Scribophile: Irony of Critiquing

I have been busy on Scribophile these days. It is a writer’s forum where one can read and critique others’ works. After one has 5 karma points, they can publish their works so that others can comment and critique. That’s exactly where the irony lies.

On Sunday, I critiqued a work inline (one can point out errors and suggest modifications word by word in this format). When I completed and looked back at the homepage, I had received an inline critique on a story I had submitted. I am grateful to everyone who critiqued the story. They showed me the errors and suggested some of the things I had never in my mind. When I ended reading the critiques, one thing became clear: We tend to turn a blind eye to our errors, while we tend to point out other people’s mistakes.*

I think it is our inherent nature that makes us able to show other people’s errors. Scribophile has helped utilize that inherent capacity for the growth of authors. And I am loving the irony in it.

*In Nepali we have a proverb: 

आफ्नो आङको भैंसी नदेख्ने, अर्काको आङको चैँ जुम्रा पनि देखाउने !

Transliteration: Aafno aang ko bhaisi na dekhne, arka ko aang ko chai jumra pani dekhaaune.
Translation (literal):

One does not see a buffalo on their body but shows lice on other’s bodies. (Excuse my translation!)

Leave Me Alone-2

Previously on Leave Me Alone:

In the first chapter, Sasha takes Ajay her home. Ajay, who had never gone in before, is mesmerized by the decorations. However, the portrait of a woman on red sari who looks similar to Sasha (Sasha says it’s her mother) grabs his attention. Later, he sees a woman on a red sari. Before he can who she is, he is attacked. Ajay flees away from Sasha’s home.

Continue reading Chapter 2 here. . .

Ajay was gasping. The chilly wind that hit his nose and lungs did not help him. His legs, too were giving in and his feet were burning on the cold pitch. He did not stop, however. After a few minutes of run, he had realized that he was not being chased anymore but his mind had warned him that it could be a trap. Even under fear and darkness, his sense of direction had helped him reach the police station. As soon as he had stepped in, he had collapsed.

Ajay opened his eyes upon a hard wooden bench. He saw two men in front of him. One of them was a bespectacled man of about sixty. He had white beard and his demeanour spoke of experience. The other was clean-shaven man of about thirty. He looked the more curious of the two. “Bring him something to drink,” the younger man ordered. In less than a minute, Ajay was offered a cup of tea.

“Hello, Ajay,” the bespectacled man spoke, “How do you feel now?”

Maybe because of the tea, Ajay’s body had felt a little better. But the very thought of what had happened at Sasha’s place chilled his spines. “Sasha is in danger,” he said to the old man. “You don’t look like a policeman. Who are you? How do you know my name?”

The old man smiled. “I am Madan Shrestha. I am a doctor and I live nearby. I had been called here by Inspector Pradhan,” he pointed at the younger man, “who also happens to be my son-in-law. We had personal matters to discuss. That was when you stumbled into the station.”

“And I asked him to helped you,” Inspector Pradhan said sternly. “We took your identity from your driving license. You look well off. How did you come up here without your shoes? Who is Sasha? You were muttering that she is in danger even while you were unconscious.”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Ajay said and gave the Inspector her address. He took the case in his hands immediately. Leaving a junior officer Krishna and Dr. Shrestha with Ajay, he set off with some cadets. Krishna, who had been intently listening to everything earlier, spoke asked, “Let’s know what had happened to you and your girlfriend, shall we?”

Ajay said, “We met at a conference about a month ago. We discovered many similarities between us and we soon got fond of each other. We exchanged numbers. Text messages soon converted into phone calls. The more we talked, the better we started knowing each other. A week later we went on our first date.”

Ajay told them that he had planned a special treat to celebrate Sasha’s birthday. A cake and dinner was ordered at 9 o’clock that evening. He had reached Sasha’s workplace ten minutes before her duty would end. He made a call, which Sasha had received on the eleventh time. She had soon come down, smiling. He had gone to her and had dragged to the car. He had opened the door and pushed her. He had been a little harsh and Sasha had been face down upon the seat. Ajay had never wanted such a thing to happen. She had looked a little furious. He had run to his seat and played her favourite music before he had driven them to Sasha’s house.

