How To Write When Going Through A Writer’s Block

As a writer there are several things that demand your attention even if you are a full time writer, or a part time, if you are a diarist or you simply like journaling your life. Specification, attention to details is demanding nonetheless and most often than not life and mood comes in the way of putting pen to paper, or shall we go with the more modern phenomenon of typing words on screen. Whatever be the case, writing is not just as simple as sitting down to write and scribble or type. And yet, I will say that it is exactly just as simple as that. I have this one and only solution to overcome the writer’s block that you might be going through and at first it might sound irrational and useless but that is what I have found works best for me and for most writers I have interacted with.

So what is exactly writers block? For most of us, it is simply a lack of will to write. This lack of will could have been generated because something went wrong in school or work, or you have been in a fight or you lack the energy, you are tired, you are simply in the wrong mood as compared to the genre that you are currently writing. The list and the reasons go on. You can add as many as you like but it all turns towards the one end of not being able to write- wordlessness.

Now, how does one overcome this block? Surely, it cannot be as easy as to sit down, breathe and write. But what if I told you it is? I promise this is not a self-help post, which will inspire you this second and will turn on you just as soon as you shut down the page. This is a diligent practice that needs patience and reflection. So when you are unable to write because you are angry, or tired or lack the peace of mind, all you have to do is feel your honest feelings and write.

Write the feelings that you feel and see the words unroll.

I am not saying the block is merely a façade, nor am I saying that once you start sorting your feeling out you will be able to sail through your manuscript. What I am saying is when you come face to face with the block and with your own feelings; you overwork your mind and stop analyzing things. Giving up comes easy than perseverance. So when one starts sorting their own feelings, and tries writing them down, it puts words on paper, clearing one’s mind of them. If you are angry write down what you are angry, what is the reason behind it, and the same goes for any other emotion. Write down every aspect of what you are feeling. It doesn’t have to be analytical or a philosophical journaling of Beauvoir, it can be as simple and as childish and as honest as you want to make it. Write down you had tea in the morning and you fought with your boss over unnecessary matter. Write how you feel about the character on the book that you are reading. Write an idea on a plot of the book that you didn’t like and what would you do to them had you been the writer. Write a letter to someone close. Write the making of an easy recipe. Write your hate. Write your love. Write your raw emotions. And once that is out, you can try continuing the process for a few days. Slowly, you might initiate working towards what you want to actually write and even if it does not happen soon, you have already broken the block, by writing down your day-to-day feelings. It is not that simple and yet it is just as simple.

Write Raw. Write Honest.

Writers block is not really a myth but it also does not hold the kind of power that we allow it to hold over us.

Happy Writing.

Moushmi is the Author of POSIES and 03:21 AM: An Ode to Rust & Restlessness, Resignation of an Angel is Moushmi’s third poetry collection. Her works have been published at various online literary magazines and she has also been a contributing writer for anthology collections namely, ‘Mirage’ and ‘The Lockdown Stories’

For updates about her life and works visit her at http://www.aestheticmiradh.com

The Journey of A Reader

CHAPTER 1 : A soulful rewind into my childhood days.

This is going to be a soulful rewind into my childhood days. Whenever I think about those early days, it is foggy all around and the device I use, which helps me to evaporate the mist is none other than books. Yes, they are the connecting boats to the shores, the shores of my childhood then to the womanhood, which I had abandoned long ago, and we all do abandon not by choice but by force, the force of nature. It has been three decades, but when I kindle those memories with the books, the visuals are more vivid than any other device could have possibly projected into my mind screen. Join me in this personal expedition, into those days when face mask were used only in operation theatres, and lock-downs were imposed only for 48 hrs, which was then termed as ‘Bharath Bandh’by the trade unions. Am sure this will ignite your memories of your childhood days, as I narrate my encounter with books, why am I so sure? Because one way or another we all are connected if not identified with books, that is the power of words, the magic it could unleash upon each one of its reader and seduce us to be its concubine!

