AN ACT OF SELF-PRESERVATION

A Play Dough is soft and colourful. Such are our minds when we are young and vulnerable; ready to be moulded under influences and external pressures. Laurie Kenyon, the main character in "All Around The Town" is diagnosed with Dissociative Personality Disorder as a result of a traumatic childhood experience. Abuse is the root of her pain. As can be seen in many incidents in her life, the imaginary characters in her head become her secret caretakers with the sole goal of protecting their host from the perpetrators. This worked well in a nightmarish situation but fell through when everything became normal and natural. I read in a blog that specified how the current society has pushed people to have panic attacks just by the thought of making it late to work. This stress provocation leads to increased cortisol levels, affecting one's physical well-being.

Our ancestors froze, flew and fought at the sight of danger in caves while we use similar survival tactics to stay in our desk jobs. The human brain is a microscopic view of the vast universe to the eyes of the unknown. Mary Higgins Clark, the master storyteller has produced a riveting unpredictable thriller that investigates the mind of a young woman with dismal occurrences surrounding her. As expected the book-to-movie adaptation has worked to a certain level but hasn't really captured the author's creative magic in 1.30 hours. I'm now off to hunt for the next Mary Higgins Clark thriller.

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THE CASTLE OF HOPE AND FAITH!

THE CHARIOT OF OUR ANGELS! After so many phases of colour transformations, finally, our bus has become yellow....Yellow????.sigh........ Anyway, I've seen blue with penguins but not this. Sometimes I hate our buses for chasing us away with our books and lunch boxes during the casual turns...so much remodelling..so many cras.....ssshhhesss... oopsie!!! I didn't mean to say that...Well..now it's a vibrant bucket of bolts...good! THE GRAND GATEWAY! It's hard for me to not keep thinking about our old watchman. Sharp at 8:45 these huge pair of gates would be closed.There would be a little door too...for other people to enter..and the notice board that you see right there always captivated us during monsoons....we'd wait for some holiday notes to be written so we could run back home. Emails or Phones or WhatsApp didn't exist then. Though these gates did scare us a few times...it very well taught us the bottom line.."Be Punctual!

THE SWEET SMELL OF SELF-RELIANCE

The beach has always intrigued me. It's the feeling of home that makes travelling to or residing in coastal areas a heavenly experience. That way, Tahiti is now on my bucket list. Rain or shine, from now on, my spirit to visit the islands in French Polynesia will remain staunch. Stories that are raw, fresh, original, and organic stand the test of time, whereas those that are polished to suit the intellectual needs of readers fail to leave a meaningful footprint. frangipani belongs to the former category. Survival struggles for women across the world are more or less the same. No surprises there. Materena Mahi brought back memories from my childhood and replayed conversations I had with my mom at our kitchen table. Despite the endemic cultural conditioning, women are naturally free-thinkers. Lack of financial independence and self-love has pushed them into the web of unhappy family units where they are expected to take care of everyone around them at the expense of their dreams, d

A PERFECT CARVING

Every school has an exclusive tree. A tree that wasn't just a provider of shade on sunny afternoons to lunch under but something of a quiet onlooker that stood steady against the backdrop of changes. We had Banyans, Peepals, Neems and Jojobas decorating the school compound like ornate Chandeliers. Flowers rained from the Cassia Fistula a.k.a the Golden Shower tree kept us busy as we created arty arrangements on the muddy ground. Those patterns lasted until the sound of school bells and a dash of cool winds dispersed everything. The Copper Beech set in the beautiful village of Shancarrig invoked my dormant childhood memories. At times, we deliberately lock up good moments in a corner of our brains lest it should arouse tearful nostalgia. Let the good old days stay tucked in because earnestly missing something isn't going to bring it back. It was a painful reminder of how much things have changed and how much we missed cherishing those moments when we had it all for ourselves.

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