Sasha had smilingly asked him to come over at hers. Ajay had thought that she was angry with him because of what had happened earlier. He had not struck a conversation because of the very reason. He had been surprised and had denied the offer as he had often done. But she had pressed him hard. He would not have given in if he had not planned the treat himself. So he agreed. If he had agreed to go to her house earlier, she would not have been as excited at that moment.

Sasha had walked off the car and opened the gate. She had also shown him the garage, where he had parked the car. While he was walking towards the main door, he saw Sasha standing still on the porch. She looked like she was thinking something. When Ajay had called her, she had come out of her trance, or whatever it was, and had said that she had been waiting for her. Soon she had taken him through the main door, which opened into the living hall.

He had been mesmerized by the grandeur of the room. Its floor was covered by fine red carpet all over. In the middle of the room were three couches arranged in the shape of ‘U’. The bigger middle one faced the door that they had just entered from; one couch on its left faced the kitchen and the other in the right faced the bathroom. A low table lay in front of the bigger couch.

Two stairs went up from the living hall, one just from a little left from outside the kitchen and the other symmetrically left from outside the bathroom. They met on the other floor to form a balcony. Under the balcony, within the living room, there were several paintings. Due to low intensity of light on that part, however, Ajay could not properly see them from far.

While he had still been wandering about the hall, Sasha had entered the kitchen. He had heard the sounds of the gas stove being lighted up some minutes ago. The God of Mischief had led him into the kitchen. Sasha had turned her back towards the door and had been watching the milk-pan. Ajay had walked up slowly looking at his own face in the mirrors on the kitchen wall. He had also noticed a small mirror over the sink. As noiseless as a cat, he had reached Sasha and all of a sudden, grabbed her from behind. At the same time, the milk had boiled up and fallen over the stove, ceasing the fire. Ajay had been scared. He had made a mistake again. However, instead of punishing him, Sasha had pulled him forward to kiss him. The stench of the LPG had hit her nose at the very moment and she had pushed him away and had taken care of the situation immediately.

Though Sasha had not said anything, Ajay felt that his mischief had been enough to make her angry. He had quickly left the kitchen and had rushed into the living room again. He had explored the part under the balcony that time and had seen a portrait-like photograph. It was a life-size photograph of a woman on red sari and a matching blouse. Her shoes and bag too were red. She had put on a small bindi on her forehead and sindoor above it up to her hair. Her hair had been tied in a bun and curls were left out just above her ears. The photo stunned Ajay because the woman looked so much like Sasha but the photo did not look like it had been recently produced.

Therefore, while Sasha had entered with two mugs of coffee in her hands, he had asked if she had taken a photo of that sort. She had said that it was not hers. An idea struck into his mind that the woman on the photograph could be her mother instead, and she had confirmed it.

“After that, there was no question in my mind,” Ajay had continued. “I had strolled a little, sipped the coffee, I sat on the long couch. She had soon come and rested on my lap. I could see her beautiful eyes. They were full of love. I could not keep my own eyes off them. All of a sudden, her facial muscles twitched. The eyes that were filled by love had become furious. They looked as if she was about to pounce upon me.

“My reflexes tried to keep me away from her. As I jumped up, a little coffee fell upon her uniform. She lamented for a while and shot upstairs. Meanwhile, I emptied the coffee mug and put it on the table. I also noticed that Sasha had taken her mug upstairs for I could not find them in the room and I clearly remember that she had not gone into the kitchen either. I do not remember how long I sat alone in that living hall waiting for her. I was attracted to her mother’s photo and had taking a closer look at it again when I heard the sound of breaking glass from the direction of the kitchen.