The Indian state of Bihar, the place where one of the master story tellers, the English novelist George Orwell was born in the month of June dated 25th and the year was 1903. Striking two things popped up my memory, the way memories jumps out is unpredictable. One thing I connect to George Orwell is his birth date, 25th June, mine is 25th July. The other thing is the place, Bihar is where I could trace the evidence of my affairs with reading and books were set in motion. At the age of 6, I was introduced to reading and books through Hindi language.

I still have the faint memories of going to school early morning, free times at the school ground swing, tasting the smashed potato (jeera aloo) with chapati shared by my friend -classmate. The only book I could recollect from my kindergarten class would be my Hindi Book. It was a copper sulfate blue book cover approximately with a B6 size with colored illustrations for objects representing each alphabet, tiny sentences and numbers. I am truly thankful to my mom. She believes in preserving things, as a result the book found a safe haven in our house enabling me to visit that book once in a while, which fuels the pure joy of nostalgic moments.

Reading is not only about books alone, it could be anything, for instance a magazine. Yesterday when I saw the famous Malayalam weekly magazine, Manorama, which was a vital part of a typical Kerala household. Discussions happened around the stories that get published in this magazine in serial format; it had a huge fan base. Nowadays it got replaced by television dramas. The magazine triggered some memories as well. During our stay in Bihar, this would be the only magazine I get to see at our home. I remember how the access was restricted to those fictional novels which were published periodically, but then it didn’t affect me much as I haven’t learnt to read the Malayalam language. Seeing Manorama triggered the memory about Dad, who brings backs some of these magazine, like some priced possessions, from his native visits. I wonder we all would have seen this kind of magazine which is now in extinction, as result of the developments in the visual mediums? Reading is still alive, maybe the medium we consume the content got shifted.

When I completed the full circle around the sun, our family got shifted back to our native village in Kerala. I was admitted into a nearby primary school. Then my collection of books where very small, which included the Hindi Text book and an English rhyme with illustrations.

The Manorama weekly made their visits to our home along with my Dad during his vacation trips. When he returned back from his vacation, he left behind some of those finished weeklies. I adopted them, because by this time I have learned to read Malayalam, they were special, because otherwise there were no other books apart from the school text books. These weeklies became my friends, in a household, where the other possible books available were The Bible and Hymn books.

Till my fourth standard, I don’t remember reading any book in particular by myself other than the bible stories from Sunday school (catechism) or the Hindu mythology narrated by my grandfather. Later I gained the freedom of reading, without the mom’s assistance for stories, I got permission to access children’s comic weeklies such as Balarama, Balabhoomi and Poompaatta during the Onam, Christmas and summer vacations. These were the regional Malayalam versions for the famous Twinkle published in English. This is how the reading routine went until fifth standard.

During my sixth standard to the Tenth form, the school where I studied didn’t have a library hall of its own. The only relief was the weekly library period. Here too things were tricky, during the library period a bundle of books were brought in by the teacher assigned for the task, the issue was, we were given the books of their choice, not ours!

The reading is supposed to be inculcated and enriched from a very early ages, may be from upper primary level, sadly, during that timeline I was slogging with the ‘Library period’ and was forced to read books not by my preferences. The faintest memory of what I read from the school library was just a book. What was that book? Hang in there; you will get to know that in the next chapter of this series called ‘The Journey Of A Reader’. Until then I wish, you all discover new writings and authors, remember no one reads a book in a same way, and keep exploring. Happy Reading!

The Brothers Karamazov

Once you have seen it, you can’t unsee it!

Before we begin, let me put it clear, that it is a huge book, say about 800 pages. If you are new to Dostoyevsky, I would like to alert you to start with his short stories, then ‘The Notes From The Underground’ and finally his novels. This is to understand the style of his writings and set the mood before you get into his magnanimous works. It’s a reality, to get acquainted with Dostoyevsky; you got to make gradual moves with a solid plan.

