Defining life by the fleeting glimpses of happiness

“But a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play− I tell you, Dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend.”   −The Picture Of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde

I went through a phase in my adolescent years when I thought that every good thing that happened in my life would be followed by an unpleasant experience, and vice versa. Back then, what I considered to be good experiences were a small set of happenings. Now that I think about it, that small set consisted entirely of materialistic things. It took me a while to identify and appreciate the little things that put a smile on my face and brought me small bouts of happiness. These little things happened every day, even on the most ordinary of days. They taught me that happiness is not that expensive. We look for happiness in big, rare and expensive things. However, happiness is closer and easier to reach than we think. I hope this post will inspire you to think about all those little things that never fail to put you in a good mood. I also hope that this will be something I can go back and read whenever I need a quick trip to my happy place, because it is these little things that our lives are made of.

My little bouts of happiness are brought by the smell of jasmine flowers; Arijit Singh's voice; the rare occasions when I wake up early on a weekend; walking while a soft breeze is blowing, neither too hot nor too cold; the smell of freshly baked goodies from the oven; and the softness of my grandma's hands. Then there's waking up to the pitter patter of raindrops on my window; driving while the sun is still rising; watching my plants bloom after the winter; the smell of coffee; a good book; snuggling inside the blanket at the end of a long day; catching up with a friend after a while; unexpectedly hearing a song I like; the sky painted with the colors of the sunset; and traffic-free commutes. Good hijab days; finding the perfect accessories to go with an outfit; experiencing the magic in AR Rahman's music from the 90's; binge watching a TV show (I have recently been accused of becoming a PLL addict; guilty as charged); listening to my brother narrating stories from his favorite shows and pretending that I understood everything; watching deer peacefully walking on my neighbor's backyard; and looking at my reflection in the mirror and being able to appreciate my beauty beyond the pigmented skin and other imperfections. Sound of the Athan (call to prayer); leaving late and still reaching on time; the sight, smell and taste of anything chocolate, especially brownies; playing with young children and having a baby hold on tightly to my pinkie finger; a rare warm day in the middle of winter; someone filling my car's fuel tank and saving me a trip to the gas station; experiencing the thrills of my deep childhood love awaken as I watch the opening credits of a Harry Potter movie; and postponed deadlines when you've been praying for one. Watching a feel good Indian movie; successfully breaking a wooden board in Taekwondo (on the first try!); a fully charged mobile device; the first ray of sunshine after many rainy days; a piece of complicated code that works after hours of coding/debugging; a perfectly fitting outfit; and oversized sweatshirts. Singing along to my favorite song at the top of my voice; German chocolate cake ice-cream; Nagercoilian plantain chips; ginger candy; chukku kaappi (ginger tea sweetened with palm jaggery); the smell and sounds of early morning at my home in India; and late night drives along the brightly lit streets of Jeddah with my parents and brother (I'm not sure if they enjoyed my constant chatter). Listening to EM Nagoor Hanifa's spiritual Tamil songs; my grandfather's voice calling me 'Kutty' (little one); walking in a stream over rounded pebbles; reading the notes on the inspiration wall in my bedroom; long talks with my sister whilst lying under a clear, starry night sky; the first sight of Nagercoil on the way home from the airport; opening the window blinds every morning and letting in the sunshine; re-reading Harry Potter and discovering something I didn't notice before; a certain mixed smell of spices and perfume that transport me to the open air souks of Jeddah; coming home to a warm hug from my littlest sister; walking on the streets of NYC on a cold winter night; repeatedly listening to a newly released soundtrack composed by AR Rahman until I'm in love with the songs; jhumki earrings; falling asleep with my head on my mom's shoulder while traveling; the eve of Eid at home in India; walking through quaint little towns that have an old world charm to them; pillow fights with my brother; and walking into bookstores. Early morning visits to the farmer's market; sitting on the banks of lakes or ponds and gazing into the distance (I don't quite understand my obsession with them); window shopping at the mall; watching cartoon shows that I loved, as a little kid; city lights at the night time, thanks to my 11 years in the ever so brightly lit Jeddah; the clear musical jingle of ice-cream trucks; late night talks with my mom, aunt, brother and sisters, punctuated occasionally by our grandma's snores and complaints that we're all being too loud; looking through old photographs; and listening to a song all over again from the beginning just because I missed my favorite line. But most of all, I love those little moments when the heart is content and all you can think of is to thank God for the little blessings that make up our lives.

Home - Place, People or Emotion?

