Elements of Style - New Insights (for me!)

Frankenstrunk - The Boston Globe

But ''The Elements"'s new clothes can't hide the worsening limp and spackled complexion that plague this aging zombie of a book.

Return of the living dead - Jan Freeman - The W...

the book has a lot of silly or half-explained "rules" and a little advice about writing that's fine if you're already a good enough writer to apply it.

I read the section they're reffering to, and yes they're right! Why are so many people still hooked on it then?

Caught My Eye - 09/01/08

Internet and Stupidity - What's the connection?

This discussion seems to be the buzz right now - Is the Internet making us stupid or not? I tend to believe not as I explained in the earlier post on the same topic.

The Critics Need a Reboot. The Internet Hasn't ...
On the contrary: The explosion of knowledge represented by the Internet and abetted by all sorts of digital technologies makes us more productive and gives us the opportunity to become smarter, not dumber.

I agree completely.

29 Marbles / The internet doesn’t make people stupid…

If we do find ourselves in a new dark ages, it won’t be caused by the internet. It will be caused by people. (Of course, the internet will be there to document it all ;-)

These lines capture it the best! :)

Turning Diaries to Blogs.

Here are two interesting blogs that document the diaries of people from a different era. They are both posted in real-time, with just the year changing. What also seems interesting to me is that one of them is a World War I soldier's experiences, while the other one is George Orwell's experiences and thoughts, who was a political commenter during World War II!
Do you know of more such diaries that have been turned into blogs?


WW1: Experiences of an English Soldier

This blog is made up of transcripts of Harry Lamin's letters from the first World War. The letters will be posted exactly 90 years after they were written. To find out Harry's fate, follow the blog!

This blog is a collection of letters Harry Lamlin wrote to his siblings. I've just started reading it, and it seems to be very interesting, more like a story than a collection of essays.

About « THE ORWELL PRIZE

Orwell’s ‘domestic’ diaries begin on 9th August 1938/2008; his ‘political’ diaries (which are further categorised as ‘Morocco’, ‘Pre-war’ and ‘Wartime’) begin on 7th September 1938/2008.

I have to confess, I haven't read Orwell's work before. The domestic diaries are a little dull. I'm sure the "political" ones will be the ones to watch out for.

Language Pointers

Language Log » Hillary unwavers?

If a desert island is uninhabited by humans, it doesn't follow that humans uninhabit it. Likewise, if half the money was unaccounted for, that doesn't mean that anyone unaccounted for it. And you can say that someone's support was unwavering, but you can't say that it unwavered.

It's easy to fall into these traps. There have been several instances when I've commented or changed something a writer has written, but haven't been able to exactly describe why it is wrong. You know the the times when you know something doesn't read right, but you're not sure why? These "un" words used as verbs fall into that category for me. And this article has thrown some light on the why.

CJR: Comma Suture
“Seldom has the distinction between a restrictive and a nonrestrictive clause been more important,” wrote Dean Mills, who happens to be the dean of the University of Missouri School of Journalism.

I'm someone who struggles with getting the commas in the right place everyday. And I sometimes feel that it's much ado about nothing (well almost). I mean how much of the audience cares about a serial comma. It should be okay as long as the meaning is clear. But this, evidently, is an instance where the humble comma makes all the difference.

What an IDEA!

I just love the Idea ads for Mumbai! I’ve heard the radio ones and seen the print ones. They have the right touch of satire, and they echo the sentiments of (dare I say) most Mumbaikars.

The recent vitriolic comments against out-of-state people who have made Mumbai their home were getting too hard to digest. I am a third-generation Mumbaikar. My roots are here, in this city. I cannot call any other city my home. But, my family’s roots do lie somewhere else in the country as well. How does that make me any less loyal or true to this city where I’ve been born and lived all my life?!

Sure, migrants may be causing infrastructure issues here. But, to insinuate that “non-Maharashtrians” are “taking away” jobs from “locals” is pretty stupid. Mumbai has always been known as the land of opportunity in the country. Anyone from anywhere with the right amount of talent and dedication can make a mark for themselves here. So, what is holding the so called “sons of the soil” back?

