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While growing up, I have been closer to my mother, more than I have been to my father. One of the reasons may be because Maa was mostly at home. While staying at home, by no means she allowed herself to stay the conventional housewife who did only cooking, laundry, cleaning and the one hundred miscellaneous household chores. She did more, much, much more. She tutored primary school kids, stitched all our school uniforms, knitted all the woollens that we wore, and for a short period of time even worked in a sauce making factory. Despite my father’s traditional approach to their marriage, my mother always strived to be enterprising. She always chipped in the household expenditures, paid our tuition fees, bought any reference book we needed for school. All that, while trying to please a husband who was far from understanding, or even knowing what it was to be a woman in the that era. I don’t blame my father either. He did what he saw around. They have been married for thirty-one years. While both my parent’s outlook and behaviour have changed for me and my sister over the decades, they still remain in their old, outdated understanding of marriage. Famished with any kind of intimacy, they struggle to communicate even for the smallest things. One generation ago, my grandmother’s time, a similar situation was probably much more incomprehensible, and before that much, much more. As me and my sister got older, my parents felt more comfortable in sharing individually, their dissatisfaction over their relationship with each other. They loathed each other. It pained me to see them going through so much misery. Initially in my mid-twenties I tried my hand in amateur counselling, and suggested them a stack of possible solutions. For example, to forgive each other for past mistakes, to ignore what can be ignored, to appreciate each other more often, to respect and trust each other more, and the most important, to communicate clearly and openly instead of merely assuming. All that counselling was a failure, and I wiped my hands from trying that again. However, from my heart and soul, I did not want to give up on the two most important people of my life. I knew how rewarding the right efforts could be in making a relationship successful and I wanted that for them. To see two extremely good looking and beautiful souls fall apart from each other was heart breaking for me, not only as a daughter but also as an individual who believed that every problem, big or small, was solvable. Except that this was not. They cared too much about the society to actually face their own problems, and so they never divorced each other either. While I still often think about how to make two people fall in love with each other after being married for that long (to each other), they weaved a life around their miseries. Even though living under the same roof, they stopped sharing the same bed for years. They don’t talk to each other anymore. They don’t laugh anymore, together or alone. But they refuse to live in any other way either. Every time I go home on a break, I see how the love of my life, both my parents, have become so comfortable in an uncomfortable relationship.

Much like the cliched saying, "what goes around, comes around", the topic for today's (writing+gossip) writssip, holds some truth to our lives, in big and small ways. If you introspect a little, I have no doubt that you will find examples from your day to day lives that would resonate with the heading! While you do that, let me share with you an interesting, and a bit embarrassing evening that I had recently, and which solidified the above saying. I am a people’s person, at least at work, or if a situation needs me to be. On any other occasion I am the happiest if left alone. I have gone for dinners alone, to the movies alone, for shopping alone, let’s just say I am pretty independent not just financially but also pretty much emotionally. I adore my own company. I love talking to myself, and not just in my head. The raised eyebrows don’t bother me anymore. My husband is pretty much used to my sermons to the invisible too, after 9 years of being with me, and doesn’t bother me with his curiosity anymore. May be silently even finds it adorable. After a fourteen hours flight and seventeen hours shift, I checked in at the Pullmans hotel near the infamous Melbourne Cricket Ground. It was early morning, and this beautiful calm city was in its usual chilly self. Now thinking about it, I might have been to Melbourne atleast fifteen times in ten years spread across different seasons. Each visit have been atleast thirty hours stay, and during all these stays I have not once felt the scorching sun on my face! Not to say that Mel is always gloomy like London (don’t even get me started on the soul shattering weather of this city), the