A Tale of Two Cities

It’s like courting two guys at the same time. When you’re with one, you miss the other. Never really belonging to either, yet a part of both.

For four years now, I’ve been flitting between two cities Hyderabad and Bangalore. Two darling cities, but can’t really settle down in either. I love them both, but can’t make up my mind as to where I’d live.

Today while it was raining, the rustic smell made me think that Hyderabadi monsoon is like a long-lost love. It’s like romance with a hint of sorrow. And the rain of Bangalore, well it’s like the start of courtship – young, carefree and exciting.

One city has been the rock around which I built my life. Made me what I am, and told me who I was and what I wanted to be. The other unraveled all I had learnt. Showed me what life really was, and what I really was not.

I change between two completely different personalities when I travel between them, and yet both sides of me are special to me. One I respect, other I cheer for.

I wonder when this will end, and I wonder who I shall be.

Chaos management..

The antidote to chaos – is order.

Over a period of time life gets cluttered. Rather, your brain does. Memories, feelings, dreams, pieces of broken dreams, fantasies - these get accumulated slowly. So much so that u might feel stifled, and there’s no place for new hopes and dreams. Then you stop. There’s a kind of a pause in life. It hangs in suspension. N u hang in it, having coke (cola) and swinging your legs, watching the world go by. Slowly however, you realize the purposeless-ness of your existence and you go berserk at one particular point of time. That’s when you need a psychiatrist. Go ahead and get one. I kind of feel it must be a lot of fun. To talk endlessly to a person, telling him (in my head, it’s always a ‘him’ – a really handsome ‘him’) anything and everything. He has no option except to listen, and listen attentively. coz you’re paying him. Pay someone to make them listen to you. Now that’s an idea… ..

I’m not talking of serious mental ailments here. They require medication and all. No no.. I’m talking about random nonsensical turbulence which occurs in the minds of random people like me. The above mentioned crisis happened to me some months ago, n is still kinda going on. Well not so much right now. Guess I’m cured. Yes it was a crisis, coz it made me put on a lott of weight. I know of a certain female who actually loses weight when she’s upset/depressed!! Hate her. But I digress. So this condition took a major toll on my life. Naah, it wasn’t sad or something, I can’t be sad for a long time. I just went into this shell with a truck-load of inertia. I ate, wasted time and made merry and bugged everyone who was close to me.

But there were snatches of time where I felt useless. It angered me that I was wasting my potential in mindless pursuits. Yet I couldn’t come out of it. So I asked my dad to get me a psychiatrist, and he laughed it off. I couldn’t afford one by myself, so I turned to my friends and turned them into kinda shrinks (funny word, that). I talked to them. Endlessly. Poured out all my shitty troubles. And they, bless their souls, endured it. Well not all of them, but whatever..

I guess somewhere deep down my mind realized I was desperately trying to get out of it, and in one Eureka moment, it threw the solution at me. (it did take its own sweet time to do so, mind you)

“The antidote to chaos is order.”

(I’ve finally gorwn up enough to make up cool quotations. Hmm..)

Routine. That’s the mantra. No I’m not talking about becoming a timetable of sorts (remember Dil Chahta Hai? ). Routines are boring, yes I know. But in circumstances like these, they save lives. I have made little routines that I have decided to religiously follow. Not planning my entire day, but having a set of things, important things, that I will do every single day, no matter what happens. There’s order now. And discipline.

This little change has brought so much of improvement. I feel better about myself. I’ve come out of the mental rut, I don’t hate my work anymore, I’m not lazy, I’ve got that teeny bit of discipline I so badly needed. And the best part was when I stepped onto those weighing scales.. tra la laa moment.

So get your own routine. Make up your own everyday to-do list. Stick to it. Your mind will resist, you have to fight it. Give it a lil help by rewarding it and also by not making the routine too boring. It’s fun to have a thing you do regularly. Your own thing. It helps.

rise and shine..

It’s immensely gratifying when you wake up and look out of the window and find a Gulmohar tree in all its fiery splendour. The tree in its full bloom is a riot of color. My eyes opened wide to drink in the beauty and a cool breeze put a big smile on my face. Seriously, waking up early is a wonderful gift I give myself.

During those calm leisurely hours, everything is pleasant. No matter what is happening with my life, no matter what kind of people are there in it, the world is still beautiful. In that I find my peace. And my strength. Every thought I have at that time, is as serene as a prayer and as bright as sunshine. The little walk I have under the canopy of lush green trees, is a little therapeutic session gently erasing bits of unwanted past, and readying me for a fresh new day.