Over the last two weeks, every time someone asked me how I was doing, I told them I was homesick. Home is a word that I use way too often. It is one of those words that just make you feel good, feel warm. But I'm glad no one ever asks me where home is. I don't think I can give them one, straightforward answer. It's not that I can't think of any place to call home. It is just that there are too many places I could call home. Actually, I'm often confused about what home really means. This is something I often ponder upon. I recently came to know that this confusion is not just unique to me. Most third culture kids experience it. Third culture kids are people like me, who have grown in a different culture than their native one or their parents' culture. Our lives and memories are scattered in different places; different countries; amidst different people - in buildings that no longer stand, with a group of people that haven't met in a while, in countries that we cannot easily enter; and in cultures that we don't identify with. However, I don't think this is something unique only to third culture kids. Home might have different meanings for different people. It's that diverse of an idea. Maybe that's one of the reasons why I like the word so much.
 
The true beauty of the concept of home lies in the fact that the most unlikely of places can become so endearing and close to your heart that they become home. On 5th October 2000, when my mom and I joined my dad in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia where my dad lived and worked, I instantly knew that it’s not going to be that much fun. I left behind a large family, many cousins my age, a school where I was adored and the freedom to go outdoors to play whenever I wished; back in India. I found myself detesting the fact that as females, my mom and I were completely restricted to our home (in my case, also school) unless my dad could take us outdoors. However, time passed and I had spent the crucial adolescent years of my life in that country. I eventually found myself growing fond of the city, mostly because of the fact that some of my best memories were now made there. The last two wonderful years of high school, a bunch of great friends and loads of extra ordinary memories later, Jeddah was a different place for me. I realized that every street, every corner of Jeddah held memories for me, most of the people I knew lived there and (I didn’t admit to myself, but) the extravagant Arab life that was so evident all around, the brightly lit streets and the never-sleeping city life had begun to grow on me. I eventually moved to the US for college. When I left Jeddah that summer, knowing that I’m leaving my childhood behind forever, I was surprised at how heart wrenching the good bye was. In the years to come, every time I visited Jeddah, I felt like I’m home even though I refused to call anywhere but India, home. When I first arrived at the US, and on my first visit to my college campus, I'd doubted if I could ever feel at home there. Now that I've spent four years in the country and that the country has taught me to and seen me truly grow up, become independent, make my own decisions, make the transition from student to workingwoman and step into adulthood, I realize that without me noticing, this place has become home too. However, even though I've spent most of my life outside India, every time I fly back there, I feel like the place itself puts up a welcome party for me. That first glimpse of the Western Ghats (a mountain range) that stand guard at the entrance to my hometown Nagercoil, fills me with an emotion that I can't possibly put into words. It could be because India is the only place that I can return to, whenever I want without all the visa formalities that surround my trips to any other part of the world; it could be because that's where most of my family lives; or it could be because that's where I started my journey from. But, the joy that fills me when I enter Nagercoil is unparalleled.
 
Recently, I came across an interesting word, hiraeth. The dictionary defines it as “a homesickness for a home you cannot return to, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past." I like to believe that the word was created exclusively to explain my relationship with Jeddah, and the places of my childhood that are long gone. All this reflection led me to a simple realization that I'd always overlooked. It is the fact that home isn’t necessarily just one place. Home is not even just the place where your parents/family live and most importantly, home doesn't have to be the perfect place that has every possible comfort. Home is where a part of you lives, because it has seen you through your good and bad times; when you were at your best and when you were a mess; because it has shared your happiness with you and has given you some comfort in your sorrow; because it has seen you grow and mature; has imbibed a little bit of you in different walks of life; and loves you. Home is a place that will welcome you with warmth whenever you return, every time you return. Home is a place that will seem so familiar that the familiarity tugs at your heart, even if you’re visiting after ages and every physical thing about the place has changed. I had always had resentment at the fact that I hadn't lived in any place long enough to claim that my childhood/adolescent years lived there. But now I realize what a privilege and blessing it is to have bits and pieces of who I am and the memories that I so fondly cherish, scattered over different continents; almost like horcruxes from the Harry Potter series, objects that hold a part of your soul.

College, Graduation and a few Thoughts

All it takes is 10 seconds. The 10 seconds it takes to walk across the stage. 10 seconds to make the transition from student to alumnus. I've been a student for as long as I can remember. Now, 18 years since I first started school, I've both a bachelors degree and an inexplicable hollow feeling inside of me. That feeling of deep sorrow, brought about by the loss of something so close to your heart and the feeling of intense happiness at having finally achieved something you've been working for, really hard. All the physics, chemistry and math I've learned have programmed my brain into automatically detecting opposites when they appear together and to know that they cancel each other. The happiness and sorrow have canceled each other and have left me with some sort of numb, empty feeling.