sun does show up generously but it glints in a way that makes you feel that life is good, and also carry a light weight jacket everytime you head out. That morning was shyly windy, and I was cursing myself for not wearing the cardigan underneath my uniform blazer. Once inside the reception area, the entire crew of twenty four huddled in and around the couch, the suitcases and the receptionist. I felt warm and cozy. I also had to complete a couple of pending flight reports and I got busy with it, as the rest of the crew started checking in one by one. It took around twelve to fifteen minutes for the crowd to disperse and then I went to the counter. Two other crew from the economy cabin were still at the counter with their phones, scanning a QR code. I could have just avoided a whole new conversation but I was still in uniform and the ‘people’s person’ inside me was still awake, tired though. Apparently, scanning the QR code makes one a member of the hotel with a complimentary bottle of wine. Not much of a wine drinker but who was I to deny a free bottle of wine. The middle class in me approved of the decision to hoard something that I didnt even enjoy. Also, it was too early to drink. However it was also a thirty eight hours layover. I slept till late afternoon. Almost seven hours. Less than my expectation, especially after being awake for almost 20 hours. But I told myself that if I planned the rest of the night well and somehow managed to stay awake till morning, and then sleep, I should be able to get a good ten hours sleep at least, before the wake up call. So I started by freshening up, have a cup of tea, sent a couple of texts to mom and dad, and then browsed through the room service menu. Developed countries have excelled in many things but hospitality is definitely not one of them. A twenty four hours room service menu doesn’t take a lot but apparently with countries that are high up in the development index, it surely is one impossible task. I am guessing that their lack of being subjected to colonialism makes them that way. On the other hand countries like India, Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, Vietnam, even African countries have excellent levels of hospitality, thanks to their past of bowing down to their colonialists. Anyway, back to my evening. The full range of room service menu was available till 10pm. Afterwards there was only an extremely stringent number of options were available. Now if I was a customer with a normal 9-5 routine, this would have worked perfectly for me, but that wasn’t the case. The night was my day and I needed access to food. It was 9.45pm by the time I finished my reports. Perfect time to open that free bottle of wine. Some fries, a good movie to watch in Netflix, and I will be having the best layover soon. All I had to do was order for the fries and the dinner within the next fifteen minutes. I was used to eating cold food so as long as I had the food of my choice. The bell rang after about 45 mins. I was already down with a few sips of the chilled wine. I opened the door and a younger guy, perhaps in his early 20s was standing outside holding a big tray of food and a bill for me to sign. He asked my permission to keep the tray inside my room while I signed the bill. He left with a polite goodnight, and some whiff of an expensive smelling perfume. White people! I settled down with my glass of wine and opened the covered plate of French fries. Freshly fried, chunky, with dips. For someone who liked MCDs French fries, this felt like an upgrade. I took one, dipped it in the sour cream and took a generous bite. Just perfect. I topped myself up generously with the wine. The bottle was now half empty, and my brain was almost full. Full of dopamine and serotonin. I was happily chatting away with every Neena, Lila, and Sheila on my watsapp list. I never made it to the movie as I was busy sharing my wisdom with everyone. The kind of wisdom that comes after a few drinks. To be fair, they asked for it. Lucky for me, the room had a table clock that was also a radio and a bluetooth speaker. What else could I ask for to make this evening better! I connected it to my phone and played my Spotify list. I recently started listening to Anuv Jain, so I kept playing his song husn in loop for a while, and then moved to Sona Mohapatra, Ben E King, Pink, and Tom Odell. I was having the time of my life. Only that at some point the wine reached till my neck! And this is where things got a little crazy. I started drinking lots of water. The wine was now slowed down. I had to shake off the feeling of getting drunk. I am 33, I can’t be feeling drunk, I told myself. People in their early 20s get drunk, like the room service boy. The last time I got drunk I was about 22 years old, and I have grown up since then, I added to myself. I can’t be throwing up like a teenager or a 22 