And when the day starts on such a good note, it’s bound to be good! 

evening..

The frenzy of the fluttering leaves, steps of stone cut into a bed of grass, an empty whisky bottle lying carelessly in the bushes.. the incessant cooing of the koel making me wonder what it was craving so..myriad calls of strange birds, clouds strewn across a sky in various hues of blue.. Dense green foliage around, with sudden bursts of colourful blossoms punctuating the green.

A new place, new surroundings. This was the scene I was enjoying in the balcony when she interrupted the perfect moment - but the cup of chai she brought for me, made the evening more perfect.

talk it out..

Just sitting and talking to someone can make such a difference. Especially when they have faced, or are facing the same situation as you. Talking about the possible solutions feels as if the problem is already being solved. The utter hopelessness reduces and u feel like it is ok .. even though the reality may be far from the truth.

It’s always good to talk it out with people who matter. (But before you do that, make sure you matter to that person too. Otherwise you are setting yourself up for some really shitty stuff.) There’s always someone, or some people who’ll want to listen to you, no matter how crappy, or how repetitive your problems might be. They’ll listen not as an obligation, but because they really care about what you’re going through. Figure out who those person/ people are in your life, and when you do, cherish them. They are very special, and bask in the glory of the awareness that they are there for you, even when life is not so good.

Having people who care, might not solve any problems and might not be a quick-fix in anyway, but it definitely makes life a lot better. Makes you stronger to go face a problem or tackle a challenge.

You’re more willing to try and scale that wall, when you know there’s a cushion to fall back on.. Just In Case.

PS : some cushions are subject to wear and tear.. or might just decide to get up and walk out. Beware. It Hurts! in the wrong places when u fall without looking back.

Stranger..

Talking to myself I was,
On a cold dark night
There was silence
And no one in sight

Someone was watching me
I realized with a start.
To that benign visitor
I poured out my heart

Unspeakable dreams I had
and lay awake in fright
I relived them with this stranger
On the cold winter night

Comforted by him I drifted
In and out of sleep
The swishing wind sometimes
Breaking the silence deep

The leaves rustled softly
To the wind’s tune
They were laughing at me
For I’d been talking to the moon

Here we go again ..

Remember the scene from the movie ‘The Mummy’ where Brendan Fraser ( the love of my life when I was at school) says with considerable dread “Here we go again” when they reach Hamunaptra, the city of the dead?? I felt the same when I reached the dentist’s clinic. The place of pain, screams and sharp instruments that poke around in your mouth. I went in, and the receptionist showed me in aftr a torturous wait of half an hr. I walked in, and was shocked. The girl who used to assist the dentist, had now been promoted and was the dentist now. And her inexperience showed. I went coz a small piece of my tooth had chipped off, and there was a definite hole. I told her to fill it up. It took her around ten minutes to find it. And meanwhile she was trying to convince me that there was no cavity. Finally, she saw that and said “ it’s so tiny and in an inaccessible place. Let’s leave it.. won’t matter”. Now, after undergoing THREE root-canal surgeries, and having gotten 2 cavities filled, I am kind of a dental expert. I have this calcium deficiency thing and this causes dental probs on a frequent basis. Brushing twice a day, rinsing everytime I eat and all that doesn’t help. I’m doomed. I said “fill it up.. it will become a problem later on”. Now ppl, remember- Never ever ignore a cavity, whatever a stupid inexperienced dentist might say. Get it filled up. I went to the dreaded chair, and got into position – jaws open wide, as if in a silent scream. The actual screams would follow. Experienced dentists would know that it isn’t easy for people to sit still and open their mouths, when you are holding such sharp instruments. We get scared, we close out mouths. Of course. The drill comes near, and the mouth closes. Normally dentists expect that. The ones who treat me, always schedule the session with buffer time. This lady one was new. Started getting frustu. That didn’t help. The more agitated she got, the more scared I was. After an agonizing quarter hour, it was done, and I stopped praying and was about to get off, when she said, it’s been 6 months since you came, so get scaling done. It won’t hurt, she promised. “yea right!” she started, and I spat blood three times! She kept cutting my gums. When I complained, she came up with the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. “There’s bad blood in gums. It’s better if it comes out”. I wanted to ask her, “do you deliberately cut your gums every month to get the “bad blood” out?” And for heaven’s sake, use the damn suction and don’t make me sit up and spit every 10 seconds. I know I look like a person who could use a few ab-crunches, but this is neither the place, nor the time. Some pray for riches, others pray for love, but I? I pray for dental health. Amen.

