20 YEARS AND A CEREMONY LATER....

20 YEARS AND A CEREMONY LATER!

 

“The history of the world is not complete until your story is told!”

 

Once there was a little girl. She was a fanciful kind of child, and she liked nothing better than to listen to her grandmother spinning yarns on lazy afternoons. At one such session, her grandmother abruptly interrupted her story and admonished the little girl for shaking her legs while sitting. The little girl protested, "But Dad does it too!" Grandma replied that it was alright for him because he was a man. The little girl could not understand how she knew, but she knew instantly that Grandma was wrong. Maybe it was because she had heard her Dad tell one of her aunts who had tried to sympathize with his son-less state that in his eyes, each of his two daughters was as good as ten sons. The little girl kept shaking her legs.

Well my name is Mansi Kohli.

Ho can I begin to explain the dichotomy that is ME? The eternal optimist, a closet pessimist , believer in free will and serendipity...a walking contradiction, truly. My obsessions beginswith anything that twinkles and is open ended. It has no end!

I can introduce silence and blabbering both at the same time.

An opportunist by nature, Thats why I believe "When life gives you lemons - make lemonade. Then sell the lemonade and make air freshness

from the peels. Sell that too!"

I frankly enough don’t remember the degree temperature under which I was born ,but as they say the place was some hospital in pauche rajouri market of new delhi. Since then I am living in delhi. I live in a family of 5.When I was born my sister was 4 years old and all she wanted was a gun-fighting brother to swear around with but I guess she dint leave me either. I remember when sometimes no one was around she would come up to me and bite my toes for no reason, I guess she sew the seeds of sibling rivalry and hence it continues. . .

oh! I do love her still.. c’mon that’s the part of rivalry among dogs even.

 

In my early years of education, the frustration with teachers misspelling my first as well as last name seemed as though it might never end. Though it gradually subdued as I scored the top rankings both in padhai and ladai and the name was suitably noted soon.

In5th standard happened my first crush over this guy who owned my first ever vision full, mills and boons. Next two days thanks to internet I discovered what the specie named “MAN” is;

In my new eyes I henceforth read a POLL stating that,“Most men said they would be impressed by women who read news websites, Shakespeare or song lyrics. Women said men should have read Nelson Mandela’s biography or Shakespeare. “

Since then I have started reading shakspeare and even news websites..but holy lord!! No men seem to have read nelson mandela’s biography fully.Thanks to that silliness I developed this grave interest in WORDS! The language English often became an EGO-LISH trip for me throughout my school and IP college days. I would rather now emphatically state that I fall in the non-fictional reality part of it. This makes me distant from being a novelist and drifts me closer in pain, sink ,verbosity and featuristic business of JOURNALISM.(which I would like to quote as an journey far beyond various ism’s.. ironical and how!)

I love my world of words. I spin them, string them, weave them together and throw them evenly oddly superlatively and yes! Hardly.. Broadly put, i write to make a living. My words feed me. At times the burden of being bright is especially heavy when you don't know where you're headed for.

My intention principle here was neither to project or reject myself .I present, but to indulge unselfishly and wholly in the vision, the sheer jazz if it comes to that, of what interests me. In the mirror will appear but fleetingly my image as figure, against the outer and inner worlds I happen to experience, as ground: this World-mirror in turn imaging my larger Self.

 “Some days I'm so weary with the constant struggles.

Fight for a seat, run to be on time, fight to inch forward, fight for your rights.
Fight for time, fight for space, fight for your reason to be.
Fight to be yourself.

There are times I'm so tired, so bone-weary, so exhausted that I am suspended, zombie-like in time and space. I can see myself moving but I can't feel my feet touch the ground. I can hear that familiar voice cranking out tired and overused phrases but the mind that manufactures them seems to have gone missing.”

-by MANSI KOHLI(ALL RIGHTS RESEVRED)

Ideas, ideals....those don't keep you happy. Happiness is like those fleeting moments...hardly worth chasing after even.. In every other way priveleged and accomplished I may be, but I'll stay a beggar inside my world.I am in the world of X, chaos, the new science..This is my way of telling my higher self. . .inner child.