Even the ‘Crime and Punishment’, which I considered to be his best, is a tree, where the ‘woods’ being ‘The Brothers Karamazov. Keep a notepad to track the names of the characters; Russian names still remains a puzzle for me. Some of the character gets multiple names, even pet names, and the more variety in the name, and then we are informed that the more important the character is.

This was the last novel written by Dostoyevsky. This book surely got influenced by his age, the proof – the obvious leanings towards spiritual and religious avenues. There is this character, who reminds us about Dostoyevsky’s son, who died very young because of epilepsy. In a way, the rebellion and posing questions against religion and god was his (Dostoyevsky’s) way of venting out his anger and frustrations.

The books name suggests that it is about a family, I guess a dysfunctional family will be more apt, consisting only males. This is where I adore Dostoyevsky, for the cleverness, he excluded a daughter among Karamazov because women bring healing into the household and put it into a more civilized place.

Let me walk you through the book and what my understanding or what was communicated by Dostoyevsky to me, the reader. For me it was all about human sufferings. Who are we? Why do we do things? What it means to be a human being? In a balanced way this book criticizes religion. Religion doesn’t hold the answer for all our questions and sufferings.

There is a scene where the two brothers IVAN (Atheist) and ALYOSHA (Religious) gets into a debate. Here IVAN asks why children are put into suffering. If god is a good person, why would he wish to see them suffer? They have just started their lives, might not have even committed a sin. For this question ALYOSHA don’t have any answer. 

The book is also about picking up the evils that had been sawed across the society, a society that fights for materialistic needs. Reading along you will be convinced that ignorance is bliss and knowing too much will put you trouble. It is not the sinner who gets punished; sometimes innocent one’s get punished for some other person’s wrong doings (Dimitri’s character reveals a lot in this perspective). Guilt only comes into picture if you knowingly do something. No one is saint or pure evil, one has to constantly battle to keep the balance.

The Book assures that it is okay to be less smart and be good than being smart, successful and bad. Dostoyevsky attempts to take his countrymen to the good old days of their childhood. We must preserve childhood’s innocence that we lose while growing up. I guess reading helps, to preserve that childlike innocence, to an extent. 

My Favorite (Disturbing) chapter from the book is, ‘The Devil, Ivan’s Nightmare.

Karamazov Brothers also deals with child’s suffering, voices against bullying and the impact the insulting words could have on the tender minds. The main characters, we can divide them into four philosophies. I am pretty sure; this book will demand your Re-readings, each time from the angle of each character/philosophy they profess. To understand life and human being better, and to be more compassionate and empathetic, This is the sole reason why one must read ‘THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV’.

Once you have seen it, you can’t unsee it! I envy those who are going to read it for the very first time, to experience the narrative and get enlightened by the school of thoughts taught by the one and only Fyodor Dostoyevsky!

Happy reading.

My Discovery of Zola

Realism to Naturalism, my search unearthed the master of Naturalism, Emile Zola!

Literary realism is a movement that depicts reality by portraying mundane everyday experiences as they are in real life. It primarily deals with the life course of middle and lower classes. The shift happened during the ninetieth century, which took an alternative narrative from the usual one, which was about exotic and poetic romanticism.

The roots of literary realism lie in France. The two prominent figures were Honore de Balzacand Gustave Flaubert, who adopted and gave wings to realist narration. The change occurred because then the works of Romanticism were thought to be exotic. Even though they celebrated the uniqueness and impermanence of every human life by living their lives through emotional experiences, it lost the connection with real world.

Once realism started gaining momentum, that was the exact time when George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans) published ‘Middle March’, a study of provincial life in 1871.

There are about 6 types of Literary Realism,

  1. Magical Realism: One Hundred Year of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez (1967)
  2. Social Realism: Les Miserables (1862)
  3. Kitchen Sink Realism: Room At The Top (1957)
  4. Socialist Realism: something created and adopted by the communists.
  5. Naturalism
  6. Psychological Realism: Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyvesky (1866)

I have explored all other kinds of realism except Naturalism. So this new opportunity pushed my curiosity to widen the horizons to learn more about and get acquainted with Naturalism.