!@#$%!!

There are horrible things, and there are shitty things. Horrible ones make you cringe or cry when u remember them, shitty things are frustrating, but only make you shrug at the memory, and make others laugh cruelly when narrated.

For eg, when you unknowingly step into dung on the road, it’s a shitty thing.. but when you slip in it and break your nose and are left disfigured forever, it’s horrible.

I travel in local trains to go to work, and the other day, I left office early, and there was a train leaving at 4.30 pm. It was 4.29 in my watch. I rushed to the ticket counter, and I saw the train pull into the platform. I pushed everyone in the queue aside, yelled at the aunty to gimme a ticket and threw a Rs10 note at her. And this dumb female, starts counting coins to pay me back without handing over the ticket. I yell again, snatch the ticket and rush out. The train has started moving, and I started running towards the entrance of a compartment, movie style. I almost got into it, with one foot on the foot-hold, when I slipped. I would’ve gone crashing down onto the platform, and got injured, died whatever..

If he hadn’t pulled me inside. Well, I’m no Simran, so he wasn’t Shah Rukh either. More like Amrish Puri, judging by the length of the lecture he gave me. “you know what could have happened? You know how irresponsible it was?” so on and so forth. Interestingly, every thing he said was a question. “How would your parents feel?”.. “blah blah? Bblah?” it was quite funny after I’d noticed this. I counted 14 questions before he shut up and looked away. He had a shiny bald patch on his head. So, let’s call him Anupam Kher? But he had the strength to pull me, (ME!) into the train, so more like Dara Singh.. Well whoever.

I pulled out my book and began reading, and looked out when the train approached a station. My mouth fell open. This train wasn’t supposed to go to this station!! Turns out I was on the wrong train! This explained why the ticket counter lady was so nonchalant when I told her that the train had arrived. Turns out she wasn’t the dumb one after all. I was so frustu that some really nasty words flew out of my mouth, causing our Amrish Puri to stare at me with a horrified look. “I bet you wont ask me any ‘questions’ now” I thought.

That same evening.

I was going to my aunt’s place and my cousin had come to pick me up on her 2-wheeler. On the way a drain was overflowing, and I was telling her to drive very very slowly. “I don’t want even a drop of the dirty drain water to splash on to my foot. Slow down”.. “slower”..” Slowerrrrrrr” at that precise moment.. ‘Splash!!’ a goddamned truck driver went speeding past us. Again a string of expletives flew out of my mouth, much to the shock of my little cousin, who had never seen this side of ‘Manasa-akka’.

But it’s useless to bad-mouth anyone. It’s no one’s fault, and there’s no way to escape it. When there’s shit waiting to happen, it will.

Tangled

Never trust an Assamese hair stylist.

I specifically told her that I wanted to keep it long. I just wanted her to trim the edges which started looking like overgrown bushes. Just that morning I was admiring how long it’d become. It had taken me two long years for it to grow so much. She acted like she understood me, said ‘umm’ and ‘ah’ and all that. Then she stuck many colored pins in my hair, and started the demolition. Snip snip snip.. it went on and on. Now with my glasses off, I’m half blind and since I was sitting so far from the mirror I couldn’t really see what was going on. Only a blurry shape which looked like it had horns, coz of all those pins stuck in the hair.

After a while, she removed the pins and my still-wet hair fell to my shoulder.. my shoulder!! It was HALF as long as it used to be.. I squealed.. startling her.. I wanted to yell at her, to call her names, make her see the horrible sin she’d committed, and all I could manage was “where’s my hair??” to which she obviously laughed. You know, some people are intimidating customers.. the people who make others really careful in their presence; and the rest of us are a bunch of clowns who nobody is scared of. She wouldn’t have dared to cut all my hair off if I’d belonged to the former set.

But after she blow-dried my tresses, and those exquisite curls landed softly on my shoulders, I could just sit and stare at my reflection. I didn’t hate that woman with a funny name anymore. Yes she’d butchered my long hair, but she’d turned wild tangles into bouncy curls. I was gushing like an idiot thanking her profusely. We even made plans how she’d style my hair when I got married. Ya, I haven’t yet met the guy I’ll marry, but I have a hair-stylist ready.

Have you ever looked into a mirror and felt a truck-load of happiness? Ever been so much in love with yourself that you are bursting with the joy of it? I was suddenly in this place where I loved looking in the mirror, and where previously I saw Shrek, now I saw Fiona (the human one). For the next two days I skipped around, tossing my hair and smiling, and liking that smile.