“I hadn’t noticed if Sasha had come downstairs or not. I had no idea if she had been into the kitchen. I guessed she might have and dashed into the kitchen. Fragments of glass were scattered on the floor. The big mirror on the opposite of the sink had been the victim. I was careful not to step on them. (I had kept my shoes on the shelf outside the living hall.) Then I saw a woman advancing at me from the right corner of the room. I don’t understand if the photo had enthralled my mind already, for the woman who was sprinting towards me looked exactly like the one it.

“”Get out of the house,” she shouted at me. I refused to budge. She came forward at me and furiously swung her left arm at me. What I had not earlier realised was that she had carried a knife. By the time I could notice that, it had already landed upon my face.

“I howled, cursed and ran away with my hand pressing the wound on my face. Whoever this woman was, I was sure had gone crazy and was after me. I don’t know if she was Sasha’s mother whom I had not seen earlier; nor can I say what she has done to Sasha. At the time I fled, I just wanted to escape the wrath of that woman on the red sari. A little later, I mind just told me as I ran hard, ‘Go to the nearest police station, Sasha needs help.’ That’s what led me here and I collapsed before I could speak out anything to you.”

 

 

← Read Chapter 1                            

  Read Chapter 3→

Read More on the Story                         

A Story that took eight months to complete

I began writing Leave Me Alone through a concept while I was writing Quest during last year’s NaNoWriMo. I had written about a book Arun (the main character of Quest) reads during his vacation. Sometime later, I thought, ‘Why shouldn’t I write one such story myself?’

On 31st December, 2015, I began writing the story. I had set a goal to write about 4,000 words that resembled the story of the book Arun reads. I decided to use the first-person narration from the girl’s point of view. The first statement in that version was- “I was cold. So cold that it felt like my heart was frozen.”

When I read the first draft later, I was sure the story would not be completed in 4,000 words. Nor would one person’s view was enough. I decided to add one more character- the girl’s boyfriend. I made them enter the girl’s house together, where the boy would be attacked. Until then I had not given them names.

As I added more characters- a lawyer, a maid and a doctor- who, obviously had no names, I had to name the girl and the boy. That would make the narrations of latter characters easier. I gave them names- Ajay and Sasha. That was on May-April, I guess.
A month after I finished my notebook (not a computer) draft, I started typing. By this time, Ajay’s narration had preceded Sasha’s and each character was speaking in the first person PoV. When I reread that draft, I was distressed. They just looked like collection of judicial statements with only two characters having a little interaction.

Then I jumped to the PoV I am more comfortable on- the third person. And I decided to limit it, focusing one character during one chapter. ‘That will add suspense,’ I thought.

So the first time I typed it into the computer, Sasha’s PoV came up in the first chapter again. Sasha and Ajay would go to the girl’s home and Ajay would be attacked.

The same thing would be narrated by Ajay in different place. But there are differences and they are intentional. The foremost chapter has now become the third. The fourth, fifth and the sixth chapters have the stories of a maid, a lawyer, and Sasha’s dream on a back story linked with attack on Ajay. When the story ended, someone else than I had previously thought became the antagonist. I have not pointed them. 

I want you to unravel the mystery.*

*Note:The story is going to be published every Friday beginning on September 2, 2016. Be prepared!

Why Classes Become Boring

“A student is characterized by his curiosity,” some wise man had said. But most times a student has no option but to be bored in the classroom. Why do students (including me) are often bored in the class? Let’s first look at a case and then my experiences on being bored.

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Because I am not the only one!

A Sudden Realization

Yesterday, as I was studying the Himalayan evolution (chances are that you will be bored by the wiki article), I involuntarily let out these words: “There must have been a trench in between the Indian and the Eurasian Plates.” (Watch an animation of the collision here) My sister looked curious. I asked her if she had heard of Java and Mariana Trench. And then went on rambling about the evolution of the mountains in the Himalaya. When I ended, she said, “I understood just one thing.” It was that the plates collided to give rise to the mighty mountains. Other than that she understood NOTHING.