Naturalism is considered to be the extreme form of realism influenced by Charles Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, was said to be founded by Emila Zola, the French writer. Naturalism explores and investigates all social and environmental phenomena in the belief that nothing exists beyond the natural world. Here super naturals and spiritual experiences are negated and the focus shifts on to that explanation that comes from the law of the nature.

Then I realized that I have already read some works that can be categorically called as Naturalism. Then I wasn’t aware of the literary branch I was exploring through my readings. Till then I was observed into English and Russian literature marvels, this discovery of Naturalism opened an avenue, a secret door to French Literature as well.

I decided to begin with the works of the father of Naturalism, Emila Zola. I was not at all disappointed. I bought The Entire collection of Emila Zola on my Kindle, and I was excited to explore the new world of literature with the fascination of a child. I began with his short stories and it gave me the satisfaction of a piping hot meal, or like indulging a perfectly baked cake, delicious!

Almost through the short story collection, now I am eager to read his novel, and it is kind of cool off period for me to make a decision on what am I going to pick? Should I begin with his early novels or should I jump into the literary series consisting of 20 books called ‘Rougon-Macquart.

I guess I will be picking the 20-book series after completing his novel called ‘Therese Raquin’, the novel which undoubtedly put him in the map of French Literature.

And here we come, my discovery of Emila Zola and the journey into the best of works on Naturalism. It all started with reading an article about Realism, through which I detected naturalism on my radar. It is an immense discovery of an author who pioneered this literary movement. Like I always believed, we don’t pick books, they pick us, that too only when we are ready to accept them. My moment with Naturalism and Emila Zola had just begun!

Three Books I Recommend to Educate Yourself on Feminism

Women’s Day Special

Every year come 8th March we celebrate International Women’s Day. Every year we celebrate womanhood and her power and how she is equal if not superior but we do it for one day. The next day we go back to the all common, all natural means of our unidentified, if not conscious systems of patriarchy. The mother wakes up two hours early to manage the house before going to work, the dad comes home to find his cup of warm tea ready for him, that girl over there keeps worrying about the size of her skirt that suddenly went short and what her teachers are going to say, the boys will obviously and willingly be obliged to look at her legs while she is already conscious and fidgety, the thirty-five year single woman will be looked down upon, and the man of the same age will be recommended for being too serious in his work, the pink infants will be given dolls and the blue ones cars, the list goes on. We know the drill. Not every house and every human is same, but there is this underlying upbringing that still needs correcting, irrespective of gender, caste, sex, nationality.

Obviously, I don’t have a solution that might work overnight. But I do have a few books that I strongly recommend for everyone to read (again, irrespective of every caste, creed, gender or nationality). If only you just read it, understood it and implemented it!

Book 1

Wordslut: A Feminist Guide to Taking Back the English Language

By Amanda Montell

I won’t bore you with the blurb. If you are still reading this I have a feeling you won’t be lazy enough to look it up and actually read a bit about the book. Modern English is what evolved over time, just like humans. And the gist of it is, the language itself sometimes become casually sexistand not all-inclusive which is basically the problem. This book is the solution.



I cannot sum it up for you here, and neither will I try. But at the same time I will mention how essential it is to actually understand the problematic use of words like slut and bitch and pussy and dick because while in the past it didn’t mean what it means today, it does leave an insignificant impact in our mind. What happened? Over time, the language changed just like they stopped using ain’t and nought and thee and thou. But technically it is right to use all those words too. How? READ THE BOOK! The book isn’t just about how slangs work today, it includes the usage of pronouns and the LGBTQIA+ and how standards for men and women differ.