year old again! All these self talk did not have much impact on my body, for my mouth was salivating and it wasn’t associated with hunger and food. You my reader, if you have ever thrown up after not understanding your body’s limit to process alcohol and kept drinking, then you know my ordeal here. I quietly walked to the washroom, and gargled with water. I splashed some water on face too. I took my time to wipe myself dry and then slowly walked back to my drinking corner. I couldn’t stand the sight of the bottle at this time. I put the half finished glass and the bottle away. Drank a couple more glasses of water. But it only seemed to make things worse inside. I ran back inside the washroom, and left the tap open as my body decided to throw back out every single drop of alcohol and food that I put inside of me for the past hour or so. Ten or may be fifteen minutes later, I finally felt that my stomach was absolutely empty and that there was nothing else that could come out of it. Other than maybe some burps. Empty stinky burps. Needless to say I was embarrassed by my juvenile attempt to finish one whole bottle of wine in one evening all by myself. Anyway, what is done is done. I was gonna own up to it like an adult and get my shit together before calling it a night. A night well spent…would be pushing it. No night spent well ends in the washroom, unless.  I brushed my teeth like there was no tomorrow. I gargled. Took a small wash. Composed myself and looked in the mirror, and until I was convinced that I didn’t look like a drunk anymore I kept splashing water on my face. After ten minutes or so, my eyes were still red. There wasn’t much apetite left but like a responsible adult I had to feed my empty stomach with something substantial other than the fries. I had two slices of my dinner, drank another couple of glasses of water and then called my husband to give him some layover gossip of myself getting drunk alone. So, in conclusion, other than the just the physical realms of our existence and our actions, whatever goes inside of our minds and hearts, eventually finds a way to come out to the world. Not to drink one whole bottle of wine by myself, was the second piece of conclusion that I  slept with that night. If you liked reading my mini stories, please share your email. I solemnly promise you to not spam it with anything other than more mini stories.

Author: Amitava Kumar Words: Approximately 95000 I picked up the book expecting it to be some sort of a memoir. My expectations were not completely shattered as each chapter blended into another, however I never felt the euphoria of relating, which I usually felt while reading memoirs! When I say ‘relating’, I mean the similarities in circumstances, or in relationships, or in dilemmas, or even in struggles that a reader often identifies with the author’s own experiences, and that’s what makes memoirs so personal, and emotional and gritty. But I might add the fact that I have read five memoirs written by three female authors, and two by male authors including this very recent one. I have immensely enjoyed the first six memoirs because it felt like the authors stripped their experiences naked and put it in front of the reader as it is. Kumar might have done the same thing with his writing however it filled my cup of ‘relating’ halfheartedly. I am guessing may be because he is a man, so his experiences, perceptions and reactions to circumstances and story telling would perhaps be different than from a woman, and that could have affected my reading experience as well as expectations. The title was purely the only reason why I picked up the book at a book fair. The word ‘Immigrant’ took my attention! I assumed that a book written by an Indian immigrant would have stories of excitement, disappointments, cultural shocks, struggles, triumph, and all the other nuances of an immigrant life! It had romance though. A reasonable part of it did. And that part was good writing. Not the typical hyped up Indian author’s mediocre writing that makes romance look more vulgur than poetic. Kumar is fluent in expressing romance in a tasteful manner without an ounce of overdone! It was actually enjoyable! The rest of the book was about his life as a Literature Masters student in NYC all the way from Bihar. Just the sound of it might make you want to pick up the book but it has its pitfalls, like the ones I shared above! May be if I was a student like him, I would have enjoyed reading his chronicles more. But working from the age of 17 made me a different person. A person that considered an expat student life to be a luxury that not everyone could afford. So, at your own risk, you may give Kumar’s IMMIGRANT MONTANA a read! A 5/10 for this book from me, atleast for now! May be I might have a broader perspective to appreciate this book more in my forties and fifties! We’ll see.