A Little Time-Travel

Last year. . .

My teacher (with due respect) used to give a non-stop lecture on the Himalayan evolution. At first, I felt curious and understood a little. A little later, he came up with heavy technical terms. Had I gone through it earlier, I might have felt it easier. But the heavy vocab killed my curiosity. Within less than a month, I was leaving classes.

Obviously, that is the reason I am studying Himalayan evolution NOW.

Back to the Present

I realized I was in the same condition last year as my sister is now with respect to the evolution of the Himalayas. I also understood why I left classes: Because I did not understand anything, and I felt bored.

The Mistakes Teachers Make

I have not taught in any school yet. I am not sure if I can handle the noise the students make. I don’t intend to hurt the feelings of teachers. However, I am a student and I can tell what mistakes of teachers bore me. So, here I go.

Mistake 1: When They say, “This does not belong to the course.”

Whenever my teachers say, “the thing I am teaching is not in your course/syllabus,” I react by slowly bowing my head and closing my eyes. I feel doomed. An hour for something that won’t fetch me numbers in the exam (no matter how practical that might be). I respond by taking a short nap or talking to a friend beside me (either disturbing myself alone or the whole class).

Mistake 2: When They DON’T Interact

Teachers think, Teaching is just giving lectures. In universities like mine, where there is very little time for the course-completion, this is absolutely true. There is almost no  interaction between the teacher and the students in the class. Teacher goes on giving hand-written notes/showing presentation slides, and students (includes me) are busy copying them. The teacher does not raise questions which make me involved in the lecture. And as I have very little background information, I cannot ask anything.

Logically,

  1. Teachers don’t ask relevant questions = Students don’t feel interested
  2. Students don’t feel interested = Students don’t answer
  3. Students don’t answer = Teachers feel superior
  4. Teachers feel superior = Teachers boast
  5. Teachers boast = Students get bored
  6. 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and 5 = NO Interaction
  7.  Also, 1 or 2 or 3 or 4 or 5 = NO Interaction

 

Mistake 3: When They Look Confused

What can I say about anything if I don’t know it well? My teachers are learned. They have achieved doctorates, but they do seem confused at times. Maybe they don’t have time to prepare. Maybe they feel they don’t need to prepare. I don’t know. But when they are confused, I get confused as well. I might try solving the confusion later; but only to point out their mistakes, sarcastically.

Mistake 4: When They Use Heavy Vocabulary

The first step in my education began from the letters: A, B, C. Then I was taught words: Apple, Ball, and so on. After that, I was taught to read sentences, paragraphs and stories. My language skill did not develop by magic. It took time.

I need time to understand my lectures as well. My teachers, however think that I should know everything within an hour of lecture. So, they rush on. When they use strong vocab and do not explain them well, I am gone; stumped.

A Look to the Future

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What if?

I might have to teach people who are going to outsmart me (logically as well as technologically) in the upcoming days. Let me be guided by this post then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Translation Fun

When we want some words, phrases and sentences translated, Google Translate is a useful tool. I had discovered its virtues while I was learning French last year and had tried to understand some German sentences a little earlier. It had helped me clear some doubts on the initial stages of French-studies.

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Source : http://www.beka-cookware.com

In Nepal, we often use a diuri to prepare tea, to boil water milk, pulse, and so on. A diuri (दिउरी) is a utensil with its height little less than its diameter and a single handle. I was writing a story in English and it was essential to include the utensil in the plot. So, I went to the Google Translate website and typed in the Nepali name. I was shocked by the translation.

It said “wetted”. And I knew it was wrong. No utensil could have been named wetted in English. So, I left the website and googled the names of utensils used for cooking. I redirected myself to Wikipedia. The list of utensils was surprising; and I went through the list and found two possible solutions. I had to confirm them.