And then , I shampooed, and lo and behold, my wild tangles were back again, only shorter.

Book Review - Delhi 14 Historic Walks

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com

They say you aren’t supposed to judge a book by its cover, but I guess you are allowed to fall in love with the cover. Like I did, as soon as I opened the package and looked at ‘Delhi – 14 Historic Walks’. It has a beautiful cover, with a picture of an ancient stone passageway, as if beckoning you to come inside.

I love taking random walks in the morning, by myself, taking in the surroundings. And hence the concept of Historic walks described in the book intrigued me so much. A historic walk is a walking tour of a historical place, either enjoyed alone or with friends or an organized heritage walk comprising a bunch of strangers.

The book describes 14 such walks in Delhi in great detail. Each place comes with a detailed site map directions, entry fee details, best time to visit and many other pieces of trivia that will help you visit. But this is not another boring tour-guide. You can enjoy reading this book even if you aren’t planning to visit. For the tone of the book is personal, giving it a feel of a story rather than a boring narrative.

Each historic place has a story to tell. Of how it came to be built, what ancient events took place there and the royalty connected to it. The author, Sapna Liddle tells these stories in a concise way, taking the readers along, as she walks by each place. Hence, this book is as entertaining as it is informative. It’s like getting little lessons in history, narrated as fables.

The photographs accompanying each description are beautiful and well chosen, to provide a complete experience of getting to know a place. The walks are arranged in a chronological order – oldest areas to newest. As we go from one to another we capture the systematic history of the development of the city and its architectural heritage.

Embarking upon each walk is like taking a little time travel into the past, and our first destination is the Qutub Minar complex. The narrative begins with a brief history of the rulers who built the various buildings in the complex, and the changes brought in by the change of regime. This is followed by a description of the architecture. The author writes about how ‘the Arch’ was introduced into Indian architecture after the establishment of the Delhi Sultanate.

For those planning to visit the places mentioned in the book, there’s also information on the amenities available at the sites and also trivia like the difficulty level of getting there, and also draws attention to details like the presence of thorny bushes and the required precautions to be taken.

Another site mentioned here is Tughlaqabad. I enjoyed reading this section because I have finally come to know the story behind the commonly used saying ‘Dilli duur ast’ or ‘Dilli abhi door hai’. The sufi saint Nizamuddin Auliya was under a death-threat from emperor Ghiyasuddin Tughlaq who was out on a military campaign and sent word that the saint would be punished in his return to Delhi. When urged to leave the city, he said ‘Delhi is yet far’.

The book is thoroughly entertaining, and so full of detail that reading has been a real delight. Reading about Humayun’s tomb, the Red fort and Shahjahanabad brings back memories from the time I visited those fascinating places, steeped in history, and I’m sure that the readers who haven’t been there, would love to go take those ’14 Historic walks’ in Delhi.

And if you really wanna visit, Delhi isn’t all that far away.

Write right, or don’t?

“Self-censorship is the death of art” said Salman Rushdie when Barkha Dutt asked him in an interview whether the criticism of his views was making him re-consider what he writes. He says a writer has to be true to his story and should not subject his writing to external influences. Hearing him say that inspite of all that he’s been through on account of his writing, I was impressed. He’s faced sever criticism, had death-threats, and was prohibited from entering his own country, and still believes in speaking his mind. I’ve never been a fan of his writing, but I do admire his courage.

The same idea, of being true to your work was put forth by another writer, Stephen King. I learnt a great deal from the ideas he talks about in his book ‘On Writing’, but I’m not a fan of his either. But I do like one of his books – ‘The Shining’, which is fantastically scary. Remenber that episode of the show ‘F.R.I.E.N.D.S’ where Joey gets so scared of that book that he puts it in the fridge?

What both these writers said about self-censorship, has struck a chord with me because it’s something I indulge in whenever I write. My writing material is largely based on my everyday life and the people around me, (who also form a major chunk of my readers) and hence, on some unconscious level my ideas are customized according to their perceived reactions. Of course, what I write can’t possibly have any far-reaching consequences.

