As a writer in the Freedom Month

Notes from 2016

August 06-2020/ Blog #1

I am wondering 

as to when I’ve enjoyed 

writing the most.

At times, I feel good to introduce myself as a Writer.

Writer by itself doesn’t sound like a designation.

It is a title. A title not necessarily bestowed. But an earned title.

A title, which is so close to my heart and (maybe) to the hearts of those, who know me as a writer.

I do get asked:

Are you a writer?

What do you write about?

Why don’t you write love stories?

How about trying your hands at writing a movie script?

Have you considered writing a web series?

When will you experiment with something sensuous?

Do you write porn?

After that first book how long should we wait for your second book?

What does it take to become a writer?

Which writer inspires you the most?

I don’t deem it necessary to answer all of them.

I think I am content with the fact that I am a writer.

Some might also argue that they don’t get to see much of my writings. 

I’ve never disagreed. Maybe because I am not in a mood to make everything too apparent or visible to everybody.

So here I am, the so-called Writer.

Thinking about myself and writing a little part about myself by being myself.

As a writer in the Freedom Month, I am wondering as to when I’ve enjoyed writing the most.

Naturally I’ve enjoyed writing the most when I have felt free; free of prejudice, free of malice, free of botheration. 

But then someone will again argue - Writing comes from within; it doesn’t need a day, a date or a time for something to evolve. I would again not disagree.

As a writer in the Freedom Month, I would only wish that the freedom to write is never taken away from me.

-Virtuous Vociferous/ What If/ 2020

HOLDING ON TO WINTERS

She stepped out of the bed; he was still asleep. She placed her feet on the floor, which had turned ice-cold by now. She climbed back into the bed; cozied up to him; tried to seek his attention! He was warm, she wasn’t! After repetitive trials, she gave up. Just then, he turned; she saw a flash of hope. He gently opened his eyes, which met hers. He looked deep into her eyes, took a deep breath, dragged her closer; they kissed. They kissed till the time the alarm went off; they kissed till the time the sun showed up; they kissed till the time they were ready to wake up; they kissed till the time was up for him to rise and leave. His departures hurt her more than his disappearances. Her agony hit him more than her angelic appearance. But this time, it was different; he didn’t move an inch away from her; she moved many more inches closer to him. The winters had cast a spell. All they looked forward were reasons to hold on to themselves; hold on to each other and the idea of holding on to winters.

Winters! Do we feel it in Mumbai, the way the two lovers are feeling up there, in the above paragraph? Or we feel it more in Kolkata and Delhi! How about Chennai? Is Bengaluru pleasant, mild or wild during winters? It must be snowing in all parts of states, which are located closer to the Himalayan range! Why is the city of Pune always too pleasant? Why some of the homes in Nashik don’t require a fan during winters? Should the hunt for warm clothes in the bed cabinets be intensified? Should the routine and pattern of everyday clothes change? Winters! They leave so much in between to imagine, initiate and intensify.

Intense. As intense or as cold as the love between them, the two lovers above! Because all they looked forward were reasons to hold on to themselves; hold on to each other and the idea of holding on to winters. Such intense is love during winters. The intensity is so severe that kisses and embrace don’t suffice; the experience evolves into something, which is known as the phenomenon of oneness.

Oneness. Winters are always about oneness. Not just the oneness between those two lovers; but the oneness one embraces, while sitting around a freshly lit bonfire. Or the oneness, friends feel while making another Patiala peg to be put up on offer. Frequency of partying goes up. Repetitiveness of eventualities to meet someone multiplies.

Multiplication. He loves it more, only when they are together. This multiplication has got nothing to do with arithmetic or other calculations. This multiplication is of human nature; both, physical and psychological. Love multiplies, emotions multiply. Her desire to continue being with him multiplies. In short, winter plays a bigger role in fueling the many innumerable multiplications of life.

Life/Lives. Lives during winters tend to grow so different. Maybe not too different in Mumbai. But definitely different in Kolkata and Delhi. Winters in the winter prone places are so much about stillness. Winters in the not so prone to winter places are so much about knowing.

Knowing. Knowing each other every time they meet, is in many ways more romantic, and immensely desirable to continue holding on to winters.

Now, in the bed that they are together again, they will create some new stories. But will there be stories from people and lovers, apart from them? If not, would we really mind creating or cooking up stories of our own.