Before I had entered Wikipedia, I had tweeted the question. Because my Tweets are linked to my Facebook, I expected to get answers on Facebook as well. I did get the answer from Suraj Nepal, who was a batch senior in my school. His answer confirmed what I had guessed.

Diuri (दिउरी) in English is called saucepan.

It’s not that the utensil cannot be used to prepare sauce and pickles but if you have to prepare tea, what word for the utensil would be the most suitable? A tea-pot!

[P.S.: I have joined the Google Translate Community and I’m contributing the words I can translate. It’s fun and challenging at the same time.
But I am still wondering if there is just a single word in English for “diuri”.
Also, this post has not been sponsored either by Google Translate or any cookware company.]

You are my Life!

LIFE IS IMPOSSIBLE WITHOUT LOVE. YOUR LOVE IS THE SPIRIT THAT BURNS THE LAMP OF MY LIFE.

Dear Family,

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What would I do without you? You make me the person I am. You three are the best people around me whom I can trust forever.

I would never have written this without you, Ankita. If you are not come up with the origami booklet, these words would not have been penned and they would not have come up on my blog today. Thank you, my sister. If you had not brought up the idea, I would have been thunderstruck on the most amazing day ever- the day on which Mother’s Day could be celebrated together with Father’s Birthday. When will such a chance be conjured again? I would have missed it if you had not done it.

Thank you Mamu for tolerating me. I am not easy to handle. You have said it again and again. To bear the thoughts of someone who lives more on dreams and online than reality can be troubling. It’s difficult to take care of me. But you have taken it in your safe hands. That’s why I don’t need to take care of myself while you are around.

Thank you Baba for shaping my personality. My personality is influenced by all three of you in my family but you are the one I feel my characters match to a great extent. I have learnt a great deal through you. Thanks a lot for giving me your attention and making me the way I am.

I know I am not the best but everyday I strive to be better. I might lack the essential skills to face the world. I might have been obstinate at times. I might not have lived up to your expectations. But I’ll ensure that I use the goodness you have fed into me to go on with my life. I will always make sure that I will be with you, in both my joy and sorrow. I promise I will make you proud.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mamu!
Happy Birthday, Baba!

Yours forever,
Ankit

(A note on Matatirtha Aunsi aka Mother’s Day on Friday. Aunsi is the new moon in Lunar Calendar used in Nepal. Fortunately, it was also the birthday of my father according to the Solar Calendar.)

I Believe!

“I believe in luck. Call it fortune, coincidence [or serendipity], I believe in incidents that occur all of a sudden and change the course of life.”
As I was thinking of the above statement from an essay by Nagendra, I knew I had to present instances if I had to bring it up an article. I got them in a magazine. The stories of Buddhi Tamang and Kameshwor Chaurasiya made me believe the statement even more.

Would you have ever thought that a man who was doing labour works could get into movies? That’s Buddhi Tamang. He worked in different places as a porter until someone told him to work at a theatre. Gradually he got into acting and was soon doing dramas. After doing a few movies, he worked in the superhit movie Kabaddi Kabaddi. “Hait,”- the one word that made him famous. His acting was praised by all. He now aims to be a director. All the best Mr. Tamang!

When you have a passion for something it’s better to pursue it. But this did not happen to Kameshwor Chaurasiya. He got involved in stage acting but could not get a chance in the theatre- in Nepal and in India as well. One day he declared himself a failure and started selling ‘chatpate’. His passion came up alive once again when he met Anup Baral, the famous director on the road. Though details were not provided, he got a chance somehow and rose to fame after his work in the movie Resham Filili.

Call them fortune, universal conspiracy or Maktub (as Coelho says in ‘The Alchemist’) or ‘lekhaanta'(in Nepali) I believe in instances of sudden change in fortune. This dangerously means loss as well although I have mentioned gain here.

***

I believe in God. As a student of science, I should not just believe in God. I should be able to show evidence on God’s existence. But I am not only a student of science. I live in a society that believes in divine power. My parents tell me to have faith in God. In fact, faith is a way of life.