As I look back at my college life, four years worth of memories come rushing onto me. My first few days on campus were quite intimidating. I walked around carrying a map, had lunch alone all the time and absolutely hated the place. It took me half a semester to actually start looking forward to going to campus. Four years later, the campus is home. It is the place where I learned what it means to be independent, made friends for life, discovered that everyone needs to spend time with themselves and that there is nothing a good cup of coffee can't solve. I threw away the map a couple of weeks into my first semester. I'm now guided by instinct when I walk around campus. On the day of my convocation, the moments before I went on stage were when the realization that I was graduating finally hit me. It was in those moments when I realized that college life is definitely about academics but a larger part of it is the memories I've made around campus and the times spent with friends. It's secretly looking up and reacting to the scores of the CSK vs. KKR cricket match with my friend in class; the days spent watching Bollywood movies in study rooms with friends; the breaks when my one of my friends and I listened to Ilayaraja's (popular South Indian music composer) 80's classics to keep away thoughts of studying; cheering for the Indian Student Association at International Dance Competition; running from one end of campus to the other in a record 5 minutes so that I don't miss the next bus; and working on bugs in my programming assignments, always at the engineering building because that place was my lucky charm and the bug was sure to get fixed. It's also the classes missed because I just needed to catch up with a friend over coffee; the hours spent on my favorite couch at the library; feeling peaceful and content after attending the Friday prayers on campus;walking to the parking lot with a friend because walking alone was too boring; visiting the campus pond on the way to my 9 am class, when the light is just perfect and the view breathtaking; and (most of all) collapsing on my favorite table at the Panera Bread/Starbucks on campus after the last class of the week and getting some much-needed personal relaxation time. It is each and every single one of those memories that now define my four years at college, a lot more than the grades I graduated with.

Every little thing that happens in college is a learning experience. All that I've learned over the years bear witness to that fact. Through computer programming, I learnt that sometimes the smallest mistakes can cause the most trouble; through literature I learnt that not everything is what it appears to be, that you must read in between the lines; through advanced math I learnt how important it is to be able to prove your claims and theories; through painting I learned that sometimes the best kind of therapy is to express your inner creativity without fear; and most importantly, studying five subjects in three months, for 8 semesters has taught me valuable lessons on time management, let me experience the catastrophic consequences of procrastination. The various group projects have taught me how important it is to be able to listen to, consider and implement others’ ideas. And going to one of the most diverse campuses in the country has taught me to appreciate the variety of cultures I saw around me.

However, I learned more from my mistakes than what was taught in my classes. What taught me the most was not what I learned in classes, it was the mistakes I made. I made a lot of mistakes. As in, a LOT of mistakes. Some I learnt from and many I didn't. But if I were to re-live my college days, based on lessons learnt from my mistakes, this is what I'd tell myself:

• It might sound cliched, but don't put off assignments until two days before the due date.
• Irrespective of how much work you have at school, always put aside time for yourself, family and friends. Don't work so hard that you look back at your college days and regret that you never had time for the people who matter. 
• When you feel like it, take a break. Don't push yourself to study when your brain is furiously protesting. It's just a waste of time.
• Don't ever take up a heavy load in your senior year. When you take senior classes, don't overload yourself. I made this mistake and is what I regret the most. Don't put yourself in a situation where you'll have to deal with more than you can.
•  Make friends! And that too with people who are not the same age as you, or from the same background. This way you open yourself up to new experiences and present yourself with the opportunity to learn something new everyday. This is such an enriching experience and a chance for you to grow and mature as a person.
•  Don't expect yourself to be an expert in your major right after the first day of classes. For that matter, not even after graduation. Be willing to learn and grasp as much information as you can but don't think you need to know everything. It is perfectly okay to not have in-depth knowledge of your field when you walk in to college. You are there to learn, not to waste your time and money listening to stuff you already know.
• Don't let people lower your self esteem. There might be a few people in every class who might seem to know everything about the subject. Don't let that bother you or make you feel less smarter.
• Do something outside of classes, be involved in a club, learn something new or do something that takes your mind off studies. This way, you not only learn new skills but also find constructive ways to spend your breaks from studying.
• Get enough sleep!!! I just can't emphasize how important this is. I told myself that I'd never put myself in a situation that demands an all-nighter; and I didn't. If you don't sleep enough before an exam, there is pretty much no point in studying either. Sleep helps you remember and keeps you fresh while taking the exam. Sleep is also crucial to good health and so don't compromise on that.
• Finally, have fun! College is also a lot about having fun, irrespective of the assignments and exams and deadlines. 