All of it, for the simple desire of those two lovers and the seekers like us. Or much like some well-known hobbies or just an easy hobby of holding on to winters.

- Virtuous Vociferous | December 17 | December Blog-2 | Making of the story | 2018

IN THE KINGDOM OF CAPTAIN KIAN

Captain Kian

I felt his soft fingers tickle my chin. As I slowly opened my eyes, his eyes were on me. For a moment, I had forgotten that I had gone partying last night. Had it not been for him, I would have not believed of having woken up in the little kingdom that he proudly stakes his claim to.

In the ‘Kingdom of Captain Kian’, I am his subject. On other days, I have never felt the need to spot a snail. Neither have I placed a rarely found stone and a beach shell around a snail, to serve as an interesting topic for a perfect Instagram update. 

Captain Kian’s kingdom holds a special place in my heart for the things, his kingdom holds within itself. My favorite sighting though is his little bicycle, which is parked right below his father’s bicycle, which actually hangs out of the wall, right behind their kitchen wall. Or did I mention about Captain Kian’s tiny helmet, which is placed right on the top of his father’s huge helmet and besides his mother’s stylish helmet!

I’ve always been a fan of Captain Kian’s enthusiasm. Just last week, he won a medal for having run a marathon of 5 kms, which took him through hilly terrains and plain lands. The vision of the medal dangling around Captain Kian’s neck is yet to fade out of my memory. It won’t, I am sure, the vision won’t fade; no memory of his has ever faded out. 

Captain Kian is a quick learner. His proud mother shared with me an incident as to how Captain Kian strummed his guitar to an audience of marathon runners and participants. If I am not mistaken, he was instantly bestowed the title of ‘The Young Guitarist’. 

At the age that Captain Kian is now, I hadn’t even thought of taking up cooking. But apart from pursuing many hobbies, Captain Kian has a penchant for cooking too. His mother had once shared with me a video of him presenting his very own procedure of cooking a delicacy. I was stunned by his mannerisms. If he takes this part seriously, he may fare exceptionally well as a chef too. How can I forget mentioning the breakfast he made for me? A breakfast of bread slices, with cheese and peri peri between them! I wish, I could have had them more! Only that, I had chosen to begin with a light diet.

Captain Kian's Kingdom of Joy

By now, while reading, you must have realized that Captain Kian dons many hats. He is a very good creator too. If you get a chance, do take some time off your busy schedule to see as to what he does with his Legos. I got the chance to see it. I sensed the passion with which, he had created a structure. This structure holds a swimming pool, two Bankura horses (wooden toy horses, I had gifted to his mother). He has also parked a huge vehicle, closer, very closer to the structure. The vehicle, in Captain Kian’s words, “is a transformer and can take any shape anytime.” Since the structure needs security, Captain Kian has deputed one of the many robots one gets to see in Michael Bay’s movie version of the ‘Transformers’. 

In here, I also wish to mention that Captain Kian is an animal lover too! He secretly smuggles in kittens in his home (even though his mother is highly allergic to them), feeds stray dogs and shares a warm relationship with birds.

Captain Kian and I have one thing in common; we both love books. I’ve seen him sit with a book. He won’t leave a single word unread. Once he is done, it becomes our automatic responsibility to make ourselves available for the series of questions, he would demand answers to; of course from us! But I trust his knowledge more than mine. He might be a bookworm but his ways of learning things are not bookish. Maybe that is something, he seems to have inherited from his cinematographer father or his writer mother (others know her as a medical writer, for me she is a writer; a fellow writer).

Of the performer in him, that I am a fan of, Captain Kian leaves no stone unturned. If he takes a liking to someone, he can put up an instant performance too. Till the time I was preparing to take his leave from his kingdom at Shivaji Park, he shook a leg or two to a folk song. I recorded that moment on my mobile. I shall cherish it for days to come.

As I bid a heavy hearted good bye to Captain Kian, he came closer to me and whispered in my ears – Why can’t you stay back? Why do you have to leave every time? Can’t you spend an entire day with me/us? To his questions, I had the simplest answer in the most affirmative tone – I will definitely make sure that I meet every demand of yours. By the window side, where we had our morning breakfast and our cups of tea, Captain Kian once again expressed that he wishes to revisit my residence. He further added, he wishes to stay back for a day or two.

