Story #40: An Anonymous Note (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

Dear you,

I know you are suffering in your own, unique way. I know you have a story, a history and something that gives you pain. I know you have happy moments that you never account for, and sad moments you never forget. I know sometimes you hide your pain and mask your insecurities.
p
Because I do, too.
p
But I want you to know that you’re the writer of your own story. All the characters, living or dead, are the people you chose to be with, at that moment. Every episode you experience is influenced by the words you say and the things you do. Just like every turn adds on to you successfully getting to your destination, every choice adds onto making what your life is or will be.
p
That being said, I don’t want to turn this into a sermon. We all know our choices make or break, but still, sometimes we end up saying and doing things that we shouldn’t have. Negativity fills us up. Things go bad one after the other, repeatedly, and everyone you’ve ever come to love seems to either not care, or be there for you.
p
But in times like this, I want you to know that you have the power to change your situation. You always have the power to change the situation. I want you to believe that you do.
p
Two years ago I had reached the lowest point in my life. I fell, hard; everything in my life seemed to be going wrong. I was sad, and I was sad all alone. To be honest, I still am. I haven’t recovered from it, but I’ve stopped thinking about it. I’ve learnt to focus my energy onto better things. I’ve learned to give into my emotions, but not too much. I’ve learned that emotions make you weak, and love makes you vulnerable. So I have tried to keep them both as far from myself as possible. I’ve come to know that I am alone, and that no matter what, friendship is, in the end, a beautiful illusion we distract ourselves with. Years spent in school together, times spent laughing, and sleepovers: they all dissolve into ego, selfishness and stop to exist. So I’ve just come to terms with the fact that no matter how much I may love people, they will never love me back as much. I will never be enough for anyone, and that is okay because people always have expectations, and expectations always lead to disappointments. 

This may appear to be a very pessimistic view of life, but I swear, I’m a very happy person and a self proclaimed optimist. Although, I believe now I’m turning into a realist. A realist who knows her flaws well; a little too well to hate them. A realist who for quite a long time didn’t look into the mirror because she hated the sight of her face. Anyway, I’m telling you this because I want you to know how I feel better about myself. 

I try to spread happiness. Try to. There’s something very satisfying in seeing someone smile; more so when I’m the reason behind it. So I don’t really care if its over something silly, or a story I just concocted. I just want to make people laugh. Maybe, I think, making someone happy is my way of making myself happy, because I never seem to be able to do it directly. Also, random acts of kindness. You have no idea how wonderful they make you feel. Wish the person who guards your front gate, buy the balloons from the little boy selling them at the red light, compliment your friend who’s insecure about her looks that she is beautiful, tell your parents you love them; there are so, so many little things that you can do that can literally brighten up someone’s day. They feel good, you feel good: it’s a win-win situation!

I know this because these are the things that no one ever told me. I also know this because I know it works. I wish someone would’ve been kind to me back at a time when I felt weak. I was still in school. I’d been crying for last thirty-five minutes in the toilet; that’s how I used to spend my lunch breaks. I’d stopped washing my sore, red eyes because I knew nobody cared enough to ask me what was wrong. This happened again, and again over different time periods in my life so far (I’m big on public crying, lol.) I’ve had multiple panic attacks inside fully crammed metros, and not one person has had the guts to ask me what was wrong. My point here is, in situations like this, people are afraid of being kind. Why? I don’t know. I just hope the people who are reading this aren’t the ones to turn their heads away when something like this happens. 

I want you to do one more thing. If you absolutely hate your existence, or you’ve just been experiencing bad things one after the other, do this: when you lie down at night, close your eyes and just say thank you to the universe for everything that exists in it for you, or rather facilitates your existence. Start with twenty things. The list will expand, day after day and you will realise the thousands of things that you need to be thankful for. I do this exercise at times when I feel that nothing is working out for me anymore, and it just makes me feel that I have way, way more things than I account for, and that my existence is magnanimous. 

I’ve babbled for quite a while now. I just want you to know that your life will go on; you are a unique, wonderful human being who is here for a purpose. I want you to know that right now is all you have. Smile. You’re allowed to cry. Let it out. Love. You will find love, inevitably, but for once try letting love find you? Everything good that is meant for you will come to you in good time. 

I hope you’re happy, wherever you are. 
I wish you well.

