Thanks for the spark, Chetan!

Sooner or later. Or someday, I had to write. At least begin writing. Almost like my life depended on it. As if I had no other options but to write. And I have to mention Chetan Bhagat. The main reason why I thought I’d give writing a shot. I mean, he is so effortless. When you read him, it looks like even I can write. Some inspiring people.

If I meet him one day (if ever I get an opportunity to meet him, that is) I’ll walk up to him and say, ‘Sir, you are the foremost reason why I finally started writing. I mean I have been contemplating to write since many years. But like they say the immediate reason for the initiation of the First World War was the assassination of the Prince of or Second World War was the attack on Poland, mine was because I happened to read one of your books out of the blue. Suddenly. Just like that.’

I am not going to comment on the quality of his writings. No sir. I mean, anyone could be a critic. It’s so easy to sound intelligent at someone else’s expense. To me, he is the man who coxed the writer in me. To draw the chair. Sit. Put the pen to the paper. And write. And thanks to him, I have completed my first movie script. 

Efforts are on. It may or may not make it to the silver screen. But even if it doesn't I’d still be thankful to him.

Next target – to be a published author.

Yes, I have made up my mind to be India’s most loved writer too. May be a little less loved than Chetan Bhagat. But to be loved, still. Thanks Chetan Bhagat. For that little spark you ignited in me.

Life as a married man

(Just found this piece. Although its been almost 3 years, since I've been married, I couldn't resist posting this one here. Prazi and me, are proud parents to a soon-to-be 2-year-old Ammukutty, today. It does seem a little late. But then, who cares. And incidentally, this was written in early January 2012) 

Looking back at the past one and half month as a married man.

Marrying isn’t as scary as I expected it to be, after all. I mean, today, I have a beautiful wife and a cute little place to call our home and a glass bowl with a golden fish (there were four, three died), three little potted plants (Tulsi, Rose & Jasmine), a within-budget life, and a few seem-to-be-happy-with-us-or-so sort of neighbors. And she, my wife, on her part, makes sure I eat every single morsel on my plate every time we sit to eat, even if that means to literally feed me with her hands. Like my mother used to do. Till the very previous day of the accident that took her life away.

It’s almost like certain memories, keep coming back to me. Sometimes, I do get up at night, all of a sudden, just to take a look at her, sleeping peacefully next to me.  There are yet other times, when I draw her arm to place my head, before going back to sleep, hugging her, like I used to with my mother.

Prazi is undoubtedly the best thing that has happened to me in these 32 years. This is the first time I wanted something and I really got it, albeit, with my father’s disapproval. But then when did he ever agree to anything that I wanted to have in my life. I do wish sometimes I had the sternness my brother had whenever he dealt with my father.

Anyways, let’s not get there. Forget it. I never mentioned it (It’d be better if I deleted the last line. But then, let the little unhappy part of my life remain highlighted. Lest all this happiness make me haughty).

I am a dreamer. Period. I have lived all my life (so far) for them, as they are the sole reason that makes me tick (so good). Have they come true? Not yet. Not all of them. But am I nearly there? I’d love to believe so.

But these days, I do get a strange sensation. Like I almost feel things have finally started working for me. Like something very big and beautiful is almost at my doorstep.