If the future gives me a chance, I would like to write an entire series with Captain Kian as the central hero. Will his character be that of a detective? I don’t think so. But if I ever get the chance to establish one connection between his character and mine, it would be of that pure emotion, which stirred within me the feeling of parenthood. All this, in his little kingdom of joy… Captain Kian’s Kingdom of joy!

- Virtuous Vociferous | August 12 | August Blog-1 | Making of the story | 2018

IN THE SORRY STATE OF AMAZON.COM

Book lovers aren’t fools!

I being a book lover am not a fool for sure.

For years that I’ve been addicted to reading and writing as well, books have been a way of life.

So far so good, life was dreamlike in the company of good books, great authors and gigantic publishers until the Amazon.Com mishap occurred. I was indeed left feeling like a fool!

Since I was ordering Rishi Kapoor’s Autobiography, an option showed up mentioning that customers were also interested in buying Karan Johar’s Autobiography. To me, this seemed like a great combination. Even though Karan Johar’s book was announced to be a paperback, I had very little to grow concerned about. I sealed the deal and eagerly awaited the arrival of both books.

Both books arrived as per the conveyed schedule. But the big surprise was yet to be opened. On unsealing the package, which held Karan Johar’s Autobiography, I was left miffed. Even though it was a paperback, it wasn’t an original copy. The book looked as bad as one of those counterfeits, which are sold across innumerable traffic signals.

The compressed photograph on the top

The elements, which accompanied the book, were not trustworthy.

A handwritten note - Have a Good Read!! J , stamped by the dealer who had sent me across the book. His massive signature provided the much unrequited tease.

The handwritten note by the sender

Talking about the book, the cover looked dull. The author or the subject matter’s photographs were stretched, compressed and badly edited. The colors looked dull. The edges revealed the fact that the book might have been used by someone, badly manhandled and exchanged or sold thereafter. One of the inner pages carried the dealer’s stamp again. They were arranged in the wrong manner. The cut marks were visible (seems like someone Xeroxed the book before it went for final publishing). Pages were missing. Most of the pages repeated or disorganized. The photographs printed within were of poor quality. Print on some pages already looked faded.

The bad quality of photographs inside

The missing pages

The stamp on one of the inner pages

The tattered cover

Bad quality

The visible cut marks 

In short, Amazon.Com took me on a joyride (which was unexpected). On being displeased by the delivery, I had initiated a chat on Amazon.Com and demanded a replacement. But I was told, the book itself is out of stock. I still decided to go against my wish and retain the copy to continue reading. But when I discovered that many pages were missing, I couldn’t resist requesting them to help me return it. Right now, I am waiting for the refund to take place (of which, I am very less hopeful about).

Having said that, I also wish to know, is this a negative propaganda against Amazon.Com? Are some sellers queuing up to tarnish the image of Amazon.Com? It would be interesting to know the inner story or a discreet scandal in making.

I haven’t heard about a name like Nani-Intaya Consultant and Associates. But they being located in Delhi made my head turn otherwise. After the fiasco, these guys also had the audacity to send across an email to me:

Dear Buyer

This is to inform you that yours valuable money have been initiated back to yours account as a refund.

"We're sorry to hear about your experience with the purchase. We aim to offer quality satisfaction for all of our customer and will do whatever it takes to take care of you. Please feel free to contact us on +91-9910365748. Replacement of the purchase is always there for you. Thank for the opportunity to make this right. We've made changes to the way we operate to ensure this doesn't happen again. Your are our top priority."

It will be very kind of you if you receive yours refund back kindly notify us also and Hope you will not mind to give us some good feedback for our generous customer service via Amazon.in

Hoping to see You again :)

Thanking you.

Regards,

Nani-Intaya Consultant And Associates

New Delhi

PS: The language of this letter is questionable too.

I am disturbed that Amazon.Com is yet to drop this seller from its list of dealers on marketplace. I am equally disturbed to see how these guys are communicating with me.

If Amazon.Com can do something so hideous, I have no trust left in placing online orders for books. At the same time, it concerns me about the state of the author, the publisher. Do the author, the publisher, the printer, the editor know that counterfeit copies of an original book are sold on Amazon.Com?

If this is the state of what online shopping of books is all about then I regret to say, “We are in the sorry state of Amazon.Com”.

