Day: March 30, 2019

Non Linear Freedom


Time and space do matter when we are bound by the limits of science and imagination. Whether your writing is in the linear mode or in the non linear mode, it is important to have the logistics of time and space right. I cannot weave a narrative in the eighteenth century and then push it into another dimension (Space?) even if the time is the same or vice versa. Of course the genre of Fantasy fiction does let us travel to parallel worlds in another time and dimension, but we still stick to that graph to be able to formulate a logical and comprehensible story.

The human mind is born with certain pre set ideas. We know that if I am born on the first of January 1992, I cannot be alive on 4th January 1991. If I am in the jungles of Peru, I cannot be on the Himalayas at the same precise moment. The problem of twin identities stops the writer from exploring this facet.

We are also limited by data- “ A man cannot be alive if he is three hundred years old”. But our epics and religious texts do tell us that at a certain point of time, people lived to be more than five hundred years old. There are a lot of explanations to that. Some say a year was calculated as equal to a lunar month not a solar orbit, others say the figures were symbolic numbers to stress other aspects of life. We also have various people the world over claiming to be hundred and fifty and so on, but they normally have no proof, so it is relegated into fantasy.

So what do I do? I want to weave a story where I need the same character to be at two places at the same time. “Impossible”, says the modern millennial. This is when I need to break the sound barrier (in this case the time and space barrier) and delve into a world that is not bound by any restriction. Before I discuss this in detail, I would like to remind you that the first airplane flew early in the twentieth century but the Ramayana, written sometime in the fifth century BC, talks about the ‘Pushpaka Vimana’  or the mythological flying Chariot used by Ravana to kidnap Sita. So was it just a figment of Valmiki’s imagination or was there something like that already existing? So what seems impossible now maybe possible in the future.

Fantasy fiction already delves into impossible circumstances and we accept it. It could be Harry Potter flying on his broom and playing Quidditch or Superman coming from the planet Krypton. But what if I want to create a normal world with ordinary people that the reader can identify with? What if I want some extraordinary happenings to be a part of my narrative in the most natural and believable way?

This is when we can explore the unknown world of paranormal or supernatural events. It has been proven time and again that this world of spirits; world unrelated to physical dynamics and a world where logic is not the king, exists. Here (specially because it is not data dependent) we have the freedom to throw away the shackles of logic, time, space and to some extent scientific theory and push it down the black hole of superstition and ignorance.

Wikipedia defines superstition as ‘a pejorative term for any belief or practice that is considered irrational or supernatural: for example, if it arises from ignorance, a misunderstanding of science or causality, a positive belief in fate or magic, or fear of that which is unknown.’

So we have this negative (?) tool to create a dark world to suit our needs. There are questions that pop into my mind; does it need to be a “dark world”, cannot it be a world full of sunlight where good is rewarded and bad is punished and not the other way around? But again I am limiting myself by moral values of Good and Bad.

Whatever be the outcome of this argument, I believe that it is important to let the mind free from the tortuous limitation of science, facts and data!

The Moving Bug




My heart was palpitating; sweat was pouring down my forehead; nausea enveloped me from all sides; if there hadn’t been so many people on the road, I swear I would have fainted, I was feeling so dizzy.

I know what you are thinking, but I assure you all, you are wrong. I wasn’t being attacked by menopausal hot flushes!

This was happening frequently enough for all of you to assume the worst. But I have my own explanation, do bear with me as I meander into my past and give you a scientific hypothesis why this was happening.

I think (I must have told you before), I have nomadic genes. From the time I was born I have moved on an average of every three years. In fact in one place that I lived for four years, I moved three houses! There have been exceptions but mostly my fate has made me move. Do not pity me! I am very proud of this fact.




I just adore moving. The whole process of packing is a pleasure to me. I love sorting things through; throwing out whatever I haven’t used in the three years we have been in that particular house; lovingly dusting and packing my books of over thirty years (which I haven’t read in the last twenty years!) and the many artefacts that I have collected from the world over (they might be cracked and faded but I never have the heart to throw them off!) I do love to throw away my old clothes though (My maids love me for that!)


Many of my friends feel sorry for me. The first question they ask me, when we speak after a gap, “Where are you these days?”. Of course Facebook has been good to let them know where I am at that point in time. But now a days Facebook is out of fashion; all the young people have migrated to Instagram for their socialising and the older generation (I mean the seventy plus) have taken over Facebook! My generation is somewhere in-between- totally confused about what to do. We are sort of undecided, with one foot in each arena! If the boats stop moving in unison, we are going to fall into the water! I have three sets of friends- the one that starts from seventeen to thirty, then the thirty to sixty and the third set is the sixty plus!, So I try to keep track of all of them through various  Social Apps.

Getting back to my ‘moving times’- well! as I was saying, I love it! I love the pre-moving exercise(sorting and packing), the ongoing moving exercise (staying in a hotel after the hard work and just chilling) and the post- moving exercise (Unpacking and finding new places for my old stuff!)

I never did feel sorry for myself, in fact, I feel sorry for the people who stay in one place throughout their lives! I feel they are missing out. They argue that they learn from their vacation travels, but I argue that visiting and moving are totally different things. Depending on whether you are the nomads or the settlers, you can pat me on  my back or throw rotten tomatoes at me!

Back to my ailment, I seriously started to find some common denominator for all the episodes of my ailments. I was normally always outside, mostly when I was going to the garden for my walk; there were always plenty of people and traffic around me at that time; my irritation at the stray dogs being fed on the roadside was also there; I kept on collecting my data from these episodes. One more common thing was, I was always feeling healthy and fit before these attacks!

Nobody, least of all myself, gave much importance to this new development in my life. Like a wood splinter under the skin, it started poking me very frequently. As I am a self medicator, I did not even think of taking professional help.

Maybe it was hot flushes, I admitted to myself. But what about my data collection, my parameters and a burgeoning hypothesis? So again the Hot flush theory was flushed down and I waited for a new episode to add to my data.

“Didi”, my maid had just come in, “The front door neighbours are moving”.
I wasn’t really surprised. The Lady of the house had told me before that they are looking for a new house. I did wonder why she hadn’t told me that they were moving so soon. To cut a long story short, out of neighbourly concern I went over to their house.
The men were packing and talking amongst themselves. The house was a mess, everything was laid out and the packers were doing their job.
It started, my heart beat faster; the sweat poured out and I felt so dizzy that I held on to the door. The disease was in full form.
“Are you okay?”, our neighbour asked.
“I think so”, I said smiling weakly.
“Can I get you a glass of water?”, he asked.
“Thank you, but I am okay”, I said steadying myself, “Do let me know if I can help you in any way”.

How could I tell him that the smell of the packing boxes, the rustle of the bubble wrap and the mess, all made me feel so jealous that I was nauseous!



As I entered the latest data into my journal, I realised one more common factor during these episodes was the presence of a Movers and Packers truck on the road! In fact this has happened when I gaze down idly from my twenty sixth floor and see the Writers  (A favourite Movers and Packers of mine!)yellow and black truck moving or taking things from the Apartment opposite us.

We had recently completed four years in this location( way above my average of three years!) and all these signs were like a knife twisting in my nomadic heart. The intense desire; the painful jealousy; the restlessness within me were all signals telling me it’s time to move!

My hypothesis was proven beyond doubt!