Of course, most people know that these are all political gimmicks. Raking up long-dead and pseudo-patriotic issues is an old ploy. If there are no issues, rake up something! The sad part is that these non-issues are affecting our image as a global cosmopolitan city. They’re beginning to damage the city’s social fabric.

What happens if one day, fed up with the constant bickering and turmoil, the Tatas, Ambanis, Birlas, Bachchans, Khans, Chopras, et al decided to get up and leave this city. Or people like them, who have the potential to transform the economy of the country, decide not to come here anymore? Do they really think Mumbai will continue to be the vibrant economic hub of the country? Aren’t we a country first? Shouldn’t the country’s progress come before all else? What happens if every city, every state decides that out-of-towners cannot live or work there? Where will we as a nation stand then?

All said and done, knowing the spirit of Mumbai, politically-motivated strategies like these will not affect us. What will affect us are ads like these. Congratulations to Lowe and Idea Cellular for the brilliant campaign!

What Caught My Eye Today

How I Stole Someone's Identity: Scientific Amer...
The author asked some of his acquaintances for permission to break into their online banking accounts. The goal was simple: get into their online accounts using the information about them, their families and acquaintances that is freely available online

Pretty scary. Although some commenters did mention a few loopholes in this "experiment", I have to go and figure out my weak links now!

Gmail Account Automatic Hacking Tool Presented ...
A tool that automatically steals IDs of non-encrypted sessions and breaks into Google Mail accounts has been presented at the Defcon hackers’ conference in Las Vegas.

I'll use https:// from now on...

The world's largest English dialect

Is it Indian English? Perhaps, but Chinglish is a close second, and may already have overtaken the language of the angrejiwallahs (which actually consists of several dialects).

Check out the colossal blunder link on this post!

What Caught My Eye Today

If You Use the Web, You May Have Already Been E...
"We are getting people to help us digitize books at the same time they are authenticating themselves as humans," von Ahn says. "Every time people are typing these [answers] out, they are actually taking old books or newspapers and helping to transcribe them."

Who knew that we're working even while we're logging into a website! I have to admit that this is a novel and obviously a very productive idea. But, I don't think completely understand how this works. Aren't they supposed to be validating what we enter? And if that is the case, shouldn't someone or a computer have already "decrypted" the letters??

Is Google Making Us Stupid?
And what the Net seems to be doing is chipping away my capacity for concentration and contemplation. My mind now expects to take in information the way the Net distributes it: in a swiftly moving stream of particles. Once I was a scuba diver in the sea of words. Now I zip along the surface like a guy on a Jet Ski.

I agree to this, but only in part. Very rarely do I take the trouble of reading every word of a resource online. I'll first scan to see if it has what I want or interests me. Then, I may or may not give it a second or third read. But, does that mean it's making us stupid? We're processing far more information faster. We don't need to spend hours poring over a book to realize that it's not what we were looking for. We can search for exactly what we want, get much more information, filter the information faster, and (I believe) process the information better. I believe that the Internet has played a large and effective role in enhancing self-learning. Sure we generally skim through the surface, but the important point is that if something really catches our interest, we make it a point to read it through completely. We'll bookmark it, add our own comments, go back to it when we have more time or when we need the information again. The point is if the Internet was only about skimming through stuff and not analyzing and understanding the information we really want to, this post wouldn't have generated so much discussion in the first place.

Andrew McAfee
I don’t see why everyone shouldn’t be following in our footsteps. We’re amused when we hear about companies banning sites like Facebook at work. You hear things like "it is a distraction to workers", so are you banning cell phones because Facebook has a great app that resides on mobile devices, what’s stopping them from accessing it there? Often we hear, "aren’t you concerned about confidential information being put on Facebook (or the internet in general)?", our response is "if someone wants to release confidential information about your company maliciously they will find a way to release it". Ironically, since people tend to use their real names on Facebook posting confidential information is the least of our worries, it doesn’t take much to track who posted what and when. We also hear "aren’t you afraid that if all your employees are on Facebook that recruiters will start poaching your best talent?", our response is "if you create a corporate culture that embraces the fact that your employees are people and gives them numerous ways to not only contribute but help shape both the direction and the image of the community they are part of then we trust that we will always have an engaged workforce." We started this off by saying every employee in our company is a PR person, a marketer, a developer, etc.., We want everyone that wants the opportunity to get involved.