-Virtuous Vociferous

MY FANBOY MOMENT WITH SIR JEFFREY ARCHER – PART 1

I reached the Kemps Corner outlet of CROSSWORDS at 6.40 pm. A mini gathering of people stood blocking the entrance of the bookshop. One of them was holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands; continuously adjusting his grip and also adjusting his neck, sometimes to the left and to the right. At around 6.45 pm, a white colored AUDI pulled in. Seated inside was Sir Jeffrey Archer, the master storyteller; he had arrived much ahead of the official event time of 7 pm. An executive opened the door for him. Sir Jeffrey Archer slowly stepped out, waived at all greeting him and graciously accepted the bouquet.

At a distance, I was busy pacing. The security personnel politely asked me to stir clear of the way so that they can ensure a safe passage for Sir Jeffrey Archer. I didn’t protest. I wanted to be a part of this first-hand experience. I moved to the left. In less than 20 seconds, the bestselling author walked in. Even though I had expected him to show up in a suit, he seemed at ease wearing a light colored shirt and a dark hued trouser. The legendary lines on his forehead didn’t seem harrowed by the adulation, he found himself surrounded with (he has never been a stranger to all of this). I pulled out my mobile and captured every single second of his short walk from the doorway to the cafeteria located on the mezzanine floor of the bookshop.

The crowd that emerged at CROSSWORDS were all genuine fans of Sir Jeffrey Archer. They were all waiting with baited breath. I wasted no time to grab the copy of his newest launch MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD. Every attendee tightened their grip over the new book and his other offerings. He has been writing the CLIFTON CHRONICLES for long. Honestly speaking, this book, which is supposed to be the fifth in row, is my first ever possession of the globally popular series. I know, I am not going to start reading it, before laying my hands over the previous four (not very far from doing that either).

Sir Jeffrey Archer emerged from the cafeteria, this time escorted by another Mumbai based crime writer, Piyush Jha. He made his way to the dais, stood there for a while, absorbing the loud round of applause that filled the event space now. A mike was handed over to him. He raised his left hand, established an eye-to-eye connection with the crowd and broke into a speech by making an honest confession about the cricketing team of England, the country he hails from. He said, “I think England is going to win the World Cup of 2015”. His declaration attracted a vocal retaliation (in a friendly tone) from the crowd, which claimed it was India again that will retain the title. Sir Jeffrey Archer grabbed this opportunity to put his amazing sense of humor to good work. Even though he called the Indian cricketers lazy, he quickly added that the team was very serious about such a sporting event of global demeanor. He expressed as to how he continues to remain pleasantly surprised by the energy of these cricketers, who understand the game better and take it very seriously to compete with a vengeance.

Being a storyteller, Sir Jeffrey Archer left everyone awestruck with a short anecdote, which was based on his personal observation of the booksellers at traffic signals. His enactment of the bookseller (who was coincidentally a kid), walking with a pile of books was so perfect, I could relate to it instantly. As his car came to a halt at one of the traffic signals, he heard a knock on his window. He rolled down the window glass. The child bookseller pushed his new book in and asked, “Would you like to buy the new Jeffrey Archer book on offer?” Sir Jeffrey Archer looked deep into his eyes and replied, “I am this same Jeffrey Archer who writes these books”. The little child looked somewhat unimpressed. The crowd couldn’t hold back its laughter.

(to be continued in… Part 2) 

-vociferous

MY FANBOY MOMENT WITH SIR JEFFREY ARCHER – PART 2

(continued from Part 1)

Amidst all his other fans, I stood there, emotionally touched by the author’s honest voice; redeeming my personal fanboy moment. As he spoke, my mind pondered over those numerous years of struggle, when I wanted to see him, meet him in person. But I couldn’t. Every year, from the year he started coming to India and visited Mumbai, I nearly missed out on these opportunities, for reasons that I don’t wish to mention, count or recollect. The seed of eagerness to see him, was sown in me by his book A PRISONER OF BIRTH, only to be followed by many of his other books, purchased at a feverish pace of my own. I busied myself absorbing all the passion he showed in describing his books, inspiration for characters, the plots, the handwritten drafts, the corrected versions, his respect for R. K. Narayan, his admiration of R. K. Laxman and the upcoming editions of his old books. Shining bright at 74, he made no bones about his age. What I found interesting about this man, was his love for life and his love for the lives he writes so believably in his books. I was glued to every single word, he let his fans to feast upon. So focused I was. Nothing mattered to me. My mobile phone did ring, an sms did arrive, from none other than my beloved. But she cooperated, knowing very well that this moment was precious than anything else; by anything, I mean to say our wedding anniversary (but more on that later). 

