratapgarh stampede in 2010, more scams and scandals, traitors and bombers. And all this over what? Power, money, vengeance and competition. Sigh, if we followed the Chinese idea of naming our years, well this would be the epitome of all the 'glory' and named as 2013- the year of rapes. Frankly, I don't get what's happening to our country nor the agendas in store. Rape after gang rape and only 24, 206 were reported. Not even quarter of that got the hearing. I point to the TV running such news and announce to my mother- 'The rich heritage and traditions we came back for huh, mum?' She nods her head away and ignores the news. That's pretty much what every one's doing as well. What with candle marches and NGO's screaming their lives out, the bottom line will always be in vain. That's why I stopped reading the news papers long back because I just don't want to start my day with this sort of negativity. And by chance as a media student if I happen to see some news, its about the parliament fighting it out in front of the media, or the progress on cases that's been going on for years without any judgment. I might as well call myself a psychic, predict such news and make some money out of the confusion. That beats watching the south Indian channels(named after political leaders), recapping the same clip of how two opposing leaders tore each others white shirts at a conference. And the media flourishes in all this tragedy; if no deaths, scams and whatnot, no future for them. Such irony.

The other day, I looked towards the people instead of the country runners and was shocked again. National Anthem goes on in a theater and the guy in front of me is busy with his cellphone. The one next to me is blowing bubbles with gum. Another heaved sigh I let out, and watched the movie addressing the political issues with a filmy solution. Play it like that in real life and you'll realize you won't even reach to the climax situation of the movie without bribing to be heard. Must I even start on the respect we have for our leaders? No no, that's all silently understood. How can we rise from our third world crisis if the regulating bodies don't have respect, let alone support from us? Some, fly free and ride like they own these roads. Those, 'some' might be having the tag of political background. 'Might'.

Another aggravating issue is the whole idea of copying cultures from the west. I've seen both so I have the bad habit of comparing. I stand at a hypermarket decked with imported goodies and our local things as well. 'That's comforting. Import export policies are functioning well' I mutter and check prices. 'Hmm, I don't see our pickles being sold at such big numbers in US as much as this bottle of their mayo here'. I think. I conclude by saying that international politics is not for me and go to the billing. What's frustrating here is that the minute the cashier sees a foreigner, in flows the Indian spirit of good host and he calls them over to the front, jumping all the customers waiting. No, this isn't Indian spirit. It's just buttering and trying to draw a good impression. If I remember correctly, the impression I got from foreign cashiers doing their rightful duty was more than this display of falseness. Then the basic problem struck me.
            We have this impression about other countries and we have some vague opinion about ours too. That goes more or less like 'if we imbibe cultures from there, we can be awesome too' and in the name of imbibing you pick up things that can't quite gain acceptance from all masses. Why not punctuality, equalizing irrespective of caste, creed, career? Instead we choose the partying, the live ins and attractive tags. And we go on and on about how we are such true Indians and how our ancestor's blood boils over injustice. When elections come we crib and cry and with natural disasters we donate.We even make it through a lifetime like this, passing to be true Indians. But what do you call someone who does not represent the world he comes from?

All my 6 years in US, I proudly carried Indian lunches to school and wore that red dot on my forehead even though everyone thought I was bleeding. No matter what names I was called, I smiled and said 'Yes, next to Pakistan is where my country is, but you can't generalize because of that.' And the more I was myself, the more I felt Indian in a land where I wasn't born. I realized people all over the world like to know about our cultures, our traditions and food especially. They love our brown tinge as its the perfect tan they strive for. We have so much to educate them about if only all of this wasn't at the disposal of greed. And now, in my own country I feel alienated because it wasn't the way I had described. The fear of 'what will remain to call my country' haunts as we dig our own graves. Although I don't react much to the happenings in our country, I represent it anyways. I call myself an Indian.

What do you call yourself?

Liked this? Read another national issue!

Detachment- A trait

Some are of the opinion that any creative process, requires a certain skill for the result to be truly unique. Others deny that skill, and hold with the thought that having it ruins one's style. So what is this certain skill we speak of? Detachment. Whether or not it is a skill is a matter of perspective.

Detachment is to remain devoid of assumptions and ownership when looking at something. In our case lets consider that it means to keep your emotions away from the piece we write. Why do we say it helps? In some genres, it is well required to be unbiased and look at the content from various perspectives, like writing for the mass. Being detached helps you see beyond your own appreciation to find flaws. Maybe if 1 out of 5 articles has something different  to offer, it fetches you more readers and gives you the versatile title. It might even make you a pro. But here's the catch.