Yours. 

P.S: I listened to this song when I was going through a very low point in my life. It made me cry, a lot, but I also felt really better. I want to add it on here, because, I don’t know, maybe if you too are going through something bad, this could help. I hope it does. 

A Little Too Much (Shawn Mendes)


I cannot believe this is the last time I writing this after-note!

We all at some point feel exactly like the writer has described in the episodes of their life. Sadness, dejection, disappointment and what not. But really, true happiness lies in making others happy- be it through lame jokes (if you’re like me) or acts of kindness. These words have really struck a chord in my heart, and I think I will come back to this story, again. I hope the words have resonated with you just like they did with me. 

On that note, I declare The Anonymous Anecdotes Project as closed! I’m so thankful to everyone who’s contributed and/or read the stories; be it one, two or all forty.

Loads of love!

-:-

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 feedbacks and constructive criticisms 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 #38: Beyond The Imperfections (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

I’ve had a privileged childhood. I’m sure it was better than what majority of children in a country like India get. I got everything I needed, had parents who loved me, who cared about me, and what not. And trust me, I’m very grateful for all that I’ve got. 
p
But like everything else, nothing is perfect. And for me, it was my parents. My father although a good man at heart, very honest and has high morals, intelligent and knowledgeable but is also very aggressive and irrational at times; maybe it is because of the alcohol. He is not an alcoholic, I don’t think so, but does consume some alcohol on regular basis. My mother is a relatively simple person intellectually. She is not as intelligent and knowledgeable as my father, and this is one of the main reasons they don’t get along very well.
p
When I remember this part of my childhood, I remember fights almost everyday. My father screaming; sometimes beating, mother crying, me and my sibling wondering what we should do and in general distress. My mother may make mistakes often, but nothing deserves such treatment from one’s life partner. A lot of times we were the victims to my father’s aggression too. Me and my sibling were slapped as children, shouted at, and what not. Somehow we grew up fine despite all of this happening. 
p
There is this one specific incident that changed me and my family. Don’t get your hopes high as this does not have any happy ending, at least not at the time I write this. A lot of such “fights” happened late in evening, after my dad returned from office, and probably drank alcohol. I put fights in quotes because it wasn’t two-way, it was mostly my dad screaming and hurling horrible abuses at my mother in the loudest tone possible. I’m sure all the neighbors heard them. I would not go in too many details about this, because that’s not the point. 
p
There were talks about being divorced. I must have been 14-15 years old then, and my sibling 12-13 years old. We were even asked pretty directly who we would want to stay with when our parents split. I don’t think a lot of kids are asked to make that hard a decision that young. It was devastating but somehow we got past it. 
p
There was this night. I don’t know exactly what happened, but this was normal by our standards. Dad said something, mom said something. I am not sure. Me and my sibling were upstairs, and didn’t know what happened. Next thing we know, mom comes upstairs crying, and says, “I’ve called the police.” 
Our worst nightmare came true.. Police got involved in all of this, and I guess from this point of time, I could no longer not accept that this was the sad reality. Earlier if any relative asked about this, I said it was okay. Pretty normal. A few arguments here and there and that’s it. But I could no longer deny everything was wrong anymore. 
p
I don’t think I should go into too much details about what happened then when the police arrived as I don’t think there is any point. In short, we played pretty chill. Since nothing significant happened that day, and no screams or abuses or violence was involved, there wasn’t much for the police to do. They thought that it was a case of wife getting upset at husband saying something, and the policemen started cracking jokes to make my mom happy. I guess the call was just the outburst of everything mother had to go through. Maybe someone advised her to do it the next time it happens. I don’t know. Policemen asked mom if she wanted my father to spend the night in jail, and thankfully she said no. Police left. Time to sleep for everyone. No conversation.
p
I remember sitting on the bed, looking at the whole scene then, when everyone was talking of divorce, police being involved now. I mean, this was major for all of us. Earlier there were talks of divorce, mostly in a semi-casual manner, but after this, everyone was pretty sure something concrete would happen. Father could not believe this had happened to him, and I believe he was pretty sure he could not take this marriage anymore. Mother obviously could not take this, since she had called the police. I was wondering how my sibling felt, very young at that time. I felt bad for my younger sibling to have to go through all of this at such age. In that one second, I saw my whole family completely destroyed. I knew everything would change henceforth; how I would have to choose who to live with, no more usual family things. I felt a large building full of responsibility falling upon my tiny shoulders. I had to do something now in my life, for my sibling and parents. That one moment, It felt like everything froze, and I turned a man from a child. This was the moment that changed me, forever. 
p
PS : No divorce took place, usual family again. Me and my sibling turned out fine, without any psychological trauma whatsoever. Of course everything still isn’t okay. There are still many such instances of shouting and cursing, in fact one right now as I write this. But I guess all of us are pretty used to it now. “Being happy isn’t about everything being perfect. It’s about seeing beyond the imperfections” Right? 
p
Please don’t feel bad for me. It’s all okay. Things happen. I live an amazing life. I’m very grateful for it. No complaints. I have many amazing people who love me, and likewise.
p
Love you all.
Thank you for taking the time out to read this.
p
After reading some anecdotes, I felt like speaking to the writers of the anecdotes but unfortunately can’t. But incase anyone wishes to talk to me, my email is abd14789632f@gmail.com.
p

