So, here’s the world, remade!

If I had to remake the world, I would keep it just the way it is with just two changes. There is a lot wrong with the world today but these two things are all I would change and then hope that all other things wrong will sort itself out.

The problem with the world as it is today began with the evolution of human beings. Food and shelter being primary needs, humans began ravaging the earth to ensure that they survived. In order to have control over resources where food and shelter was abundant. There began a struggle to have and control more than others. As the world transformed, those with more energy and power had better access to food, shelter and more than is needed to survive.

The other problem with the human race today that I would like to change stems strongly from inequality. The foremost and oldest being gender inequality. Controlling women meant increasing one’s tribe and thereby having more people to work and create more wealth and thereby more power.

The first change in a world remade…

Imagine a world where trees thrive.

Trees with leaves that were solar panels;

An end to fighting over food and energy.

Imagine a world where trees thrive.

The second change in a world remade…

Imagine a world where each human would thrive.

Both men and women would bear children;

An end to power control and rapes.

Imagine a world where every human would thrive.

Oh yes, there is the problem with population so…

A human could bear a child only once in their lifetime.

Sorry, but that’s the way it would be in a world remade

Remade by me… Remade by me…

“So, here’s the world, remade!” I would beam.

I am participating in the #TheWorldRemade activityat BlogAdda in association with India Today #Conclave15. This is my take on what I would change if the world was remade.

Birth of a Story.

She sat brooding; alone in a corner.
As the sunlight poured in breaking through a misty morning,
She stretched a hand reaching out for particles of dust,
As they danced to their own rhythm; random to the world.

The warmth from the sun filled her soul,
Bringing with it a message from the universe.
"Go forth..." it said, "you are to spread this word."
"And spread it today. For tomorrow, will bring a new message."

Hurriedly she stood up and ran to her desk;
Like a God she watched down at the desk,
Strewn with books and papers and pens and mugs,
A box of bills sat in the middle, staring back at her.
With anger and frustration, she pushed everything down,
With a smooth sweep of her hand, on to the floor.

A book and pen she picked from the mess,
And sat herself down on the chair.
Ne'er once did she move from the chair;
Ne'er once did she come up for air nor water.
She wrote and wrote until her tired eyes pleaded for light,
As twilight turned to dusk and burdened them.

And so a story was born.
And so a writer was born.

There Are No Monsters Under The Bed My Darling

And so she went, this morning, like every morning.
Her hair tied up in two neat little ponytails,
A smile on her lips and a large, heavy school bag.
I smiled and waved out to her as she got in the bus.

My day was as ordinary as any other.
I had tea with friends and a book I read.
Not one to turn on the idiot box in the mornings,
I did so today, don't ask me why...

My heart sank as I saw a familiar building,
A building I saw at least four times a year
At least two PTA Meetings..
One Sports Day and an Annual Day

And that was yesterday.
Today, my life is empty.
My soul is dead.
I feel nothing.
I do nothing.
I think nothing.

She doesn't smile at me any more
And I feel nothing.
I am as dead as she.
I am as dead as you.

NOTE: This is my very small dedication to over a 100 little souls that were lost yesterday at the Army Public School in Peshawar, Pakistan killed by Taliban monsters in the name of religion. I cry as I write this yet I cannot refrain from writing it. There is nothing that can set this right. The world is not in order. Not one bit.

Ramblings About Fictional Characters

I can never stop myself from getting into the world of characters in a book. That for me defines a well-written story. I just finished reading +Lisa Genova's Still Alice for a project I am working on and pretty much became Alice, feeling her journey and living her life in the two days it took me to finish reading the book.

My family and friends worry for themselves when I begin reading an intense book because my conversations usually revolve around issues the protagonist faces in the story. In some way reading helps discover new topics of conversations and makes even uncomfortable conversations easier to have such as mortality, life after death, spirituality, sexuality, parenting and more.

The challenge for a writer is to create characters that will be remembered long after the story is read and the book is back on the shelf or in the storage space of an iPad. Recently I was talking to someone who I know through an online group over the phone and in the middle of the conversation she said "Wait, aren't you the one who wrote the Bushaka stories? My daughter loved those stories and still talks about Bushaka" You can only guess how wide I was grinning. I think the high of writing fiction is when someone recognizes you in reference to the characters you have created. But the genius in creating epic characters like a Harry Porter or Percy Jackson in recent times for young audiences simply amazes me.

As I get back to writing my stories after this post, I am hoping that an unforgettable character is waiting to come alive through the screen while I type away frantically. The day feels perfect for the birth of a new fictional person.

If you read this post, I would love to hear from you through your comments on fictional characters that have stayed with you in your life far longer than you though they would.

I Was To Write About Love

As part of the Marathon Bloggers group on Facebook, I was to write on the topic of Love owing to  the fact that it was Valentine's Day week/month. Firstly, I had to set aside a mind-block I have about such commercialized days which only benefits the Archie's of the world, before I could sit down to write this.

Love to me is a very complex emotion. An emotion that I am constantly unearthing in myself and defining as I travel through this life. For a very long time, I was in love with the concept of being in love and so it was easy to think I was in love over and over again, with family, with friends, with people I had just met and so on.

Over the years though, I know one thing for sure, I know how to figure out if I love someone. I know I love someone when I feel the intense need to protect them even when I am angry with them. This holds good for any relationship - as a mother, as a friend, as a daughter, as a partner, as a niece and as a sister.

If that's the case, what emotion would be the opposite of love? I asked myself...
My answer - it is pure indifference. I know I do not love someone when there is a complete lack of empathy on my part towards the other person regardless of situations and circumstances. Followed by no guilt when I feel this way (or rather don't feel).

So, well when I started, I was to write about love but here I am understanding love by learning what love is not. As the journey continues, the definition of love for me will either get more pronounced, redefined or blurred. When I am really old and grey, may be the definition will not matter, may be the fact that I have been loved and have loved will be my definition of love. Until then this is it!