Skip to main content

Liebster-Shiebster Haayo Rabbaa

    A few days back I got a comment from Priya of Pencil Stripes informing me that she was awarding me the Liebster award. It sounded so... German that I googled it right away. It's an award of appreciation and camaraderie that fellow bloggers award to those whom they find deserving of it. I felt really honored and humbled at the same time.
    I'm really thankful to Priya for awarding me the Liebster. I'd also like to congratulate her on receiving the Liebster herself. Despite being a busy mother, she finds time to write some really interesting and fresh stories. I hope she continues penning great stories in the future too.

The Liebster Award Official Rules:

    If you have been nominated for The Liebster Award AND YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT IT, write a blog post about the Liebster award in which you:
  1. Thank the person who nominated you, and post a link to their blog on your blog.
  2. Display the award on your blog — by including it in your post and/or displaying it using a “widget” or a “gadget”. (Note that the best way to do this is to save the image to your own computer and then upload it to your blog post.)
  3. Answer 11 questions about yourself, which will be provided to you by the person who nominated you.
  4. Provide 11 random facts about yourself.
  5. Nominate 5 – 11 blogs that you feel deserve the award, who have a less than 1000 followers. (Note that you can always ask the blog owner this since not all blogs display a widget that lets the readers know this information!)
  6. Create a new list of questions for the blogger to answer.
  7. List these rules in your post (You can copy and paste from here.) Once you have written and published it, you then have to:
  8. Inform the people/blogs that you nominated that they have been nominated for the Liebster award and provide a link for them to your post so that they can learn about it (they might not have ever heard of it!
So let me get to answering the questions. They are rather interesting, I must say.

Do the characters you create have the impression of your qualities?

    Definitely! Empathy will only get you so far. When a character is in a bind, I ask myself, 'What would you do if you were in that situation?' and hope that the reader will relate to my reaction.
    That said, not all characters are like me. I regularly base characters on my friends or those around me that I have observed.

Favorite food?

    Hard to say. I love my home cooked food: hashi, appehuli, bajji, gojju, huli, tambli, badnekaai palya, etc. I also love suki kachori, bhel, pani puri, ras malai, etc. I guess I like sweet and spicy (but not too pungent) dishes. I don't like Punjabi food much.

Do you share your secrets with anyone?


Given a chance to visit USA, whom do you take with, parents or love?

    I love my parents. This question should be invalid! :D
    If it's a short trip, I think I'll take my parents, but I don't think they will be interested in staying in the US for long.

Do you get angry?

    Yes. I'm human after all. But I simmer down fast. My anger listens to reason.

What attracts you more, babies or flowers?

    I like babies. You can get them to do really stupid stuff.

Do you like to read lengthy posts?

    Depends on the content. With short posts, I read it anyways, but with longer posts, I might get impatient and move on to something else. If it's good, I'll continue reading.

What is your unforgettable dream?

    There are two dreams that I would call 'unforgettable'. I'll tell you about the first one, because I find it remarkable that I still remember a dream I had when I was 5-6 years old so vividly.

    In those days, we used to tenant in what I should technically call a bungalow. It was actually two houses of three rooms each, joined in between by a door. Our landlord's family used to live on one end and we in the other. I used to call our landlord 'ajoba' (grandpa in Marathi). We were very close.
    The dream started with me standing on the doorsill in the afternoon, right hand on the frame and left leg toeing the sill. A red car driven by a guy I had never seen before, stopped on the road in front of our bungalow. Our home was built in a rather quaint style. There was a little aangan (patio) and a flower garden between the house and the gate. The distance seemed too big to a 5 year old, but I guess the gate was still about 6-7 metres from where I stood.
    The man signaled - still sitting in the car - and my mother, followed by my father, walked to the car to talk to him. I didn't know why, but I didn't like him. My parents talked to him for a minute. It was too far to hear what they were saying, but there was a sense of supplication in the way they were talking to him. I stepped outside the door. Ajoba was standing next to me. I held his hand. My parents sat in the big red car without even looking back at me and then the car left.
    I looked at ajoba and asked him worriedly, "Who is that man?"
    He replied, "He is a rakshas(devil)"

    I got up really scared. I told my mother about the dream. Over the years, I have tried to make sense of the dream, but I haven't had much luck. I guess it was a mix-up of my childish fear of losing my parents and the typical bollywood movies we used to watch on Doordarshan in those days.

Do you apologize verbally, for your mistakes?

    Yes. Sometimes very profusely.

Do you like to spend or save?

    I like to save on things I don't consider important so that I can spend on the things that I think will make me happy.

What is 'love' according to you?

    People have written voluminous poems and essays to explore this very thing. Let me try a very brief version. I don't think I'll be very accurate.
    I think love is the color pink; it doesn't exist on its own (Check out this link). Love is the combination of the feelings of happiness, euphoria, giddiness, attraction, trust, etc. that you feel because of someone/something. Your 'Love' for your parents is different from the 'Love' you feel for your partner or the 'Love' you feel for Gulab Jamuns. No two loves are the same, because no two people feel the same way. I think that Love is an all encompassing term we use to describe the combination that makes you feel good.
    As a fun exercise, try to describe what the color pink is to someone without referencing any other color, or showing them any object that you 'think' is pink. That's how it feels to explain to someone else what love means to you.
    There might not be Love in the world, but I hope you find lots of love in your life.