Facebook as a company intranet? That's very interesting. But, does it work for Serena only because of the way their company is structured? I know there are organizations where not only will the management consider it to be a waste of time, but the employees themselves probably won't want another "task" added to their workload. But, it could just be a matter of time. Once people realize the benefits and the need for Web 2.0 implementation, the use and participation will grow further. The managements will benefit from the "free" marketing, while the employees will benefit from developing closer friendships and support groups at work. As far as "wasting" time goes, it's hard enough to find enough time to finish your work for the day, will someone really spend hours doing this stuff for fun if they have other more pressing tasks to complete?

I'm registered on a few social networking sites. And I don't really get the time to log in or message my friends that often. But, I will NEVER delete my account on these sites. Simply because these sites have put me back in touch with a number of my long-lost friends. I still dont keep in touch with them regularly, but if I feel like talking to any of them at any time or if they want to get in touch with me, we know there's a way for us to do that...wherever in the world we might be.

Holiday (Part 2) - Manali

From Delhi we took a bus to Manali, where I enjoyed a lovely, memorable, long-awaited, but (unfortunately) short holiday. To say that Manali is beautiful would be a gross understatement. The hills, the valleys, and the rivers left me enchanted. I wished we could extend our holiday by a few days, a few weeks. But, we’d already overrun our budget and staying on would also mean disrupting other plans.
We took an overnight bus from Delhi to Manali. And IMHO, that has to be the best way to get there. As the bus starts its way up the mountain early in the morning, waking you up from your sleep, you open your eyes to a gushing river flowing right outside your window. As the bus winds its way up, you can see a column of mist hanging right above the river, following it like a shadow. You forget all the aches and pain from the long ride and marvel at the wonder called Nature.
The weather in Manali was perfect. The temperatures were just right, with a little bit of rain, which made it more enjoyable. We did most of the regular “touristy” things there. We took the day tours to Manikaran and Rohtang Pass. Roamed around Mall Road. Went to Hadimba temple, the clubhouse, and a monastery around the town. We tried to cram a lot of things into our four days. But were left with many more things we wanted to do but couldn’t.
The long drive to Manikaran was breathtaking. A river flowed right by the road and there were lofty mountains all around. The mist would sometimes drop by to say hello on its way to meet them. I couldn’t stop clicking pictures but no photograph could ever do justice to the beauty that captured not just my eyes, but my heart as well.
Rohtang Pass was a long arduous journey. The day was filled with uncertainty about the Pass being accessible by road. But, we took a bus anyways. And in spite (or maybe because) of all the traffic, long wait, bad roads, missed lunch, missed dinner, walking up a lonely path at 1.30 in the night events, Rohtang will remain an incredible memory. As you climb and cross mountains the view changes. Small streams change to raging waterfalls only to change to blocks of water frozen mid-flow. The valleys get deeper, greener, and prettier. The mountains become loftier, rockier, and icier. One minute, everything is crystal clear, and the next minute, mists heavy enough to be called clouds descend on you and you can’t see 2 inches in front of you. Just when you start getting your bearings, the clouds have lifted and it’s almost sunny again.
I could just go on an on about the beauty of the place but I don’t think my words would do enough justice to it.
It was not just the beauty of the place. I also enjoyed the food, the ice tubing (I don’t what else it’s called!), the river crossing, the shopping, the walk down the mountain from our hotel to the market, and the tourist buzz in the market.
I’ve made up my mind to go there again. But, the next time I go, it will be for longer. I have so many things on my list to do – trekking, mountaineering, river-rafting, camping on the river, crossing Rohtang Pass to Lahaul and Spiti, and then going farther on to Leh. I know it’s a long list, and it’s not even complete. I have to start plotting and planning a break of a month or two. I’ve added it to my list of “want to do once in life” dreams. It doesn’t seem that unattainable, does it?

Holiday (Part 1) - Delhi

It was a long-awaited break. We’d been waiting for a holiday for a pretty long time and it didn’t help that the few weeks running up to it were particularly stressful at work. Finally, the day dawned, 14th June.

