Dubaara Math Puchna

I am leading a “Mute” life at home these days; that’s not watching TV, not talking loud over the phone to be precise the whole talking is prohibited due to the ongoing PU board exams (Yes Vatti is studying). I and mom are forced to text each other inside home sweet home. Also I am juggling between not-so-obvious heavy work at office, filling appraisals, blogging for SPI’s online presence to obvious wedding shopping at home (Please do not expect me to list the tasks as that by itself will become a big post).

Past many have asked how & when & why I started writing including my fiancée. Today I was briefing one of my colleagues the “actually what happened story” and it struck to me that it must put up here as well so that whenever someone shoots the same set of questionnaire I just lead them towards this post.

Its very interesting why I started writing!!

This goes way back when I had my “I Love You Rasna girl” haircut; Hmm say 3rd std.
In one of the Parent Teacher meet, the class teacher told mom how good I was in my studies, how good my vocabulary was, and how good I was in many other things (which if listed feels like I am blowing my own trumpet), and finally teacher complained that I talk a lot. I still remember the kind of let-me-get-home-and-tackle-you look mom gave me.

I guess even teacher saw that fierce gaze so she came up with the solution that she will change the place where I sit and put me between guys. Now how that would stop me from talking I never got an answer.

I am sure you would have guessed that it did not help much in solving the problem; all though I never thought that it was a problem. What is the big deal if someone talks too much? Why does it bother anyways?

Getting back to the topic (Oh I guess problem is that it wastes time), anyways, so in the next Parent Teacher meeting the same was reported. Mom suggested that I should be made the monitor so that I get the task of pointing who talks standing near the blackboard with no one around to chat with.

See this is what you call an idea. I am so thankful to the Mendel and his genetics; both of us get weirdest of all ideas and we also implement them by hook or crook.

There I was, monitor of the class. If you think this was the solution, negative. Myself being so talkative I encouraged people to talk & yap by not writing any names on the blackboard. The tension increased and the class became the noisiest of all. Teacher was blamed and she in turn blamed mom.

This was when mom actually bought matters home. She made me my favorite gulab jamun and asked me why I talk. “I love to talk” was my answer.

She came up with another idea and recommended when ever I felt like talking I should take out a book and write. The End; I mean story over and that is how it started. Everyone started living happily ever after.

For me writing is more than anything in the world; I loved writing letters to people (even my neighbors) until mobile phones came into picture.
Those were the dry days but soon email era started & my happiness knew no bounds when the concept of “Blogs” started

So if you want to be an aspiring writer, just keep that finger (fore finger) on your lips and start scribbling.