The journey has just begun..

   I can’t help but pull out the cliché card from my pocket to describe the beginning of a new chapter in my Book of Life. “And how time flies!” Even though it is used metaphorically but in the ten ‘short yet long’ months at my journalism school, I think I actually saw how time flew. No, not joking. The clock in its different forms, shapes and sizes haunted me forever reminding me of those rigid contours of the deadlines. Did you think who really cares about deadlines? Oh! A journalist, irrespective of the fact if it’s a student or a professional can surely enlighten you with the real value of time (timeliness).

Nine months back it was all different.

   While doing the undergraduate course, sense of urgency in life had gone astray. Both the education set up in the college and mesmerizing beauty of the new city were responsible for the obnoxious carefree attitude. But you tell me, how a college student can concentrate when it’s a learnt fact that exams are only an annual responsibility, when attendance criterion exists only on the chequered-patterned pages of a register littered with dark red slanting lines and the assignments are optional. It has to succumb to adventures of the new city calling it to unravel its mysteries from every direction. And so Chandigarh ensured that the ‘deadline’ word lightened in my mind dictionary. The only time it mattered was when the scare of the strict night in-timings of the PG accommodation (Girls PG, I tell you!) sprang back to life and even a couple of seconds made a difference.

Then the J-school happened.

    There wasn’t even the basic transition phase. Life was dragged back to the track. But, this time the wind blew in the opposite direction. From early mornings aided by multiple alarms to coffee overdosed late nights, it was all hectic. Important Assignments and more assignments were the order of the day(s) in the J-school. Sometimes it was the reporting, other times the cumbersome editing. And some days hell broke loose because those days were based on photography assignments (umm..I am photographically challenged). There was never any chance of carefree attitude because there were always DEADLINES looming over our heads. Even for cutting-chai drinking sessions. As mentioned in the beginning, time used to fly. Especially during assignments minute and the second hand of clocks made every possible effort to outrun each other.

    After ten months, life has come to a full circle and laid foundation for the new beginnings. Every moment spent inside the third floor campus was worth the effort. The super fast software lessons, forcing the eyes to hear those lectures, taking turns to read the presentation slides in order to stay alert in the class, surfing and nodding during the discussion to prove that one is actually present in the class, though being virtually absent. With the lessons learnt from the past, its time to experience the STRESS in reality. Its time to learn, unlearn and relearn again.

Just the Straight line

   Last time I updated the blog was literally light years ago. But then wait! to my rescue is a detailed list of excuses. Blame it on the busy academic schedule, assignments and more assignments, either there wasn't any time and when the time waited for me, motivation was absent. Doesn't that happen with most of us? You see, we humans have a strange relationship with Marginal Utility of goods and services available at our disposal. If I were to draw that curve, it would be exactly as drawn below;

THE curve exactly describes my love and hate relationship for 'salty blog'. Initially the motivation was phenomenal. Almost everyday, I tried to update it. But , then came the stagnation phase at the top of the curve and as a result, first my constant surveying the blog faded and later my writing succumbed and I fashionably diagnosed my condition as the deadly 'block'. Sad na! No, the story doesn't end there. Some of my friends and even the audience tried to persuade me to write regularly. It did help. I wrote one or two posts after that but it was not for too long. The downward phase of the curve began.

Relatively, in place of blogs we (have and still do) replace many things/people (Yes, people!) in our own lives. After a point of time, we tend to move on and leave behind our once-close partners of life. Some days later we may/may not realize their significance. Cliche, but till then usually we have lost them. 

I am really glad that I reunited with my blog today. And no, you salty blog we aren't breaking up any soon. I can't afford you see. ELECTIONS are approaching. And that means my venting out frustration and happiness. Also, how can I forget. Its Sub-Continent Cricket Season!! From now on, there won't be replication of crests and troughs. Instead, just a consistent straight line.

Dear Diary, je t'aime encore

My brown coloured personal  diary has always been by my side. There is historic documentation of my life in it. Unlike my OCD for perfection in almost everything, it reflects the imperfect side of me. My diary lacks uniformity. There is no perfect order. Its my 'Life' in more ways than one.

   It dates back to .. *scratches her head* Ahem! Lets not pretend, I can never memorize the historic years! All I can recall is taking my English teacher's advice, I rented an annual chocolate brown diary from papa (father). Certainly, I was offered other colours and distinct shapes, but my obsession with chocolates and coffee overpowered my feeling and prevented me from picking up the glossy hot pink one. I henceforth, became the proud owner of my mini-life brown diary.

Initially, it was literally in blue and black. All those years of cursive writing in the Convent school showed its consequences. Off white pages that were always adorned with an 'OM' on top were decorated with flawless calligraphy. I tried to record all that I did or felt back then. I have to admit that I literally wrote everything. The aggression of the initial teenage years gave way to comparatively settled but highly confused pre-adult days. Trust me, now when I go through all those date entries, its all captured and evident.  

    'In-order' writing slowly vanished. A new form was born. From blue and black, it became any-colour-on-the-planet-that-lied-next-to-the-table. Chronological sequence ceased to exist. I wrote wherever,whenever and whatever I wanted. Sometimes, I didn't even complete my poems. When I initially compared my life with my diary, this is what I meant. The trade cycle curves of inflation, recession, boom are all there in that diary. There is a vivid description of my highest high and the deepest low. Writing a daily diary is fun, but re reading them once you grow up is hell of an experience. 

   Our recent love hate relationship bothers me a lot. The sight of the deserted diary that lies in seclusion on the table haunts me. Layers of dust are slowly settling permanently. The culprit, Thou my laptop! How I wish I get back to my love and start afresh. That would bring back the lovely days of writing on a page with a pen. ( This rare phenomena is witnessed only during examinations)

Note: This post writing attempt has been really difficult. I have written after a very long time. Thank you Brandy for helping. I was ignoring the problem but when you brought it up, it kind of motivated me.  

For the French:  Google what would I do without you?