TNSU

July 2007 saw me taking up another activity---creative writing. There was a point to be made. A read of 'The Alchemist' written by Paulo Coelho led to the urge to tell a story containing our particular idea. Chetan Bhagat's 'Five Point Someone' made the decision to write in 'first-person narrative' easy.

Just a little involvement and some passion... and the characters evolved. A review by my mentor and economics professor at B-School prompted a few changes. An extended version was produced and a change of name was called for. The title 'Who Can Stop Us?' had to become a more confident 'There's No Stopping Us!'

Responses from publishers were overwhelmingly negative. A good friend and critic, again from B-School, gave a positive review. With his help and from relatives, a few more positive reviews arrived from people respected by society.

2009 brought the opportunity to seek out opinions from colleagues at work. A total disaster with extremely negative feedback.

Finally, more positive reviews from other friends at B-School.

Its been three years since I wrote TNSU. Countless edits and readings have made it tasteless and indigestible. I simply cannot read it again. Paradoxically, I cannot remember what I wrote. The ideas no longer seem significant and practical. All for nothing.

Another realization dawns that we simply cannot generalize things.

Those conclusions are the best which are not made at all.

Mami

I don't remember the exact date. 1989. The first time you walked into our home, holding a lighted lamp. But I don't remember the expression on your face. I was seven years old. During the first few evenings, you would play with the kids of the household, the kind of games usually no adult nowadays bothers to be a part of.

Over the years, several moments of intense sunshine came about when you would fill the shoes of a dutiful mother. By failing to perceive the difference between your own children and the rest, you would be echoed as being unique.

As the sun greeted us everyday, the presents always seemed insignificant. But looking back, the only feeling that lingers is that every gift was indeed sacred.