What if, your unique style is the main reason you're a good writer? What if people come to read your style and not what comes out of being detached? Then that would be a problem yes, because your signature style isn't something to be cultivated, its what defines you. Throwing it away for a few more readers is a decision we have to make before we get into the skill. Because when we start practising it too much, all you can see is the objectiveness. Like how an efficient editor can't involve himself in a movie because he's too busy counting the cuts and unveiling the effects, we lose the essence of natural emotions and can only put in what we used to feel.

So we've come back to square one, how to use the skill without loosing ourselves to it and is it necessary in the first place when you know you have a small target group? Detachment, a trait of a good writer or no?

The Grass on the Other Side is Grayer

We often say- "The grass on the other side is greener"
But like most things in this universe, there is an opposing statement as well to make sure that there is equilibrium attained. As much as we judge to see everyone's life better than our own, we also like to have preconceived notions that what others do is utterly wrong. Gossip away to glory on what decision they take and how its so sinful that karma has it out for them in their next lives and all such superstitions. Well, its time to bring that opposing statement into play.
"The grass on the other side is grayer"

I'm not contradicting the first phrase, but merely highlighting that what seems a sin doesn't necessarily have to be in reality. There are things that one says they'll never do in their lives; against their morale. But, put yourself in some "gray" shoes and you'll end up doing the same. At that point of time, it doesn't seem sinful at all. Why? Because, not only was what you thought just an assumption, but also, you never want to deny that you are wrong. So you end up saying- ''I had to, it was my only option out". You turn into the one thing you dreaded of becoming all because you've turned prisoner to the times. You accept it beautifully supporting it with a number of reasons and go on with your life. And then it hits you when someone says your field of grass is grey.

I'd reflect a bit before doing anything about those trying times.
If your morals are truly high strung then you'd find an alternative way out, but if the situation has the upper hand, you will bend it to it. There's nothing wrong it doing so for we all aren't a "yes" man. That's why its wrong to judge anyone's life. One can never let out all their secrets and let the world see them as they really are, so why judge something that's incomplete?  Let it be green or grey, the future is unpredictable and so are we at circumstances. Don't look at someone and treat them low because they don't meet your morals; don't sigh that you haven't been blessed enough. Stay on the border of the fence separating the two field of grasses and all will be right on track.   

Reins of Happiness

The chariot of your life must have the right rein holder....
I beg to differ... its not about the right rein holder. It has to be only you for a number of reasons. The sole one being that you cannot feel anybody's happiness but yours no matter how compassionate and understanding person you are.

Its a simple logic that we fail to see... obscured behind the "ideal" and order, even the most simplest facts turn twisted. Live for yourself, live with yourself, and life will live with you for long. Some of us see happiness in what we achieve, some see it in what others achieve because of them, and some just are happy if everyone around them is happy. There's nothing wrong in existing that but that's all you'll ever do... EXIST. If you want to stretch your limits and break your own records then you have to prioritize yourself first. Your happiness, your work, your relations....YOU. Put it in someone else's hands, and it becomes theirs. You can't really blame them either for keeping their own head above the water, or letting you fade out of their days for a while just to get their work done.

So don't go around putting all your happiness in somebody. Don't expect that they'll fight your battles, run a race along with you for at the end of the day its each man for himself. He's bound to run past you and reach the finish line. Keep the reins of happiness clutched tightly under your palms and direct it to where your dream dwells. For a while if you are too low, give it to someone who is not taking over, but one who safeguards whats yours till you're back. Never to one whom you're most attached to because this is another mistake that we tend to commit. Keeping your hopes up high, expecting a person to live up to those expectations is a fall back of your emotions. They rise like the tide and the dams break under the pressure if they don't meet them and soon before you know it, the city you've built your whole life is flooded with those emotions. It then starts eating away every beautiful thing created, and you lose happiness in what really matters. So pick up those reins soon, and be the master of your own life.
The chariot of life must have you as the rein holder..... 

A Hard Choice

The sun cascaded down the sloping streets and the traffic breathed into the city. Taylor and Smith were crossing the roads when they got stuck mid-way.  Smith picked out a gap in the traffic stream and quickly crossed barely saving his life. When Taylor eventually made it Smith smiled at her.

‘Didn’t have the guts to cross with me?’

