Living a Lie

The muck was pungent. Nausea wasn’t even close to what he felt as he plodded through the thick ooze of everything not clean. The smell, the sight, the sound of his boots squishing through the filthy unknowns, the feel of the filth rubbing against his boots; to say that his senses had been overpowered a long time ago would be an understatement.

He didn’t expect to see this up here. From down below, the world above looked to be a place where the heaps and mounds of trash didn’t exist. A place where navigating through the gullies and valleys, taking tenfold longer routes to remain clean was not the only option. How wrong had he been.

It was worse over here. There were no visible heaps or mounds or dumps of the filth. There was an ever oozing slurry of the trash, everywhere. And the ones here residing on top, were happily filling their bellies with the filth spread everywhere. It smelt, it stank, it revolted him in every possible way, but he couldn’t fathom how the ones on top could consume what was basically worse than fecal matter.

All of them had reached here from the steep, pristine steps where even a splatter of filth wasn’t tolerated. But up here? They were guzzling up the oozing slurry to grow and bound ahead. The ones about to sink, he understood. They were barely afloat amidst the scum, and consuming the filth was their only option. But those who were comfortably above it, they also willingly chose to take a deep dive into the filth, and emerge out ahead of all.

It was disgusting, nauseating, and worst of all, disappointing. He himself had fed scraps to a few who were about to sink. But those at the top end, they consumed this filth just to pat themselves on the back. It was pitiful. It was sad.

He tightened his thigh-high boots, squared his shoulder and plodded on. Taking pride and comfort in the fact that even he was the last one among them all, he didn’t eat shit. He was his own person. However little it mattered in the real world, that was something which no one could take away from him. That was something his entire self was built upon.

He was not a lie.

I am a Zombie, or am I? 

What is Maturity? I mean, what does it mean to be Mature?  How can one decide the extent to which one’s emotional, mental and social traits are experienced enough to be called Mature? 

Well, let us do one simple task. Close your eyes, remember the last time you had a fight with someone. Remember the reason for which you fought. Now, ask yourself one question, could it have been different if you didn’t act the way you acted? Keep the answer to yourself.

The Maturity of any person is said to be found out under stress. Personally, I think it isn’t maturity that shows itself during periods of stress. It’s tolerance. . It sure does form a part of one’s overall Maturity, but that’s not all there is to it.

The best way to find out soneone’s maturity is to observe how much time of their day do they spend happy. It’s quite simple, If someone can stay happy all the time, then it means that they are Mature enough to conquer the obstacles put in their life. The more a person is happy, the greater is the depth of that happines, greater the person is Mature.

Now, Shoving all the philosophical crap aside, pick a fight with someone. If you get angry and flame up in a fit of heat & rage, then it is most likely that you are far away from being mature.

These things apply to only ‘normal’ human beings. I don’t have the luxury to feel anger or sorrow. When I shout at someone, I know exactly what should I do and what are the consequences of each word I say. I have to force myself to act against the analytical reports that my brain recieves with each word coming out of my mouth. When I hear a bad news, it pains me. But my mind instantaneously starts planning a way around the event that has caused me sorrow. I don’t fret, don’t argue, don’t whine and don’t cry (unless I go against my own mind to forcefully do so). 

I am not capble of feeling human emotions as well as others do. Perhaps I am a cripple, perhaps it’s my imagination, but the words like ‘heartless’ and ‘emotionless’ are made for me, I think.

It makes me good at dealing with sentiments because I can analyse them as good as anyone out there, perhaps better, from outside the loop. I don’t get involved, I don’t hate, I don’t crave, I don’t love, I don’t fret, I just get bored.

That also is a kind of maturity. I am a loudmouth and I shamelessly say that I am much more Mature than any person my age. 
But what does this article has to do with it? It’s simply an outlet for me. All the crappy sentiments I can’t feel, I let it out here. Perhaps I am a Zombie, perhaps I am  not a whole human. Looks like I can’t find out the truth until I die and rise again, can I?   😉

Why do I write?