Author: Stephen King Total Pages: 453 Total Words: 140000 (approx) This book has 4 different stories, all under the broad genre of ‘horror’. Each story could be a novel in itself, for its sheer length. This is the first time I have laid my hands on the ‘horror’ genre, and I think I couldn’t have picked a better author! King’s imagination is beyond fascinating, and the fact that his writing is so, so well put together from every aspect, that it is nothing but pure joy for a reader to read his creation! 1922: A farmer murders his wife and eventually is consumed by the guilt of the sin, and is killed the spirit of his wife. (Many dark mysteries throughout the plot). Fair Extension:  A cancer patient meets an (evil) entity, in the form of an almost human, and shared his wish to get rid of the disease. His wish is granted for a very sick price. ( Dark twists throughout the story). Big Driver: A fiction writer is raped by a stranger in the middle of nowhere where,  and is almost left to die by the side of the creek. She miraculously lives and takes an equally dirty revenge. (Suspense throughout)! A Good Marriage: A serial killer’s wife finds out that her husband of more than two decades is a molester and a murderer, and decides to take matters into her hands. Under The Weather: the 5th story is too small, so I won’t mention anything about it, other than this that it’s a mix of horror and disgust, but also of love. I don’t need to write about King’s writing, for obvious reasons. I am surprised as to how in the holy hell I didn’t stumble across his books before! From the plot, to the character details, to the scene descriptions, to the character’s physycology, everything is thought of, and then put into words, so very exquisitly. Honestly I have no adjectives to praise this kind of writing! If you like reading books, doesn’t matter any genre, you must get yourself a Stephen King! His books are a must in every book lover’s library! 10/10 for this masterpiece!

It has been eleven days into 2024, and I must say, that I am impressed by its generosity! I say it with the risk of ‘saying it too early’, but I have learnt with the years that, it is important to acknowledge and appreciate the good things in life, no matter how small or big. Much like manifesting gratitude. And this is what I am doing right now, right here. I have been blessed with spending time with my husband, and got to give myself some physical rest by being away from work. I have made it a point to call my parents more frequently than before (once a day atleast), engage in my hobbies of reading, writing and creating art in my days off, doing household chores as frequently as possible. It feels therapeutic to maintain an organised, clean and cozy home with one’s own hands. As much as I am practising gratitude daily, I would like to practice balance too. Balance between work and family life, challenging and leisure activities, physical, mental, emotional and financial balance. It sounds like a lot, but balance is important. Yin and Yang is imperative for an overall well-being, and for the next 356 odd days, I hope to consciously indulge in this (hopefully life changing) practice.

Author: Deborah Rodriguez Pages: 293 Words: 87000 approx The Moroccan Daughter is Rodriguez’s second book that I have had the pleasure to read. I wouldn’t share the synopsis here, because I have come to realise overtime that it spoils the mystery of the plot, and it doesn’t do any justice to the entire story writing. A picture of the book blurb (back cover) is included though, for your reference. Rodriguez's writing style is paced just perfect. She doesn’t rush the reader to the next event of the scene, nor she makes it monotonous by describing every smallest detail of the characters or the scene, which could make a huge difference in the quality of the reading. The plot has reasonable suspense, and leads you rightfully to the ending without taking any shortcuts, which signifies that the author has done justice to the story until the very end (which is a treat for the reader). The story takes the reader to the streets of Casablanca, and Fez, and Marrakech. It indulges the reader in the Moroccan culture which is fascinating, and actually made me want to visit the country (and I did after a month or so). The characters did have a reasonable depth, but not to the likes of Andy Weir, or Dan Brown, or Stephen King for instance. Overall it was a decent read for a couple of lazy afternoons. If you like reading Chetan Bhagat’s books, you might like Rodriguez’s books too! I will give this book a 5/10.