 Ultimately, college is that crucial phase between childhood and adulthood. You not only receive a degree at college, but also lessons for life. It's not just about working towards that degree but also about having a great time. So, make those years count and graduate without regrets. I'm glad I did!

Fair and Happy?

If you grew up in India or in an Indian household, you'd have spent quite a lot of time watching advertisements for fairness creams on TV. I guess we are some kind of a "fair and lovely generation". I have always been annoyed by the kind of importance Indian society has given to fair skin color. An  article I read recently about a young woman who had faced humiliation throughout her childhood on the basis of her dark skin color, inspired me to go ahead and write about it. I believe these fairness cream advertisements and the perceptions of our society force young girls to believe that in order to become anything in life or to feel confident about themselves, one must have a certain kind of appearance. That is definitely not the kind of thought young girls should grow up with. The problem is not just with glorifying fair skin complexion but with the fact that these commercials make it seem as though external appearance plays the most important role in leading a happy life.

Fairness cream commercials have made it look like a fair complexion is quintessential to achieving things in life. Life is terrible for the girl before she starts using the fairness cream. Her dark complexion is a barrier between her and all the good things in life. Then, a well wishing, fair complexioned friend gives her the best gift ever - a tube of a fairness cream. The girl then applies this magical concoction on her face and voila! Life turns around. She now has the confidence to outperform others on a job interview and get her dream job, win that dance competition, get the guy of her dreams to notice (and fall in love with) her. She no longer gets bullied by her classmates, but stuns them with her new found "beauty". She now comes out of her long spell of self pity and has the confidence to face the world. Everything is perfect. Seriously?

When you think about it, your complexion and facial features tell nothing about you as a person. Your appearance is decided by the genes you inherited from your parents. You had nothing to do with it. However, what you are on the inside, your beliefs, interests, passions, attitude, talents and behavior have a lot to tell the world about you. Those are the components that you brought into your life. Then, shouldn't those be the driving forces that help you succeed? Think about it girls. To get your dream job, your talents and belief in yourself should give you the self confidence you need. Do you think a fair complexion is going to help you do well at that job? What about that competition you wanted to win at? Is fair skin going to play a bigger role than your skills and talent in helping you win? And about that man of your dreams, would you like someone to love you just because of something as superficial as your external appearance?  Of all those wonderful qualities that you have instilled within you, why would you want someone to love you for the appearance that you had no say in?

Girls, embrace yourselves the way you are. What a smile and a little dose of confidence can do to enhance your appearance, surpass everything that any fairness cream can do for you. If I were to tell you that looking good doesn't really matter, I'd neither be honest with myself nor with you. Looking good does matter, but we need to slightly modify our definition of "looking good". Looking good has nothing to do with having fair, spotless skin. Let's be honest. How many of us actually do look like that? Looking good depends a lot on how you carry yourself and how comfortable you are in your own skin. A content, confident and happy person is naturally beautiful, and skin complexion has no role to play in that. So, let's work towards the essential things - living a content life, being a better person, setting goals and achieving them. Beauty will follow.

Humanity; What it Takes to Be Human

Last month, I happened to attend an Islamic speech at the local mosque. The speech in itself was beautiful, but the best part of the event for me was when halfway through the speech, the speaker asked all of us in the audience to stand up, turn towards someone we've never met before and tell them that we love them for the sake of God. This event started at midnight and many of us, in spite of how interesting the speech was, began to feel drowsy. However, once this announcement was made, the audience stood up in unison. I turned to my right and saw a woman who I've never met before. She greeted me with the brightest of smiles and hugged me tightly, like one would hug their sister or their best friend. I went home that day having learnt some important life lessons and touched by that little activity. That experience made me reflect upon the very basis of human nature, how we are all strikingly similar beneath our layers of differences.

On the days that followed the event, I began to think of that woman. I thought of how I knew nothing about her, her ethnicity, her educational qualifications, financial background or anything else about her. But sharing that smile and that hug with her was so easy! That was when I realized that the distinctions we have created for ourselves don't really matter if we are willing to look at the person underneath all that. When we identify ourselves with our nationality, race, religion, language, skin color, educational qualification, political affiliation and financial status, we lose our primary identification; that of being human. Come to think about it, all humans want the same things - food, shelter, security and society. Are these needs any different for a person belonging to a country other than yours or following a different religion than yours? I think not.