It is tough to even talk about something so difficult that one’s family is going through, let alone writing it down. But this person did not only come to terms with the facts to talk about them, but also to write them down in a way that has surely resonated with me. 

I love the fact that despite the fights, despite the parents being so vulnerable, this person wrapped this story up with the words that they have an amazing life and no complains.
I, too, like the writer, believe that nothing is perfect. We all have, in our lives that one thing that constantly holds us down; it maybe a disease, a mental problem, or like in this case, family. But you know everything is going to be okay once you realise that you need to come to terms with your circumstance and accept things as they are. Only then, will you be able to make an effort to change the things that bother you. 
-:-

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 #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 #36: Dead Men Tell No Tales (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

Dead Men Tell No Tales

Hence the reason why I’m typing down this extract of my life so that someone somewhere can learn something from this collection of words. Maybe? Maybe not.

About telling tales. I’ve been brought up in a family where in the early stages of my life, my sister and I were showered with a lot of tales and stories from our grandfather. A story from him was not just an habitual occurrence but was an essential post dinner tradition. For a normal person it would be like having dessert. But the spectrum of his tales outranged all the tastes our taste buds could conceive. Well, time and technology took away those precious virtues. Time took away my grandfather and technology, his tradition.

Fast forward to this day where I’m about tell my first tale to a few people ironically with the help of technology. I don’t want to go overboard but I kind of feel like the prodigal son. ;p 

The significance of the title above is accomplished by now. So if anyone was expecting Jack Sparrow to be here, I’m sorry to disappoint you. 

Let’s Begin. 

What I am today is because of my mom.’

It’s 12:30 in the afternoon and a month has passed since my last class 12th exam. I’m currently chilling. ‘Chilling’ is defined as the act of scrolling through the news feed on your phone indifferently. Then I hear this, “Get Up!” There’s only one reply to that which is,”Mumma, 2 minutes please.” FYI: That reply is the gateway to eternal procrastination. A few moments later I hear this loud and clear, “GET UP FROM THE TOILET SEAT IT’S BEEN 20 MINUTES!” My heart skipped a beat (all the guys will relate to this). Before any preconceived notion could form in her shrewd brain I rushed out quickly. It was time to face the inevitable, the death stare. 

Then my mom asked me to go to the tailor to get her clothes altered and stuff. I never went there before in my life so obviously the answer was, “No, I’m tired.” There is one thing all our mothers say to get stuff done and that is, “No need of your help I’ll do it on my own.” That’s a guilt trip straight to hell. But first I had to go to the tailor. 

So I reach the market with a bag full of my mum’s clothes. Nobody is there at the tailor’s workstation. While I’m conjuring up curses in my head for the tailor a young boy comes up with a bag full of clothes. My initial thoughts were that his mum might have sent him too but those thoughts were substituted as soon as he took out the clothes, placed them on a stack and sat on the workstation. He asked me about the clothes and I conveyed him Mom’s orders. 

