I am a person of lot of words. I am passionate about life and believe that life only comes once, so one should live every single bit of it.
I make friends and very quickly I consider them my best friends, without knowing much about them and later I get good lessons. Believe me, people are not to be trusted so quickly!
Whenever I am sad and broken inside I just can’t hide it inside. My eyes are a true mirror of my heart. I do believe that I have near ones with whom I can share my life- just like an open book.
I don’t believe in lies, even if I lose someone or if, that someone will lose me.
Life just doesn’t stop. It has many obstacles all the time, but giving fake hopes to myself is not my cup of tea. Life is hard, cruel and sad many times, but I fight it, until I get back to normal.
I want to live for myself, for my own dreams, fly high, keeping smiles on, because I simply am worth it and I am meant for best things in life. Nothing less, nothing more.
~ Rishu Jolly ~
Writing become a ritual
Somewhere in 1990, it was a cold afternoon in winters when my mom was cleaning her cupboard; I noticed a torn, stained old diary.
In curiosity, I asked mom; what is it? She said nothing! Of course, it increased my eagerness to open that diary and I just wanted to read it once. Fortunately my birthday was coming, so this time I asked her- if I can get her diary as my birthday gift? She was quite, without uttering a single word. Few weeks later, my birthday arrived, and god answered my wish – she unlocked her cupboard and smiled at me and handed over her old diary to me, nicely packed in a colorful gift wrap.
This gift was unmatched and incomparable to my all previous birthday gifts. I was so amazed to see thousands of lines in my mom’s hand writing. She said that these lines were written by famous writers and she wanted to make a collection of it.
I was in 5th standard at that time. Really too young to have such a diary! Undoubtedly, I was very happy and excited for the new addition in my life. The language was extremely tough for me to understand – those words & those lines (Hindi Urdu combination). Some had writer mentioned too – Mirza Ghalib, Iqbal, Mijaz, etc. They were all new and weird names for me.
I started reading them, and gradually developed an interest to read more and more. I started making a list of difficult words. My Nana (maternal grandfather) used to come every 3-4 months to spend a day or 2 with us. He used to bring an Urdu newspaper with him to read it in his leisure time. So, I thought he would be the right person to discuss my doubts and queries. This time when he came, he was surprised to see my list of questions about Urdu & Hindi poetry, and the list of difficult Urdu words. He was very patient and nice to answer my all queries then and every time he came afterwards.
I was in 6th standard when I started trying something on the back of my notebooks. Slowly, I improved and started writing in my mom’s diary only – where she had some empty pages left. Thereafter, I never looked back and kept on writing. That meaningless existence of my mom’s diary changed everything in my life. It inspired me for lifetime to store my thoughts, life experiences and more. Thank you Mom for the treasure you shared with me!