If you think about it, they are just small things but then why should they remain. Why? Why should someone who doesn’t identify as men go through different standards? Why should men tell that periods are or aren’t such a big problem? Why are they mansplaining? How can one assume sex is a key factor for only one gender? Why should language itself be masculine? How can someone get to dehumanize someone else? Who gave them the right to interrupt me while I am speaking? Who gave them the right to be sexist?

So while actions are problematic, language is too. And while words and grammar may change over time, something that is not acceptable today, maybe in the future. Being conscious of how it affects our society is the only way to it. With this book the writer deconstruct language.

Book 2

Dear Ijeawele, Or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions

By ChimamandaNgoziAdichie

Okay, I’ll admit I still have problems with pronouncing the name sometimes and yes I am not ashamed of it. But I never had problems understanding the book I am talking about. When I first read it a couple of years back I wanted to take a pencil and mark every single line in the book, that’s how significant I found it. Yes, she speaks about very basic things and the simplest of things that hint at patriarchy and yes she brings out how to overcome them. But what really helped me in marking this as too important a book to ever forget was that it talked about how to bring up a child into this world as someone who does not fall into the standards of patriarchy, who is a feminist irrespective of the gender. Telling the world what to do with a child and how to bring them up in not a gender-biased way was the best thing, I felt like that is an answer right there, make that a curriculum in every school and every child will have some sense in them before they know right from wrong. With this book you are not just changing yourself, you are changing the generations to come. What exactly more could I ask for?

Everyone should read it, even if you are not planning on children now, even if you don’t ever plan to raise another human being, you should read this, that’s that. I love it more than any other book because it changes you and it changes the future generations, it changes the root of how and what we think on so many issues, it changes the general norm, thus making an effort on changing something that we have miserably failed at doing for so many ages.Read it now. Set aside any book that you are reading currently (okay, I know that sounds harsh) just take a break then, but read it, please!

Book 3

Vagina: A Re-education

By Lynn Enright

If you cringed at the sound of the book then you should definitely read this one. If you have a vagina then you should be reading this. If you don’t have one you still need to be reading this, period!

The book is part memoir and part practical guide to the vagina, breaking myths and empowering women by finally explaining to them the truths of their own body. It is simply sad that today, in 2022 we still have no proper sex education in most schools. And the ones that do have are small session of uncomfortable, rushed, and partial truth, if not a misinformed class. And even then the stress is always on male genitalia, male pleasure. Women are either misinformed about their own anatomy or either scared to death about sex. If you ask a person to mention the parts of a man’s genitals, they are likely to go into heavy details, naming every part almost accurately, but if you do so with a woman’s organs, there is likely to be confusion and embarrassment, on everyone, irrespective of their gender. Why?

Studies show that talking about sex and educating teenagers about it, reduce the urgency and the teen pregnancy rate at the same time. It obviously reduces the threat to sex, threat to life and even educates the generation. Then why exactly is it so hushed? Obviously, it does not say much on our part that we need books to educate ourselves on women anatomy instead of open discussions with teachers and doctors and parents but this could be a start. Read! With this I come to the end. However it is just a start on how we can empower generations to come by being open to discussions, giving them the truth and not residing in our home old traditions. I say it again, it does not say much on our part that we need books to acknowledge feminism in general, but that people are speaking up and are willing to read says something, I guess. If you have read this far, don’t stop now, read the books and spread the word.

Note: Moushmi is also a published author, who got 3 books to her credit. They are 1. POSIES 2. 03:21 AM: An Ode to Rust & Restlessness 3. Resignation of an Angel, Available on Amazon.

The Day

Short Story

She looked beautiful yet tense and silent; she resembled a doll wrapped in grandeur. The Indian bridal outfit she wore had shimmers of gold and delicate red fabric. A red stole covered her braided head showing glimpses of white jasmine flowers decorating her hair. Her jewels reflected simplicity with a red bindi, maang tikka, tiny nose stud, black kohled eyes and subtle stained lips. A small round black kohl mark beneath her ear aligned with the tradition to ward off the ‘evil eyes’.

