Nocturnal. . .

Perhaps … this was the way he felt and he never knew the intensity of these feelings. As it goes with the human stupidity to stick with the things which give you pain. He couldn't just feel at ease. Why would he? After all, carrying restlessness in your heart is the only proof of you being alive. The five million or maybe more, inaccessible stars shone brightly above his head. But he was feeling like the pristine moon. The gloom had engulfed him in a much similar way like the clouds envelop a dreamy moon. Time had left its normal pace. It slowed down. . .

He: This is the only time I am not pretending. She respects my integrity and I am just myself with her. Why do I pretend? What’s the use of it or even if I do, she knows. What’s the worst that can happen? She gets angry. I can handle that. She can laugh at me. Granted. But what if she starts judging me like others?

She: I just feel right. He treats me just right. Is he not just like me?

He: I want keep looking at her. She has always been with me without asking for anything in return. No hassles, but with her giant smiles. I don’t know what she thinks about me. Maybe she likes me. Should I ask her? But …

She: Of course it’s not like what I think. Why would he even think about me? He is a stand -up guy. He has a life with priorities. But is he not different from others? There is an aura of pleasantness around him.

He: What am I even thinking? . . .

A sudden bump of realization provokes a plan “I will make tonight worth it. I will perhaps study or just sleep early.

11.30 PM-The night slides in. She smiles. She knows his dreams will overcome the plans of most of his days and always at night... Little did he understand that she was to be loved, not understood. Not planned, but lived. She knew he couldn't leave her. He is her’s now. Completely and voluntarily. He submits himself to her.

They talk. They talk about his broken dreams, wrong choices, people left behind, his future, her past. The changes. The times of laughter and the time of sighs. The silent exchanges and the warm touch. All the words said and a few unsaid. They talk about the fine line between love and lust. One night. . .

“Just leave” ……he screamed “you never stay”. She smiles calmly. She was the only one who stayed. He knew that, they knew that. He always used to hurt the ones he loved the most. He knew she was fading away, he knew she had to leave. But maybe that is how he loved. Maybe this is how he held on. This is the only way he knew how to let go. She leaves. She had to. He cries himself to sleep.



8.00 AM- The buzz of alarm clock. Darn it! His room still cool with her essence. Her aroma everywhere. He tries to shut the windows. He misses her aura of darkness. “You are nothing like her, she was the NIGHT. . .

Memoirs

We look back to some rare days in our nostalgia. And today, I am nostalgic enough . The trace in my memory is still fresh and alive as if this was not the day alike most of my days which fade away from the memory as if I never lived them. It was 30^th September 2009. I was a ninth grader back then. Quiet and shy girl. I knew I could express myself well but I always hesitated to speak up. I wondered how much my classmates talked all day long, amid the classes, at the water cooler, on the bus home. I got exhausted watching them. One day life sent a little window of opportunity to this shy girl. It was Hindi elocution competition at school. I participated. I took the risk of speaking up before people.

Picture it: A shy quite girl in her PT uniform, yellow T-shirt and white skirt running out of her bustling class and following(for almost a couple of minutes approx.) an ever smiling teacher who is walking royally in the corridor unknown.

“Sir….she finally manages to say…

“Yes”. He turns around and answers calmly, smile still resting on his lips…

“I want to participate in Hindi elocution competition” she spoke in state of nervousness,

“Okay, you can come to staff room at 4^th period tomorrow; other participants will also be there. We need only two people so only best two will be selected.” He spoke gently and entered inside the staff room...

It was an achievement for me. I managed to speak up before sir and dared to participate. Next day I went there I saw four other participants. Pradeep sir was there with his radiant smile. He gave us a poem “kaidi aur kokila” and asked us to be prepared with it the next day.  He declared he would choose best two among us on the basis of recitation of this poem the next day.