I could sense nothing but the author himself. Standing afar, I was thrilled infinitely. Pushed to the side, sometimes pressed from behind, and holding my copy high; all that I cared for was Sir Jeffrey Archer. I was carrying with me a printed copy of my review of one of his stories CASTE-OFF that I had published on my blog www.urbansurprise.blogspot.in (http://urbansurprise.blogspot.in/2010/06/caste-off.html). It was a precious advice from my wife, who apprised, “What if you do get the chance to speak to him and can quickly share your writing with him?” Heeding her paid off well (not in the expected way, but definitely in a way, I hadn’t anticipated).

So carried away I was by his conversation, which he didn’t prolong a minute more than those 45 minutes of his memorable presence; I didn’t realize that the crowd was now gearing up to seek Sir Jeffrey Archer’s elite autograph. A senior lady murmured in my ear, “Son, if you don’t mind, could you please shift a little to your right?” She added, “If you do so, we will be able to stand parallel to the queue that has started making its way to the dais.” The suggestion was viable. I thanked her for the same, my thoughts about the author remained undisturbed. Even though our queue didn’t move an inch, my determination had long stepped on the dais, got a selfie clicked and walked away smiling. But reality bites. For a second I felt, I have to return empty handed, with a book that didn’t bear my favorite author’s signature. The finale to my dream was just 7 souls away. Finally I stood there, waiting for my turn. My book was laid on the table, he gently raised his hand, the pen’s tip touched the second page, and it moved smoothly. Sir Jeffrey Archer had penned down his signature. I requested, if I could share some space to click a photograph of us both. To which he politely responded, “Son, if I honor your request, it would be tiresome and time consuming to pose with this entire ocean of my fans. Anyways thank you for asking”.

I couldn’t have asked for more. As I started walking away from the dais, I knew how strong my determination had grown. The experience has not yet paled out. The aura that Sir Jeffrey Archer exuded was unforgettable. I kept looking back, if I could once again find the space, to squeeze in and slip across to him, the printed piece of my review of his short story CASTE-OFF. But the day March 2, 2015 didn’t just belong to me, it belonged to his numerous other fans too, who were waiting in the queue, now outnumbered, flowing out of the CROSSWORDS bookstore of Kemps Corner. As I started leaving, my eyes fell on Ms Nisha Jamvwal, the main inspiration and also the central character of Sir Jeffrey Archer’s short story CASTE-OFF. This was the best ever thing to come my way on this special day. I found her standing at a counter, speaking to someone. I approached her, reminding her of the blog that she had also left her comment on, almost five years back. Not only did she recollect the blog, but also shared some vital information, which she requested if I can add and either rewrite the post or present it in a different shade of hope! I agreed. She didn’t refuse to sign a copy of the published blog and said, “I will be looking forward to your email.”

The crowd had started spilling out on the road. I glanced at my watch. It was 8 pm. I hailed for a taxi. The driver was amused and asked me, “Why this place is so crowded Sir, is someone from the filmy world visiting?”

I replied, “No not at all. But the guest is bigger than anyone else, an author from England. Sir Jeffrey Archer.”

I am sure, he knew no one by that name and ferried me across to Mumbai CST from where I embarked yet again on a journey of memories, imaginations and more.

-vociferous 

MUCH AHEAD OF THE MOVIES

Hours before I leave to watch a movie, an army of expectations keeps parading between my thoughts. I won’t label it paranoia. But I would agree upon the word - ‘excitement’. Punctuated by restlessness and driven by the haste to be at the movie theater, marking my attendance from the first frame till the last; about everything in general, keeps me at the peak of my curiosity.

I've time and again tried to decode this premonition and failed repeatedly. In between, having watched a movie and while gearing up for the next, I've tried to practice mediation, to calm myself down. The habit seems to show no positive signs of ceasing easily.

I think, I slip too deep in the skin of an avid movie watcher’s real character. This edginess is deep rooted in the frequency with which, I continue watching the movie trailers. Before deciding to watch the movie, I get into a questioning mode – Will they delete a certain scene? Will the movie get banned? Will some activists stall the movie screening? Will the promo song play in the beginning or is set to act as climax? Will there be a cameo by a secret actor? Will it prove the critics wrong? Will it leave me feeling fully entertained and sufficiently satisfied?