These seemed to fit her shapely body, accentuating its obvious charm perfectly. But she didn’t seem to be aware of the hustle and bustle around her. She was lost in her own world.

She was conscious that she should fill her eyes with a sparkle for her big day. But where was her mind?Was she happy with the wedding?

Her phone beeped and a text message appeared. As soon as she read “Yahin hoon mein”, a smile blossomed on her lips.She looked ahead and saw a briskness building up around her. With a deep breath, she tried bringing her mind back to the present –  “It’s my wedding day- the day!” she told herself.

No matter how much she pretended to be normal, she could not hold back the creeping feeling of being on the verge of transitioning to an entirely different ambience. “Was this called the cusp of a change, a life changing moment?” she wondered.

A nervousness, with a tinge of pleasant hues, enveloped her. A chain of memories and thoughts rushed in, reminding her about the uniqueness of the experience unfolding, the changeover to someone different, like a larva counting down to emerge from hibernation. How would she manage her new life in a strange place amidst a new family, possibly with entirely different cultural dimensions? The only thread of tenuous continuity would be provided by him! The thought created an effervescence to be with him instantly, though she knew that not possible.

True, they belonged to two different States with almost everything different – language, religion, culture, cuisine, tradition etc. These differences never crossed their minds when they fell in love. How much did such a short period of closeness change their hopes, dreams and expectations? In the proximity of each other, far away from the home and familiar faces, they had come to see each other’s company as a very secure, comforting and private shell to crawl in, sooner than later.

Just moments away from the much looked for occasion, thoughts of adjustments and alignment sprouted in her mind. It brought in an uneasiness quite out of place with the emotional build-up over the past few days.  

The family never stood against her happiness. A smile returned to her lips even as she remembered how smooth and supportive her parents were when she broke the news, quite nervously, about her choice of life partner. The refreshing thought of the ease with which she managed to convince her parents of her choice soothed her nerves, when she was eager to push away the nagging uneasiness.

“Thank you, mom; I know you are always there for me when I need”, suddenly out of nowhere, she thought of the cuddling arms of her mother which used to comfort her in her teenage mood swings.

Her thoughts crept back to him, and the time they had together. Whenever she slipped into her pensive mood, somehow, he sensed it. And he brought her up either with a call or message.How can someone get your vibes, silent and distant, when he is not around?

Even now, he seemed to have read her creeping restlessness. His message brought her back to the present. She looked through the text message and moved her hand over the lines, as if she was caressing his cheeks.

She did not see him for the last two days after the preliminary wedding rituals like mehndi and haldi. They could see each other only briefly at the time of the ceremonies. Whenever she complained about it over the phone, he just laughed aloud. He could sense her impatience to melt into an intense hug. She knew he felt the same, but he wouldn’t express it.

She conveyed her anxiety about his absence.Was she becoming too possessive, even before the ceremonies were over?

She brooded over the days that brought them closer. He had uprooted her from her routine shyness and aloofness. She didn’t realise the change until it became apparent with his presence. The realisation that he was the one who could afford her mood tantrums dawned on her even as they cozied up in the campus life.She never liked anyone imposing likes, dislikes and strong views. Even now she wonders, how they jelled together so seamlessly. He had the right spell on her, and she felt the intensity of reciprocation deep in her heart. Slowly yet within no time, he adapted to her nomadic spirit. She was madly in love with him.

Thinking of him and their relationship made her breathe brisker. Yes, now she was not hesitant or muted to express her love. Is maturity a step ladder that one crucial step makes you emboldened to proclaim your independence and attachment in one breath?

His little sister came and informed that it was time for the ceremony. The families were present in full strength. Smiling faces and inquisitive glances greeted her when she stepped into the hall.

Her sisters and cousins stood beside her. There were a few her classmates, their common friends.  They, too, have been longing for this day. Her parents joined hurriedly, though dad seemed a little tenser than mom. Her brother was standing near the stage. It was his moment to appear serious and obviously proud of his responsibilities in the show.