 After completion of my homework that day. I memorized the poem by heart (I still remember the lines).  I tried reciting it in front of the mirror. Next day I found myself standing in front of sir in the same state of nervousness.  One by one others recited the poem. Now it was my turn, I looked at my charismatic mentor, he was seated calmly. I started reciting. “kokil bolo toh….. When I finished reciting, I was confident. I knew I did well.  I could not believe my ears when he appreciated me (that meant a lot, coming from a teacher who was my favorite and who made my geography classes interesting).Happiness visited my heart. I was selected as a participant.

The day of competition arrived. I was ready and determined to win. I heard my name when microphone blared. I paced to stage with my fingernails digging my palm. On my way I saw Pradeep sir gleaming at me with All- the- best look. I needed all the bests as this shy quite girl was facing the stage for the first time in her fourteen year old life. I recited the poem with all confidence I could muster at that point of time. I had hopes. Soon there was declaration of the winner, runner up and I was none. I cannot describe how I felt but it was kind of creepy. I was back to an empty class. It was games class. Everyone was out in the school playground. I sat down on my seat. Yes I was at ease in the empty classroom. I needed solitude. Tears rolled out of my eyes as I started a mental conversation with myself.  Enough.. You wanted to try public speaking Kritika.  You got a chance. .Now you please get back to your normal self. .I wept in solitude and all negative feelings came to my head.  I would have given up but the next day washed all these negative thoughts out of me. I went to school and I was back to my normal quite self even more withdrawn. But I was summoned by Sir and everything just changed. Sir called me and I exactly remember the kind tone in which he said “Kritika, I wanted to say something to you” though sad I was but I tried to be normal and replied “yes sir”

He said “Don’t be sad, nothing is lost if you have not won”. Those words triggered my helplessness and I said “I was confused sir” (I must have told I AM confused sir instead of I WAS) he looked at me with understanding eyes and said calmly “you performed very well, means, if I would have been there you would have been the winner certainly because I know you are the best”.

I stood there in a state of pleasantness. I was changed. It only takes minute and encouraging words to shed apprehensions and embrace a change. Those words worked miracle for me. Those led me to my confidence, promoted my self- respect and made me much better. Soon I became a confident orator and was no longer afraid of speaking up. I also won Best orator award at school in twelfth grade. Some days change your life. It was one of those days.

 I have a story deep in my mind of how great my mentor is. His incredible understanding, his aplomb, and one of his core traits of greatness is his world class language, the language of passion, the language of leadership, language of possibility and hope. I am truly blessed to have a mentor like him. Whenever I get engulfed in negativity, his words come to my mind and a ray of positivity filters it all.

In Conversation With Dave Ursillo.

 Mr. Ursillo is brimming with life and intellect. I stumbled across his website just randomly one fateful day. Here's a small conversation that I had with this amazing man who is a writer, creative entrepreneur and a Yogi.



What’s writing to you?


Writing is a divine art form that connects me to my inner Self and enables me to communicate, give and serve the world in many small but meaningful ways. As a quiet child, writing empowered me to learn how use my skill of listening to communicate intelligently and clearly with people as I grew older. Today, I rely upon writing as a personal practice that helps me stay grounded, healthy and living at my highest level of truth. I teach people how to use writing to feel more creative, empowered and free because I believe it will help them live their best lives.


What matters to you most?


What's most important to me is living true to who I am and what I believe. Every day of my life is a dedication to my beliefs.


You gave up your secure career for sake of writing. Share with us this part of your journey and what kept you motivated in those times of risky career shift?


I gave up a secure career because I believed that I was capable of helping and serving people using my word. In my career, it was understood that you had to wait for years until you were allowed to start to try to help people, have responsibilities and be listened to. Instead, I chose to leave my career so that I could build something on my own and start to share words, stories, lessons, messages and philosophy for people right away. What motivated me was my survival.


Tell us about ten things that inspire you to write.


- Traveling.
- Conversations with friends.
- Reading new books.
- Challenging myself to be the best version of myself.
- Struggles and life's hardships.
- The mysteries of the Universe
- Being a yogi
- Waking up in the morning
- Good music and others' arts
- Being in love with life


What is your strongest belief?


My strongest belief has two halves: (1) That I am capable, and (2) that people are good.