In this modern era, movies are just not limited to single screen theatres, multiplexes or video parlors. They have started intruding the comforts of our palms and grown instantly watchable at our thumb’s touch. The advent of iPad, tablets, phablets and other gadgets has a dual impact on hyperactive people like me. Take for instance, I come across a recently released movie, which is watched either by a colleague in the office or by a fellow traveler in the train. An imaginary bulb of analytical nature starts flickering in my mind. I start concentrating on a particular scene, thinking, is this the beginning of the movie, is this the scene on the other side of interval or is this the end? Just then, the original watcher, the owner of the motion picture (definitely a pirated version) decides to act like a ring master. He sharpens his index finger, places it on the screen and moves it vigorously (forward, backward). The entire movie either gets rewound or is pushed many scenes ahead; leaving me (the secret watcher) harrowed. Once again all hopes are pinned on the next day, next show or last day, last show. And thus, once again, I grow restless.

This composition of exhilaration is not just limited to the upcoming experience of planning to watch the movie, but it also extends to the time I shall spend to arrive at the movie screening. Almost on all occasions, to avoid getting stuck in a traffic jam or to escape standing last in a queue to procure my tickets booed online, I have found myself reaching almost 60 minutes in advance of the actual screening time. When I am alone, I am not bothered. But when accompanied by my calm mannered spouse, equally calm mother and other family members, I am the most preferred subject to be regarded as an irritant. For what I declare as punctuality, I am conferred the title of being ‘a little too much’ of a manipulator.

I am planning to watch another movie this evening, once again at a multiplex nearby. This movie that has been earning rave reviews ever since it released has been playing itself within the confines of my mind. Since it is a dark thriller, drenched thick in the hues of revenge; how can I control myself? And yet I find myself in control. I think my real test would be during the final hours of departure from my workplace and the actual time of arrival at the multiplex. It is then, I shall get to know, if the army decides to parade again! Till then, it is only the trailer, the reviews of critics and the promo song playing back-to-back, like blockbuster hits in my imaginary trails of the storyline. As insane as I should be getting, I guess!

-vociferous 

A CONCRETE STEP TOWARDS PASSION

Almost two months and it is indeed a long time to find the space, the breath and the voice to share something over the resolution for 2015. Strangely this year, there was an exception. Absolutely no one walked past the whole nine or twenty yards to pop the question, “What is your resolution for this year?”

I did have friends around me who echoed their opinions about the resolutions they had made. Some wanted to stay away from alcohol. Some wanted to experiment and grow closer to it. Someone expressed her anguish over failed relationships and wishes to settle down with a successful one. Someone expressed his happiness over having found the right person to get into a relationship and foresaw a happy life, resolving for more love, more sex, and of course kids. The odds, the evens. The prime, the faded. The heard, the unheard. All of them did resolve; only chose not to be overtly vocal.

Last year, I chose to keep my resolution wrapped. Beneath mountains, deep in a sea bed, suppressed to extremes; it remained a closely guarded secret. Revealed yet to no one and written somewhere, I shall go back to it some other day, other year. But this year, I chose to make an exception. Sometimes a change of perspective helps. And now arrives my resolution; not from the mind, but from my breathlessly pacing heart. A resolution that is not crafted or created. But a resolution, that can be called ‘quite evolved’.

I resolve to ‘take a concrete step towards something I am passionate about; the passion of storytelling’. My ‘now branded as a weekend venture’ goes by the name of EVERYDAY STORY MAKER. The passion of this storytelling is not limited to narrating stories, but extends to creating them, not one, but many of them, all original, inspired from reality around us, inspired by the Indian folklores of yore, global folklores of today and much more. Will I keep this limited only to storytelling? Only time and I shall tell.

This is not at all a late start to the year for sure, neither is it a delayed initiative. The concrete step that I’ve resolved to take to pursue my passion is well founded, deep rooted in my psyche to grow a lot more social, out of the web of social media but through original social presence; almost everywhere, every time.

Some did ask me about EVERYDAY STORY MAKER’s success rate and my plans for life. Some even asked if at all I’ve weighed my options of success or failures. Let me take this privilege of signing off by quoting someone I read from recently or maybe created from many of my facebook posts – “There is more to life rather than celebrating success and grieving over failures...”

-vociferous