11 Random Facts About Me

  1. I call my engineering college as 'school' and refer to my engineering years as bachpan (childhood).
  2. I like to infantilize kids even if they are only an year or two younger than me.
  3. I'm technically still in college for the next 11 days.
  4. Almost every post of mine is designed to have at least one "aha!" moment. I am not talking about twist endings, but about self-referencing jokes, in-jokes, hints about the twist end and things you can infer if you read between the lines to reward rereaders, regular readers and the intelligent.
  5. I listen to audiobooks on my way from work.
  6. I love reading xkcd.
  7. My grandfather was my first inspiration to write but I haven't read any of his stories so far. He used to be a short story writer.
  8. Besides the Harry Potter series, there are only a handful of novels that I have read completely.
  9. I took a German class last semester, but I don't quite understand much of it.
  10. I didn't take a Spanish class, I can read and understand quite a bit of it.
  11. I have edited this post 4 times after publishing it.
Enough about me. I think this is already the longest post I have written till date. It's time to pass the baton. I am offering the Liebster award to the following people.

I don't know if it is allowed to pass the award back to the person who gave it to you in the first place, but I'm doing it anyway. She deserves two. I think I have already praised her enough. (If you accept, I think you don't need to pass it on again. Just thank me and answer my questions) 
He's one of the first writers I liked on the WoW scene. He mostly writes horror stories, with alternative history thrown in between. I learnt a lot from him.
She makes even the simplest of stories so wonderful with a very skillful narrative style. Well paced stories with great characters.
A new blogger with lots of potential. I can see her improving, so this is my incentive for her to keep on improving. Her posts are usually funny with a dash of sentimentality.
5. Abhra Pal
One of my first 'writer' friends. I was introduced to WoW and 55 fiction by him. In the years that I have known him, I have seen him transform into an amazing writer. Now he writes mostly poems, which sucks, because I don't understand them, but that doesn't stop me from appreciating his good work.

    So if you are one of those above, you might want to know my questions. So here they go.
  1. Why do you write?
  2. Do you have a procedure that you follow when you write a story or a poem?
  3. Do you enjoy reading? If yes, what do you like to read? Poem? Fiction? Comic Books? History of Medieval European Blacksmiths?
  4. If you were a character in a book, how would you describe your appearance?
  5. How do you think people view you?
  6. If your life were a movie, which one would it be? And why?
  7. What do you see yourself doing in 3 years?
  8. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
  9. Can you change the above mentioned thing about you? Have you tried?
  10. Which is your favourite language? Why? (Expect more than 'it's my mother tongue')
    I have fulfilled all the requirements of the Liebster award. This was indeed my longest post till date. I hope I didn't bore the ones who have read till this point. It felt great writing this one, so thank you again, Priya.

Popular posts from this blog

Z for Zero-sum (Part I)

Freida Dantas stepped out of the queue to look around. The machine wasn’t that far from here–only a few hundred more. She looked behind. The queue went on for as long as she could see. She too had started from the end of the queue many hours ago. The machine took only a second to judge, so the queue had kept moving continuously. But she worried if there were more hopefuls in the queue than seconds in a day. She had been queueing up religiously for her pronouncement every day since she had died.

She’d learned of the system the day she had arrived at the purgatory. Learned is probably not the best word to describe the process. She had woken up in the purgatory a week ago knowing about it instinctively, with no recollection of her prior life. She knew exactly when and where to queue up for the machine. The machine would tell her if it was her time to ascend to the heaven yet. She’d witnessed thousands of ascensions on her first day. The ascendants one after the other had stood under the

X for X023

Sheena Zavheri was in the bathroom touching up her make-up when she heard the muffled explosion of a gunshot from the corridor. She instinctively grasped at the gun hidden expertly under her saree and slid towards the entrance--instincts one would hardly expect from the socialite wife of an a-list actor. Sheena, born Hridi Quazi and codenamed X023, was a sleeper operative for the Bangladeshi secret agency. Hridi had married Toufique Zavheri--recognized popularly by the pseudonym: ‘Milan’--after a short affaire planned, funded and effected by the agency in coffee shops and fancy restaurants. More than fifteen years later, Sheena and Milan were at a resort on their wedding anniversary at her insistence trying to resuscitate their gasping relationship.

Hridi spied through the fisheye a muted tussle going on in the large corridor between two dark figures almost out of her field of vision. It could be an unrelated murder attempt on another guest. It would have been risky to step out. But…

Y for You

I see you lying on the bed and I want to scream out to you. But I know it won’t reach. I feel like giving up. I see your body on the bed but it isn’t you. You’re gone. You have deserted me.

I’m sitting on the chair besides your bed holding a bouquet of Bougainvillea for you. It’s not a common flower for bouquets–the nurses looked curiously at the bouquet as I walked to your room–but you used to love them. And today is a special day.

I always get you Bougainvillea. The florist at the corner keeps a bouquet ready for me every year. It’s a newer shop. You’ve never seen it. So many things have changed in the neighborhood since you left. Our favourite ice-cream shop is gone. There’s a bookstore in its place. I visit it often. The year before the last when the car wouldn’t start, I bought a book and taught myself how to fix it. I figured I was going to need it often. Robert tells me we can now afford a new car.

I don’t talk to him much lately. He is rarely at home nowadays. He thinks we’re…