Shenoticed many smiling faces but felt too nervous to respond with the usual demeanour. Her eyes were searching for the face that she so desperately longed to see. She could see his smiling little sister and parents near the mandap waiting for the moment. After fleeting moments, her eyes caught up with what shewas desperately searching.

There he was, wearing a golden outfit with a red tilak on his forehead. He had his amazing naughty smile. She wanted to show her disappointment for his staying away the last two days. He could read it too. He just smiled mischievously. In another second, he got back his intense gaze over me. His face had so many unsaid expressions which she could read. He wanted to hug her; she could get it. She could not stop smiling, and obviously, he looked irritated by the taunting expressions she so succinctly wore. There were those rare moments, that generation after generation, young men and women lived through, cherished and kept enduringly safe, deep down their memory lane.

Their eye-to-eye talk was subdued and silent. Both could read the meanings of their unspoken expressions. Her brother came forward, held her hands, and led her to climb the steps of the stage. His one hand was over her shoulder. He was still the cute little sibling whom she loved so much. Now he was grown up and big enough to protect her, she thought playfully. Her eyes were on his face, smiling, yet her eyes became wet.

As soon as she reached, the smiling face at the mandap caught herglance.She could see his face glowing with happiness.The priest began reciting the hymns and rituals. She didn’t understand much;she had only seen these mainly on the Bollywood screens.

When the time came to tie the knot, he came forward, smiling and reading her face. He opened an embellished slender box that held a beautiful thin chain with tiny black beads and a pendant. He kept his word! “The chain was fragile and cute. He did not want the remembrance of our matrimony to be heavy on me!”, she thought.

The flower shower distracted them, and they looked around. Rituals continued for a few more minutes. He came forward and whispered in her ears,“And now I am legally your loving husband.”

She just poked his nose and said, “Oh, is that so? Then I am your lovely wife for life”. Her voice was a little louder.  The gathering broke into a spontaneous laughter.

May be years later, she would narrate the experience to her daughter, possibly even as she gets ready to ascend the steps to her own wedding ceremony. Life is like that, enriched with fun, love and sweet recollections.

Becoming A Kindle Addict

From Paperbacks To Kindle – A Journey.

I know many won’t digest the idea of kindle and ebooks, their excuses would be the feel of touching a real book, the smell of it, etc etc. I am sorry mate you are pathetic if you are still stuck to those illusions. Well hold the bricks before you throw them at me, listen to my reasoning or rather the journey and decide. As of now keep that brick down, it won’t be a comforting experience to hold weight and grudge while I takes you through my journey, the journey that made me a Kindle Addict. 


 When I started off I was also like many of the so called readers. I adored the used books, their color, and their time travel. It was my dad who introduced me to reading English books and about the device called Kindle Ebook reader. When I was uprooted from my native ( Malayalam Media School ) to the city I call Las Vegas of South Asia, Chennai, I was thrown into a whirlwind where I had no clue, because I had Malayalam as my second language while rest of the subjects were in English, and the language was truly foreign to me. It was my Dad who insisted that it could be drubbed by hard work; he was a man of positivity and hopes. He gave me 50 rupees, to buy the used books so that I could read and become acquainted with the language, at that point I was little aware that he was handing over a key to endless possibilities and probabilities. That’s how I embark upon the journey into the English literature.   


After considerable amount of reading and with time, I became close to a book vendor. He had a small set up of used books that included mostly dog eared academic books, at the roadside. His knowledge about the authors was spellbinding; I looked at him with a child like excitement. The bond was so good that I used to assist him by selling books when he had his lunch. That bonding helped me to take a book from his collections and I replaced it for the previous purchase I made.  Like barter, after that point books were exchanged for books, no money involved. And it was my favourite outing on my bicycle which was scheduled once a week.  


Life started to blossom into springs even during the autumns, why not? when your best friends are books, casting tons of magic with words.


