Reality

My father has always been a man of faith. Prayer is a part of his daily life, and he takes an active role in church activities. Growing up in a Christian household, I saw how much his belief meant to him. I did not share the same certainty. After graduation, I moved to Delhi to study journalism and later began working. Away from home, I had more room to decide what faith meant to me. I was not a regular churchgoer. I believed God could be found anywhere, and I did not feel the need to prove my belief to anyone. Yet I often found myself praying when I was in trouble. That made me question my own relationship with God. Why did I turn to Him most readily when I needed help? Was it faith, fear or simply the comfort of feeling that someone was listening? I did not have a clear answer, but I could not dismiss what prayer meant to me. There is something comforting about sharing your deepest fears and secrets with someone you cannot see. Saying those things in prayer sometimes helped me under...

I confess that I don’t have anything to confess. I am a movie lover and most of my lines are stolen from movies. I don’t know what kind of testimony people want me to write; I am not a religious person. Maybe I haven't been enlightened yet, I believe in almighty but I cannot go on preaching religion. I want to serve the people but it has to be on my terms. Why does one have to prove his faith to anyone? Why is there a need to be spiritual to get into the life of providing community service? Humanity and religion are two very different things. I am not questioning the existence of God; however I do h ave a problem when it becomes a criterion of selection. I was told that ‘you just need to have the will to join this profession’ and I completely agree with it. Nevertheless, if all you need is will and determination to get anywhere then why it is necessary to submit a testimony which speaks about your encounter with the divine. Anyways, this is really frustrating because I do...

It was their match against fierce rivals Manchester United FC in the 2008-09 season, where I saw, my favorite striker Fernando Torres getting the better of United's rock, Nemanja Vidic. He scored the goal and I was jumping with joy in the bed. Liverpool won that game with a scoreline of 4-1. It was great to see the camaraderie between Liverpool's talisman Steven Gerrard and Fernando Torres. The duo created magic on the field. It was their best season under Rafa Benitez. Liverpool finished 2nd on the league. However, in later years, the club suffered massively due to internal problems. Old owners were let go and Fenway Sports Group were given the charge. The present England manager Roy Hodgson was made the head coach but he failed to deliver, then came Kenny Daglish. But Sadly, it was not enough to convince one of the best strikers in world. Torres left Anfield for Stamford Bridge in search for silverware. Wasting no time, he immediately broug ht Andy Carroll from N...

My father asked me over the phone. “Yeah,” I said, reluctantly. He asks me questions like this quite often. I suspect he can hear the hesitation even when I think I’ve hidden it. I am working. I am independent. More often than not, I pay my own expenses. These are things I wanted, and I’m glad I have them. But whenever he asks that question, I struggle to give him an answer I believe. Usually, I say whatever comes to mind first. It gets me through the conversation. Afterwards, I’m still thinking about it. In films, people abandon comfortable lives to pursue what they really want. I find those stories inspiring. I also wonder who pays their rent while they are discovering themselves. It is difficult to make a bold choice when other people, bills and responsibilities are involved. You may want something badly and still have good reasons to stay where you are. I don’t think that makes the desire less real. It does make it harder to act on. Then again, responsibility is a convincing explan...

Delta Spirit’s “Yamaha” is playing as I write this. It’s my weekly day off, and I’ve spent most of it watching other people do things. First, Iron Man 3 at the cinema. Then Dabangg 2 at home. Between Robert Downey Jr. and Salman Khan, several villains have been dealt with. My own problems remain considerably less entertaining. I enjoyed both films. But by the evening, I was bored again, so I picked up my laptop. I thought I might write something. Then I decided it should be something important. That is usually where the trouble starts. As soon as I expect my writing to say something significant about the world, I struggle to say anything at all. I write a sentence, read it and delete it. Perhaps it doesn’t belong. Perhaps it’s stupid. Perhaps I haven’t left it on the screen long enough to find out. I’ve done it twice already. There is something on my mind, though. I recently came close to making a decision, then backed out after receiving an offer I felt I couldn’t refuse. Or perhap...

I thought studying journalism would make me an accomplished writer. I also thought life would become easier once I got a job. In my defence, I had not yet had a job. After a nine-month course, I joined an organisation that shall remain unnamed. I spent six months as an intern, a period that mostly involved getting my backside kicked, before becoming a permanent employee. According to my ID card, I am a scriptwriter. The accomplished part is taking longer. Somewhere between joining the office and becoming permanent, my days began to look suspiciously alike. I go to work, come home tired and think about doing something interesting. By then, a nap feels more appealing than anything I had in mind. I want to write something of my own. But when I sit down to choose a subject, everything either seems uninteresting or too much effort. This is an awkward position for someone who thought writing would be the great pleasure of his life. There are plenty of things I don’t want to do. Going to the...