Story #37: Past, Present, Future? (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

Past, present, future; the three things that define our lives.
Do they really?

People often ask me about me past experience. What all did I do in school? Was I a good student? What all hobbies I had?

If not my past, they are way too interested in my future. What do you plan to do after two years? What do you want to become? What’s your ultimate goal in life?

Each time, I feel, hang on, please. Let’s discuss our present lives. Let’s talk about where we are right now, at this moment. 

Our generation has just forgotten the meaning of living in the present. Either we are too sad about the past, or too scared about the future. 

This has led us to not value things in our lives, more importantly, the people in our lives. Nothing is permanent; that’s the biggest truth of life. 

The people you love, live with them in the present. Do not think about the past or what’s going to happen in the future.

You must be thinking, it’s not easy to have such a perspective about life. But trust me, it’s the best way. 

I had my experience which taught me this. I don’t want to talk about it much, because it’s gone, it’s in the past. 

I was about ten; very young to understand emotions and people, obviously. I had a brother; lost him when he was not even three months old. The most precious one in my life. At that point, I didn’t even realise what had happened. 

My family made me strong. So now, I realise that indeed, nothing is permanent. You never know what’s going to happen. 

So just love the people you really want to. Enjoy the moments now. Because really, life is just about the present; no past, no future. 


I’ve always seen the present as this, nothingness. The present, to me, is just a fleeting moment; always moving away from us just when we’re reaching to grab it.

But the fact that nothing is permanent forces one into action. Knowing that all we have is right now, even if it’s just a fleeting moment, makes you seize the moment. 

Appreciate what you have right now, because things will not be the same forever. 

-:-

Any opinions, comments or ideas that you may want to put forward to the writer of this story can be mailed to me at ratti.priya5@gmail.com. Positive feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome. 

(The Anonymous Anecdotes is a project under which anyone can send me a memory, a story or an experience from their life that had a profound impact on them. It requires people to write their respective experience along with the way it changed them or their perception of life. According to the project, these stories are being published anonymously, with the intent of spreading a positive message and a hope that anyone who reads, relates or learns.)

Story #24: The Last Time He Was In My House (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

The story is about my family. My dad is a patient of Bipolar Disorder. For those who don’t know what it is: it is a manic or depression phase that may last week or months.

I don’t know why but whenever this happens my dad usually indulges in a fight with my mom or sometimes with my sister or with me and I have been seeing it for a long time. When I was a kid I remember we had to stay at our my mother’s house for a while so that my dad doesn’t hit my mom again. My mom is a strong woman and a single earning parent too. My dad hasn’t really been my dad neither mentally or financially. My mom is a home tutor and she has been managing all the things, all of our expenses except our school fees that is managed by our father brother’s but other than that all of is done my mom. We have been living like for past 20 years but this year something unusual happened in the month of March.

My dad was hospitalised for sugar but after he came home something happened which changed our lives completely and I can’t get over it. I’d just left for college when it happened. I have dog and he is 6 years old and we all love him more than anything in the world. I don’t know about my dad but he doesn’t hate him either. My dog was trying to sit next to my father when my dad punched him right next to his ribs and started crying. My sister couldn’t control her anger and she hit my dad really badly; I know that was wrong of her to hit her dad like that but he really hasn’t been our dad since the starting and we don’t have that kind of affection for our father like we have for our mom or our dog.

But what my dad did was something that no father would do to his daughter. He grabbed my sister by her hair, pushed her down and started hitting her. My mom tried to stop him but she couldn’t; he punched her at least a 100 times. She immediately called the police. My dad left for his shop and that was the last time he was in my house.

We realized that when we were kids my dad hit my mom and we could’t do anything as we were kids. But now, my sister 23 and I, 20 decided that we couldn’t live with our dad anymore. My sister and I immediately went to out father’s elder brother and told him that we wouldn’t let him enter the house. My dad didn’t come but another one of his elder brothers called us atleast 20 times that day so as to convince us to take him home for once. But we could’t take the risk because when he left the house he’d told us that he would kill our dog and we were afraid of that.

My father has a big family and at least 10 brothers and 2 sisters but not one of them called and asked about my sister. All of them were only trying to convince us to let him enter the house once but we knew that once he entered he was not going to leave. I was very angry on my dad. I couldn’t control my anger. I wanted to beat my father but we didn’t see him for a week or two. The thing was that no one knew about the thing which my sister did- we didn’t tell anyone about that except my mother’s younger brother and his wife. My dad called all of my mother’s family and all he did was say shit like how much your sister would take to leave my house, abuses against my family and a lot of shit. He didn’t even have a single drop of tear; all he wanted to have the house to him and wasn’t sorry at all.

He came back once after 2 weeks, but I guess he didn’t even say sorry at that time. He only came because his elder brother had convinced him to go but we didn’t let him enter then. His brother came and tried to convince but my mother, my sister and I didn’t listen to him. We gave his things to his brother and our father left.

Seeing him go like that made me think that I should go and get him back but I didn’t. My father is now living at our relatives’ house but on a different floor. He gets food, electricity and water but there is no one to talk to him. There is no AC or cooler; maybe not even a bed. Not that I know of, but these things don’t let me sleep.

It has been 3 months and there hasn’t been a single night when I’m able to sleep before 3 or 4 am. All night I think I’m here sleeping in my comfort with a bed, AC and my father has nothing and this thought rolls in my mind over and over again. Sometimes I feel I should get my dad back but I don’t know what I should do. Should I talk to someone about it in my family or not? My family would never be a complete family even if my dad comes back, he always have been a just another person in my family. We don’t love him that much and neither does he loves us but still biologically he is my dad. I somewhere also think that my sister was wrong and that I should get back my father . That is all I wanted share right now.