I saw a bag with a bunch of books and stationery beside him and I couldn’t help but ask him if he went to school. Apparently he did, but not very often. His attendance in the class was indirectly proportional to the work load he got here at this workstation which his father had made him on his 9’th birthday. I rarely empathize with people but at that point it hit me when i thought of stepping into his shoes. I asked him about if I could help with any of his studies thinking that he would be engaged his work and say no. But he left all of it in the middle, stood up and asked me to help him with math. Not at that moment but I asked him to visit me once his tailoring got over. (At this point of time, YOU, the reader might get bored with all the details. But every single one of it just had to happen in a sequence.) So I enter home and call out mom like I deserve a certificate of appreciation for the chore I did. Then I go back to ‘Chilling’. While I was scrolling I came across a sponsored ad by a company as part for their CSR about a short film making competition on a social issue. The instincts that were generated at that point were inviolable not to recognize. Never had I had butterflies in my stomach for just thinking about a project and how it would turn out to be. All I had was an instinct which gave me a string of hope to cling onto and a numerous number of practicalities to stoop me to the ground. But I decided to cling on. 

Later that evening he came with a textbook in one hand and a bag containing my mum’s altered clothes in the other. After studies were done I told him about the project to which he willingly accepted.

The next morning:

(AC/DC’s Back in Black playing in the background) 

We get to work. I didn’t trouble him in his working hours which were from 7:00 am to 7:00pm. We began at 4:00 in the morning and then after 7. The first experience of making a short film had an uncountable number of hurdles but during the process of filming none seemed to be like one, that’s the beauty of it. After 3 days of shooting and 2 days of editing our short film ‘Employed @ 9’ was uploaded to the company’s website.

One month later, I get back from vacation and I see a package from the company. In that is a letter and cheque in my name . Leave the cheque, once I read the letter I started jumping like if the primeval homo sapiens had just discovered fire. The amount of dopamine the was released in my brain that day has never ever been stimulated by any means till today. 

That was the initial domino falling to what I am today. And ‘what I am today is because of my mother’. No destiny bullshit, but if my mom hadn’t asked me to go to the tailor that day, instead of writing this tale I would probably be ‘chilling’ for another ‘2 minutes’ through my entire college life. 

Thank you, Mom.


This story was a treat to read. But as much as I loved reading it, for a long time I could not come with what to write here; or what I could take from it. But as I thought for sometime, it hit me.

Everything in our life is somehow, connected. It’s weird how we see our lives as an ongoing stream of random episodes, but in the long run, all these seemingly random episodes and occurances fit together like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Suddenly, everything makes sense. So, it just goes on to make me believe that everything in our lives happens for a reason.

At the moment, someone might me experiencing the happiest or the saddest moment of their lives. While it may give one pain to be in a situation they are in currently, they were made to experience it because of some reason. As clichéd as it sounds, it’s true. Everything happens for a reason; pain, too is meant to teach us lessons happiness can never bring.

So, embrace everything life brings you, for in the long run, it will make you who you are. Most probably, like in this case, it will bring something good to you, something you will hold onto, for years to come. 

-:-

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 #34: Where To Find Good People (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

Hey. I am not a priest, not a soul guide, not a spiritual guru, nor do I have any special power. I am just another human with a standard issue brain and heart. Although I am not so sure why they blame it on the innocent little organ which essentially only pumps blood in our body. But it’s okay, I guess it must be used to it by now. Hopefully. But remember, it’s an opinion. So, don’t buy it like you buy stuff from a super market, think about it and if you find any loopholes, be sure to contact the lovely author of this initiative who will further re-direct your opinion to me. Trust me, I’ll need it. 

Goodness is something which makes sense, because honestly we see enough bad to adequately differentiate it from the good. There is no degree of goodness, there is just goodness. It is not a methodical process which requires learning, maturity or even education. It is something which is inherent in us, engineered in our brain somehow. But unfortunately, a number of people are swayed away from it at a very early stage. It may be the upbringing, the nightmarish childhood or a traumatic incident. Whatever it is, it steals their ability to act good to others, it is as sad as it sounds. I am not trying to justify the wrongdoers of the world, just saying that they have become this way, reversibly or irreversibly. 

We often use our standard human categorisation policies to put our acquaintances into one of the two boxes called – ‘good’ or ‘bad’. But trust me it is not that easy. Goodness or badness is hardly apparent, often camouflaged by moods, environment, notions and experiences. So it would be easier to let down the judgemental walls down that we build around ourselves and let some goodness flow into our lives. 
Now where the hell is this goodness? 
It’s right there. 