‘I didn’t think losing my life was any wiser than what you did’.

            Sometimes it’s not about the act of bravery; it’s about the wiser choice out. Before you jump into something you’re not up to, think about the consequences and whether it’s worth it or not. People tell you all the time to strive against the odds, to go that extra mile. But no one tells you what happens after the feat, the applause and exclamations. At the end of the day it’s about you. And no matter how compassionate a person is, it is always about you at the end. We come into this world alone, leave alone so live for yourself. You might think ‘Let me do this. If I do then I can prove my strength and ability’ but if you truly value your work, then you’ll think twice and decide not to go with it. A simple example. 

I was looking forward to my Radio Jockey Program for weeks. I’d been practising my modulations, rewritten the script and finally managed to get energy into my voice. The semester had ended and this was all that was left to show my talent. But today, right before I woke up from my sleep, I fell ill.  I could barely put a smile on my face and all I thought was about my recording at the studio this afternoon. I trudged out and made it to my college and sat waiting hoping my sickness would go away. It was then that I thought about what I really wanted from the situation.

            Of course I wanted relief, wanted to back down and do it some other day, but I knew this would be wrong. The rest of my class wouldn’t be able to record if I didn’t go, and I didn’t want to cause that upon them. So I sat quietly with no other way left…or so I thought. My faculty walked in, saw my condition and proceeded to cancel the studio booking. She asked me only once whether I could do it or not. And I said no.  I had just one shot at my anchoring, I wouldn’t be able to go back and fix the lack of energy in the recording. And I knew that I won’t be the RJ I vision myself as while practicing. That was enough to say no.

When we’re in a creative field, we need to give respect to our work. It’s not about our talent, our health and ability. It’s about doing justice to what comes out of our talent. If you want to give it your best, you still can when you’re feeling down, but it most certainly won’t be the same as what you wanted. So why do we try and regret looking at our own work? Why to look back and feel you did badly when it wasn’t your fault? Isn’t it better to start fresh another day and do it so with flying colors? Won’t that feeling that, you put in your heart and soul and not just gave it your best, worth risking it all? Think about it.  Crossing that road for Taylor wasn’t a big deal; she too knew she could do it. But was it worth? Worth the panic and risk? Ask yourself this before your strain yourself for maximum output. If you think yes, then you’re totally up for it. But even if you seem to take one step back then say no. You’ll be glad you did someday. I did while I wrote this now. 

Window Shopping?

When Sabrina entered the world full of lights, shiny floors, and elite atmosphere, she was swept away from the world that existed behind the huge mall doors.

‘One day, I’ll have enough money to buy them all’ she whispered without taking her eyes off the showrooms surrounding her.

            It’s simple to say that we’re just going window shopping…our minds go with the idea that we won’t buy anything but it doesn’t end with that. Somewhere in the back of our minds, the mall shopping experience impacts a great deal on our lifestyle. We get caught with the lifestyle portrayed by the plastic mannequins that we become one among them. Looking at the price tags, our heart gets a shock, no matter what class we belong to. And check it out, a price tag says 3999… you’re inclined to buy it because your mind automatically registers the 3000… but not the 999 that follows. Then gradually after witnessing far too many price tags, the highest rate outside the mall, also seems pretty reasonable rate to you.

            I sometimes wonder what the branded shops get out of it, but as I grew I realized that even selling one piece would fetch them a huge profit. For after all, shopping in malls that too from branded showrooms has become a prestige icon. It gives a great feeling to walk out of a mall with too many bags to hold and the frenzy of shopping never dies. And it is especially true with girls. Looking behind the glass windows to the products flooded with golden light, I think everyone has a moment where they instinctively want it. But it’s all up to your will power to resist the urges. Otherwise you end up with piles clothes, shoes and much more of just one time wear.

            The malls target our basic human trait…greed. It displays what could be ours because we are free to walk around, touch, and wear it. With clothes there’s the trial room, with cosmetics there’s a tester. And we do test it; fall into the trap. You want it forever. You swear that it’s the only thing you’ll buy for this month. But come shopping in a week to the same mall and you’ll want a bit more. Malls make our greed grow. So do stop at a mannequin, desire it, picture yourself in it, and leave the window with that. That’s how real window shopping is done. Now…what do you do at a mall?