I strongly believe that one must hold on to and take pride in their individual identities. Yet it is really heartbreaking to see that people think of their differences as reason to hate others. The death of a dear one, destruction of your house and property, having to live in fear and anticipation of death, all have the same effects on people irrespective of their nationality, religion or race. It seems like this fact is often forgotten or overlooked. People always find reasons to look down upon others. But in the process of building nations, humanity seems to have been forgotten. When people have differences, they seem to ignore the fact that the other person is not just someone who disagrees with you. That other person has a family, dreams, aspirations and ultimately, a life to live.

The beauty in living in a world with so much diversity is the variety that these differences in cultures, ideas and opinions bring to our lives. Why can't we use these differences to bring us all together? If only we could all look at others as individuals rather than categorizing them on the basis of the country or religion they belong to, maybe violence wouldn't have such a dominating presence in our world. If people could stop hating others just because they have different beliefs, some people in certain parts of the world wouldn't have to spend their lives in dread and fear. If we could only start appreciating the fact that the value of a human life is constant and doesn't change because of one's beliefs or identity, we could actually save some lives.

Think lemonade, not sour lemons

My blogging journey so far has led me to discover a bunch of facts about myself. I have realized how I tend to observe people and their behavior without realizing that I'm observing them, how writing is the best kind of therapy for me and a few other things. I have also discovered that inspiration to write articles strikes me at the most unlikely, unexpected and random moments. I've been on summer vacation for 68 days now and all that I have contributed towards this blog or towards writing in general has been ONE blog post. On the contrary, while classes are in session and it is one of those monstrous weeks that require me to study for three midterms, finish two programming projects AND write a term paper, inspiration strikes me from nowhere. It is during one of those weeks that words can't stop flowing, ideas won't stop coming in and time to put those ideas into writing is also pretty much non existent. However, one has to be practical and realize that time to blog is easy to come by, but ideas and words have to be bottled up and saved whenever they graciously appear in your head. It is during those weeks that I find myself at my productive best. I use up all my free time to put my ideas into writing. I write in the bus, while having lunch, in those precious few minutes I save between each class by running from one building to another,... you get the idea. Contradicting all the plans I had for the summer (the plan was to publish a blog post every fortnight), this break has been a dry spell so far. In between gardening, traveling, looking at graduation pictures on Facebook, meeting up with friends I haven't met in years, falling sick, lazy hours in front of the TV, reading a few interesting books, sightseeing and fasting in Ramadan (the Islamic month during which Muslims fast from dawn to dusk); ideas, inspiration and time to blog have all evaded me.

So, let me continue the little story I had going on there. At some point this summer, I began to wonder if I were suffering from what is commonly known as "writer's block". Writer's block is officially defined as "the condition of being unable to think of what to write or how to proceed with writing." I began to think that I'm going through writer's block and in a few days' time, I'd be ready to write again. However, only time seemed to pass, not writer's block. It was then that in a moment of defiance, I told myself that I would not let something so mainstream as writer's block obstruct my path towards following my passion for writing. In that moment of adrenaline rush, I began to write about the first thing that crossed my mind. That post was coming along pretty well when I decided to not continue with it. It just didn't feel like the kind of thing I'd write about. It felt too forced, too unnatural. Writing is my passion and to force myself to put down words felt like I was doing injustice to myself. I abandoned the post right there.

Earlier today, after an exciting weekend of walking around New York city like I've always wanted to, I suddenly had the urge to write again. This time, I knew just what I'd write about. I knew that I'd write about the very thing that has been keeping me away from writing. I decided to write about my "summer of not being able to write at all". I'm surprised that it took me so long to have actually thought about it. This is my "success story" of overcoming writer's block by writing about the thing itself, of using the obstacle in my path to lay down the road ahead of me.  So, in keeping with tradition of leaving you all with something to think about, I'm sharing with you what my experience this summer has taught me. Before this whole incident, whenever someone said "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade", it never made much sense to me. Now I know what they meant. No situation is too hard to make sense of, no problem too hard to solve. When things seem to be getting too hard and you feel like there are only closed doors ahead of you, maybe the problem itself could open a door for you. I've always felt that the biggest life lessons come to you in the form of trivial every day problems. This time, going through writer's block has made me realize that every problem has a solution and sometimes, the problem itself is the solution. The next time life gives you sour lemons, add some sugar to them and make lemonade!

"Okay? Okay."