We come into this world, and spend the maximum amount of time of our lives with our family: no, not the extended one, but the three people in your life that stick with you through thick and thin. The people who have seen you grow and become what you are today. Your parents, and maybe, a sibling.

These are the people who mean the world to us, and when things don’t turn out well with them, nothing feels alright anymore.

I believe what I have drawn from this is to not let go; sometimes as we suffer because of somebody else, all we really see is the pain that we are going through at that time. What we don’t see is the internal battle that person must’ve been going through; perhaps a problem unique to them that is the root of their behaviour (in this case, bipolar disorder.) Maybe I’m saying this because my inherent psychologist is surfacing. I don’t know. I just think empathy is important, but not at the cost of someone’s self respect. 

-:-

(The Anonymous Anecdotes is a project under which anyone can send me a memory, a story or an experience from their life that had a profound impact on them. It requires people to write their respective experience along with the way it changed them or their perception of life. According to the project, these stories are being published anonymously, with the intent of spreading a positive message and a hope that anyone who reads, relates or learns. If you’re interested, you can send me your story at ratti.priya5@gmail.com.)

Story #22: What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

I was in class 9 and preparing for my finals when I lost the person I was most attached to: my Dadu (paternal grandfather). This was an experience that had the most profound impact on me.

I had never experienced the sorrow of losing someone ever. I was devastated. I still get goosebumps writing about it. At first, I was heartbroken, but then I wanted to accomplish all the good things my dadu wanted me to accomplish.

I used to be quite a healthy child and he constantly asked me to lose weight, even though I didn’t really pay attention towards it. But when he left, I got a jerk and went on from being 84 to 60. I did it for him and wished so much that he was there to see it.

I studied with all my will, scored well and kept on motivating myself as if he was there to see me. I wish I could tell him how much I miss him; I just keep on working hard for him.
This experience took away a part of me, but then made me a stronger person in life!


For the most of us, losing someone we love is an experience that brings inevitable pain. More so, when that someone is family.

But sometimes, the things that give us pain somehow end up becoming the sources of our strengths. Pain changes us in different ways: it weakens some to terrible inaction, while it pushes others to take the chances they otherwise couldn’t. 

Use your pain to be a better person. Exploit it, make it your strength. Look back at the point in your life when you were inches far from giving up, at the lowest of you lows; realise that if you could get through that, then you can get through anything.

Befriend your demons, they fuel your strengths.

-:-

(The Anonymous Anecdotes is a project under which anyone can send me a memory, a story or an experience from their life that had a profound impact on them. It requires people to write their respective experience along with the way it changed them or their perception of life. According to the project, these stories are being published anonymously, with the intent of spreading a positive message and a hope that anyone who reads, relates or learns. If you’re interested, you can send me your story at ratti.priya5@gmail.com.)

Story #2: Loss & Remorse (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

The Anonymous Anecdotes is a project under which anyone can send me a memory, a story or an experience from their life that had a profound impact on them. It requires people to write their respective experience along with the way it changed them or their perception of life. According to the project, these stories are being published anonymously, with the intent of spreading a positive message and a hope that anyone who reads, relates or learns.
Here’s story number two.


November 25, 2015.

He recovered a little from his alcoholism. The last two days were tough to handle but I was used to that as I had seen him like this since I was fourteen. I was really stressed out, angry and was feeling helpless as I wasn’t able to study for the exam which was on the next day. I could see the pain in my mother’s eyes as she helped him lie down. She really loved him a lot but was done with carrying the burden of running the whole house alone. He did not go to work nor out of the house. He sat idle at home and drank all day. He was reluctant to form any social communications and was separating himself from mumma and I. He used to sit alone all the time and cry often. I shouted at him, I fought with him every day and after a point I began to hate him; and that broke him even more. I even tried to help him out but every attempt failed. I thought he was going to be like he was no matter what. 

It was 8:30 in the evening when mumma asked me to get some medicines for him. He took them and I helped him drink some water. I was really angry at that time because a day before he’d puked blood all over the room. His liver was damaged but this wasn’t the first time that he was suffering like this. I felt really bad for him. I wanted him to be healthy and live a normal life with us again.

After some time he began suffocating and was not able to breathe properly. I helped him stand up and asked him what was going on. But he didn’t respond. He was just trying his best to breathe. Again, I shouted at him and said that I was done with him. I said that if he was going to stay like that, then it would be better that he’d die. I did not mean that. I just said that because I wasn’t able to handle his situation anymore. I could not see him in pain anymore. The moment I said those words he stopped breathing.

We took him to the hospital but it was too late. He was 20 minutes late and his blood pressure was -20. He died in my arms. It was a silent stroke that silenced him forever. Mumma was shattered and I was not able to move or cry. What had I done?!

He was in the ambulance when the doctors were taking him for the postmortem. I hugged him for the last time and cried. I wished that I’d done this earlier; I wished I’d have hugged him and told him to come back and start a new life. But it was too late and he was gone.

It’s been two years now and everything has become normal. Mumma is fine and is living her shattered life and here I am, living with this guilt. I shouldn’t have said that. I know he is present somewhere around me, and all I want to say is that I miss you papa, and I am sorry for everything.


I don’t think there is much to be said for this. It takes a lot of courage to go through something like this, and talk about it. We often tend to overlook to transience of life as we find ourselves tangled in the circumstances that surround us. I find myself tangled in small things. But once in a while, I come across stories like this one and they make me realize how important it is to take a step back and see the bigger picture. To love the people we love. To think how fast the moments and people I cherish might be taken away from me. To learn to love all the things I don’t want to let go of. 

-:-