We all see it, when a waiter is extra polite to us. We feel it when a random stranger lets us board the metro before him. We feel it when a random woman is carrying 6 bags, still managing to hold her daughter’s hand while crossing the road. We see it when a cow licks off the dirt of another cow. We feel it when an infant smiles at us for no reason. We feel it when a middle-aged uncle returns your phone which you forgot at the restaurant. 
Sometimes the goodness is strong enough to come and knock your door directly. But other times you have to keep an open mind and look for it around you. Trust me, it’s there. Not necessarily in people, not necessarily in nature, not necessarily even on earth, but it’s there. Let’s try to feel it, let it pass the layers of pains and miseries. Into the soul it will go and it will give you a purpose, a purpose to live, to be someone else’s goodness. 

Thanks for reading through. Smile?


This story made me smile!

Well. So much negativity asserts itself in our surroundings, and makes its presence very obvious in our lives.  Our brains have become so accustomed to immediately thinking of a negative situation, that most of the times we become blind to even the possibility of something good happening. 

We need a certain amount of negativity in our lives to balance with the positivity. But imagine how the balance will fall, if we don’t see the good; if we don’t be the good. It will inevitably pave a way into pessimism. 

A lot of things change when we try to change our perspectives; when we try to look beyond the squares and shapes we’ve cut out for ourselves to use for viewing the world. If beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, then certainly, happiness must also be found by someone who looks at the world with optimism. 

So, look for it; if you cannot find goodness around, find it within yourself. Foster it, then reflect it onto the universe, so that it finds its way back to you.

I’m sure it will.

-:-

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 #23: Faith In Humanity Prevails! (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

Life is a series of events. Some big, some small. Some really important and necessary, some not that significant. In between experiencing these events, life puts each and every one of us in certain circumstances which have the power to reach out to our core, the true us and change a part of it! 

I would like to share one such event of my life and here is how it goes.

I was on a drive with a newly made friend of mine, returning from work. We would go together and he would also drop me off everyday. It had been a week following the same routine. Everyday, when we crossed a signal, there would be quite a number of innocent faces on the other side of the car window, asking for some money. It was saddening how everytime both of us had to refuse to those helpless souls as we were aware of the business rackets that ran behind the innocent faces.

But today, something wasn’t going to remain the same anymore. As we were returning from work and arrived at the traffic signal, I saw him smiling. Soon, there were kids around the car again, but this time, something definitely was different, I could feel it! And then my thoughts were interrupted by him as he said – “Open that dashboard!” I was confused and I questioned him back instead of listening to him. He once again repeated his words and asked me to open it. As I opened the dashboard, I found a box of chocolates. There was a smile on both our faces. 

He rolled the window down and I distributed the chocolates and got those priceless smiles in return. Few more joined them- “didi mujhe bhi, mujhe bhi” (me too, me too!) was all I could hear!

That moment had a unique magic of innocence in it. It felt like they were little birds chirping near me. And my friend was just busy adoring the happiness on their faces, absorbing all that he could.

Another boy, probably a year or two younger than me, riding a scooty on a little distance came up to me and said with a great smile -“Didi, aap bohot ache ho!” (You’re a really nice person!) which really made me feel that a good deed does touch hearts. 

I’ve recently shifted to Delhi, stepping out of the “cocoon” of the constant love and warmth of my family. Back at my hometown I did not step out much out of my house except for going to school. Even though it sounds stupid, I was way too naive to face a different city all by myself; and over that, the place being Delhi. I was mentally prepared not to trust anyone too easily here. And in the hassle of being more cautious everytime, certain negativity had definitely got into me. But this was the incident that restored my faith. Faith that humanity prevails everywhere!


Our brains have become so accustomed to seeing and expecting negativity that we often presume most situations to have a bad result. This conditioning of our minds to look out for negatives leaves so little space for us to do something to change a situation. 

So when someone decides to be nice, it startles us; we bring our guards up. Because good deeds are so rare to find, the ones we do come across feel like a hoax. And I hate to admit how true this is. But it’s us who can change it.

Small good deeds everyday would make everything so better, wouldn’t they? Try making someone smile, give someone a compliment they weren’t expecting, do something for someone or maybe, like in this story, help someone who might need it the most. Your little actions could turn someone’s day around!

-:-

(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.)