I wish to die, now – Video brief

3 05 2014

As mentioned in an earlier blog, as a new author, I need to be sensitive about my readers doubt. And I need to address the barriers that might prevent a mindful individual to engage with my writing.

With this thought a careful campaign is being gradually put in place to generate greater engagement.

This video is a brief about what the book “I wish to die, now”, is and what a reader can expect from it.

As an expressionist this is my maiden attempt to engage with readers from various cultures and societies. The campaign is an attempt to bridge that gap so that a sustained connection can be made at higher cognitive level.

Here it is – the video brief on “I wish to die, now”.

Happy exploring !

Mihir

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” I wish to die, now ” – available on amazon Kindle

18 04 2014

 

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I took a while to prepare myself for this. It took a basket full of encouraging words from  patrons, reading enthusiasts and academicians for me to finally put my compilation out there in the market. Yes the kindle edition of “I wish to die, now” is up and available across all major amazon online stores across the globe. All you need is a kindle or a kindle reader on your device.

I genuinely look forward to this organic expansion of my thought realm by way of connecting to thousands of readers all across the globe. I am keen to see whether my thoughts are able to find a resonance in the worlds which I have never been exposed to.

Below is a brief description of the book for you to take a buy call.

happy exploring !

MIhir Gajrawala

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“I wish to die, now”, is an individual’s tryst with himself; a passionate attempt to set the self free – a self that is holed in conventions, a self that is trapped in conditions and a self that is bound by compulsions. The author uses the medium of words to let the trapped energy of within, manifest itself. These are not mere essays or articles; these are the reflections of a sensitive soul, which is craving to break out.

The reader will encounter a variety of thoughts that will make him/her get closer to his/her deeper persona. From belief systems to communal behavior, from entrepreneurship to gratefulness, from politics to friendship, from philosophical prose to romantic poetry, from essays to opinions – it is a really broad canvas, which is a potent space for an exploratory reader to dwell in.

As Nietzsche puts it, “one must have chaos inside oneself to give birth to a dancing star”; the passages in the book will take the reader closer to the chaos that exists within him/her. It will make you question, it will make you wonder, and it will shake away all your inertia and bring you closer to your true being.

Irrespective of your interest in the specifics of subject matter, the book will connect you to the thoughts presented. The book will give a fillip to your sense of exploration and wonder.

And all of these come out as scintillating word sketches from a first time author, who describes himself as an expressionist.

“I wish to die, now” will make you want to live, even more!

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here’s the link to the amazon page.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00JQYK2YK

If you happen to buy the book, I request you to take time out to give your review on the amazon page. That shall really help me to know how my thoughts are being perceived.





Reflections : for one more day by Mitch Albom.

22 05 2009

DO YOU EVER  think while something is happening, about what’s happening someplace else? My mother, after the divorce, would stand on the back porch at sunset, smoking a cigarette, and she’d say, ” Charley, right now, as the sun is going down here, it’s coming up someplace else in the world. Australia or China or someplace. You can look it up in the encyclopedia.”

“It’s a big world,” She’d say, wistfully. “Something is always happening somewhere.”

She was right about that. Something is always happening somewhere. So when I stood at the plate in that Old Timers game, staring at a pitcher whose hair was gray, and when he threw what used to be his fastball but what now was just a pitch that floated in toward my chest, and when I swung and made contact and heard the familiar thwock and I dropped my bat and began to run, convinced that I had done something fabulous, forgetting my old gauges, forgetting that my arms and legs lacked the power they once had, forgetting that as you age, the walls get farther away, and when I looked up and saw what I had first thought to be a solid hit, maybe a home run, now coming down just beyond the infield toward the waiting glove of the second baseman, no more than a pop-up, a wet firecracker, a dud, and a voice in my head yelled, “Drop it! Drop it!” as that second baseman squeezed his glove around my final offereing to this maddening game – just as all that was happening, my mother, as she once noted, had something else happening back in Pepperville Beach.

Her clock radio was playing big band music. Her pillows had been freshly plumped. And her body was crumpled like a broken doll on the floor of her bedroom, where she had come looking for her new red glasses and collapsed.

A massive heart attack.

She was taking her last breaths.

I don’t think I think about what is happening at the other end, while I am so focussed on my end. I like to believe that I do, but in reality I don’t. While I am too busy thinking about myself, I hardly think of what the other person is going through in the very same moment.

I ask myself this :

How often have I missed out on complementing my mom for a nicely cooked meal, kept hot specially for me, just because I had a bad day? While I simply say “I’m busy”, do I ever think of the moments waiting for me on other side? The moments which I actually long for, I make myself busy for them. I take pride in being ‘accessible’ to the world for my ‘so called’ ideas and advises, but I fail to think of a 5 minute attention which my grandma might be yearning for? How many times, occupied with my saturday night plans I  have missed out on knowing about my mothers headache? Just because I thought I am doing some creative work, I have not thought of giving due attention to a waiting customer. While holding onto someone so much, I never really think of those who are holding on to me. I seldom think of friends who I don’t attend to, while I am busy craving for someone else. While I am pretty much engrossed in my phone, I miss out the smile that the friends around are giving to me. Just because I am busy discussing ‘important’ things till late night, I forget that someone important might be losing out on her sleep.  How easily I vent my anger/frustration out on the one who loves me, without even thinking how his/her day was?  I often get hang ups when my expectations are not met, but do I even know why they weren’t met? Hasn’t it occured that I easily change the rules of a relation, and not even thinking what it means for the other person involved? While I am working on things to seek the pride of the world, I just forget to think of what would make my father proud?  So many times haven’t I missed out on cuddling my nephew, just because I was too occupied with my next blog!?

“I am so smart and intelligent in living my life, in making my choices; that I hardly take time out to think of all of those, for whom I am a part of life.”

Something is always happening somewhere.

While being engrossed in a chase which I essentially understand as life, I miss out on so many of life filled tiny moments.

“You can find something truly important in a minute,” she said.

Going at this pace and in this direction all I would find myself in is shame and shadow, and regrets and frustration.

“I wanted it to stop, Mom…this anger, this guilt. That’s why…I wanted to die…”

I lifted my eyes, and, for the first time, admitted the truth.

“I gave up.” I whispered.

“Don’t give up,”  she whispered back.

I buried my head then. I am not ashamed to say it. I buried my head in my mother’s arms and her hands cradled my neck. We held each other like that, just briefly. But I cannot put into words the comfort I drew from that moment. I can only say that, as I speak to you now, I still yearn for it.

Charles “Chick” Benetto was lucky. He got one more chance to make up for the time he had missed out to spend with his dead mother. He got that conversation with the one he loved. He got a ONE MORE DAY.

But, not all are as lucky as him to get that day back. Even if I get it, why should I wait for that day, while I can still live that moments with the one I love and for the ones who truly and eternally are concerned for me.

If I don’t, then I know I can go my whole life collecting days, and none will outweigh the one I wish I had back.

write up includes excerpts from Mitch Alboms best seller for one more day.