Just the Way it Is

Sometimes, there are certain questions that keep popping up into our minds. It need not have to arise when you are fully aware of the subject, nor when you even know it exists. Like, I used to think about the space and beyond when I was barely four years old. And those categories of questions always lead down the same lane to present the answer at the dead end- “Because it’s just the way it is”. Why is the world round? Because it is. Why does the sun rise the way it does? Because it is. Why do we have emotions? …Because it’s just the way it works.

            Coming from an emotionally damaged person it mind sound like it means much more and life but frankly that question has only that lonely answer. I guess it’s a part of us… a part of what makes us human. (Not humane mind you) and the reason why we have our lives distinguished from each other. There are these emotions around us, everywhere we go and whomever we see, there are these emotions taking part in the scene. At times we reflect the emotions we see like happiness, sadness, fear, confusion. And at times we unknowingly absorb it in to us where it lays in our subconscious, affecting our thoughts, our decisions…everything. Which is why it might be better if we consider what we’re taking in, the impacts were evoking upon our minds.

            Choice of emotions is subjected to change and differs from every individual. While some of us bask in delight, passion, happiness, excitement and the general emotions, a few of us like the more complex ones  (a better way to say negative). Though it might be true that we reciprocate the emotions we want to experience, it is valid for only a certain group of people. The goody ones. When we cause complex emotions to get back our definition of general emotions, that’s when sadists and monsters are created. Again subconsciously. Little do we see it in the people we know, and little do they know that they are sending out stimulus for fear, anger, pain and the like. We might have crossed paths with someone like that, and to get rid of those stimuli we must’ve fought it back adapting the same emotions. There’s nothing wrong in that, got to fight fire with fire…we just need to be careful that those don’t become our set of general emotions.

            There are times when I question… “Why do I feel whatever I feel right now? Why can’t I just be numb to it all?” Emotional stress is hard to deal with, especially if you don’t know the way back home or out of the maze. We all face it, struggle a little, squeeze out a few tears maybe then we put it behind us and pave way for the new ones.  But some of us are stuck there, bringing in similar emotions to erase the existing till what’s left of you is what this world calls “Emo”. Emotions become an integral part even when all you need is a break from it. In the lapses where the normal human regains himself in the absence of emotions, we fill it with more and more. Compensating for it, trying to replace the empty hole those huge emotions have caved in you, isn’t the way. Letting out is good, but there’s a way for it. Otherwise you’ll be pulled in the currents and never swim ashore.

            I guess letting out is better than what some others do. And that is the ultimate end to our human emotions. Bottling it inside. I don’t exactly mean that you don’t show any emotion, but rather you prefer to conceal it all behind a mask of normality. Maybe too much of normality that can be spotted. Upset about something, you keep it in thinking it might hurt others. Angry? You think it’s irrational to act so and stuff it inside with force. Confused…sigh keep it in because you’re too shy to place it all out to someone for opinions. Or maybe you’re scared of the outcomes so you never really show anything. I mean the happiness also, because with all this bottling up, you’ve started something new. You’ve made yourself an emotional rock, numb to the pressures. While you might feel proud that nothing can shake you, understand that it will shake you, but you’ve mastered holding it in so no one can see. One fine day the bottle will overflow, and with the mix of the emotions you’ve blended, the results can be huge.  So why exactly do we have emotions? Yes it is just the way it is. It is what makes us human… but the question is… Are you one? 

Faces- What's behind yours?

 Faces…they’re what we see every day; they’re with which we are different from each other. The whole body is a unique creation of God, but the face is the supreme work of art or so I feel. Today, let me put up a question in your minds through this article’s end as to what we really see when we look at someone. Do you see the person your memory is familiar with? Or the story behind the numerous lines that run across them? Do you just identify and start fulfilling the reason for visiting? Or do you try and differentiate the emotions carried by each feature on them? Let’s face it. Maybe very rarely we do look into the eyes of a person and read them, but mostly we see, we speak, we respond and we leave. 