But, it wasn’t the perfect start to our holiday. We were supposed to take the train to Delhi (wanted to save a few thousand and also wanted the “Rajdhani” experience) in the evening. Two hours before the train was supposed to leave, we came to know that it has been cancelled! So, we ended up taking a flight to Delhi the next day (money and experience- lost!). To be frank, I had started wondering if this will set the tone for the rest of our week. But, thankfully, it didn’t...well not completely at least.
We landed in a rainy Delhi and the rains lasted through the day. Thankfully, we’d booked a cab for the day in advance. We’d planned to tour Delhi through the day and take a bus in the evening to Manali, our actual holiday destination. Our driver for the day was waiting at the airport when we arrived and though he wasn’t very knowledgeable about the sights (he was a Himachali, recently moved to Delhi), we had a pretty good time. We saw most of the sights there while getting thoroughly soaked in the rains. I believe the rains added a nice aura and beauty to the historic monuments. I felt transported to a different, but familiar world.
The roads in Delhi are very wide, clean, and well maintained. Almost all streets are lined with trees on both sides. And being a rainy Sunday morning, there wasn’t much traffic on the roads either. We reached India Gate first. It was still early morning for a Sunday. The grounds and gardens around had been transformed into playing fields. The game? Cricket of course, with a stray football match thrown in. The place was abuzz with activity. Cold-drink stalls, chana and chat sellers, Polaroid photographers, and tourist guide sellers, all added to the mélange. And then there were groups of armed forces, in different uniforms holding various instruments waiting near the Amar Jawan Jyoti under India Gate, presumably waiting for the rains to subside before beginning a rehearsal of some sort (I assume for Independence Day).
From there we took the drive up to Rashtrapati Bhavan. Next, we went to the majestic Red Fort, where the Diwan-e-Aam and Diwan-e-Khaas buildings transport you to a different era. As you cross the vast immaculately maintained grounds, you can almost see emperors and queens walking along the same paths, pondering over the fate of an entire nation. The bazaar street at the entrance gives a nice lively atmosphere to the place.

While we debated where to go next, our driver suggested that we should visit the new Akshardham temple. Akshardham is a huge complex. The security is Z-plus. The temple complex is beautiful and the atmosphere could’ve been serene if not for the teeming, babbling crowds. The main temple is almost an architectural marvel. The detailed carvings, the beautiful idols – it’s difficult to believe that this is actually a modern temple building. We spent quiet some time marveling at the craftsmanship inside and outside the temple. They have a lights and sound show, complete with a boat ride and stuff but, unfortunately, we were running out of time.
On our way back to bus station, we decided to make one last stop at the Bahai temple or Lotus temple as it is more popularly known. The prayer hall was very peaceful, calm, and quiet (they make it compulsory for everyone to keep quiet inside). It managed to mellow down my excitement levels and took away some of the tiredness from the long day’s travel.
All in all it was a long and tiring but enjoyable day. I saw most of the places I’d wanted to see. The only ones we missed were the Kutub Minar, Humayun’s tomb, etc. But those were a bit too far and we had a bus to catch. And well, I didn’t get a chance to visit the shopping havens of Delhi. We did drive by Janpath a number of times, but most shops were closed. :(
Oh, did I mention the other great thing about Delhi? The food! Armed with the Lonely Planet guide to India, we made our way to Parathewali Galli in the afternoon right before we saw Red Fort. The galli is small and hard to miss especially in the rains. But, after asking around a little, we found it. We decided to stop at the first shop (dhaba?). They made the oiliest, crispiest, hottest parathas I’ve ever had. And to say that they were delicious would probably be an understatement! Then, since we were in Delhi, we couldn’t miss Nirula’s. So, we stopped there for a quick bite before ending our whirlwind tour of Delhi and boarding the bus to Manali.
How was Manali? Heavenly! And that’s coming up next!

Security at Malls

You know the security guards at the entrances to mall parking lots? Most of them stand at the entrance with a mirror attached to a long stick and use it to look under your car. I constantly wonder if they know what they are looking for. I mean I assume they are looking for something that shouldn’t be there, like a bomb or something. But, do they know what EVERY car looks like underneath, irrespective of the make and model of the car? Are they trained in what to look for, what not to look for, what is normal, what is abnormal?