Nepal is known as the home of Gods. Most people believe that the mighty Himalayas and the plain of the Terai are gift of God to the Humans. Living in Kathmandu, the capital city of Nepal aka the City of Temples, there is no way I can avoid God. If I say I don’t want to believe in God a hundred times, God somehow makes me believe in the Divine existence.

This week I saw in much details the process by which Goddess was invoked into a stone sculpture. Through Tantra-Mantra-Yantra, when the Goddess was said to have entered the statue, we could feel the change in energy. Everything looked beautiful. You could feel the positive vibes of the Mother entering into you. There were smiles everywhere. A transformation of Goddess also promised a transformation of Human hearts.

That’s one way of having a faith in God but I also believe in the existence of all powerful God within us that we often fail to identify.

***

I believe in Love. The soothing feeling while you are with your family, the comfort you feel with your friends, the awesome inexplicable feelings while you meet your lover- Love comes in various forms.

Love is within us and among us. But we fail to recognize it’s presence most of the times. That’s why the Buddha, Christ, Martin Luther King, Mahatma Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Florence Nightingale are special to us. Had there been no Love, the World would have fallen apart. I believe Love is what we live by (just like Tolstoy penned in ‘What Men Live By?’

***

At last:

I believe Love can change our Luck, Luck can help us discover God, God shows us way to Love and Love makes our lives worth living. I believe that if we can invoke God into a stone, there is no way we cannot discover God within us. It’s just matter of time, patience and well doing.

New Year Resolutions

2072 was a year to remember. Earthquake, economic bloackade, fuel shortage, intimacy with China and coldness with India. Dark clouds loomed all over but every dark cloud has silver lining- ancestors told in proverbs. Do we seek for the silver lining? Yes, we do.

The silver lining we seek for depends on our resolutions. Our resolution should be the following so that we can do something to help ourselves.

1. Developing sincerity
We do tasks for the sake of doing them. We do homeworks so that we can show them to teachers, that too with an intention to cheat. But we did so because our teachers were not sincere. They did not instruct us well.

Why would they? Facilities and wages at government schools and colleges are not enough to solve their family problems. The government run academic institutions say that they have not been sent enough budget. The money to be spent on education is not sent because the Secretary at the Ministry of Education is on a leave. Some parents are trying to bribe him so that their children can get a medical scholarship. He does not want to support corruption but he alone can not do anything. The “system” does not help. We make the system. It is insincere because we are, fair and square.

Sincerity on our own part can help a lot in upbringing of a good system.

2. Learning to be happy

We are not happy. Why? We are not involved in the works we are the best at. The society wants us to do whatever it wants. We give in. Our dreams die.

Did they really die? Not quite. They might have been unconscious. Suppose we wanted to be famous in robotics but under unavoidable circumstances, we could not join science in plus two. We had to study commerce. We had pledged to be sincere. So we sincerely studied and sought for happiness. Happiness came up when we saw Computer Programming as a subject. We took an interest and then one day, we dream of writing a program for a robot. Our dream was alive all the time. It was just unconscious for some time.

3. Willing to fight
As said before, we set up the system and if we are to change it, we have to fight the people who support wrongdoing in the name of system.

Are we thinking of beating them up? Wait! Life is not a movie. We can not do that to someone who supports the system. Someone on the top of the system can attack us easily.

What do we do? We seek help of the constitution and laws. We seek help from each other. We raise our voices, not our arms. We sincerely do our works. We happily get involved in the change. We gradually fight the system. Slowly, steadily we reach the common dream of making Nepal the most prosperous country.

4. Developing rational/logical thinking
Suppose we have moved on to pursue the Great Nepalese Dream. Meanwhile someone says, “We were happier while we could easily bribe officers. The new system controls corruption but does our work slow.”

Do we pause thinking that the person is right or do we move on solving the problem he pointed out- slow working? The correct logic would show us new paths. The incorrect one would take us back to where we had struggled to come from.