It is all meaningless, isn’t it! Our home has completed yet one more circle around the big ball of fire, and it’s time to celebrate that achievement! Even if it has nothing to do with our own achievement but why not do what everyone does, and live with the fear of missing out. Isn’t that most of the holidays are about anyways…? Bare truth be told, all the holidays are about that. The rush of doing things because, if not now, then when.., after all? The world has become less darker but there are still genocides happening because a bunch of people decided that their god is more powerful than the other’s, and that it is okay to kill children in the name of patriotism, and that nationalism justifies wars! Nothing can ever justify war. Nothing can ever justify killing of innocents, even in the name of collateral damage for a bigger cause. While physical safety is paramount for a human being, mental, emotional and financial safety is equally important. Just because I look okay doesn’t necessarily mean that I am doing okay! Would be good to see a world with less cunning, sly, and dishonest people. On a personal note, I haven’t really had any achievements other than getting my driver’s license this year, especially  living in the Middle East where getting a license to drive is as hard as passing your NEET with your desired grades at the first attempt (I got my license at the 3rd attempt). I also managed to read 9 books, and presently two timing between a fiction and a non fiction, if I can call that as an achievement (not the two timing). I have always kept, supporting my parents, as a top of the list priority, and I was able to get a car for them this year, which made me feel like a good daughter (I have a psychological need to please my loved ones). At the bottom of my list, is my itch to become a pilot. It was at the top of my list in the beginning of the year, but by the end of 2023, my hyper realistic and practical mind kind of succeeded to convince me that it’s a dream too big to handle. That it will consume my entire circumstances. That it’s almost foolish to give up one’s entire life savings (and some more) to chase a dream that might or might not bring the illusion of happiness and a sense of ultimate accomplishment that I have ever wished for. (Being a pilot is one of the most expensive courses in the world, just FYI). My itch has gotten less intense, however it is still there, consuming a small part of my mind, silently making me feel a plethora of mixed emotions every once in a while. Truth be told, I am ending the year with a mixed feeling of ‘settling down’ and ‘being realistic’, and ‘money is not everything’ mind state. But May be that’s what being an adult is all about! So, here’s to another year of being a nobody with unfulfilled dreams! Happy (or not) New Year! Yours truly, The stoic blogger

Human life is meaningless, a bottomless pit of unnecessary chores and things to do till we die… we hurt others, knowingly unknowingly, others wage wars, there is hatred, selfishness in leaps and bounds just about everywhere, and while all this is happening, humans make more humans, by procreating… (Mind you, procreation creates families, and families are synonymous for warmth, love, safety, but then gradually all the toxic air takes over and it slyly replaces all these fuzzy feelings with hard and bitter emotions) and this meaningless rut goes on in the name of democracy, communism, socialism, dictatorship, capitalism and the list goes on and on, and will go on till humanity eventually and hopefully ceases to exist. We are churning into nothingness. In this acutely meaningless world, and meaningless life, I wish to be among the wise, the wise who have chosen to acknowledge this raw truth in its truest, barest, without a pinch of sugar and spice as it is form, and have come to the conclusion that life as it is, is hard, and to make it worse, it is utterly meaningless too; so the most and undoubtedly the only meaningful strand that can be and must be added to it, is this : to make it easier for each other. To make life easier for each other. As much as I am trying to make it easier for me, I will try the same for you, and if it is a competition, I will hail it as unnecessary; if it is game of tug of war, I will know where to draw the line, expecting you to know it too! And if you don’t, then you my fellow earth dweller, is an absolute and total waste of the only fuck that brought you into this world, by the two people who could have done better things in that same time! Like Beauty, Truth is in the eye of the beholder. Our truths might be very different from each other or perhaps not, but this is my truth, this meaningless existence of my life, and of the other eight billion or so. J    S    D

Author: The talented, Amish Tripathi Amish is one of my favourite authors, and I won't further indulge in why his books are my favourite, as I have written in my previous blogs in detail about his super talent of being an excellent storyteller. This blog is more about the story itself and it's characters. Ram is understandably the ‘perfect’ leader and king and husband and son and what not! He is idolised by everyone, including the villain himself! He probably was, that kind of an individual who by all means deserved all the attention, ultra respect, and admiration that he was getting from every possible direction, however To a reader like me, it just seemed like he was surrounded by a lot of ‘kiss-ass’ people. Like how could he not have even one hater, or atleast someone who perhaps thought out loud that there is just too much hype around this man for whatever reason! The idea of the perfect individual, in this case, king Ram, is not only ostentatious but also quite frankly  over the top unbelievable. Despite Ram being the ‘hero’ of the book 4 of Ramchandra series, I found my own set of favourite characters as I drew closer to the grand finale. Characters who seemed real, sensible, away from any limelight, and to some extent believable. Here they are: Sursha: fiercely confident, extremely expressive, an equalist, hopeless romantic who didn’t shy away at all from making the first move when it came to expressing her romantic feelings for Hanuman. She was a bad bitch and I loved that about her. Arishtanemi: The silent lover of Sursha, despite knowing that her heart was for another man. And yet he avenged her death. That’s like an amalgamation of emotions and feelings and honestly, to an extent relatable. Shatrughan: Intelligent, away from limelight, Sensible about his weakness, very logical. Raavan: Conversationalist, intelligent, talks straight up, realist, reader, and philanderer and torturer too unfortunately, but that’s what made his character more believable. He had a fan following, but he also had a massive number of haters too, and that’s what made his character more believable! Vibhishan: Opportunist, honest to himself at-least, cockish, loved flattery, was very good in his craft. He was like a middle class businessman of today’s world, trying to save his life from the atrocities of the forced leadership while helping the winning team, and safeguarding his long term interests while doing so. The perfect selfish man! Not a bad thing though. Gajraj: Naive, docile, honest, sincere, practically a nobody. I like nobodies. I would give this piece of story telling a 7/10 rating!