At least not on such a grand level, so as to spark off a national level debate. This is when the question of tolerance arises. Even I feel that what happened was unfair. But then again, when M.F.Hussain was exiled for apparently dishonoring Hindu deities, my first reaction was to be angry at the painter, for not being considerate to the sentiments and emotions of Hindus. However, I wouldn’t want him thrown out of the country, or for this to be made bigger than it is. It is when something is made unpopular, that it becomes more popular than ever, for it sparks curiosity, which can never be crushed. I wouldn’t have read so much about ‘Satanic Verses’ if it wasn’t for all this controversy.

The other day I was reading a joke posted on Facebook, which was very funny, though it definitely scandalized some people as it was a little offensive to Jesus. They posted comments saying what they felt, and there was some outcry from people who found it funny, that the other people were too serious and intolerant. This isn’t fair either, because if someone has the “freedom” to post a racist joke, then others have a right to say that they find the joke disgusting. As long as they don’t start a motion to ban this person from Facebook. That would be unfair. And what happened to Salman Rushdie or Taslima Nasrin was outrageous. They can’t be murdered for the ideas they put forth. Even more ironic is that Rushdie was saved by police protection, and somebody who merely translated the book, was stabbed to death. So what message are writers getting? Either write politically and religiously correct stuff, or don’t write at all? Well, they don’t care. They say : “write what You want”.

I am going to take their advice and start scribbling afresh. Guess I needn’t worry – no one hates random unrelated ramblings of this capricious mind… yet!

Totally Tagorified..

There's a line in part 4 of the much loved-hated Twilight series (loved by gals, and equally hated by guys, jealous of Edward ;) ) Bella says "What's the point of getting dressed up with Rosalie in the same room", talking about a ravishingly gorgeous vampire girl, stating the fact that every other girl pales in comparison. I could relate to that emotion, while reading the works of Rabindranath Tagore. His stories tug at your heart-strings, telling tales of delicate human relations. The characters are so real, the backdrop so delightfully rustic, you can’t help but marvel at his genius. His stories showcase the best and worst shades of people. But it was his work, 'My Reminiscences' that has moved me the most. Reading it, my heart filled with joy at the glory of the written word. The beauty of his thought is matched only by the brilliance of his language.

Why would anyone, why should anyone read anything else, when there’s this kind of treasure available… When this thought came, I kinda put away my pen.. (my new wonderful beautiful over-priced fountain pen that makes me feel awfully good) every single day. But then again, I thought of another thing Henry Van Dyke said:

“The woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.”

So out came my scribble pad again. :)

Dawn Drama

Dawn is a beautiful, magical time. We are seldom awake enough to appreciate its beauty, though.

These days, it’s more beautiful than ever. So beautiful that it inspires the super-lazy me to change, pull on those sneakers, and step out into the cold, cold morning. I didn’t take my earphones along, as I wanted to hear the sound of nature. What I heard however, was the angry honking of the passing vehicles, as people rushed around in their early-morning scramble. I was determined to get away from the noise and walked on and on, lane into lane until I chanced upon a lonely area. Aah! Here was bliss. The heaven I had sacrificed the warmth of my room for. It was quiet, except for the rustling of leaves in the wind, the crackling of twigs under my feet, and an occasional call of a bird.

There were a few houses, here and there. All of them empty and in a dilapidated condition – abandoned. And in one of the garden sheds, there were two cars – all rusted and covered with cobwebs. Now, abandoned houses have always fascinated me – it feels like there’s some story behind them, a mystery of sorts. Wonder what happened that made the owners leave in a hurry? A tragedy, or some mafia story?

This is what happens when you grow up reading mystery novels. Nothing is mundane anymore. Your imagination goes into a overdrive, and there’s something interesting in everything; and your supposed “brisk-walk” turns into a languid strut. A few steps further, I saw a super-old, big house, with a window, having a glass pane broken. I was itching to go peer into it and see what’s inside.

I took a few steps closer, and suddenly realized that it was Friday, and the date was actually the 13th. That was it. I could suddenly sense Jason lurking behind every bush, and the peaceful silence and the solitude suddenly appeared ominous and dangerous. I ran back into civilization as fast as I could.

I had stepped out looking for a rendezvous with nature, smelt adventure when there was none, got spooked unnecessarily, and ran home looking extremely silly. But hey, I got my exercise, so it wasn’t a total loss.

What makes a relationship unhealthy…

Being a social blogger, with a decent enough readership, I think it’s my duty to also dish out gyan from time to time. Specially, when in my inner-most social circles, I see people nearing a quarter-life crisis. It’s the time of life, when you’re at the prime of life – your focus needs to be divided between your career and your private life, both of which are at crucial stages. You need to be with yourself the most at this time, concentrating on You, but it’s always better to have a wonderful cocoon of people and love around you. And happier relationships make happier people, and happy people are undoubtedly more successful.

