The world needs a little more of the shamelessly optimistic!
Stories or rather fairytales usually begin with the phrase – Once upon a time. But, the truth of the matter is that this isn’t a fairytale and it certainly doesn’t begin with a vague reference to a moment in time. Why, you may ask me? Well, because this is my life and I can pinpoint the exact moment when it all changed.
The Times of India is an Indian newspaper that launched a nation-wide short story competition called The Write India Campaign in July 15′. Long story short: 11 celebrity authors are to act as ‘author(s) of the month’ (over a period of 11 months) and each month, the organisers would release a few lines written by said author which we, the contestants, would have to magically weave into an engrossing tale capped off to 2500 words. (Whew! long sentence!) I participated in Amish‘s contest and really worked my butt off to put out an entertaining read.
His rules set the story in 17th century Paithan (A town in coastal India) with a female lead called Illa. Whilst keeping the story away from any mythical or fantastical influence, we were expected to convey a social empowerment message (kind of like a PSA) for women.
I thought I’d done a fairly decent job and honestly felt I could’ve made the cut. However, the results have recently been declared and.. well, no.. I didn’t make it. Full Stop. (I’m so over my two minutes of emotionally-charged tantrums)
I named my story – Watershed, which means an event or a period marking a turning point in a situation. Little did I know, that along with my protagonist, it would also serve to be a watershed moment for yours truly. It was the day after I had submitted my story – feeling copiously at a loss with the post-submission-vacuum – when I started this blog with my first ever post!
Since, a lot of research, time and effort went into writing the story, I would like you, my dear dear readers, to enjoy the parable. It might not be the most mind-blowing thing you read today, but I’d rather you read it, than it being archived into some godforsaken drawer/file, never to see the light of day. So here goes –
An absolutely terrifying, traumatic and torturous incident took place at work today. (Now that’s a lot of adjectives that start with a T). PAUSE. (I have a strange feeling that some of you may have already started laughing *huff, followed by a hair flip*)
My place of work is beautiful. One could call it a Palace of Glass – largely due to the dominance of silicon dioxide to that of brick and mortar.
I often find myself admiring the industrially austere minimalism of the construction, with its lush gardens and strategically placed indoor landscapes.
Not to mention, what the abundance of reflective surfaces does for a closet narcissist. *preening*
It was at one such surface, while I was stealthily checking my mane for gravity-defying signs, when I heard a loud sound.
There comes an epiphanic moment in every person’s life that dramatically changes his or her outlook. And it goes something like this –
Sinner + Epiphany = Better human being
Better human being + Epiphany = Potential sinner
The degree of sinning and goodness, however, is subject to the individual’s epiphanic impact. (I managed to impress even myself with this line. Let’s hope it doesn’t go downhill from here!)