The other day at a mall, one guard was “coaching” a few others about how to look in the mirror. He held the mirror near the front of our car and looked into it, while four other “junior” guards peered from over his shoulder. Then, he nodded with a satisfied smile that prompted the others to do the same, and off we went to park the car. That scene was seriously hilarious because it didn’t seem like the others knew what they were supposed to be looking at. Yet, their heads went bobbing up and down with a smile that said “I’m not sure what it is…but if this guy thinks it looks okay, it must be.” Did the “senior” know what he was looking for/at? I’m not sure. His smile and attitude was one of so much self-importance that I couldn’t make out the real reason for it.

Speaking of security at malls, another thing comes to my mind. I feel several malls discriminate between the shoppers on foot and the ones that drive into their parking lots. If you walk into a mall, you will be stopped, frisked by a metal detector and have your bags opened and scrutinized by the guards at the entrance. However, if you drive into the parking lot, more often than not, only your car is checked (with the mirror of course, and sometimes they peep into the boot too). You can freely walk into the mall from the basement parking without anyone checking your bag. I always wonder what the logic behind that is? Maybe they think “walkers” will carry dangerous things in their bags and “wheelers” will carry them in their cars?

I'm Story Mashing!

I came across an interesting website, StoryMash - a creative writing community for authors, amateur writers, readers and anyone interested in collaborative fiction and collaborative creative writing (that's what the website says).

Basically, anyone can register on this site and write up new chapters of a story or add chapters to an existing story. It’s a very interesting concept and has me hooked. There are some really good stories out there and because it is collaborative, each story has several twists and turns. Some chapters have 5-6 different branches and each of them is different and very interesting. They even have regular contests going on, which only adds to the fun!

You don't need to register to read the stories. But, you do need to register to contribute your own stories. Well, obviously I registered. I haven’t joined the current contest yet. But, yes, I did write up the first chapter for a new story called “Happy New Year!”.

It’s not great…I wrote it up and published it in less than a day. But, I wanted to see how it works. The added advantage was that I don’t have to think about how it will progress or end right now. Maybe someone will pick it up and continue, maybe someday I’ll do it myself, maybe it will never get completed. But, I have to say that I had great fun doing this. Now, I think I’m going to take a shot at that contest too. So, wish me luck!

Sadly, "We are like this only."

Why does no one, well almost no one, let an ambulance pass first? I've seen too many instances of too many people, casually going at their own sweet pace when an ambulance right behind them is desperately blaring its siren. Are people really so callous that they don't care about the poor soul in the ambulance fighting for his or her life? Do they ever stop to think that one day it could be them or their family in the ambulance, and it could be their life at risk because someone in a vehicle decided their life wasn't worth saving?

Once, in one of the 'gullies' of Mumbai, an ambulance was blaring its siren about 3 cars behind us. My husband pulled over to the side to let it pass, and at least 5 other cars took that opportunity to overtake us AND the ambulance. They probably thought we were idiots to have pulled over.

The "problem" with us I guess is that we spent some time in the US where all cars on any road would stop as soon as they heard a siren. The signals there are tied to the paramedics center or something, and they automatically go on the blink to let everyone know that they should stop. But, its not just at the signals, even in the bylanes everyone will slow down or stop to let an emergency vehicle pass. Maybe that's because it is the law there. But, will it work if we had a similar law here? Somehow, I don't really think so.

It Started on a Monday

It started on a Monday- the series of events that changed my life. I always hated Mondays…breaking the bliss of a wonderful weekend! So I guess it was fate that this happened on a Monday.

I was driving to work pondering over something someone had said to me, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. I’d just reached a traffic signal and was about to turn right when the car in front of me suddenly exploded. I just sat there in shock for a minute. There were flames all around. I heard some screams in the distance and then there were sirens- screaming, insistent sirens. They just went on and on and on...I wanted to scream at them to shut up but I couldn't…I just sat there, as if paralyzed. I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder and then there was blackness.

I opened my eyes in a white room. Everything was white, the curtains, the wall paint, the bed I was lying on, everything. It was like a scene right out of a movie. I must be dreaming I thought. Everything was just so unreal!