Author: Aravind Adiga The unescapable back story behind me reading this phenomenal piece of fiction… I read Adiga’s ‘White Tiger’ four years ago, and by the end of the first chapter, I knew I had to read him in the future! Although both these books have been published more than a decade before I even came to know about there existence, and I wasn’t even aware of Adiga’s greatness as a fiction writer when I stumbled upon ‘the white tiger’ in a roadside stall in Varkala, a cliff side beach about 35kms from Trivandrum. My book lover husband picked it up because it was too cheap to not buy it! It might have been stolen or may be not, the royalty might have gone to the author, or the roadside vendor kept the entire profit, but I am thankful of the conjunction for how else would I have stumbled upon this beautiful artist (yes, writing is an art)! Synopsis: I don’t want to spoil the plot of the story, and be a ‘buzzkill’, so I will just give like a little teaser here, and leave the rest for you to thoroughly enjoy! The story begins very nonchalantly, with ordinary characters, struggling with their everyday ordinary lives, until one day something happens and all of a sudden, all those typical middle class characters emerge as some dark souls capable of committing dark deeds for the sake of nothing and nothing but money alone; the very people who lived their entire lives suppressing their demons perhaps even completely unaware of its existence up until that day! Review: One of the finer examples of perhaps modern day fiction writers, Aravind Adiga, has weaved a beautiful fiction with ordinary people, and places alike. He portrays the real world problems suffered by his fictional characters, and somehow manages to twist the narrative into a completely surreal climax! I am in complete awe at his storytelling!! It could come under the ‘suspense’ genre, however a bit unconventional though. The pace of the story is relaxed, and the writer actually takes his time with the reader to not only introduce the fictional characters but also to understand them, their essence, and their individuality. As a reader, it is so satisfying to be a part of a reading experience as this! Adiga is an Indian author writing in English, so the read is relatively easy to understand, however I did have to look up for a word or two in the dictionary (which I secretly enjoy bdw, enriches my vocabulary :). If you are into fiction reading as much as I do, then you must read this author’s books, including obviously ‘The Last Man Standing’. I will wholeheartedly give this piece of fine art a 10/10! Go ahead and grab a piece by Aravind Adiga! Happy Reading!

