The dilemma about autobiographies

What is this craze about writing autobiographies? Everyone from politicians to writers to activists to religious heads to anyone who’s been published in the newspaper just once want to tell the World their story. Why should I be left behind than, I thought ? I might not be as famous as the others but even I got an interesting story to tell (according to myself only). So, I set about writing and wondered where should I begin. Should I start with the day I was born or the day I became great in my head or the day I met the love of my life? Too many dilemmas. So, I decided to do some reading before the writing because I have never actually read an autobiography (who reads that stuff???). Mein Kampf, Joseph Anton,¬†My experiments with Truth, I thought about devouring. Started with a few, left most of them halfway and eventually put them aside and reached out for my keyboard to start typing the stuff in my head.

A funny thing about telling your story. How much do you exactly reveal, how much do you reveal that will make you look good? It’s a tough job, writing a book on your life (especially when you’re just 27), one that the whole World will read, everyone will know what you did and thought. I don’t know if I could do it. I can’t even let my hubby ready my silly daily journal! How would I be able to live knowing that strangers and family members and friends alike have read everything¬†about me, judged me and are probably thinking about abandoning me!! And unless you are Gandhi, it’s not possible for your book to not hurt some people’s feelings. Maybe I can get away with writing only the goodie good stuff, but then nobody wants to publish a two paged book.

Phew. I am already tired of all this thinking about my autobiography and writing nice stuff about people. Idea abandoned !!!


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How I grew up singing country songs and studying stars…

I don’t know if its a common trend in India or its just my family, but my ma and I would spend the summers in “her” home. By this I mean her brother’s home in Jabalpur. I am not going to go on and on about how we had an awesome time there, a dozen cousins, playing in the big open garden, swimming in the Narmada, playing pranks on the elders, roaming around everywhere aimlessly. The one thing I recall all the time is how my mama brought my brother and me up. He was the big guy in our life. The one who taught us to fight the mighty Narmada, swim across its currents, worship it and feed little fishes. The man who taught us everything there is to know about each Indian bird, making sure we remembered the Latin name with the common name. We watched Superman and Star Wars every year!!! We knew all the dialogues by heart and owned light sabers and tried to fly wearing red scarfs. At night, we would watch stars. You can see a lot of those because Jabalpur was a really small town at that time. On a clear night, he would open up his book and teach us all the constillations of the North summer Sky. But the best part was when mama would turn on his music player, bring out those self-recorded cassettes and play his favorite American country songs. Oh those Kenny Rogers to Big Bad John And I’m just a country boy. Every evening, after dinner, the three of us would surround his player and sing out loud those songs. Till today I remember most of those songs and every time one of them plays in a music system somewhere, I smile.

Just another day…

How does a day pass when we got all the time in the World. The day begins, with applying for some jobs, which are not being offered. A light lunch. Coffee and again coffee. Some grapes too to pass time. Finally, she comes along, wanting to watch something desi today. Anything that looks talks walks Indian is categorized desi. Netflix to the rescue. While Black Friday loads, a flirty chat with Mozzie is ensued. Boiled milk in Pumpkin spice coffee , poured and stirred. We settle into our soft butterfly chairs, black and teal respectively, with our Cornell coffee mugs, white and red respectively. Hot american pumpkin coffee and crisp desi sunfeast biscuit. A chill passed through. Pulled a double mattress over us, feeling snuggly. A lovely afternoon. Laughing over silly jokes, hilariously repeating some old ones. Staring at each other each time Netflix loads. Pee breaks. Ahh. Life’s calm. Life’s good.

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