Not that I’m an expert in this case, but this is an account of what I’ve seen, experienced and understood. There are some things that turn a relationship unhealthy, and I’m not talking about any particular relationship here.

Too close, too far:

I’ve wrecked many a friendship, just by being distant. It has never happened by design (well almost never ;) ). Sometimes you stop making an effort to keep in touch, and by the time you finally do think of them, they have stopped caring about you entirely. And the most sincere of apologies doesn’t help you much. It’s very difficult to get back what’s lost.

Perhaps more dangerous than this, is getting too close. Getting too close to someone, so much so that others seem less important and you constantly find yourself turning to that one person for everything. You are very lucky if the person is mature enough to handle this, but more often than not, the other person will feel like it’s a burden and will run away, accusing you of having too much expectations. True, it was never your intention to put pressure, but this is what happens.

Here and There:

It’s nearly impossible for two people to feel the same thing. So it becomes imperative for you to understand whether the other person is at the same place as you. If you think you’ve moved forward, and they are stuck at the same place, gently warn them; and if it’s vice-versa, I know it’s hard, but you have to kick yourself to move on too.

Expectations and Assumptions:

I’ve heard this many times – ‘Don’t expect anything from someone’. But I think it’s bullshit. If you’re human, you are bound to have expectations. But once you realize you are setting them, try to gauge the person thoroughly to see if he/she has got what it takes to fulfill them. Make sure you aren’t being unrealistic – that what you want fits into ‘normal’ and ‘humanly possible’. And if inspite of it, you find your expectations getting crashed repeatedly, maybe it’s time to move away.

Never ever assume that people can or should understand what’s going on in your head. Most of us can’t even figure out our own thoughts! Talk to them – the other person is neither a mind-reader to read your mind, nor a gorilla (hopefully!) that won’t understand when you talk about your feelings.

Even after all this, if things are still going wrong, and you feel like you are in an unhealthy relationship, decide whether you want to invest time and effort in trying to treat it, or you want to amputate.

Book Review - Book of Miracles

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

I received the ‘Book of Miracles’ at the time when I was myself hoping for one.

While I was sitting in prayer asking for help from above, I received a book which talks about answered prayers with stories of divine intervention. This in itself was a sign from above. I read story after story of miracles, of faith bearing fruit; and I experienced a sense of peace easing my unrest and a silent strength building up in my heart. This book is fantastic.

It has 101 stories each sent by a separate individual, who narrates the tale of experiencing the presence of a higher power in their lives. These experiences have helped people to strengthen their belief in God, and in some cases, have even turned atheists to believers. These stories are bound to have an impact on the readers too, making them re-think their own experiences and perhaps see them in a difference light. Whether they have a change of heart is an uncertain possibility, but I can say, with a definite amount of conviction that it surely will provide a feel-good to read these stories.

The book comprises twelve parts, each having 8-10 stories having a common underlying theme. The parts ‘ Signs From Above’, ‘His Messenger’, and ‘Everyday Miracles’ talk about incidents which can either be brushed off as mere coincidences, or can be pondered upon as significant occurrences. These little messages or flashed of intuition caused major things to happen in the lives of these people – even saving lives in some cases.

Then there are other parts dedicated to the power of prayers. Stories of how God answered their prayers, coming to their aid at the right time; saving them and their loved ones. Unforgettable memories where they felt the divine presence beside them. I thoroughly enjoyed the supernatural element in some of the stories, which can be enjoyed as a read, even by the most skeptical and the cynical of readers.

The most touching stories however, were those about signs from beyond the grave. Tales of how loved ones sent messages and love after they had left the world. Though they are no more, their love lingers around their dear ones.I know this to be true, as I have a guardian angel too.

If the earlier paragraphs in this post have led you to believe that it’s a serious and heavy book, I must tell you that it’s not so. Though the issue dealt with is a serious one, some of the writers have put it in a way that is sure to make you smile, even elicit a giggle. What adds to the delight in reading the book is the crisp language and the wonderful style of writing. The editors have apparently done a wonderful job in compiling it, carefully picking out stories, and tastefully arranging them. In light of this, I’m prepared to ignore the few stories that just made me yawn, and somehow didn’t really go with the theme of the book.

Lastly, I can only repeat what Albert Einstein said “ you can live your life as if nothing is a miracle, or as if everything is a miracle.” So go read this book and make your decision.