Author: Michael J Gelb A little backstory about how I got this ‘different’ book in my hands. The last time I read a self-help book was probably six years ago, I am guessing! In my late teens, I did read a lot of these books though. Robert Kiyosaki, Napoleon Hill, Brian Tracy, Dale Carnegie, Burke Hedges, Greg S Reid, Shiv Khera, Robin Sharma, were names I was familiar with even before I hit 20. I loved reading these kind of books back then. Mostly because, I lacked confidence, self esteem and always kind of compared myself to others, and reading these books somehow made me feel at ease with myself. Though the topics of the books were varied, but I still enjoyed reading them, and it instilled in me a kind of hope, that future will be better for me, because I am reading these books! Been a decade now since then and obviously circumstances have changed and so have my reading preferences. In fact I just wrote an article on why I don’t read self-help books much, anymore (https://www.thebookgully.com/post/i-have-had-enough-of-self-help-books). However, my husband (also loves reading books, non-fiction mostly), recommended me that I experience this book, and so here I am! About the book: The book definitely has ‘self help’ vibes. It is based on the principles that the great Leonardo Da Vinci lived his life on. And the author humbly tries to put those principles into simple words, and practices that can be applied in our daily lives. Intention of the book is sincere, because it just doesn’t spread out ‘motivational words’ but actually gives the reader a series of instructions, applications, experiments through out the book that actually leads to some self-reflection during the entire reading! So make sure, that you always have a pencil and preferably a note book with you whenever you are reading, unless you don’t mind scribbling all over the pages like me. The book comes with instructions that aims to deliver the message instead of like a fable like narration (for eg. Robin Sharma’s books). The book doesn’t necessarily have advice on how to be street smart or be emotionally intelligent, however it does take you on a step by step process on how to increase your ‘productivity’ and know your ‘senses’ better, and ‘perspectives on objects with relation to light’, and how to be ‘‘ambidextrous’, and ‘how to make the left and the right hemisphere of the brain work to equal strengths’ and a variety of such abstract ideas! It’s an interesting book in the non-fiction, self improvement genre, if you are into such kind of books. I would rate the book 6.5/10.

So here how it is…. I am 32. I have always wanted to be a flight attendant from the time I figured that it could be as much of a legitimate career as being an engineer, a medical professional, an entrepreneur, a teacher, a banker or like any other career! And that was almost fourteen years ago! Once I became a flight attendant with a domestic airline, my next goal was to fly for an international airline. And eventually I cracked that too. Now, that I joined a billion dollar airline, I wanted to grow as fast as possible in the corporate ladder, while proving my worth as a valuable asset to the company through my managers. As easy as it did sound at that time, it got harder and harder as the years went by. I was about 20 when I started, and I was so positive that before I hit 30, I am gonna have that big promotion and get all that extra perks and travel in business class all over the freaking world, and what not! I assumed ten years of hard work, dedication, sincerity and my excellent job skills were enough to get me there. It took me those ten years and another two additional years to realize, that the corporate ladder worked in different ways! Much different than the one I was planning to take (hard work, dedication and all that jazz) to reach to the top (not the ultimate top obviously)! Long story short, even if I have one of the best jobs in the world, I still am nowhere close to the career goal that I targeted to achieve in all these years. Despite putting my one hundred percent every single day at work, and getting a decent amount of recognition from people who have experienced my service, my boss doesn’t really care about any of that! Bosses keep changing from time to time, but that doesn’t change anything either. So in essence I have come to the conclusion that professional growth is more of a company initiative rather than an individual’s ballgame. No amount of self help books were gonna help me in achieving that. I have also come to the realization, that I know and understand my limitations as an individual at work! Limitations like, I probably would never have the right contacts to push my position through to the top, or certain other nationalities will always be preferred than others, or I am not an ultra go getter who would sacrifice every fiber of their personal being to get to their goals no matter what! So no amount of ‘Self-help’ books can sell me any of that shit anymore! If I think that I can be a millionaire by reading a book that has been written by another millionaire, then I am completely fooling myself! Collaterals, factors, frailty, everything comes together to create the end result as much as hard work, contacts, skills, and luck do! So, instead of lamenting about my weaknesses and shortcomings and why I can’t be the next billionaire, and trying to crack the code by reading and researching the other billionaires, I have learnt to appreciate my life, professional and personal, as it is. Because no matter how much harder I try to be better at work, it would probably never be enough for my bosses! I would become miserable in the pursuit of the impossible! However, if I concentrate on the positives of my lives, both professional and personal, then I have no competition with others, but just acceptance and gratitude within myself. Instead of reading books on how to chase the next big thing, or how to become the next biggest seller, or how to be the top executive of a company, I read stories, novels, fictions, poems, and write one occasionally too. They provide me with the much, much needed escape from this hard hitting world that is so ever booming and expanding and is always on the chase for the next big thing! So, on the same note, how has your priorities changed through the course of life?