If we can distinguish right from wrong, we will definitely progress.

Lastly,
Our resolution is the silver lining of the dark clouds. The silver lining been found, we need to work them out on solving our problems. The dark clouds will scatter soon. The sun will shine brightly. The sky will be our limit.

Note:
The New Year I mention here is the Two Thousand and Seventy-Third year of the Bikram Sambat (Calendar of King Bikram).

This World is an Art!

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March marks the beginning of Spring here in Nepal. Plants that shed their leaves during Winter have are already beginning to come up with new leaflets and flowers. As I look up my surrounding, I am inspired by an Art, of which Nature is the artist.

“Life is an art,” some philosophers say. Life is an art because the world we live in is an art itself. Everything here has been thought of by Someone so that we can live here. I realized this one recent day while reading the properties of water. The pH, boiling temperature, freezing temperatures, and specific capacities of water are unique to support life. Water also has lower density while it is in a solid form (ice). Because solid ice floats over liquid water, life can go under the ice capped water bodies. Water is a wonderful artistic creation of Nature.

“All the world is a stage,” Shakespeare once wrote. We are enacting everything that Someone wants us to do. We don’t realize, but everything seems to be written by Someone’s Hands. “Maktub,” the Arabians of Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist would say. The guidance is an art an we are following it so that we ourselves can be involved in artistic creation.

“Imagine if our lives were the dreams of Someone, that when They wake up we die and They start living,” I had read in Mistika- the most bizarre book I have read till date. I would say- Imagine we are the characters of a mega novel. The Writer would add fine details to every second of our activities and would move us as They would want. When the Writer feels it’s enough, They would kill us. There would be no option. We ourselves  do that many times. We love our characters as we develop them but there comes a time when the story does not move ahead without their death or we don’t feel free unless they die. Sir Doyle did that to Sherlock Holmes only to reincarnate him sometime later.

The Art of the Nature is the magnificent of all. There is everything for us to live. Nature nurtures us with Love. Nature Herself destroys us, but that’s only the transformation of the body made up of the Nature’s five elements- Earth, Water, Fire, Air and Metal. No life sustains without these. Who created them? Who created the Nature? I believe on a Supreme Being, the imperfect Artist of the artists- the first Author of the Universe and of this World. The flawed Writer who aims at crafting a beautiful story every time They set to write one. The One who teaches us to live and learns from us at the same time.

Why I love ‘Temple Run’

Almost everyone who has Android phone must have been acquainted with Temple Run. I do not intend to describe the features of the game (it’s there on Google Play Store and several other websites) but compare it with life.

Life? Does Temple Run have anything related to life? Yes, it has. And I realised it as I was “running” a character on the screen one day. Yep, I was looking at him and (SLAM!) he hit a tree. This was the moment I correlated the game with life for the first time. No matter how much, how fast one runs, death is inevitable. You DIE ultimately!

I, then winded my mind back where the game had started. The race starts as an idol (which is both a blessing and curse) is taken from a “temple”. “Take the idol if you dare,” the game challenges. One can not control their ego and begins the race immediately.

As already said, the idol has a blessing as well as a curse with it. As soon as one takes it, three(?) monkeys start chasing the character. In the sequel, Temple Run 2, one ursine monkey(?) chases. There are perks, however. The more you run and at a faster pace, points and gold increase. But whatever amount you gain, death will come up.

Let’s compare this with life now. The race of life begins once one becomes conscious of lives around them. One starts learning things, then they are sent to schools, colleges, universities and then the race for job begins. There are perks during the race- money, family, friends. But there are also troubles. One might even have to confront enemies. Ultimately one dies.

One thing about the game makes it different from life- “Run Again”. Even after a number of lives, I can make the character “run”, and resurrect. Resurrection and Reincarnation have been described in the Geeta, I am not sure when it will happen. In the game, I can opt for it in no time. This is why I love Temple Run.