As days went on after graduations I got placed into the banking sector. To my surprise reading was still pushing me harder to fight back and knock off the challenges life threw at me consistently. If it were not for books, I don’t know I would have lost the battle long ago and probably wouldn’t be writing about these in this article. 


I remember it vividly, the day, when Dad came back from one of his official trips; he was trying to explain about a device for reading. He discovered this device during his train journey. I had no clue, I suggested that it must be an iPad, which has multiple uses, and obviously I’m not going to sacrifice my kidney to get that unaffordable device from apple. Dad being my Dad was not convinced, we carried forward that topic to discuss it over the chai and pakodas made by mom, and it was raining. 


Following Sunday dad was shouting Eureka Eureka almost I doubted that he got possessed by Archimedes, the ancient Greek Mathematician, but the difference was, it was in Malayalam, which went like, Eda! Eda! Ithanu Njan Paranja Sadanam!! Which loosely translates into, this is the device that I indicated on that day! He was surely excited. I looked into the Sunday times; into the newspaper he was holding towards me as a proof that solved a murder mystery. 


That was the advertisement for Amazon Kindle Devices, the very basic variant cost about 5999/-


It was love at first sight; I was completely drawn into its magic. The next strategic move was Window shopping! The sales executive was so excited, he explained everything about the device, which made me feel like owning this is everything. 


 Now I know the target, the next move was crucial, saving ‘the money’ to own one. I informed dad that I am planning to buy one of the devices he introduced. He said nothing but smiled. Mom was furious, she thought I am getting an unwanted member that doesn’t fit into our lower middle class households, and she insisted investment in gold is the wisest, the usual malayalayee’s mentality. We weren’t surprised; me and Dad exchanged the looks and said nothing, never squabble with a woman, especially Mom!  

After two months of waiting, I owned the basic variant, it really meant the world to me, and my reading experience was enhanced to a new horizon. The reading pace increased drastically, I carried it to wherever I went. The best part is you find it surprisingly captivating that you can almost have an ebook of any time period of which the paperbacks aren’t available for. You can shop at the comfort of your living room, sipping a cup of tea, Tada! The book is delivered to your device in less than 60 seconds. There are so many advantages, one will discover only after owning and experiencing it. Am not against paperbacks, but Ebooks are economical and the diversified searching takes you to surrender yourself to books and authors you have never heard about. 

Two years back I upgraded my Kindle to PaperWhite and still it has not lost its charm. I do buy used books but the ratio is like 2:8 to kindle. It is going to be seven years, I lost my Dad, and sometimes I find him, if not then keep trying, to find him in each bit of words I devour, I dedicate this article to the Man, the Super Human, who introduced me to many good habits, one of them to the world of English literature and Kindle. 

The Lockdown Stories

Greetings to all!


While the whole world has been going through a crisis that probably strikes every 100 years, we all felt helpless, sad, dejected and emotional. Cities, countries and continents came to a standstill with lockdowns and curfews. Yet, some of us found solace in cooking, others found comfort in reading and writing. Some went back to painting and gardening. 

We can say that most of us went back to our old habits and hobbies which we had left behind in the race of living.


Keeping in mind, the creativity and feelings in everyone’s hearts, Paperbacks Publishing House came up with the idea of a book based on the stories and expressions which people would like to share keeping the lockdown in mind. And that led to ‘The Lockdown Stories’.

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We are extremely happy to announce that the first book by our Publishing House, will be a collection of articles from touching stories to eulogies. These write ups have come from different corners of the country and include authors of different age groups. 


The collection has turned out to be quite a fascinating assortment of thoughts, feelings and ideas. We are hopeful that this one will cater to the needs of every reader and will leave a lasting impression by the time you turn over the last page. 


We are extremely grateful to the writers for sending in such amazing entries that we had a tough time selecting the best of them. We are excited to bring it out for you and hope you’ll be equally excited to lay your hands on it!


Very soon, we will be announcing the release date. Till then, stay home.Stay Safe.

Editor – In – Chief

Syeda Faiza Rasheed