One really needs to read a good book to experience what it feels like. It is an experience that can't really be put into words. It's mostly bittersweet, the joy of having read something so alive and the heartache that accompanies the end of a good journey. There are some books, after reading, which the bittersweet feeling lingers on for days. I read one such book a few weeks ago. As soon as I started reading, the story absorbed me into its world and to be honest, I still don't seem to have left it. It was simple yet intricate, realistic (well, semi-realistic) yet in a way unreal, extremely heart-wrenching, yet heart-warming at the same time. This book was special to me not just because of the story, characters or narration but also for the language used. The lines and dialogues mentioned in the book are metaphoric, expressive and thought-provoking, all at the same time. Since I am totally obsessing over this book, I thought of sharing some of my favorite things about the book with you all. Who knows? It might inspire some of you to go ahead and read the book. Now would be the best time to mention that I don't mean for this to be a book review, it's just my thoughts on what the book means to me. I'm sure I've created enough suspense around the book itself. Time to reveal the secret! The book I'm talking about is "The Fault in our Stars" by John Green. (Cue excited squeals.)

The Fault In Our Stars was suggested to me by a couple of people. All they told me about the book was that it is a love story about two teenagers who have been diagnosed with cancer. That was all I needed to hear. The word 'cancer' put me off and gave me all sorts of doubts as to whether I wanted to read the book or not. However, the popularity of the book intrigued me. It was displayed all over, at every bookstore I visited in the last 6 months and had a 150 holds on it at my nearest public library. I finally gave in to my curiosity and bought the book last month. As we were about to go pay for the book, a girl walked up to us and said, "This is a beautiful story. It'll make you laugh and cry at the same time. I'm so happy that you're buying it!" I realized why she was so excited when I finished reading the book two days later. TFIOS is indeed a love story about two teenagers who've gone through cancer. It definitely talks about sickness, death, despair, grief and everything depressing. Yet, there wasn't one sentence in the book that made me feel depressed. It was a beautiful story, told beautifully about the harsh realities of a disease as deadly as cancer, the hardships that families of cancer patients go through, how life never comes to a standstill in spite of sickness and the beauty of little moments in life that seem to last as long as forever.

One of my favorite things about the book were the dialogues and the metaphors. Oh, the metaphors! They were brilliantly placed in the story, like little stars in the night sky, that formed constellations when you finally realized the depth of their metaphorical meanings and gave a little "Oh!" of surprise. Here are one of my favorite lines from the book; "There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There's .1 and .12 and .112 and infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities." This line can be pretty confusing when you don't read it in the context of the book, but what it conveys is that some moments in life are not measured by the time spent, but in how that time is spent. Some moments in life seem to last forever. They are infinities, and some infinities are definitely bigger than others. The book conveys a very strong message about cherishing those infinities and being thankful for them. Another line from the book that really caught my attention was "The world is not a wish granting factory." How true is that? Of course we are all aware of the fact and secretly wish that it were not true. However, most books written for teenagers do a pretty good job of convincing the readers that wishes do come true if you truly want them or work for them or something of the sort. What I loved about this book was its efficiency in conveying to its readers that the world is not a wish granting factory, while also showing us how to live life to its fullest even when all our wishes might not come true.

This book is full of such witty, well-thought out, metaphoric lines. Some of my other favorites are, "The thing about pain is that it demands to be felt.", "I fell in love with him the way you fall asleep, slowly and then all at once.", "My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations.", “You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world...but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices." and “You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect.” I could probably go on and on about this book, but I think I'll stop here. I wouldn't say that I read a lot, but I read a good decent number of books every month. I usually like books for their story, setting and characters. I'm not someone who is really particular about the language in books but sometimes when a good story is accompanied by amateur writing, it can put me off. However, for the first time, I've fallen in love with the writing itself. The only complaint I have about the book is that the characters appeared to be a bit 'too mature' for their age. I had a hard time believing that the characters were young adults themselves and that is why I said the book was semi-realistic.

There is a line in the book that seems to sum up the thoughts I have right now:

Yes, that is how I feel about this book. I wrote this blog post to share my love for the book with the readers, hoping that at least one of you will be inspired to read the book through this post. I'd love to hear what you thought about The Fault In Our Stars as well. I believe that sharing an amazing story is just as precious as sharing love, ideas or something that you hold dear to you and this is just the kind of book that must be shared.

P.S - My sister made the first picture for me on "Paper by 53". Check out the app, it's amazing!

The second picture is from www.betweenthelines.com.au