Then it all came flooding to me, the blast, the flames, the noise. I figured I must be in a hospital. But, honestly, I’d never actually seen a white room! Maybe I’d died and gone to heaven. Though, with my life I could’ve sworn I should be in hell!

I couldn't do much but wait. So, I waited…in that white, silent room. That was the other thing that was getting to me...the quietness, the complete silence.

I tried getting up once. The searing pain through my entire body had me falling back in no time. I didn’t dare to attempt it again.

After what seemed like hours to me, a door at the end of the room opened. A lady entered, dressed in a powder blue nurse’s uniform...that small hint of color made me want to shout in joy! But then I noticed her face. It was completely covered with some kind of mask and I could hardly make out her eyes. She was carrying a medicine tray in her gloved hands .

As she walked towards me slowly, tentatively, it started to worry me. I realized something must be terribly wrong for a nurse to behave like this. As she came closer, her eyes widened with the realization that I was awake. She almost jumped, kept the tray on a table next to me, and ran to get a doctor.

In less than a minute, a doctor arrived. She too had her face covered. But, thankfully, she didn’t seem afraid of me. She came towards me and smiled. The smile had relief, sympathy, concern, and a number of other emotions I couldn’t quite understand. But, the one thing I knew was that it had to be bad news.

I opened my mouth to ask her what was wrong and realized to my horror that I couldn’t speak! I tried again but no voice came out. I tried raising my hand and the same searing pain shot through me. The doctor placed her gloved hand on me and explained everything.

The car explosion at the signal had been a bomb blast. 100 people had been killed. It was a miracle that I was alive. They’d found me 100 meters away from the site. It seemed that I had been thrown away by the impact. My car had been destroyed completely. I had been in a coma for almost a month.

And then came an even bitter truth. I had almost 80 percent burns on my body. My skin was charred. I couldn’t speak because my mouth, my tongue, and my throat were all burnt. Now, I understood why the nurse was hesitant in approaching me...I must look horrendous. I was being kept in a sterile, isolated room to prevent any infection from spreading. That explained the white I guess.

The doctor examined me and seemed satisfied. She said she expected a fast recovery and assured me that with skin grafting and other modern techniques, they’ll have me looking as good as new in a year’s time. A year is a long time I thought and saw all my dreams coming crashing down.

I saw all the money I’d saved for my boutique going into the treatment. My mom would have to continue working instead of taking the early retirement we’d planned. We’d have to delay buying the dream home we’d finally found. It had been my father’s dream, my boutique and the home. He’d passed away last year. We’d managed to get a grip on our lives and move on.

But, now it looked like an even greater struggle had begun. I began to wonder if it would’ve been better if I’d died in the blast instead of surviving like this, if I’d been in the car instead of being thrown out of death’s way. That’s when it came back to me- the blast. I remembered the explosion, the blinding flash of light, heat, and sound. I didn’t remember being blown away…I remembered the hand on my shoulder, someone leading me away from the car as the flames came closer and the sirens grew louder, before complete blackness descended. I’d heard about guardian angels, could it have been an angel then who saved me? The hand had felt familiar…like one I’d known all my life...could it have been him? Ensuring that I live on to fulfill his dreams?

The doctor was still at my bedside. I looked at the calendar on the opposite wall and tried to ask her with my eyes what date it was. She understood and said January 4th. I looked at the calendar. It was a Monday. The day my new life began.

Happiness? (Part 2)

I'm continuing the story left off in the middle, ages ago. I guess those who read the first part have thought about different ways the story could take off..hopefully the way I have finally shaped it is different from what you thought but equally satisfying.

Okay, okay…let me start from the beginning. I was born the eldest in a family of 3 children. And being the eldest comes with its own set of problems. Parents tend to be over-protective. They’re afraid of anything happening to you, so they try to be extra careful. But since you’re the first, you’re also the guinea pig. They want to try all the parenting skills they’ve seen, heard, or read about from anyone in the world!

But, the worst is when the second child comes along. The elder one who was for so long being mollycoddled and taken care of is expected to become responsible overnight! Well, I tried my best to be the responsible one. But, it was never enough. At least that’s how it seemed.