            But when I see a face, curiosity creeps in and I try to see what’s going on in their mind, what expression they seem to portray and more importantly…. What they’re trying to hide. The face of a new born baby, a toddler is the purest you can find. There’s no tint of the world’s greed in them, their eyes don’t calculate everything they see. They don’t know what’s ahead, and they’re least bothered. They are simply in the present… Innocence stays with them for they represent only what they are and nothing more, nothing influenced. The smiles are real, and perhaps that’s why we feel that babies are cute. Because they just experience the world around them and not judge it. And then again there’s a thin line between ignorance and innocence… When have we seen someone who is innocent and not ignorant in some or the other way? Food for thought…

             Then comes our faces, the ones that have grown out of the phase of innocence.  The faintest knowledge of the world, drastically starts changing our reactions to every word, every action. Some, like a plain sheet of skin…so flawless, emotionless…but working so hard behind it to conceal the true feelings lest someone reads them. Some are so beautiful, with sharp features and as if God took partiality over them. But maybe they earn to be normal like the rest of us, and wish people don’t treat them special because of their looks. Some faces love the attention and have lost their true beauty with a plaster of fame and superiority. Some faces are so complex that it is hard to even fit them into our world of thought. It is as if they exist in a parallel universe… there’s no category to them… they are purely a species on their own. Some are born beautiful and come carry their absolutely normal face with so much grace that it seems charming.

            I used to wonder a lot about the history of the faces… how it has changed over the years, how it may have looked without the scars maybe. But I realized that every face we’re familiar with is not because of the face itself. It is because of a combination of the face, the person, expressions and emotions. So it is true that the basic purpose of the face is fulfilled… to recognize someone. But just out of curiosity, try reading the faces and see how your opinion changes of them. I thought I had mastered it all, mastered the art of living behind a mask of expressions on my face until one fine day. That one day, someone saw through my mask and I saw through theirs and we both realized something. There’s no use in faking any expression for anyone. As conditioned as we might be, the least we can do is change ourselves to make others happy. Because at the end of the day, we go to bed and cheat no one but ourselves. Food for thought… see what’s behind your face before someone points it out! 

Ghost Writing- Virtual Idols?

I was presented with this new word “Ghost-writer” when I wrote my friend’s essay in class. My teacher easily found out and called me a ghost writer, and just like everyone else I thought it had something to do with ghosts. But it turned out to a derivative of that thought. A ghost writer was someone who was paid in secret by an author to adapt to his style of writer and write for him. Hence, the book credits would go to the official author even though the background work for that book was actually a bunch of hired ghost writers. That was all that I knew when I passed out and walked forward on the path of life. Then the word presented itself again. This time it was from a serious extract.

                Our research methodology assignment required us to do a dissertation for a span of three years. I obviously had to choose something that I wasn’t aware of and something that requires intense research. I announced my hypothesis and started sailing of on the vast sea of information available on our ever saving Google. What I found on that every same day started drowning my hopes. Well, I do under-estimate a lot of things, but this one came hard for a girl who loved her book-created world. From what I gathered, ghost writers are writers themselves and market their skill of writing to popular authors. The authors who don’t have the time or, sorry to say, the exact skill of writing, hire them. If an author passes away in the middle of publishing a series then the company hires a Ghost writer to complete the work.  So in a way it’s portrayed as if a ghost as written the book.  My problem wasn’t with that. It bothered me that the figures that stood out in the history of literature were like virtual idols that I worshiped.

                I’ve noticed it in every phase of life, my peers and people I knew looked up to successful figures. We pointed at them and said ‘I want to be like them one day’ .They gave us hope to pursue our dreams and broaden our imagination. When I first read Star Wars, I patronized George Lucas and then R.L Stine overruled him with Goosebumps. And that time when someone gifted me a series of Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys, I was engrossed into in mind of Carolyn Keene. Little did I know that Carolyn Keene didn’t even exist and it was a pseudonym for the set of ghost writers? Star wars, Frankenstein, the more that I researched, the more let down I became. I realized that the real people that inspired me were P.B Shelly, H.P Lovecraft who just happened to be ghostwriting personified.  There’s nothing wrong in the profession. It allows someone to have two separate lives, to take a chance at the biggest hits, to help authors to express the vague thoughts…but it crushes the idols in our young minds.

                For a few days, my research was at stand still. I lost the interest to uncover lies behind my favorite books for I knew that I’d be disappointed. But I was losing time. So I picked up again. But with a different thought… appreciate the work of the author and never the author. For true authors never want anything more than their work appreciated and we readers also are admiring the true work of talent, no matter who wrote it. Kind of like of symbiotic relationship. Now I’ve accepted the truth; for whatever reasons they hire ghost writers and learned to draw hope from the power of words instead. I still debate that the whole concept is somehow twisted in my own ways but thank god for the instilled hopes that I can write! Whatever pops up here is what people have revealed already but there must be many books out there all under different names. Sigh, I’ve got two years more for the dissertation and I’ve promised myself not to get depressed when the name of books in my shelf pop up under the section of “Ghost written”!