That’s the first question I’ve ever heard from everyone whom I told that I write. I am a Mechanical Engineering student, and my attempts at going all out at writing have caused me a lot of trouble. (Still causing) According to people, since I have chosen to be an engineering student, I must spend my pastime in stuff like fixing bikes or setting up pulley systems. A lot of them look at me from top to bottom and ask “Huh, another Chetan Bhagat wannabe? Kid, get a little serious in your life. Don’t throw your time away like that.”

That’s the average response I get from people. At first I tried to show people what I’d written. They’d take a look at the pages, toss it aside and tell me to “Go Study”. No matter how hard I tried I was unable to convince people that I like writing as much as I like engineering. These are the times where technology and literature are considered to be mutually exclusive. So like other failed writers without an audience, I decided to quit.

Don’t tell me that was weak of me. I dare you to go for JEE and do creative writing at the same time. It isn’t possible. I had quit writing but there was a big gap in my time. Imagine a big patch of scabs on your arm with ants crawling all over it. That’s how the itch to write feels. I had urges, I had emotional highs and lows, and I had nightmares about engineering. Then one day, MIRACLE! I read about blogging somewhere and gave it a try.

It was perfect. Know I had the chance to show off my writing, my imagination, my creativity to all who care and who don’t. But, among all these things, I still haven’t come to my point. Why do I write?

That is a lot personal for me. Everyone has some sort of emotional outlet built in their system. Some people have boyfriends/girlfriends, few have friends, few have family and few let their emotions rot inside them. For me, writing is the expressway through which I clear out all excessive emotions present inside me. It works like an overflow system in a water tank and helps in balancing my inner turmoil out.

That’s why I write. I know my writing isn’t superb or excellent. Yet I compare myself with the best of them. Because I have the will, need and passion to write


5 reasons why there is such a lack of science fiction in India.

India has the largest youth population in the world, making a very huge market for books. But despite the numbers, there are not as many books by Indian sci-fi writers as compared to foreign writers in the international market. Let’s find out why.

1. Lack of resources

India is a developing country and the majority of its population depends upon agriculture. A family is considered well to do in India if they can easily feed themselves, clothe themselves, possess one motorcycle or scooter and have a bank balance of ₹10,000 at any possible moment. A PC is considered to be a luxury for 80% of the Indian population, and a smartphone for 60%. So their access to any information is limited. Only writers from richer families can afford writing any kind of book.

2. Need of survival

The most important thing in an average Indian’s life is to somehow get a safe and steady job. Family comes next, then children, then friends and then if they have some time left, it is used to plan for the next day. Money matters a lot. If you don’t have a job paying more than enough, you can simply forget about your dreams and hobbies.

3. Lack of education

Indian education system teaches only one thing. “How to get a job”. There is no inclination towards any kind of creativity or innovation. Also, most of the people who have time to read are unaware of science fiction. Most graduates in India are from Arts in Hindi medium. It restricts the no. of readers as well as writers.

4. No future

In India, there are 10,000 people trying to compete for a single chance in any area of creativity. You have to be the best to have a chance of getting a book published. If you are the second best, no one even knows you. Lot of talented writers don’t even attempt to go professional for this very reason. A lot of talent is lost.

5. Lack of encouragement

People consider you a laughing stock if you are a writer. There is no respect for you unless you are the best. On top of it, people also try to jeopardize your efforts to be good because either they are jealous or they want to drag you to the “right track” and away from the “crazy” stuff.

On top of it, most of the Indian population is not educated enough to understand science fiction. They only like to read what they see before them. The concept of science fiction is still alien to them.

On the whole, the problems for science fiction in India are education, money and resources.

Desi Sci-fi

Science Fiction is one of the most famous genres among the teenagers worldwide. Many adults are also big fans. The common age group liking sci-fi is 13 to 25. Regarding this immense pool of readers sci-fi books, anime, movies and comics are flourishing worldwide.
Now lets come to India, the country with world’s largest youth pool. Despite of the number of readers, we don’t see much contribution to sci-fi from Indian writers. Whatever the cause; It shouldn’t be so.
Lets work towards getting India recognised in the world of science fiction.