Anyways, years flew by and I grew up, went to college, got a job...life was going pretty okay. Then I met him…Rishabh. I guess you could call it love at first sight. The day I saw him, I knew he was special. He was intelligent, charming, with an infectious smile and sparkling eyes. The best part? He liked me too!
To cut a long story short, he proposed to me six months later and I was thrilled…at first. Then I was petrified! How do I tell my parents? They had this dream son-in-law image that Rishabh would never fit into. Our religions were different, he was 10 years older to me, he’d been married once, and he had a 5-year old son...not really any parent’s vision of an ideal match for their child.

After a lot of debates and discussions with friends and a whole lot of support and encouragement from Rishabh, I mustered the courage to break the news to my parents. And as expected, all hell broke loose! “How could you do this?!!” “Did he trick you into this?” “Couldn’t you find anyone better?” “Didn’t you trust us to find a good match for you?!!” The questions, the arguments, the tears, the anger, the confusion, went on for weeks. And as the weeks and fights went by, I realized that there were only two major concerns my family had: What would the “society” think? and “How will we find a good match for the younger siblings?” It was like my happiness didn’t really matter now that I’d let them down. Their concern was not for my future but my sisters’ future.

When it became clear that nothing will convince my parents, we eloped. We got married in a court and the same day, my family disowned me. It was a strange day; on one hand it was the happiest day of my life, on the other it was the saddest. I realized what writers meant when they said “her heart was torn in two”.

Apart from the emptiness a missing family had left in my life, we had a good life…for exactly 6 months. 6 months after we got married, Rishabh died. Turns out he told me the truth when we said his wife had died after a long illness. But, what he’d forgotten to mention was that the illness was AIDS.

That was 2 months ago. I tested positive last week. Doctors say I can live a long life if I take proper precautions and medication. It will keep the virus under control. But the question is- do I want to keep it under control? My family has kept their word...they didn’t contact me even when Rishabh died. I’m sure they know what he died of. I’m sure they know I’m at risk. But, they still haven’t called to find out if I’m okay. I guess with the stigma of this disease, they’ll stay further away from me (if that’s possible).

Now you know why nothing matters to me now. My friends think celebrating my birthday at a posh club will cheer me up. Well, I’m going along with them. At least someone will be happy it’s my birthday.

Shikha is leading me into a nondescript building now. Probably one of those “cool” pubs that hide in the unlikeliest of places. As the lift stops at floor 5 and I step into the foyer, I realize this is my birthday gift. I’ve stepped into a group of like-minded people, the Greater Mumbai AIDS Support Group. My friends care more about me than I thought. I guess what they say about friends is true...they stand by you when you are all alone.

I look around the 50-odd faces in the room. All people affected by the disease that will kill me soon. They all have the same lifelessness, hopelessness, and fear I see in the mirror every morning. Then a face smiles at me… a small sweet face that reminds me of someone I need to live for…Aniket, the son Rishabh left behind, the son I consider my own. A light shines in my heart, a light of hope, a light of faith, a light of life.

This is not really how I thought it will turn out when I started the story...Honestly, the words just kept coming...I wasn't sure where it was going. Today when I decided to begin where I left off, that's what happened again. I did think of other twists, but somehow, this seemed to work.
As always, comments and brickbats are welcome.

Life's good...if only it weren't so COLD!

It's been so long since I've written anything! I wanted to but then...life happened. So much has happened in the last year or so...I found a best friend, fell in love with him, and got married all within a span of 8 months! Talk about a fast life!!

Oh and I'm now on my second work trip to the US since my wedding. But, that's also had some perks since we've been together both times. Add to it some intensive house-hunting, and meet the relatives events...it has definitely been a BUSSSSYYY year!

I like my work, but it can get monotonous sometimes, especially when you work on projects that either go on for ever or don't ever seem to take off. I've been feeling low and bored for sometime and then I remembered I have a unatttended blog that I should restart. So here I am finishing old stories and starting new ones!

I intend to keep posting this time..let's hope I succeed!

P.S. - It's extremely cold in this part of the world. I haven't seen the temperature go above 0 deg C in the few weeks I've been here and it doesn't seem likey to happen in the few more weeks I will be here. Thank God for central heating!!